Description: Natural hot springs are a popular tourist attraction in Japan... when it's cold out! But right now, after the Hanami season and Spring Break have ended, it's a great time to rebuild the train station servicing the local hot spring of Mt. Kirishima... The locals want a bigger station. But real estate being what it is in Japan, there's no space -- that means the old station has to come down first! PFW has graciously stepped in to volunteer TIZOC and RADHA as a part-time wrecking crew here. Some of the walls have already been battered down with heavy machinery, so there's no telling when the entire structure could collapse! Luckily, a film* crew is on tap to make sure all the exciting action gets caught on tape*. * ( Haha, "film." Haha, "tape." Such quaint expressions! They've got HitBit suites strapped to the front of their hard hats! ) (WINNER: Radha)
The Kirishima-Onsen Station is sure to see a lot of traffic once it gets all chilly in these parts again... next year. The peak period of activity has since come to a close. The locals say it's time for a bigger station. They'll just have to build a new one entirely in place of the old.
How are they going to fund it? This tends to be where fight promotion companies tend to hatch some very creative - and also very dangerous - ideas that seem to begin and end at 'let's have two or more fighters do something dangerous!'
Today's exhibit: 'let's start the process of demolishing the old train station and have these two fighters come and finish the job!'
The process sure has been started, all right. The walls are deeply cracked, and some support pillars have already collapsed. The few remaining features that simply couldn't be removed have been left to rot in various states of disrepair - security booths, bolted-down old benches, a few trash cans, etc. - perhaps just to make for interesting scenery to vault if the two fighters are the sort to move all about the station as they brawl.
The Griffon Mask, one of the two combatants, stands with some uncertainty as arms remain crossed underneath a cloak. The masked wrestler regards the environs with more than a little suspicion and worry. True, he is now subject to the 'real' battles of the day that favor places like these - his comfort rests within a proper ring.
The world only sees the mask in its stoic, unmoving expression.
The man that resides underneath, Tizoc, does not dare voice his fears and discomfort while the 'film crew' scuttle about to figure out the places to stand in which to optimize both viewing angles of the impending action and close proximity to escape routes when (not if) this entire station is about to fall apart.
"Mere destruction for its sake," the giant Mexican man murmurs "can that be considered just...?"
"Hm, hm~ What a lovely place," Radha Mistry says as she leans against the long stout pole of tape-wrapped bamboo that is her staff du jour. "I wish I'd known this was going to happen... I could have had some fun here, before now..." Her lips purse, but she twists the staff around, sauntering forwards wit ha hand on her hip towards the GRIFFON MASK.
"Buenos dias," she says to him, her lips pulling up into a rather lush smile.
"It isn't simply for its own sake, my dear fellow," she continues. "They're building something new, and there's only so much room. This place is pretty, of course, it has its charms, but it's hardly the site of a great destiny or a historical pivot... I would say the unjust thing would be to -- smother the future, in order to avoid making a fuss."
Radha pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, the smile showing her teeth now, guilelessly. "Regardless, I'm glad to meet you. Do you think we should take pains to cause them some scenic wreckage? Just think - some of it might become memorabilia," and she gives that word a rather lush treatment, "by virtue of our passage."
The wistful thoughts of what could have been see the lift and turn of a beaked mask in her direction. It's startling to account for someone who seems like she might have come out of nowhere while he was in the middle of his navel gazing, and yet present such a friendly and welcoming air - a calmness and acceptance that makes the impending ruin about them /itself/ seem out of place entirely.
"Perhaps what you speak is true." Perhaps? It is! That is why they're there, but there is a theatrical air to the choice of words as he is pulled out of his head by the attentions the world around him asks.
The Griffon Mask is but a man of simple motives, constructed from a far simpler world - inspire children, defeat evil. The hooded woman's pleasant demeanor in detailing the destiny of this now derelict station, and the enthusiasm in delivering upon the demand all but sees her seem to take a certain central stage.
The on-site crew are already taking positions.
"Very well. If there is a future that rests upon the removal of what stands around us now, then..."
A hand clasps around the shoulder over the red cape that adorns him. A moment of hesitation. Consideration of acceptance in the comfort of the how and the why, if not the where?
"It will be my honor as the Griffon Mask... to receive your challenge in which we bring forth a greater tomorrow for all!" The voice builds with a bravado and intensity that sees the cape removed with a dramatic outward sweep of his right arm, revealing his impressive physique underneath.
It is a touch overdramatic a follow-up to a pleasant conversation, isn't it, phrasing it all that way...
COMBATSYS: Tizoc has started a fight here on the left meter side.
COMBATSYS: Radha has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Tizoc 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Radha
Radha raises up her staff in greeting as she shifts into a less flirtatious stance and says, with evident pleasure, "Just so! Now then," and her head tilts as his cape removes dramatically and reveals those rippling muscles...
That threw her off her stride for a moment. "Beautiful!" she calls out, before she leaps up and runs along a bench. Why, how daring of her, even if she isn't exactly heavy or stompy enough to damage it, not yet at least. Lunging forwards, she vaults over a gap between them and swings her staff around with a flourishing twist, aiming it to strike against the flank of Tizoc.
Maybe she wants to see what kind of a sound it will make. Either way the blow is forceful if aimed at a less than tender part of the body. Afterwards Radha twists round, drawing the staff back, standing on that bench and awaiting the inevitable reply!
COMBATSYS: Tizoc Toughs Out Radha's Fetish!!
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Tizoc 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Radha
The confidence in Radha's movement is eye-catching, the daring in which she maneuvers atop furniture doomed to destruction and takes to the air is - even in the battle's first moments - a sight worthy of being put on a magazine cover.
The larger of the two combatants, for his part, takes a small step back just as she starts to leap the gap. The arm closer to whichever side Radha is striking from rears back...
Rudely, he's starting to shout this just moments before the staff strikes against his side. It denies one an easy gauge of what sound the impact makes, because there is someone shouting the name of a maneuver above it. In the heat of the moment, it's kind of inconsiderate.
It doesn't seem to register very much. A slow motion replay may reveal a fraction-of-a-second pushback that suggests that Radha might have more of an ability to move far larger foes with strikes of her staff than may be readily apparent to the untrained eye.
It buys her a possibility of averting an impending inward swing of his forearm hurled at her with seeming intent to strike before she can fully recover or reposition, booted feet gliding forward against the dust-caked old station ground. With the momentum he has going, even his shin hitting the bench where the artist first moved from might cause the abandoned furniture to buckle, maybe even shatter, as he slides forward.
COMBATSYS: Radha dodges Tizoc's Poseidon Wave.
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Tizoc 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Radha
WATER! Her weakness. How did Tizoc know? The staff snaps backwards as her eyes widen, the swung forearm and the bursting celebration of man behind it seen before it can impact her. And leap back Radha does, landing on the old railing and dancing away from him, saying as she does, "My my my! The ancient ways of Greece AND your home style. I'm impressed!"
And what did she mean by that? Is she STEREOTYPING? Is she saying ALL LUCHADORS LOOK ALIKE? Well, how could you tell, with the masks?
Either way she does not have a lot of railing to run along, and perhaps does not have it in her to do so for an extended period. She may be no nonja, but she's not a ninja, either. Instead she dismounts from some distance away, kicking over a trash can as she goes. Poor form!
But wait - isn't that the idea? She chokes up her grip on her staff, using it with both hands and looking towards him, grinning as the Japanese sunlight gleams on her glasses. "Perhaps try this?" she suggests, before swinging her staff.
POK! The trash can is launched-- not, perhaps, very poetically, but it's a high arc, good for at least making it onto the green. Or perhaps into the general territory of Tizoc. Radha twists as she readies herself: Maybe she expects to play Trash Can Volleyball now.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc blocks Radha's Large Thrown Object.
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Tizoc 0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 Radha
"Justice embodies the divine!" So the wrestler declares as he turns behind himself as to allow his gaze to follow the dancing staff wielder whom has turned this subway into a performance stage unto itself. He doesn't appear to take much umbrage with her narrow escape as he steps out from the wrecked bench that will seat exactly zero people henceforth (but still at least six spiders).
The invitation to try 'this' comes in the form of a flying trash can that seems poised, at its current angles of flight, to flip over the larger man's head - maybe even entrap them within it.
The trash can is caught by the open end between both hands with only a lingering discomfort in his palms, holding it up triumphantly upwards as though such a great catch were to be momentarily celebrat--
A few small pieces of trash bounce off of his head, one wad of trash notably obscuring his sight. None of it could be considered painful unto itself, but it is disorienting and causes the masked wrestler to come to a staggered crouch when losing sight of the ground before him.
A well-played maneuver on Radha's part, as the trash can is summarily hurled off to his left to parts obscure, adding a temporary chorus of rolling trash can against the damaged ground. The catch, the momentary slapstick, and the following crouch do little to erase the fact that he's about two good long strides from being able to get Radha at arm's length.
Flexing the full extent of his wingspan when he does draw close, he goes low to a crouch and stabs forth an open knifehand blow at around abdomen level.
It is less a game of Trash Can Volleyball. It appears more that, should Radha prove further evasive, this could be a nail-biter of a game of Tag.
COMBATSYS: Radha blocks Tizoc's Quick Punch.
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Tizoc 0/-------/-======|=======\===----\1 Radha
"Well so does injustice, darling," Radha answers, sweeping her staff up to rest on her shoulder as she gestures forwards. "It's an interesting question, isn't it? If you exclude the Divine from evil and suffering, from ugliness and death, are you not limiting God? Is it even possible to do such a thing, or is that a petty blasphemy that we are all guilty of?"
Deep! Then Tizoc catches a trash can and some of the trash falls on his head. Radha raises a hand to cover her lips as she smiles away a little stray giggle.
Of course then Tizoc hurls it aside and comes towards her. Radha is able to sweep round and bring her stick down, but Tizoc's size advantage means that he nonetheless has a lot of OOMPH behind that blow; enough to stagger Radha back onto one heel, her bamboo stick raised upwards as she balances precariously...!
But she doesn't tumble off the platform. The stick snaps behind her, balances her, and then she shoves it off the ground, twisting to try and lunge /past/ Tizoc, the stick coming up to try and snag under his arm -- her own grip aiming to put him in this tool-assisted grasp and pull him back against her, even as she lets out a merry laugh!
"So, where to?" she asks. "Or are no trains expected?!"
COMBATSYS: Radha successfully hits Tizoc with Infatuation.
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Tizoc 1/-------/=======|=======\=====--\1 Radha
At consideration of Radha's words, the Griffon Mask's striking hand's fingers curl upward momentarily in belated comprehension of what she says.
His intended audience generally does not indulge in this level of philosophical discourse between good, evil, agency, and hypocrisy - merely the comfort of the idea that the good and strong can overcome any trickery of evil's design.
It's a hesitation that gives opportunity as she dashes past him. It's his own reaction that enables her ability to come through with the intended attck - the way he visibly sways to one side to avoid a perceived oncoming attack that was just mere positioning. The arm closer to Radha is left hanging low enough that it proves convenient in terms of leverage to snagging him.
Working with the way he swayed, he is put off balance into a humbling seated position, a surprised shout soon succeeded by her laughter.
"Where to? I'll tell you--"
The most he can do in the heat of the moment as she pops the question is to struggle to try and imbalance her by attempting to stand up and throw his caught shoulder back - but she's the one calling the shots about where to next, no matter what he may or may not be able to say about it.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc successfully hits Radha with Quick Throw.
- Power hit! -
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Tizoc 1/------=/=======|=======\======-\1 Radha
Radha may be calling the shots but she is, by a significant margin, smaller than Tizoc, so it is not too surprising when his full exertion of BEEF FORCE (forza de bif) ends up grinding her against the ground, jerking her about like a man attempting to get up on the Hydra's back.
(Get up on the Hydra's back! etc.)
However, this whiplash is not enough to fell an artistic soul. Her glasses half-fall off her face as she strains here, wiggling her legs in their tights as she tries to get a proper bearing on Tizoc. Then, perhaps, she remembers something - and twists herself around to bring her head up alongside his, cheek to cheek.
Something glitters. It's a tremendous ripple of SOMETHING, and the entire world seems to change, from afternoon in Japan in the spring to a gorgeous vision of a lovely realm that's been submerged under three or four meters of water - enough to make the light a rippling reticular network of glory and beauty. A feeling of rapture comes outwards, even as Radha aims to 'steer' Tizoc forwards and...
Off the side of the platform. Eh, it's not a big fall to the rail bed, and there IS no train coming. She also kisses him, just below the ear - or tries to, if not peremptorily flung loose.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc barely endures Radha's Aesthetic Narcosis.
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Tizoc 1/-======/=======|======-\-------\0 Radha
The disparity between their masses is striking. The bespectacled artist, by all appearances - and truth - remains in a position of power over him. He struggled with the unfamiliarity of working with far slighter physiques of different centers of balance, all in comparison his previous days in the ring.
He doesn't quite fight his way back to a standing position when the world around him glitters. One of his legs appears ready to betray him as it feels confused to the nature of where he's standing. It feels like it ought to sink, but it is planted against firm ground. His knee does not know how much to bend to maintain current posture and elevation.
For the tranquility of a scene that shows the resilience of nature in the wake of what would be a cataclysmic flood to society, he may yet feel as though he might be pulled under the shine of the sun.
It feels... lonesome. Isolated.
He skips past the obvious first thought, mentally, into another.
I don't belong here.
The Griffon Mask's place... is not here.
Where the Griffon Mask /is/, he seems to be in the process of being gently shoved away by a kiss against the fabric. (That he seems to flinch his head upwards from initimiate contact against a mask raises questions about whether he has somehow mutated nerve endings into it, but that's a query for a curious coroner down the line.)
He is nearly over the rail when the leg that seemed unsure how to stand finds purchase against the subway floor plants itself firmly.
The scents, sounds, and sights of a train station due to shatter flood back.
I don't belong here either.
He moves like a fine-tuned machine as though rebounding off of invisible ropes - far sooner than Radha might have anticipted him catching himself - as he leaps forwrd, feet-first, with a drop kick.
The Griffon Mask... belongs in the hearts of the children worldwide!
"KIIIIIIIIIIICK!" Comes the mighty bellow of the massive man. Resolute in movement he might be, his head yet still swims. What emotional security he clings to in keeping him in the fight after such a disorienting scene...
The mask proves an ample enough shield to hide behind, if only for now.
COMBATSYS: Radha dodges Tizoc's Gri Dro Super Kick.
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Tizoc 1/-======/=======|======-\-------\0 Radha
In many ways a mask can be our real face, and so Radha is not so shocked when the touch of a pair of lips bring out a big reaction. However, she does realize that these are not neccessarily going to be positive for her, and so she was ready. Waiting. Ready for an eruption --
This is part of why she tumbled forwards, over the Griffon Mask wearer's head (and thus, the Mask itself) and is also part of why she was tumbling forwards quite vigorously along the rail bed even as the massive foot comes down, hits a metal rail, and
BONG!!! The echo visibly propagates in both directions, the rail rising up from its elevated ties and in the space just beneath his heel, cracking straight in half. He may have split hairs, but now he has also split rails.
Radha looks over her shoulder. "Oh my," she says, pushing her glasses back fully into place. "Do forgive me if I broke any boundaries, my dear fellow." With this she vaults her way back onto the platform, helped along by the fact that she, in fact, has a stick suitable for vaulting. Having gotten back up there, she looks round.
Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out, she skips and runs in a rather daring sort of way towards the old ticket booth. Enclosed space? She has no idea because it's kind of crowded, but those look like vending machines to her: Surely those will have a surprise. And if they don't, she can just throw one at Tizoc!
COMBATSYS: Radha focuses on her next action.
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Tizoc 1/-======/=======|======-\-------\0 Radha
One of the on-site staff moves to take cover from a flying piece of railing as it pings noisily off the nearby wall, and dances about the cluttered ground until it comes to rest. Sunlight filters in through a new crack.
The Griffon Mask himself finishes the dropkick with his legs hanging over the edge. Gravity puts up a good fight against upper body strength with inertia standing in gravity's corner, but there is enough of a gap on the ground to grip for leverage.
He's back up on his feet in time for the playfully worded apology as the artist merrily happens back towards more crowded space - past the ticket booth, to a place with a lower ceiling.
"It is-- oh, she is running!" Any sharper vocal riposte he could have levvied for this overly initimate moment is lost to speak the observation out loud as he lumbers after, flustered at his inability to pin her down - mentally and physically. She moves through it faster than he does.
It never occurs to him he could just pick up a piece of rubble and throw it. That is not what a face like the Griffon Mask does! (Suit yourself, Griffon Mask, then you had better find some way to catch up with her.)
Radha's smaller frame and resourcefulness with this condemned playground of the day proves an unorthodox challenge to this end.
There is a small opening he can see - a shortcut he could take. It is risky. He knows the ins and outs of almost any wrestling ring he inhabits. How much give a set of ropes has, how high exactly are the turnbuckles from the ground.
He has no such thorough knowledge of this train station. He only sees a tiny opening between the ceiling and the booth. This sort of thought he has in mind, only ever done after countless hours of practice and rehearsal. To try and pull something like /this/...
...Might be the only way to close the distance, and potentially get the jump on her.
"You will not run much further!" He belts out that bombastic tone of voice as he takes off in a sprint. The man under the mask already wonders, inwardly, what would happen if he botches it. He can only /guess/ from his vantage point about how much clearance he actually has in terms of distance, even if the height is a lock.
He takes a short hop up on a sturdier, newer bench that was installed no more than a week before they decided to condemn the station, arms spread out wide as the bird mask peers up through the crack...
No going back.
He leaps into the air, tucking into a midair somersault. Up, up, up, towards the gap between the top of the security booth and the ceiling. Spinning, spinning, spinning, all sense of where he is in the air relative to his environment is cast entirely into guesswork and faith.
"OCTAVE TOUPON!!" He shouts, as Radha might be treated to the sight of him coming through a space that only has the exact amount of clearance needed to let him through, allowing him to come at her from an angle she might not have expected...
...attempting to land on top of her shoulders to grab her head between his legs, itself a long shot on top of the original stunt...
...and, should he catch a landing on her somehow, flip up and slam her into the ground by these legs.
COMBATSYS: Radha blocks Tizoc's Active Toupon EX.
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Tizoc 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\1 Radha
"I run like a scenic mountain brook," Radha says, coyly, before the POWER of that MASK propels her foe forwards, leaping up from rails to platform to bench to - oh dear, he's coming right BETWEEN those abandoned ticket machines --
Can he do that?
Apparently, Radha thinks as she gets grasped by the muscular thighs of a man clamping around her head and hoisting her upwards, flipping her up and slamming her forwards. However, she has an advantage-- that hood she's wearing! It's not part of a sweatshirt, it's a separate garment, like a shawl worn over the head. She is able, thus, to shed it, and to avoid that slam -
But it's a pretty freaking narrow thing. She ends up squatting on the ground, hugging her pole, as the aftermath of that maneuver slams into the ground hard enough to put a crack in the pavement. She whistles to herself. Good call there, Radha, she tells herself, even as she swings herself round to aim a strike with the far end of her staff at the side of Tizoc.
He may notice that this is almost medically calculated to be at a long-as-hell distance away from his terrible, crushing limbs.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc blocks Radha's Medium Strike.
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Tizoc 1/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1 Radha
For the recklessness of a bold masked wrestler seeking a new start and lease in what defines him, an amazing acrobatic maneuver that he could consider a new career high. As an off-the-cuff decision as his means of catching up, it speaks volumes to those who might have started to grow doubtful - the Griffon Mask fights for real, truly!
He is not prepared for the genius split-second thinking of the artist as he sits upon their shoulders. He feels the difference in weight immediately as he merely catches the hood - and the issue that comes with not completely knowing where he was leaping, crashing a knee against a bench that splinters into halves.
This leaves him prone in a crouching position as Tizoc's eyes widen underneath the mask. That... was not kind to his knees!
Radha capitalizes both on this opening and her superior reach as the staff comes in around his left flank by the tip. Flexing a mighty raised arm, he tries to bat it away with his elbow.
Reflexively, he does thrust the same arm out into the empty air. She is too far for him to reach from where he stands. She is more fleet of foot, and also he's still soaking that abuse he did to his knee.
"You run like a scenic mountain brook," he bandies back at last as the Griffon Mask finds stride in sheer bravado as he rises, geturing outward with a wide arm sweep, "but I shall be as the skies above as justice carries me forward!"
Must he insert the word 'justice' into everything?
Fighting the ache in one leg, through determination and tenaciousness, he leaps once more as he curls an arm inward. It's telegraphed, somewhat - he's going to do an elbow drop as he moves to leap upon Radha anew.
Also, because he's seen enough of the immediate area around him and is comfortable about hurling himself against level ground, even if this level ground is significantly more firm than he's used to elbow dropping on a whim.
COMBATSYS: Radha dodges Tizoc's Olympus Over.
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Tizoc 1/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1 Radha
The bamboo staff goes 'tonk!' as Tizoc blocks it. How euphonic! "My, my, you really are invested in justice," Radha says even as Tizoc leaps forwards, raising into the sky aaaand that's when Radha tucks down low and rolls again, getting behind those vending machines that he just dove between, safe for a moment. Perhaps he'll even hurt himself on the pavement, Radha thinks --
The concrete slab is developing some alarmingly thick cracks in it.
Radha pulls herself up to the top of the vending machine despite the low clearance between the top of her hairstyle and a supporting beam of the station's roof. She says, even as she sets her wooden pole down as if claiming this land for Uttar Pradesh: "You fight quite agilely, but I fear that you aren't controlling matters as well as you might."
Her nose wrinkles, pushing the glasses back up her nose. "Is agilely quite the right word? I actually am not so sure. There's always these little quirks between us," Radha says, crooking one leg around her pole of wood in a rather shapely way.
Then she slams it up. TOK!
And with that force, the vending machine falls down -- it's going for the pin! Is Radha going to capitalize?! Will the discontinued Boss Coffee machine get the belt!?
COMBATSYS: Radha successfully hits Tizoc with Random Weapon.
- Power hit! -
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~
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Tizoc 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\=------\1 Radha
It's moments like these that, under the mask, Tizoc has to grapple with one of the more somber realities that this is a human body. It is a very large, very powerful human body. He has done well to maintain its impressive muscular physique, and manage to maintain the flexibility and overall agility that he does on top of his might.
One inescapable truth is... is that human bodies generally do not like hard impacts at high speeds. (Neither does the concrete slab, which is already kicking up small pebbles and a cloud of dust that might be asbestos.) A pained grunt is largely lost to the echo of the impact that thunders through the station that will soon not be.
The flexed arm that leads the elbow drop unfurls lazily, leaving the giant man sprawled on the ground with his back turned to Radha as his ability to bounce back grows ever slower. He makes it up to a kneel in time for her professional opinion.
"Hah! Hah. I am just getting started!" The words are spat out in heavy breaths. The Griffon Mask will not be felled so easily! And yet, it is ever clearer that he could be at wit's end. After all, he has fallen upon trite, cliche retorts.
the vending machine tips over onto his back just as he starts to rise. Too fatigued to turn around? Mask hampering his peripheral vision? The vending machine is kind of stealthy, for its age. Aside from the 'TOK,' it doesn't squeal or squeak or give away its downward momentum as it comes crashing right on down.
"GUHAAH!" He fans his arms out too late to cleanly catch it. He does manage to /carry/ it, if only so that he turns a full one-eighty to look upon Radha as he falls encumbered to a kneel before her teasing pose.
His breathing grows heavier. Somehow, even the mask manages to look redder. It's probably just the lighting.
"There is nothing... little... about--" Oh he's totally walking into that one, the home audience might be snickering so hard that no one hears what the full sentence is. (One is snickering too hard to transcribe it, for that matter. We'll never know what it was!)
It probably involves something convincingly defiant as he... doesn't throw off the vending machine so much as let it slide down to his left in another noisy clatter as he rears his upper body back...
...and thrusts his head, beak-on-mask first, at a far higher angle than the maneuver typically uses, trying to reach just high enough to tag her lower leg from atop her present perch and coax her back down into grabbing range.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc successfully hits Radha with Joudan Yoke Kougeki.
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Tizoc 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1 Radha
As she uncurls her leg from her staff, Radha realizes that she has a problem - and it's not a little oen. That problem is that Tizoc is TOO BIG. TOO STRONG. TOO MUCH HIGH POWER, MAN. She stands on top of the vending machine as Tizoc slams his head forwards like the cock of the walk - right into her leg.
Which is swept out from under her. "Unh!" she says as she descends towards Tizoc. She twists round at the last moment - an effort to hip check him before she can be conclusively grappled. However...
She fights with a staff. She is an art major.
She is no Rainbow Mika.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc fails to interrupt Light Kick from Radha with Icarus Crush.
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Tizoc 1/-<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\====---\1 Radha
Withdrawing the head back, the Griffon Mask does not squander his next opportunity - he finally sees the artist taking that spill from the vending machine in which she perches. The way she twists, he assumes her to be too imbalanced to mount a proper counter-offensive.
Within that short span of time he has to work with, he hops up just as she starts to fall, preparing to wrap those big arms around her.
The hip check is too hip for him to check, striking him just above the groin and pushing him a short ways back in the air. His arms reach out and cross against thin air largely out of desperation as he lands moments later upon his seat against the cracked pavement. With the toppled vending machine from earlier resting in a heap behind him, it proves a welcome help in allowing himself to try and rise.
Emphasis on 'try,' as he accomplishes being able to sit up /on/ the toppled vending machine at most while he sucks in breath. One hand goes atop his mask.
Tizoc, the man underneath, finds himself dangerously flirting with an uncomfortable reality - that he has been bested by an artist of movement and form.
HA HA! A palpable hit! Tizoc topples over and Radha ends up in a crouch, her staff coming to her with a wriggling of fingers even as the larger, meatier man ends up crouching. She exhales as she rises upwards, leaning her head back and shaking it- the ties that had been holding her hair confined are partly snapped it seems.
As a lock of rich black hair falls over her shoulder, she sees the man set down heavily. "Well," she says, stamping her staff on the ground again: "That went better than I expected it to."
"You've been very stimulating," Radha continues, flipping that sheaf of hair with one hand and tilting her head back. "If you'd like to sit for a portrait sometime... I'm feeling inspired... Ha ha! I imagine you think this is condescending, but I also suppose I shouldn't stand here like a fool and explain myself for half an hour while you catch your breath and recover, hm? But you're very valiant, my good sir."
She sweeps her staff before her, like a great brush.
"And you have a long career ahead of you," she says, with tones of portent.
Then the staff comes back.
In its wake is that reticular pattern of shimmering webwork of light and that sense of being in a softly cool pool of water, the feeling of being JUST in the right place to be after a long, hot day in the searing sun. A place you could be forever. Cool, pleasant, euphoric...
LIKE A WRESTLER PINNING YOUR SOUL TO THE MAT.
Can the Griffon Mask escape this pressure? This spiritual pin!?
COMBATSYS: Tizoc interrupts Non-objective Art from Radha with Big Daedalus Attack.
[ \\ < > ///////////// ]
Tizoc 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Radha
Her words are kind. Soothing. Inviting. Radha exudes that playful air of one who lives for the aesthetic merits of the beauty and world around her. It's hard to avoid being drawn in...
Being seated as he is, it is already a position of comfort. Just add water. The cool splash of the surface, as tired muscles sink to relax. His neck tilts upward as this submerging feeling... rises? Or he sinks? The abstract feeling cares not for the particulars of perception versus the reality.
Tizoc isn't sure how he got here. Some time ago, he was in a battle? There were pleasant words being shared. He doesn't remember how it ended...
...That's because it didn't end.
This comes just as his head sinks within the preceived water, an imagined weight upon his chest. It is not over! He is not down! (Well, he sort of is? In reality, he looks like he's slowly bending his back to rest upon the toppled vending machine.)
The Griffon Mask cannot rest before the fight is done...!
An arm splashes into the nothingness of the real world, clawing for balance to fight to stay upright. In the process, he seems to come this close to throwing himself face-flat (mask-flat? The beak would make that hard) onto the floor.
He is not above the water of weariness. His legs shake, numbed by the chill running down them. To lift a foot at all, he looks as though he were trying to move under the resistance of... water? Such movements seem at peculiar odds with the laws of gravity...
He has to fight his way out of it. In front of him, standing like a beautiful goddess of the tranquil waves under an imagined peaceful sky - his opponent. No matter what form they take...!
A beefy arm swings, crashing away the tide flooding his mind. He swings ever closer to Radha.
"Daedalus...." A second swing. This second swing comes up just short of her, but now it should be obvious that he is yet to sit there and lick his wounds - breaking free of the illusion and immersion far sooner than she might intend.
"...Attack!" His voice doesn't project the words in booming all-caps. It is a fight to bring oxygen back into his lungs, to keep pumping strength through himself as he reaches contact by the third swing of a massive forearm - an artifact of respecting the illegality of hitting one directly with a closed fist.
A fourth, a fifth, and sixth follow. The seventh provides an additional lunge that could carry him through (or over) Radha.
The reality he fights so hard to make his way back to rewards him by the sharp pain that goes through his left hand at the end of the seventh swing as the front paneling of the other vending machine that until recently served as Radha's perch.
Its glass shatters into an uncountable number of shards that all make what light seeps through the derelict train station dance across the tiny reflections.
"I thank you for the kind words," the Griffon Mask speaks as he turns around, pushing aside the pain that now surges through the hand that struck the vending machine, "but... it is not yet time for me to rest...!"
He is unambiguously at his limits, but there's a fire lit in those eye(hole)s. Arms open wide, even as blood steadily flows from the lacerations on one set of fingers...
Even in the throes of physical and mental exhaustion, spiritually the Griffon Mask holds strong - and the impending decisive blow against him had better be made to count. What comes next must be btronger than any testosterone-fueled bravado could disregard, or faster than even the oft-expanding and sometimes fluid definitions of justice can comprehend.
"For my identity's guts and justice... not... just a mask...!" He gasps out in defiance - appearing to jump from fantasy, to reality, and back into what could be a completely different fantasy entirely.
No matter Radha's plan of attack, it is clear the Griffon Mask will be going down swinging.
Well, Radha thinks briefly, this is a bit rough, isn't it? The incoming splashing blast of that swung arm comes nearer to her, like the grinding of a burr motor backed by the power of justice. She leans backwards and so she avoids swing #3.
Four! Five! Six! Seven - and he's past her, bowling her over as the vending machines are struck and are BUSTED IN HALF, the shards scattering around. A broken mirror, a million shards of light -
Radha ends up flying backwards far enough to land on her kiester, hard enough in turn to throw her glasses off her face. They bounce precariously and then fall off the edge of the platform, down into the train railbed. They did not seem to break; must be plastic.
Rolling to her side, Radha does not go to reclaim the glasses. Maybe she needs them less than she lets on.
Her head stays tilted forwards, black hair veiling her face as she runs forwards again. She makes no reply to the honor of the Griffin Mask - whether he spoke of the guts and justice of his identity, or claimed those aspects for her own, perhaps Radha was sufficiently moved to not want to denounce such icons. Except that there is something intense here now, almost desperate. As she runs she draws the staff back and she thrusts it forward, like a spear or a bayonet, with the momentum of her run behind it - the target being the not-inconsiderable torso of Tizoc.
That was a bit of a shift, wasn't it?
Inwardly, Radha is seething gently. How did he get past that? she wonders, with a strange and savage fury.
COMBATSYS: Radha successfully hits Tizoc with Fierce Strike.
[ < > ///////////// ]
Tizoc 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Radha
How did he get past that? Is it some greater power that yet beats within the giant man's heart? Is it the honor bestowed upon him by that finely-worn wrestling mask?
Radha comes at him with a renewed fury for the sheer cheek of it. Within the Griffon Mask's mindframe, this is where he would deftly overcome the opponent's desperate ploy! The air of the stadium is rife with flashes of light, the sounds of cheering, the smiling faces of children! Behind him, the ropes that he will rebound off o--
He bumps that back into the damaged vending machine, wedging himself in there... willingly? A fresh spot of red forms around his shoulder. Did he just... impale himself?!
It's as inexplicable a mistake to make for all he went through to break free of the illusion. An unthinkably poor bit of spatial awareness, and so soon after he had just gotten done destroying it! Unimpeded, Radha rams the staff square into the thick abdominal muscles he must go through so much trouble to maintain.
The wall behind the vending machine, already weakened both from earlier attempts to soften up the station and further put in peril by having the vending machine nearly get struck through it when Tizoc had his go at it, completely giving away to a cacophony of a cracked, crushed, collapsed cut-out of the corridor.
This serves to further entangle him within the vending machine he backed himself into, pushing lacerations ever deeper. An official runs forward, waving their hands out in the open air while blowing a whistle. They're calling it over. It's over.
Given the state of the station, the only real decision on their part is whether to bring the medical team in now, or hurry to pull the vending machine with the Griffon Mask embedded in it out first.
Tizoc, the man underneath, has little to say - shock runs through his entire person as the reality of what he just did starts to set in.
COMBATSYS: Tizoc takes no action.
> ///////////// ]
COMBATSYS: Tizoc can no longer fight.
> ///////////// ]
Radha's head raises up and if the Griffon Mask is looking he might see that her expression is unreadable and strange, her lips half-curled in something that might be a smile, her eyes - did they lose their color?
But she wavers...
And turns to leap into the empty railbed. To recover her glasses, of course. She's laughing by the time she's helped back out, because in the lack of a heated moment, it's a bit harder to vault out of such a drop.
Log created on 19:26:02 05/03/2017 by Tizoc, and last modified on 22:31:40 05/13/2017.