Description: Seeking challenges to show off the fruits of her labor, Hayley Bretherton finds herself in Southtown at a local level tournament. As she faces off against a thick skulled goon from the Syndicate. While Hayley fights for pride and profit, watching for potential allies or possible future foes is Malin. Attention is found all around, for good and ill, there on the docks of Southtown
Donavon falls asleep.
Donavon wakes up.
Boat horns bluster and blow. Crowds gather and raise their voices along with the blaring wail of the ships and tugboats. Gathered as they are for a tournament. Not the vaunted King of Fighters, not nearly so large or impressive. No, this is a smaller affair, an act by a local fight fan organization to have a proper throwdown of their own to celebrate the refurbishment of an old warehouse into a modern, yet tastefully and fashionably lowkey, fighting venue. And while no one knows exactly the name of the financier that sponsored this foray into gentrified fisticuffs, those with invites, money, or fingers on the pulse, have all gathered up to see what hopes to be a fantastic series of fights.
Not everyone who got in did so by way of welcome. A blonde girl munching on taiyaki watches the fights while staying in a near constant motion. Here, there, everywhere, to avoid being still long enough for anyone to think too deeply on. Her name is Malin, and even though no one has asked or even cared to know, she is there on recognizance for a secret organization of noble thieves or spies or both. Mostly, she knows through hunches and eavesdropping that the whole thing is a Syndicate sham and she wants to know just what they're getting up to. And so far, the looks of the thing seems to be recruiting.
A few familiar faces here and there, people she's seen, people she's fought. People that she knows are Syndicate. But there's just as many that aren't. What's bugging her is that not many of those people who aren't Syndicate are big names. And most of them are just showing up to get beaten into paste by a Syndicate Thug playing at pro fighter. It's all a gambit that steams Malin. But she didn't enter the show, just entered the building. So she's set on spying, and stewing, and chewing on her sweet bean cake while she wonders if she could get some chili powder for it.
Back in the ring, a powerfully built baldy looks composed and cocky and ready to knock the brains of some uppity punk in. The heavy chain necklace he wears shines in the house lights, as does the sunglasses her wears to show everyone how little he cares about the threat of his opponent. He cracks his knuckles and gives a knowing look to the judges of the proceedings. "This won't take long," he says as he steps forward and hitches his thumb on the belt of his jeans to give them a little tug farther up his waist.
COMBATSYS: Donavon has started a fight here.
Donavon falls asleep.
Donavon wakes up.
A young woman enters from the other side of the ring. 5'6. Blue-black hair that's gotten long and shaggy with how it drapes slightly past her neck and has to be held out of her face with a headband. She's well-built. Scrappy, even. Unusually wide in the hip and big in the seat, however. The Her sleeveless khaki hiking vest over a blue tanktop and set of workout pants make for a strong set of fashion, but then again, these kind of circuits attract all sorts of unusual styles.
When she steps up to the ring she kicks her shoes off to the side, then pulls her arms up over her head in a full stretch. Left, then right before dropping from standing to a low crouch, then upright in smooth motions. She may be a rookie in over her head, but she does seem to have the physique of a fighter, at least.
Hayley Bretherton is on the move again. Her time with the Ikari Warriors was a bit more brief than she would have liked. A few factors contributed to that, but none of them were largely her fault. She gave it her best shot against one Makoto Nanaya, but her "best shot" was apparently not good enough. No one would blame her for losing. Not Lita, not Leona.
But that didn't keep Hayley from wanting to move on for now, promising to stop back by again when she finds herself in a better place for it. How getting there involved a detour through Southtown isn't quite clear, but here she is.
"Roight so," Hayley says, perhaps a little too quietly to be heard well. "Do we start on a bell or...?"
COMBATSYS: Hayley has joined the fight here.
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Donavon 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hayley
The roar of the crowd intensifies as Hayley doesn't make her move. She can feel the blend of tension and hype in the air, rolled together with a certain heavyness that's almost palpable.
"You waiting for an invitation, lady?" comes the call from the ringside.
"Yeah, what're you waiting for? This is a fight!"
Hayley swallows, stepping forward and setting her feet further apart from another. She lifts on her toes slightly, tension building in her legs as she draws one arm up and forward and keeps the other close to her chest.
She moves like a striking cobra. Powerful legs close the gap between her and the ganger in what looks like one great step. From it her leg snaps forward and low, aiming to catch Donavon behind the knee and take him off balance. Her arm whips out on the second beat, grabbing at his wrist to pull him forward and further off-balance. A second strike comes with the third beat, Hayley's hand snaking away from the grab and then joining her other hand in a double-palm strike toward Donavon's trunk.
COMBATSYS: Donavon blocks Hayley's Twin Adder Striking Fangs.
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Donavon 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Hayley
Mr. Sunglasses at night looks at his youthful opponent with a sneering contempt. "What is this? Shouldn't you be in school right now?" he taunts, leering behind his sunglasses and laughing with boorish bravado alongside his companions on the otherside of the fight cage.
"She don't even know she's supposed to be. . .oh crap." Distracted, unconcerned, Donavon is caught off guard. He just barely gets his arms up to defend against the thumping blows from Hayley's serpentine striking. The kick knocks his knee. She tugs his arm forward, but Donavon's muscles aren't just for show and he pulls back away from her. But the thumping blow at his belly makes him bounce back against the chain.
He comes back to Hayley with a series of pistoning jabs and strikes. "Gonna wreck you for trying that crap," he sneers with his huffing fists of fury.
COMBATSYS: Hayley instinctively blocks Donavon's 1-2 Punch.
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Donavon 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Hayley
Hayley grits when her blows impact against the man's tight guard. Her fingers curl and tighten, and she draws back on the defensive with a bend of her knees and a shift of her posture. An almost fangy bit of tooth shows when she grits her teeth in concentration.
"Oi? Trying what?" Hayley says, "tell those blokes 'round the ring not to tell me to go if you weren't ready!" But Hayley finds herself on the defensive before she can say anything else. The first punch goes for her face, but Hayley's arm comes around from the slide. Back of palm strikes forearm as the blow's intercepted, impact jarring through her arm instead of her jaw. The second punch meets her forearm as she blocks it, riding the hit back a step, then another as she widens the gap between them.
Hayley spread her feet further, bending her knees and lowering her posture. Her arms sweep out fluidly, one extended behind her head and the further fully forward in some variety of Southern Kung Fu stance. From it she surges forward again. Each strike this time is wide, but not open. A pair of whiplike chops that rotate for speed and power while covering her advance.
COMBATSYS: Hayley successfully hits Donavon with Descending Magpie.
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Donavon 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Hayley
Donavon presses forward. Each of his punches carrying just a bit further toward the girl. But he can't make it stick. He can't hit what he needs and he deftness puts him on his heels. His sunglasses hide his frustration, his necklace rattles and glints in the fight lights.
"You can't even hurt me!" he challenges, hurling himself toward Hayley when she surges. And crack, snap, back Donavon goes, staggering, arms flailing for help as he once more bounces against the chain. Now his compatriots are beginning to laugh at him. "You're next if you don't shut it!" he spits at the men on the other side, "C'mon girlie, let's see you take it like a man!"
He rushes Hayley, going in hard for her and ducking low for the girl's waist. He's sweeping in to get a good, twisting grip and to hoist the smaller woman up for a terrible slamming suplex to the floor!
COMBATSYS: Hayley blocks Donavon's German Suplex.
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Donavon 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Hayley
Chewing her lip, Hayley shifts her footing again. She lifts one foot to stand on her toes, her stance tight like a trap ready to spring into action again. Mr. Sunglasses goes for a throw rather than a strike, and Hayley adjusts. His arms go around her waist, and she goes up over his head toward the ground.
A million thoughts rush through her head. Did I get too close? Is this guy tougher than he seems? What if I screw up? What if this is just another--
Hayley turtles up, landing on her forearms. The impact shoots through her upper back and Hayley winces from it, but she doesn't give. With a buck, she's out of the suplex. Her shoulders tense and her arms go taut. For a moment, the young Aussie holds whole bodyweight up vertically with one hand, from where she pushes off to somersault back onto her feet with a slap of skin against concrete.
"Phew," Hayley sighs under her breath, then blows her hair out of face. She rolls her neck and shoulders, still sore from the suplex. Her stance resumes. One fist forward and clench, her weight put on her backfeet. With another bend of her knees she shoots forward like a bullet, closing the gap with Donavon.
"Oh, I've had my fair share of taking it lately," she mutters. "There are some fighters out there that hit bloody hard." Was that it a slight? It seemed like a slight.
Hayley's leg shoots up, her kick shooting up like a cannon aimed at Mr. Sunglasses' ribs.
COMBATSYS: Hayley successfully hits Donavon with Medium Kick.
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Donavon 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Hayley
Malin slinks about the crowds, her intrigue caught by the woman in the cage. The deftness she presents picking apart the Syndicate goon. She watches with a rapt attention even as she steals a handful of popcorn from a person in passing. She thinks to herself, asking the deep question of maybe. . .
Donavon gags with the force of the foot in his chest. A bellowing grunt forces its way out of his gullet. He staggers back and curls. "Oh, just you wait, lucky. . .bitch," he snarls between shaking groans of belly pains.
"Let's see you get luck again!" he howls out as he lashes for Hayley. Both hands come together in a hammering swinging uppercut. A meaty double-fisted slug that's followed up with an equally pounding hammer blow from the thug.
COMBATSYS: Hayley blocks Donavon's Double Fisted Fury.
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Donavon 0/-------/------=|=======\==-----\1 Hayley
If Hayley knew she had someone's interest in the crowd, she might be flattered. Flustered, more likely, but appreciative that someone thought she was fighting well. In her eyes, she hasn't done that much lately.
But here, she has a bit of an advantage. She can tell she's got this guy on the ropes. A bit of confidence sinks in. Her expression improves. Her shoulders lift a bit. Even so, it's all carefully bridled with a sense of dread. With worry that all it takes is one slip.
"That's a bit harsh, mate," Hayley says, "but if it's luck, it's gotta run out soon, huh?" Just a pinch of confidence. He punches well enough, but he's no Makoto. ...and he's definitely not nearly as dangerous as her sifu.
The uppercut comes, but Hayley is ready. She inhales sharply and guards, her aura briefly visible from the power gathered in her muscles to soften the blow. The uppercut takes her off her feet, but it only finds purchase in her forearms rather than the squishier belly behind them. With such an impact, Hayley goes off her feet for a minute, landing a half foot behind where she was--and perfectly positioned to meet the hammer blow with her shoulder, steer it to the side, and step in toward Sunglasses once again.
And then she drops, going low under the man's arms. Her legs spring like a trap, shooting upward with a striking upward palm aimed at the man's chin. From there she slaps his shoulders, briefly using the man for balance as she snaps into two overhead, snapping kicks. Short and fast, but lacking some of her earlier power. If she's still got a grip, she vaults herself up, plants her feet on his chest, and kicks herself backward into a flip away.
COMBATSYS: Hayley successfully hits Donavon with Kangaroo Boxing Stance.
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Donavon 0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1 Hayley
Not an ounce of purchase. Not a bit. Donavon slugs and throws hands away, but it isn't making the girl budge. He is no Makoto, he's not fit to do much more than push around people on the streets. The presence of an actual fighter is one that puts him far behind the eight ball. Especially without the friends currently making fun of his performance to back him up in a street fight.
But he isn't down yet. All he has to do is take the girl head on and he'll grind her under his bootheel.
A moment later, as he picks himself up off the floor after being sent hurtling through the air without much ease at all, really. He grouses to himself, leaving his glasses broken and dashed on the floor.
"Gonna wreck you," he mutters, grunting and taking a flying, smashing leap for Hayley with a heavy elbow drop from above.
COMBATSYS: Hayley interrupts Flying Elbow from Donavon with Triumphant Wombat ES.
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Donavon 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Hayley
Hayley's hand runs along her forearm, kneading the muscle that's been taking much of the punishment from Donavon's blows. Having taken her more than her fair share of hits from some very strong fighters, Hayley could almost feel relieved here. Maybe her training is finally paying off if she can roll with the punches this well.
"Sorry," Hayley says, "but I've been working hard." She rolls her neck. "You're gonna have to work for it, too."
And when the man goes for the flying elbow, Hayley adjusts her posture again. She smoothly steps into her stance, extending a hand, forward and aligning herself with him. He goes in, goes airborne, bringing his elbow down toward her head. Hayley inhales in sync, turns, and moves.
The elbow thumps heavily against Hayley's back as legs tense to keep her stable. For someone like Donavon, it may feel a bit more like hitting a sack of concrete than the little girl he was expecting to wallop. Hayley winces, but stands firm, practically letting the ganger sprawl across her back.
And the counter comes with a single, powerhouse snap. With almost no momentum or build-up, Hayley hipchecks the man with a flash of chi, butt-bumping him with enough force to likely send him flying across the ring. Hayley stops her own movement with a single step and a bounce as everything settles.
"Hoi," Hayley calls. "How was that?"
A slow, groaning grunt; something of an "oowa" sound comes from Donavon as he's smacked bodily with the indefatigable hips of Hayley Bretherton. He lands, broken and beaten as his sunglasses, on his side by the edge of the cage.
The crowd sits and stillness and silence, waiting, waiting. They watch as he surges back up, anger in his eyes, but not a lick of focus. And he flops backward with one final sigh of defeat and a slipping of awareness.
The crowd explodes. Seeing the younger fighter's skill against the roughneck opposition brings them to cheers and chants. Something about a girl knocking the lights out of a sneering musclebound thug has their attention, and Hayley has their hearts.
But among the crowd, Malin isn't cheering. She sips from a soda she relieved from someone not enjoying it as much as she is. She likes what she's seen, and she's already deep into making plans. Good plans. Plans that might actually involve things more than just dive-bombing this girl with the funny accent with the vague idea of causing trouble. Though Malin is the first to point out that the plan is at least a solid one.
She slips toward the cages, closer and closer still. But a voice calls out that isn't the cheering. A figure in sunglasses, one of a few. The show was fun while it lasted, and at least Malin got to see that girl, Hayley, fight. So all wasn't lost.
With a flying soda bottle in her wake, she's zipping through the crowd and up the cage. She rounds the ring around Hayley, giving a wave while she walks the ring like a tight-rope in her sudden escape.
COMBATSYS: Donavon takes no action.
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COMBATSYS: Donavon can no longer fight.
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Hayley cocks a hip, resting a hand on it as the crowd breaks into cheering. Her other hand goes to her face, brushing her hair back out of her face with a sheepish semi-smile.
When someone calls after the slippery thief, Hayley looks up with a start--and possibly a sense of dread.
She greets the wave with one of her own, plus a look of confusion about the sudden tightrope act.
Ah well, there will be time to catch the combatant and Malin really does need to be going. She scampers along in her tight rope act to get a bit of distance before she leaps and bounds over the crowd, falling in and among them. A slip of the guards and a brief distraction that garners no more attention than needed for the moment. Because there's a tournament going on and there are fights to be had.
Outside, thanks to a drainpipe and the brief use of her stun baton, Malin has gotten the height advantage and a bit of piece. While she plays with her yo-yo, she has to consider; just how is she going to get the attention of this Hayley Bretherton?
Log created on 15:26:56 08/19/2019 by Malin, and last modified on 14:10:32 08/20/2019.