The Black Dragon - Black Dragon R1 - Anarchy Reigns

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Description: With the authorities tied up dealing with the monsters running rampant all over the city, the scene is ripe for other agents of chaos to exploit the disaster for their own ends. In particular, a metal-head and general advocate for random mayhem known as Crock has decided that now would be an excellent opportunity to stick to the man. How? By destroying things, ofcourse! Unfortunately, the wild rocker's target proves to be a small soup kitchen established by the NOL to improve their public image. But with all of their primary military assets tied up, they have almost nothing left to throw at him except the kitchen sink - and the chef who was using it!


Crock, also known as C-Rock, had been humilated outside of Geese Tower by the one and only Heihachi Mishima. The man broke his guitar. He was not pleased. But the homeless busker was already working out his plan. Some channeling, some prayer, and some gauze was what he tied himself in. He needed a guitar. He needed something to eat.

He was hitting a soup kitchen.

The soup kitchen was coverted out of an old Chinese resteraunt, which generously donated itself in the lockdown around the Darkstalker assault. The staffing was running food out for the hungry and needy... and the staffing was explicitly Novus Orbis Librarium. Hitting a NOL target was dangerous. He liked danger. Dressed in his denim jacket and jeans, the brown-skinned punk with the red mohawk doesn't waste time coming in the backdoor. He smells like cheese, dirt, and blood. Dragging a hand along the stainless steel countertops of the support staff started raising voices of alarm as an "UM" as the man starts bringing himself all over the place. He was looking for something. And without bothering to deal with the people around him?

He starts opening up the cupboards, looking for what he needs.

Things had been going pretty well for Amandine recently. She got invited to a fancy party. Imagine that, a KARNSTEIN actually being invited to a ball? There she'd met the handsome Patriarch of the Podiebrads. They'd danced, and she'd even made new friends--well, "friends" of that maid, Zsa Zsa, and the loud-mouthed Belladonna Shimotsuki. Everything was going swimmingly!

And then, THEN, someone decided to invade Southtown AGAIN and this time with a bunch of SMELLY, FURRY MUTANTS. Amandine got the call before anything particularly spicy happened at Podiebrad Manor, and soon found herself en route as essential staff to quell the insurrection.

But no army can fight without its stomach, or, as it turns out, no city can function without emergency food supplies. Supplies which, even now, are being INTERRUPTED, RUDELY, by INTERLOPERS.

"WHAT THE SHIT," the shriek comes from kitchen shortly after one of the staffers slips through the back door as Crock gets precariously close to her. "I THOUGHT you guys were PROFESSIONALS. Don't ALL new trainees have COMBAT training? Just THROW HIM OUT ON HIS ASS if he's not following the RULES."

The stomping of small, heeled feet echoes through the kitchen as an exceptional short, exceptionally loud woman dressed in an overly elaborate gothic dress slams open the swinging door from the kitchen before tearing off a hairnet and letting her tremendous main of black hair unfurl down to her knees.

"HEY," she's somehow even louder now. "There's a PROCEDURE if you want to EAT." She huffs. "ASSHOLE."

Really, they ought to be.

As Crock tosses pots and pans to the floor, it's clear they are more confused by his brazen nature more than anything. Was this a crazy homeless man? Amandine's arrival seems to knock some sense to them, as they start cornering around the punk. Crock also notices, as he looks up. And then, down.

And Crock cackles.

"Would you hear the mouth on that little bear!" Crock snarls, as he caves a pizza pan into the head of the saucier. Tossing it on the ground, he pulls out a drawer, rummaging out a ladle. "What are you, Doogie Howser for Akihabara pedophiles?" Smashing it in the gut of the sous-chef. Sticking a leg out, he trips the tournant as he goes to help his partner, snapping up a whisk to shake it at Amandine.

"Seriously, you look like a striptease act out of Wonderland."

Amandine's teeth clench as the pizza pan clangs against one of her staff. Her eye twitches as the ladel clubs a second one. One can almost hear the grind of her heel as another trips.

"UGGGH," Amandine snarls. "Why do I ALWAYS get stuck cleaning up the MESSES?" Amandine stomps toward Crock, rolling her shoulder as she does. Each step is punctuated by the heavy clomp of her oversized heels as she moves into close range, undeterred entirely by the beating he's been giving her staff.

"Striptease act?" Amandine spits. "I am a CLASSY LADY." She huffs. "Not that you'd know CLASS if it BIT YOU IN THE ASS!" Amandine doesn't stop until she's basically nose to ... well, Amandine is not really tall enough to be nose to nose with basically anyone.

"So who the HELL are you again? Are you with FURRIES or just some other kind of JACKASS?"

"Fuck butter, you are not even an ASSY LADY!"

Crock lashes back, shaking the whisk at her head, smacking her with it. Harmlessly, to his frustration. He is forced to step back. "I need a snack, and some kind of fucking stick with strings. Do you not have any food in your swillshack? Or a God damned mop!" It was a volatile cocktail of abrasion in here now. Crock dumps the whisk on the ground, and pulls open another cabinet. He finds the cooking Brandy. He pops the cap, and gives a sample with a swig, glowering at the chef. And he bows.

"I am sorry, I am being so rude! Please, allow me"

And he swings his foot around to drag along one of the several stepping stools around the kitchen. "Why don't you step on up, and tell me in my face, what I should be doing in your kitchen." And he goes back to chugging the good cooking brandy.

Daring Amandine to step on up.

The twitch of Amandine's eye starts ever so slowly. It's minute, subdued even, at first. It slowly becomes more noticeable as the whisk hits her harmlessly, the brandy is drawn out, demands are made. And then...the stool.

Amandine does not step up onto the stool.

Amandine swiftly drives her foot up toward Crock's nethers and, if she it connects, leaps up to grab him round the neck in a stunner where she elbows him in the face.

"Oh, why don't YOU come to ME!!!"

COMBATSYS: Amandine has started a fight here.

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Amandine         0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Crock has joined the fight here.

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Amandine         0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0            Crock

COMBATSYS: Amandine successfully hits Crock with Short Order Stunner.

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Amandine         0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0            Crock

Crock's sneer drops as the little chef punts him between the legs.

The punk can only let out a high pitched whine as he is dropped, the girl seizing him to unleash the dropping stunner right into the stool. Plus the elbow bonus. Staggered and battered, the busker gasps and groans, staggering to rise up. There was 101 things he wanted to do right now to the brat. And he could only do 1 of them.

He still didn't have his weapon yet.

Hurling in, the punk tries to snatch his hand on the girl's curls. "BITCH!" Is all he would be able to muster as he would then attempt to get his other hand on the back of her bloomers, and try to chuck her right into that funny pot that's right near by.

Before going straight to find anything he can tune with.

COMBATSYS: Amandine interrupts Strong Throw from Crock with Tuxedo Bombe.

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Amandine         0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0            Crock

The sheer look of smugness that passes across Amandine's face says it all when Crock drops to eye-level with her. Her hands are on her hips proudly, looking a bit like the cat who ate the canary.

But then, Crock reaches for her hair. Her glorious raven locks, sullied by some--HOODLUM!

"HEY!" Amandine snatches Crock by the wrist, holding his hand almost gingerly with her fingers to avoid fully touching his sleeve. Even so, her grip is like a vice with its monsterous strength. "NO TOUCHING before you WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS!"

Amandine then steps onto the stool and smashes into Crock with an explosively delivered hip-bump, risking slamming him in the face with her rear as she clobbers him away.

"Oho ho ho ho, and I thought you said I WASN'T an ASSY LADY! How was THAT?!"

Even on the build up, something looked sick

Oh, Crock never looked right for sure. But there was a droning sound, a moaning sound deep within him. He was writhing, uncomfortable, in pain. When The Chef bumps him? He smashes into a utensil rack, the display collapsing around him in a cacophonous collapse. And yet, as knifes and forks fall upon him, the man doubled over, he seemed... to feel better.

And his expression seemed ashamed of it.

"You're shitting me!" He roars out, as he sudden grabs a pair of spoons. Staggering up to a stand, he licks over both of them. Did he... did he think he grabbed a knife? And what comes next is impossible to describe in full detail. The punk rocker, in what can be best described as a moment of inspiration, begins to clap the spoons against his knee with rapid, off-beat syncopation, faster and faster, as the drone within becomes a drone out loud. The din rattles the pots and pans all through the kitchen, until finally, he gives a final slap.

And the tiled kitchen floor rips up, as a massive shockwave of sound and stone tears across the floor straight for the gothic Lolita chef.

COMBATSYS: Crock successfully hits Amandine with Soup Glass Side Salad.
- Power hit! -

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Amandine         0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0            Crock

Amandine's eyebrow raises when Crock starts to...vibrate? Reverb? She reaches up and covers an ear with the cusp of her hand, then sticks her finger in it to check. "What the--"

"Oh, I didn't know that you were a STREET MUSICIAN! Don't you guys usually ASK for TIPS. I mean, is THIS what we're coming to-"

There's a wall of earth there. That wasn't there a moment ago, Amandine.

The gothic lolita chef powers into it--but underestimate the attack. It smashes into her, knocking her back-first into a rolling cart and sending her sailing across the kitchen, the floofy dress splaying out over her. Cart meets counter in a ferocious crash, and Amandine is spilled onto the floor in a unceremonious heap.

And what follows is several seconds of her getting her dress pulled back down enough to actually see, then her floundering back onto her feet.

"So you've got TRICKS, too, HUH? Well, TWO can play THAT game."

Amandine takes hold of a bottle of sherry, flips it around like a skilled bartender, then pops the hold neck of the bottle off with her thumb. The bottle is inverted as Amandine guzzles it down, emptying the thing in record time before chunking the bottle in the trash because her kitchen is spotless as far as SHE is concerned (thank you very much).

The gothic lolita chef beats her chest with a tiny fist as her stomach grumbles, and then--

A fireball shoots across the kitchen from her mouth as Amandine lets loose a raucous belch, chi flames smelling like an alcohol fire as it the blast scorches the air.

COMBATSYS: Amandine successfully hits Crock with Aperitif.

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Amandine         1/------=/=======|=======\-------\0            Crock

Not just a street musician.

Disgusted, the busker throws away the spoons as he glares right up the skirt of the brat. "The name's Crock. C-Rock. And I need a god damn instrument and meal to go!" The punk pulls out another drawer, a shelf while the brat starts chugging. He whips out a pot, looking down at Amandine. And Amandine was looking up at -him-. And when she makes the belch? The blazing bonfire scorches up, as he tries and fails to block with the pot. Mohawk on fire, he howls, running past the counters and dousing his head in a soapy scummy bucket.

A bucket.

Pulling his head out of the pail, he sneers; it didn't matter if his red mohawk was now short and nearly leaving him bald. He grabs the mop, and runs his hand up and down the neck. "Oh, you're in trouble now missy." He croons, as he adjusts his stance. Taking a pained breath, he begins to... play... the mop. Following chords and strums that are not there. Tuning where there was nothing to tune. There wasn't even a sound, as he growls into it. "I'm gonna tear this whole ****ing building down, stone by stone. I can feel it. THE NOL is GOING TO HELL!" He calls out, as begins to pluck the invisible strings faster and faster.

Imagine one's surprise, as a snarling drone begins to rise from the air mop.

COMBATSYS: Crock charges his next attack!

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Amandine         1/------=/=======|=======\=------\1            Crock

Amandine would chortle at C-Rock having to soak his head in the mop bucket, but something is amiss. The small chef's stomach rumbles, apparently unsettled by that ... somewhat disgusting display of chi control. As a sour expression crosses her face, a bit more chi flame spills out of her mouth, forcing Amandine to fan her tongue like she just ate something spicy.

"What the HELL," Amandine blurts. "Did you do something WEIRD??" But lo, he is definitely doing something weird. The bucket becomes a drum, and then the air mop joins in the chorus as strange music echoes through the kitchen.

"I feel funny," Amandine rambles. "Tantalus, are you doing something WEIRD?" Amandine reaches for a nearby tray of sandwiches, taking several from the platter before voraciously shoving one into her mouth. "Stuphd puhnk rohhurt," Amandine mumbles over a mouthful of bread before shoveling in a third sandwich.

Crock sneers, as the lady starts stuffing herself with sandwiches.

"Nothing you wouldn't do to yourself." He growls, as the drone builds, as he riffs on the air mop, the cacophony building. The plates were rattling, utensils were falling from their stands. "You just don't have any TASTE you know? That's why all of this needs to go away. Everyone starves, nobody lives. And the crumbs will be left for the cockroaches."

ANd he slams down.

A wave of sonic energy cascades forward, mingled with shards of stone as he blasts it forward. The hornets nest of energy and slivers blasts to capture Amandine into a storm. The blazing spin cycle, should it hit the lady, would slam her into the ceiling. And there, the punk would just keep playing and playing, rocking and riffing. Every chord would bring a slam of sonic energy, a buzz-storm of stone shards from the earth. Until finally, finally, the sound would stop. And Crock would exhale, relaxing as he allows the energy flow out.

"Incredible, just incredible."

COMBATSYS: Amandine just-defends Crock's Empowered You're Harmful To Minors Mister Yuck!

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Amandine         1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0            Crock

COMBATSYS: Amandine successfully aids herself with Soup du Jour.

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Amandine         1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0            Crock

Amandine devours furiously. Shoveling sandwiches into her mouth as fast as she can, the tiny chef makes short work of the platter that would have, ideally, fed a sizeable group. Whatever has possessed the gothic little jerk, she seems to have no intention to stop. And then it gets worse.

There's the sound of rending metal as Amandine collapses the platter in her tiny, monstrously strong hands, folding it up into a crumbled mass. Rather than toss it aside, she unceremoniously shoves the entire platter into her maw as well and---frighteningly enough, chews and swallows that down too without ill-effect. Her midsection rumbles ferociously, the NOL chef looking like a woman possessed as she turns toward C-Rock.

And when the sonic wave hits her, Amandine powers through it, her hair billowing behind her as she covers her ears. A wave of stone shards chases it, and Amandine seems to be exposed, in no position to block.

Putting that obnoxiously big mouth to use, Amandine seems to defy physics for a moment with whatever terrible power is surging through her. She opens wide, snapping up the incoming projectiles and devouring those with the same reckless abandon that she did the sandwiches and platter. When the assault subsides, there's no trace of it.

"Urrrrp," Amandine rattles the glasses on a nearby shelf before thumping her chest. "BLAND!" she judges. "But that's better. NOW!" That chain around her waist rattles and Amandine pulls it tight, yanking it with a cacophonous clatter. With a jerk, she swings it toward C-Rock---and the massive cauldron Tantalus smashes through the kitchen, knocking a chunk out of a wall as the chef wields it like a flail. It leaves the ground as Amandine starts twirling the thing around her one-handed.


Slamming it down, Amandine threatens to smash the man to the ground, then snaps Tantalus back up with a flick of her wrist before bringing it down again with an explosion of fiery chi.

COMBATSYS: Crock blocks Amandine's Get Out of My Kitchen.

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Amandine         0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0            Crock

Crock looks back over, to the damage he unleashed.

He did not unleash damage.

The look on the punk's face is impossible to describe. As the great belch comes out, the man's body begins to get limp. It's like his soul is leaving his body. When the cookpot comes around though, he desperately brings his mop up. The tool burns with energy, as he fixes his feet down... and not surprisingly, the mop snaps on the first impact. Bringing his arms up, he takes the second hit -hard-, his arms bearing most of the impact as he is slammed into a stove top. The smell of gas breaks out as a line snaps, and he staggers forward, limbs purple black. But he wasn't just hurt.

Oh, he was furious.

"YOU ATE MY SONG!" He howls, surging back towards Amandine, rampaging in a roaring rage of righteous wrath. "YOU ATE MY MUSIC! LITTLE SCUMBALL!" Grabbing the remains of his mop, he leaps up high, throwing his entire body at the little gothic lolita shit. He wasn't going to use finesse. He was going to body-slam the little chef, with a cratering impact once, then twice.


COMBATSYS: Amandine barely endures Crock's Hey! Where Is My Catnap?.

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Amandine         0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1            Crock

"Hey, I mean, I GUESS it's pretty impressive you can like, attack people with MUSIC," Amandine tugs on the chain, pulling it along and reeling Tantalus back to her. "But it wasn't especially GOOD," she continues, patting her stomach. "I mean--"

C-Rock slams into Amandine bodily, knocking the little chef into the ground hard enough to warp the tile and smash her into the earth underneath. A second slam follows, digging her the ground.

But still, Amandine endures, reaching back up to try and grab hold of Crock before he can get away.

"UGH," Amandine pulls her legs up, threatening to plant her heeled shoes against Crock's chest and kick him off. "Don't TEST ME!!!" She howls. "I DOUBT there's enough sauce in the WORLD to make you PALATABLE!!"

COMBATSYS: Crock endures Amandine's Medium Strike.

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Amandine         0/-------/----===|=======\=------\1            Crock

Crock was slow to rise.

THe C-Rock was hurting badly, he was battered and bruised, he had no food for it, and the brat drank up the good liquor. Staggering back up from his stand, the little paw seizes the rocker before he can fully ease on his feet. A foot comes up, the high heels going straight for the chest.

And Crock takes that heel to the chest.

"What, you want a little more gristle, sweetpea?" The busker snarls, as he won't let Amandine slip away on her kick off. He would be hooking his hand around, to grab her right on her thigh, and pull the little brat up to his eye level. And there, if he got a grip, would begin to -slam- his forehead straight at her mouth, three times, before pivoting to -slam- her into a bed of stones, right behind him. Bed of stones. Yes, he was breaking the floor of the place with stones.

Without the music?

COMBATSYS: Amandine blocks Crock's Hot To Haughty Hollow Hammer Teeth.

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Amandine         0/-------/---====|=======\==-----\1            Crock

The apathy of Amandine knows no bounds. Starving? Desperate? Amandine is more invested in the fact that he had the gumption to break into her kitchen, eat her food, and make her look like a fool who can't even manage soup kitchen in a crisis. Perhaps inwardly, Amandine knows the type of lecture she might get for this. Or she would, if she ever thought that far ahead.

Instead, she's hear doing more damage than good trying to forcefully remove the anarchist from the premises. She boots him off of her. "LEGGO!" she protests, but then he's got her leg and is swinging her through the air.

Amandine smashes into a bed of stones, cracking some of them as she curls up defensively. "UGH!! PUT ME DOWN!!!" Amandine yanks the chain, pulling Tantalus too her and swinging him about wildly.

COMBATSYS: Amandine successfully hits Crock with Mix Stir Beat.

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Amandine         0/-------/--=====|=======\=====--\1            Crock

He felt it in his bones.

Crock grabs the brat, and unleashes his slam. But the girl was too -tough-. A symbol of the boot stamping on the face of nature, of mankind. He wanted to make her look like a fool. ANd yet, as he makes his slam, the rattle of the chain comes. He tries to block, but the cauldron -hammers- right into him. The second swing comes, and knocks him asunder. Landing on one knee, he rises up...

And he coughs up a splash of blood.

"No way..." He growls, as he staggers back. His body was trembling, the drone was building up. "No! Not now! NOT LIKE THIS!" He doubles over, as he spasms, writhing in pain. Breathing hard, he is forced to throw his head back into a scream. He grabs his bloodied, bruised head, gnashing his teeth. The sound builds, and finally, it releases as he screams. RAnd the air around him explodes into a crater. Stone shards whirl around him, as he howls in pain. The roof and fixtures are all knocked away... as the smell of gas builds in the aftermath. Amandine might be in the way. Might not be in the way. But the explosion rattles, as the soup kitchen goes up, a spark hitting the gas.


COMBATSYS: Crock can no longer fight.

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Amandine         0/-------/--=====|

COMBATSYS: Crock successfully hits Amandine with WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!.

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Amandine         1/-----==/=======|

The look on Amandine's smug face is insufferable. She looks like the cat who swallowed the canary, gloating at how her durability and power have given her the edge once again. She wields Tantalus with a strange dexterity, swinging it around with a wild abandon that completely contradicts the size and weight of the cauldron.

But Tantalus clangs to a stop as Crock howls, drawing Amandine's surprise--and distrust. "What the HELL are you doing?" she asks without effort made to move toward him. It's when the energy explodes that she finds out the hard way--the entire kitchen going up in a fireball.

And amidst the explosion, a relatively small projectile smashes into a storefront across the street. It is followed several seconds later by Tantalus trailing behind and smashing on top of Amandine.

"BARF," Amandine says, coughing up a cloud of ash and soot. She pushes Amandine off her without getting up, then sits up a smoky mess. Part of her hair is still on fire as she beats it out. "That was AWFUL. I am NOT taking the BLAME for this one! YOU HEAR ME!!!" she shouts into the night. "NOT MY FAULT!!!"

Unfortunately for Amandine, there would be no Crock around to blame.

Attacking a NOL facility is serious business, for sure. But the busker would have blown himself away as well as Amandine. Still no guitar. Still no meal. And even more battered than before. And yet, he feels that it all and all was a success.

Even if it just means her life is more miserable.

Log created on 15:34:09 03/27/2020 by Crock, and last modified on 20:09:13 04/02/2020.