The Black Dragon - Black Dragon R1 - Theatrical Review

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Description: As the rest of the city descends into a tangled mess while trying to hold off the onslaught of monsters, a representative of the local ninja clans takes a more measured approach to the situation. After observing their patterns of movement for some time, Noboru discerns that a large number of the dark stalkers seem to be originating from an old abandoned theater in the slums. Slipping past the roving hunting packs, he manages to infiltrate the facility only to discover that he's wandered right into a mousetrap - and he's the mouse.

The Emerald Theatre was once a bustling place. Here the local government pumped a significant amount of money into reinvigorating the district by refurbishing a retro theatre both for limited showings of films and to give a venue to burgeoning local performances. At one point, the theatre was seeing regular showings--then as the neighborhood changed, the theatre changed as well. Government support dried up for it as tax money was moved to other parts of the city. Boards replaced broken windows. Torn, rotting posters were left in the marquees. The theatre as a whole was not left in much better shape. Lifeless and forgotten, no signs of life came and went save for the occasional displaced person looking for temporary shelter.

Until recent weeks, when suddenly the theatre starting seeing steady, subtle traffic. Cloaked figures slinked out at all hours of the night. Muggings and petty larceny became even more common. The need for police action (or Syndicate pressure) grew steadily larger---until everything went to pot, and Darkstalkers started pouring into the city.

Tonight, a lone figure in an oversized hood makes its way toward the Emerald Theatre, slinking its way from alley to alley, moving between parked cars bus stops, and trash cans. It goes to stage entrance and knocks three times before the door opens with a metallic squeak.

The city is burning. In no less than three different places the orange glow of flames reflects off of a low ceiling of oily black smoke, lending the horizon a hellish appearance. It is an odd thing to see, uncomfortable in its strangeness. A strangeness that is amplified further by the city's lack of rhythm. Streets that should be at least sparsely populated are empty. Apartments that should be vibrating with the bassy music of inconsiderate neighbors are silent. And underlying it all are the constant, far off sounds of sirens.
While the metal door creeks open below to admit the cloaked stranger, a warm draft of smoky air washes over the theatre's roof. Catching at a rusty panel on the side of a weather beaten air conditioner, it peels it away from the metal side before allowing it to slap back into place with a resounding CLANG. Gust, and CLANG. Gust, and Clang.
It is between gusts and clangs that a dark shape shifts into focus, his solid mass resolving out of nothingness to stand tall and unruffled atop the short lip that encircles the roof. Head bowed forward, long golden-brown hair fluttering around his masked face, the muscular figure stares down the wall toward the stage entrance directly below him. Arms folded loosely across his middle, he exhales in a long, slow stream, separating himself from the polluted fabric of the city's chi.
With both eyes open, the Iron Mystic can see what any other person can. Filthy streets lit by the buzzing whitish glow of street lamps. Abandoned cars, tumbling bits of trash. But he can also see the complex network of energy that connects all of these things. A world made entirely of flames, all crackling colors shot through with harsh lines of negative light. There are very few things that can escape the eye of the stoic shinobi.
Sweeping his dual sight across the roof, he pivots away from the edge and stares down through the building. Gazing through layers of tile and insulation, steel and sheet rock, he searches the theatre for the telltale sparks of life, rope-bound feet padding near silently between the squat hulks of machines. Circling around a large box fan of some kind, he lowers himself into a crouch and studies the roof before him. A flat expanse of tar shingles layered atop gravel cement. And beneath that, a long drop to the stage below. A relatively open space.
Unfolding his arms, the ninja lifts his right hand before him and closes his eyes, chest expanding in a slow, deep breath. Releasing it with equal care, he curls his fingers into a fist, rope wrap squeaking softly from the pressure, and drops it toward the ceiling in a motion that is far too casual for the resulting effect.
Knuckles strike tar with a sound like a drum being hit, the entire building quivering in sympathetic response. Beneath Noboru's feat the roof vibrates, waves of force rippling out through hairline flaws in the material, doubling back, crashing into one another. The vibration grows more intense as the process accelerates, each successive wave coming faster, the resulting rebounds more chaotic. Cracks appear in the cement, snapping into existence with a series of rifle-like pops.
And then, all at once, an area of ceiling roughly 7 feet across simply disintegrates, a wave of dust and gravel chunks dropping near silently into the theatre with Noboru atop it. The impact, however, is anything but silent. The thunderous boom of hundreds of pounds of material smashing into the stage echo's throughout the open space, followed by a wave of floating debris as the dust is kicked into the surrounding air. And at the center of it all, crouched low atop the gravel pile with his right hand braced in a loose fist, is the invading ninja.
By the end of the night, the city is going to have one less problem to deal with.

What was going on in here is anyone's guess before the roof suddenly gave in, much to the surprise of the occupants. Scraps of old and weathered props poke through the heaps of debris atop the stage, boards having given way under the impact to leave Noboru standing in a small mountain of destruction.

Several humanoid figures--three, it seems have scattered away from the stage where they had once been close. One is the hooded one from before, her cloak pulled back. Two seem to be young women, and one older. More jaded, with a scar around her right eye and the blankness in it of an old injury. Her hair is short and smoky, cut into a mid-length low-maintenance cut. The one in the cloak has long hair, black and dirty, that runs down past her shoulders. The third is brunette, with long bangs on both sides. All three seem to be wearing a fashion that's half military fatigue and half thrift store.

All three also have distinct cat-like ears poking out from their hair.

"What are you waiting for," the smoky-haired one barks. "We have an intruder!"

The other two look at each other with uncertainty. Smoky gestures with something unseen in her hand, and the two circle Noboru. One assumes something that looks like a boxing stance. The other bears claws.

COMBATSYS: Catscratch Fever has started a fight here.

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Catscratch Fever 0/-------/-------|

Straightening to his full, moderately impressive height atop the loose pile of debris, Noboru sweeps his gaze once across the room, gathering what details he can through the haze of choking dust. Scattered props jut out of the rubble of his immediate surroundings, and a short ways beyond that a set of portable floodlights fill the room with dim illumination.
The ninja's mismatched eyes sweep across first one, then the other of the younger cats, taking in the nervous flicker of their essence, the flighty nature of creatures more prone to running. It is only once his gaze falls upon the third creature that he settles, chest rumbling softly.
Seeming completely at ease after having punched his way through the ceiling, the mystic folds his arms loosely across his middle, hand clasping either forearm, and dips his masked chin toward his chest in a stance of idle contemplation.
"You stand at a crossroads with many paths before you," the shinobi murmurs, voice deep and grinding yet tone surprisingly mellow. "The streets run red with the blood of men and beasts. Which will you choose to be?"

COMBATSYS: Noboru has joined the fight here.

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Noboru           0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

COMBATSYS: Noboru focuses on his next action.

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Noboru           0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

"Who is this guy, Scratch?" the brunette catgirl says, pulling her fingerless gloves tight as she bobs in her boxing stance. She draws up her fists, stepping sideways to try and get a better angle on the shinobi who just arrived.

"What the hell does it matter?" the smoky-haired catgirl growls. "He ain't supposed to be here, so make sure to throw him out on his ass." A pause. "Or I'll have both of yoru asses." The black-haired catgirl pushes her hair out of her face before hunkering forward, claws popping out of her splayed fingers.

The brunette surges in, ducking low. She swings a fist out--but then transitions from punch to grab, trying to latch on to Noboru to pull him in and chomp him!

The black-haired catgirl looks at the one who seems to be her boss, then back at Noboru. The smoky-haired one clicks something in her hand, and a brief sound of static comes from something under the black-haired one's coat. "--I'm moving! I'm moving!" she protests with a whine.

COMBATSYS: Noboru just-defends Catscratch Fever's Aggressive Bite!

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Noboru           0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

Standing rooted like a great oak atop his mountain of refuse, Noboru waits quietly for the monsters arrayed before him to decide their fates. With his dusty hair hanging forward around his face and his loose robe partially open to show the many scars that cut through the hair on his muscular chest, he seems more wild brute than ninja. And yet, he remains still, poised atop the mound with perfect balance.
The mystic's second rumble is much quieter than the first, a short, thoughtful grunt that sounds just before the brunette comes charging up the scrap pile to engage him. Lifting his chin, he stares down the slope toward the grey-haired leader, paying the oncoming cat little to no mind. He doesn't even look at her as her fist comes whipping up toward his chin, right arm snapping out to plant his large palm firmly against her forehead. And just like that the brunette's forward momentum is brought to a halt, her shorter arm unable to reach him, follow up grab toward his own arm deflected with a simple push that disrupts the plank of wood she is standing on and sends it surfing down the pile toward the filthy floor below.
"The path of one has been chosen," Noboru states, staring at the lead cat with grim impassivity, "But none can choose another's."
That said, the hulking ninja bounds down the pile in pursuit of the brunette. Rope-bound foot touching down on first a large chunk of rubble, then half of a wooden desk poking out of the garbage, he descends the mound in 3 leaping steps. Pushing off of a plaster bust of George Washington, he leaps clean over the boxer cat's head, knees swinging up to touch his chest and the trailing length of his robe nearly brushing her face.
Descending upon the lead cat like an avenging angel, the shinobi uncoils his body in a violent, double-footed dropkick aimed squarely for the aging woman's chest, attempting to impart all of his considerable momentum into her much slighter frame.

COMBATSYS: Noboru successfully hits Catscratch Fever with Cascade.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|===----\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

In one moment, the boxer cat is flailing like a child, trying to reach Noboru as he pushes back at her. In the next she's sliding back down the slope confused, her footing giving way when it's pushed off balance. As the board collides with an outcropping of concrete, she goes airborne, flipping and twisting in the air to land on all fours with a confused growl. In the next moment, Noboru is barreling down her, her eyes wide as he--

--clears her head and descends upon the smoky haired cat with a vengeance. In one moment, she seemed content to let her minion take the blow. In the next, she is suddenly faced with violence of her own. Her good eye widens, and then there's a heavy thump of feet against trunk.

Smashing through a row of seats, the smoky haired cat bounces, takes the top of another chair off, and keeps tumbling away. She lands in a crash, halfway sprawled across three seats as she coughs violently. "B-bastard!" She glances toward the black-haired cat. "What are you waiting for? GET HIM!"

The black-haired cat looks at her boss, then at Noboru. "S-sorry!" she apologizes as she takes a half-hearted swing at Noboru, her heart far from it.

"What was that?! Do what you're told!" calls "Scratch" from the audience.

COMBATSYS: Noboru blocks Catscratch Fever's Cat-scratch.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

Robe settling around his thighs in the wake of his flying kick, the Iron Mystic stares after the bouncing leader with cool indifference. No sooner has she come to a tumbling halt than she is giving out yet more orders, goading the other two on with something...
Attention snapping sharply to his left, he focuses the full intensity of his gaze on the stammering ragamuffin. Even before she has finished apologizing his left hand has come up and caught hers neatly out of the air, fingers closing around her own to fold her clawed fist shut. From there it is a simple matter to jerk her arm up, cool blue eye flickering down the length of her body, and bring his right fist whipping in beneath to try and smash a heavy blow into the slender form beneath the cloak. Hit or miss he will pivot away, using his grip on her hand to hoist her off of her feet and swing her in a wide arc before him, flinging her hard away to his right.
If the soft-hearted stray is lucky, the grey won't notice that his fist was aimed to disable more than just her fighting spirit. Besides, the leader has much more important things to worry about, the muscular ninja already padding forward toward the first row of partially destroyed seats.

COMBATSYS: Catscratch Fever blocks Noboru's Combo Grapple.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

Stopping mid-swing, the black-haired cat opens her eyes to see Noboru clutching her arm and closing her claw. She winces as she's struck, the wind knocked out of her, and then tossed overhead and away to land behind the pile of debris on the stage.

But as she flies, the smoky cat is on her feet, shaking her head and dusting herself off. "Hold him still!" she barks, boxer cat snapping to attention from watching where here companion was tossed away.

Boxer cat strafes nervously while the smoky cat pulls out that device again and places her thumb on it. At the unspoken threat, the boxer cat darts in, not throwing a blow so much as trying to leap onto Noboru's shoulders and get a hold.

COMBATSYS: Noboru endures Catscratch Fever's Pounce.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

With one feline dealt with and another nervously dancing about in the space behind him, Noboru steps up onto the first row of seats, transitioning easily from padding to chair back without breaking stride. From chair back to armrest, armrest to cushion he steps, each footfall calm and deliberate. He doesn't even stumble as the unfortunate boxer cat comes leaping in from behind, good eye flicking disdainfully from the device in the grey's hand, to her battle-scarred face.
The basso rumble of Noboru's grunt shivers its way through Boxer Cat as she impacts his back, claws slicing through his robe to draw small pricks of blood where they part the skin beneath. In response, the mystic's right hand reaches back, fingers seeking out a grip on the boxer's thigh. Unless she can slip away in time his iron-like fingers will clamp down on the soft meat of her leg, muscles flexing as he drags her down and off of his back, claws tearing through cloth and skin alike with the ripping snap of parting fabric. The end result will be an upside down cat dangling before him at arms length, cool eyes glancing her over from feet to face. That done, he whips her face-first toward the cushy padding of the next chair in line, slamming her down only for his right foot to crash down heavily upon her, heel grinding in on one spot in particular as he does his level best to stomp her right through the chair on his way toward the grey.

COMBATSYS: Catscratch Fever blocks Noboru's Entomb.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Catscratch Fever

What follows is a scrambling not unlike a cat trying to avoid a visit to the vet. Boxer cat climbs, trying to stay one step ahead of Noboru as she digs her claws and tries to hold on. His grip tightens around her thigh, despite her best efforts, and soon her tail is waving frantically as she's planted face-first into the cushion of the nearest chair. Noboru steps down on her butt and drives her through the chair entirely, leaving the poor girl stuck through it, her hind end in the air as he legs flounder and her tail twitches.

"Bastard!" the grey-haired cat says, climbing up onto a chair. "I should have known those two weren't cut out for this," she snarls. "But don't mistake me for them!" Her claws pop out, ripping through the cloth of her gloves with a snikt. With her in better lighting, it becomes clear she isn't quite old, per se, so much as jaded. She's certainly more mature than the other two, but mostly in a sense of being more world-weary. Jaded. Callous.

She kicks off the chair, launching herself at Noboru. With catlike agility, she plants one foot on the back of theater seat, kicking off to come in a different angle as she slices at the shinobi's side with her claw.

COMBATSYS: Noboru blocks Catscratch Fever's Medium Claw.

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Noboru           1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Catscratch Fever

For the briefest of moments Boxer Cat finds herself crushed beneath two hundred and fifty pounds of stoic ninja, the rope-bound foot planted on her upturned bottom accepting the entirety of his weight. One step later and he has left her behind, tail and legs flailing helplessly as she struggles to right herself.
Striding forward to meet the snarling leader, Noboru steps up onto the back of the next row and pauses, balanced there while she brings it upon herself to close the remainder of the distance. It is clear at a glance that she is many times more graceful than he, leaping from perch to perch with easy fluidity. Not only that, but where he has had to plan each step with care, only allowing his weight to settle upon things he is sure can hold him, she probably weighs less than half of what he does.
Advantage, cat.
However, though her features have been worn down by hardship, face scarred and eye jaded, Noboru has been infiltrating secret bases and terrorizing evil for nearly two decades now.
Head turning to track the wily feline's sudden change in trajectory, he stares into her face with an eye as cold and blue as a mountain spring. There is no love in that look. No mercy.
Right hand lifting to intercept Scratch's swiping claws, he catches her descending arm behind the wrist, thick fingers encircling her forearm. A gentle nudge is all it takes to re-direct her flight, the grey-haired cat swooping passed him as he leans out over empty space, using the momentum of her passing to sway casually upright once she has reached his other side.
"The failure of the servant rests at the feet of the master." Noboru informs her with rumbling impassivity, releasing her arm as stray droplets of blood patter down from the shallow gouges in his back. "As do the sins."
As he has the other two, the mystic allows his mismatched gaze to drop from the feline's eyes and take in the entirety of her body, giving her a thorough glance from ears to toes. It's the sort of look that any semi-attractive woman has had to experience, or so it would seem. Only the ninja himself knows what it is he is looking for, milky white eye gazing through the barriers between in search's of the spark and crackle of energy about her person, seeking an electrical receiver not unlike those he has found on her underlings. Perhaps there is one who holds her leash, just as she does theirs .
That soft, impassive grunt is the only warning Scratch has before Noboru's left fist is swinging up toward the side of her head with brain-scrambling force. Though the strike is launched from waist level and he is forced to step forward along the back of the chairs to maintain balance, there is enough brute strength behind the blow to knock a gorilla loopy if it were to hit cleanly.

COMBATSYS: Noboru successfully hits Catscratch Fever with Fierce Punch.

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Noboru           1/--=====/=======|=======\====---\1 Catscratch Fever

The Boxer Cat whimpers, almost squeaking when she's stepped on in transit. Even so, the occasional kicks and the twitch of the tail seem to indicate she is fine, if irrevocably stuck for the moment.

Scratch's eyes widen when Noboru intercepts her claw, and she's immediately moving to try and free herself and set up an opening. She lifts up, almost wrapping herself around his arm as she tries to break out of the hold.

"Let me go! What are you doing here, anyway! I thought the NOL was busy elsewhere!" She spits, trying to weasel her way out. "Don't blame me for those failures! They need to toughen up if they're gonna survive! The boss will have their hides if they don't--"

"What the-" the fist impacts with her ribs with a crack, knocking spittle and blood out of her mouth with a thunderous boom as she violently exhales in a gasp. She wheezes, trying to catch her breath enough to speak again.

"Don't you get it? They can't survive here. They need me to toughen them up. At least working they get food and shelter instead of burned at the stake. They're LUCKY!"

Scratch kicks up, her claws punching through her shoes suddenly. She brings her up her legs, aiming to rake her feet down Noboru's belly while she pulls up and viciously chomps into his arm.

COMBATSYS: Noboru interrupts Cat-astrophe from Catscratch Fever with Calm the Storm EX.

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Noboru           0/-------/-<<<<<<|-------\-------\0 Catscratch Fever

Flecks of bloody flem spray across Noboru's chest as his stony knuckles batter the ribs of the unfortunate cat, the only things keeping her up being her own tenacity and the double set of claws she has dug into his other forearm. With a squirming ball of spitting hatred dangling from one arm, the shinobi steps down from the back of the chair, heel impacting the floor with a heavy THUMP. He has heard this sort of thing before. Begging, pleading. The shifting of blame. Justifications for evils committed, some of them even good.
Mismatched eyes drifting closed, Noboru allows the ferocious drive that had been pushing him forward to relent, muscles relaxing beneath the cat's claws. Her words continue to wash over him, drifting about like blossoms in a breeze, but he is done listening. She will have her chance to speak, only one, and very soon.
The slight weight dangling from his arm shifts, accompanied by the raspy tear of claws parting fabric.
A slow breath expands the hulking man's chest, empty hand relaxing as it drifts up to hover before his face.
A series of sharp pricks spark across the mystic's abdomen, skin and cloth alike parting as the cat rakes her feet down his front, shredding his robe and tearing shallow grooves across the surface of his skin.
The breath escapes him.
Moving with deceptive slowness, the hulking ninja brings his left hand down toward the feline's chest, fingers flowering open as if he intended to cop a feel. However, instead of groping the snarling cat, he accelerates his palm forward with sudden, vicious speed, driving it passed the soft flesh to strike the bone beneath with a resounding WUMPH. There is enough force behind the strike to send her skidding off along the isle, claws torn free of his arm with little squirts of blood. But it is not the initial impact that is dangerous. Much as the ceiling was torn asunder by vibrations building within it, the feline can feel the flesh around the impact beginning to quiver. Nothing more than a tingle at first, though moment by moment it is spreading across her body, hair standing on end as the vibrations radiate too and fro, transitioning from tingle to hum over a course of seconds.
"My name is Noboru Miyama," the monk murmurs quietly, arms folding themselves loosely across his middle. Beneath the shredded front of his robe can be seen parallel lines of weeping red, tiny crimson droplets tracing their individual paths over the knotted lumps of abs, diverting to follow the raised ridges of scars much more grievous than anything the cat could have done with her claws. Yet more droplets fall from his back, drip from his arms, but he pays them no mind.
"You will tell me all you can of this operation, and your superior. Perhaps you will see the error of your ways. If this is so, I will save you."
There is plenty more the stoic monk could say. He could explain what he has done to her, how the vibrations set within her body will continue to grow until they scramble her organs, tearing ligaments and cracking bones. He could explain who the Miyama are, and why he is doing this. But all of these things are beside the point. What is important are the lives of those outside, and the justice he will deliver to the one who has unleashed hell upon them.

"What--what the hell did you do?" Scratch wheezes, coughing up more bloody phlegm as tries to crawl back, take hold of a seat, and pull herself into a sit on the floor. She coughs again, clutching her torso with a low growl. "What--" She wheezes. "Look, I don't care. They'll kill me. They'll hunt me down, with wolves, or guns, or -- I don't even know what else they have."

She starts coughing violently, bending at the waist as she falls over onto her shoulder on the floor. She convulses, groans, and doesn't sit back up. "Look," she says, "They can eat sh-" She starts coughing again. "If I'm going to die, I'm at least gonna be ornery about it. She digs in her pocket, pulling out a smartphone. She tosses it to Noboru by sliding it across the floor.

"The password," Cough. "Is 1905. I'm a grunt, so they don't trust me with much. Those two were picked up off the market and I was told to whip them into shape." Her wheezing is heavier as she convulses again. "They don't trust us with much, but that'll get you to another nest. Maybe you get a lead there."

COMBATSYS: Catscratch Fever takes no action.

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Noboru           0/-------/-<<<<<<|

COMBATSYS: Catscratch Fever can no longer fight.

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Noboru           0/-------/-<<<<<<|

the discarded smart phone ploughs a path through dust and blood, scraping across the floor until it bumps gently against the impassive shinobi's toes. Unfolding his arms, he stoops low to retrieve it carefully between 3 thick fingers, waking the screen with a tap before calmly entering the password.
All the while Scratch can feel the waves of force growing within her, a timer of sorts reminding her of her own mortality. Those she works for could hunt her. They might use dogs and guns. But Noboru is here now.
Only once the screen has cleared and allowed him access to the phone does he step toward the lead cat's huddled form, lowering himself into a crouch beside her convulsing body. Phone still held in his offhand, he gently guides her to roll onto her stomach with the other, gazing down at the wildly fluctuating points of her soul.
Hard fingers stab at various points along her spine, muscles jerking and tensing as he strums them like some sort of biological instrument. Down one side and up the other, he jabs several nerve clusters in quick succession, ending by clamping his large hand around the back of her neck and applying steady pressure to the muscles there. Whatever this technique is it seems to help, the awful shivering rolling up her body and impacting the points of his fingers, only to collapse apart, growing less and less violent with each passing breath.
"You have lost a life tonight," Noboru rumbles somberly, lifting his hand free once the last of the shivers has writhed its way free of her body. "May you find piece in the next."
Pushing up to his full height, the hulking shinobi casts a single glance back across the room, taking in the resulting damage of his entrance. If they are lucky, all three felines will walk away from this experience with new found wisdom, and a healthy respect for the Miyama clan. If they do not? Well.
The Miyama do not believe in third chances.
By the time any of the cats have gathered themselves enough to look, the ninja will be gone, vanished into the dimness of the cavernous space as if he were never there.

COMBATSYS: Noboru has ended the fight here.

Scratch does what she's told, desperate for any sort of relief. When Noboru finishes removing that curse of a technique, her chest rises and falls heavily, several more wet coughs escaping. She lets loose a low groan, which is echoed by the Boxer Cat, and the long forgotten black-haired cat climbing up over the wreckage. She slides down the other side, moving to help her friend out of the chair. Shimmying a bit, she takes hold of Boxer Cat by the hips and tugs hard to get her out of the chair before landing with her in a heap. The two gradually make their way over to Scratch, who is still sprawled out and breathing heavily.

"Are you two gonna kill me?" she asks, "I don't have the remote. It's not even worth bluffing at," Cough. "this point."

Boxer Cat and Black look at each other, then down at Scratch. Gradually, they help her up onto their shoulders.

" two are pathetic, you know what? I didn't do -anything- to make my ass worth saving." Boxer Cat and Black look at each other again. "But they're going to be after you too, now, right?" Scratch goes quiet, turning to look at Black with her one good eye.

"...yeah, I guess so. Better than dying alone if it comes to it, huh?"

Log created on 18:55:37 04/05/2020 by Noboru, and last modified on 07:53:01 04/07/2020.