Description: A tremendous show of force and fury! "The Wandering Wolf" Terry Bogard takes on NESTs representative Agent Upsilon for the chance at Neo-League finals glory! Will the power of science overcome the mighty vagabond? Tune in yo find out!
"This will be your most challenging fight yet, Agent Upsilon!"
The cheer in the pink-haired girl's voice grated on the ears of her assigned agent. Upsilon still felt the pangs of pain from his bout with Jae Hoon. Said pain was not made better by the bitter acid of his technical victory. One he only heard of after regaining consciousness. A hollow win. One that should have been much smoother, one that should have had Upsilon triumphant and standing tall as testament to his superiority. He knew his training was best, his technique was perfect and his willingness to do anything to push himself with NESTS augmentation meant none were as poised for greatness as he.
It was a travesty that others were unaware, but Upsilon's pleasure to show them first hand.
His pushes his glasses, new ones since the last pair were lost in the fight, up his nose. "I am finally given an opponent of my caliber," Upsilon chides the woman's exuberance, "This shouldn't be a moment of excitement."
Outside of the white comms van, the Neo-League crew has set up and prepared a stage alongside Southtown's wonderful waterfront boardwalk. The hot summer sun has gone down, bright lights have gone up, and the locals have come out in force to see a finals of this round of Neo-League.
A stage placed close to the beach, the sound of crashing waves wrestles with the music playing over loudspeakers as the crews await the contestants. A murmuring din of anticipation threatens to overtake both sounds, however, as more and more ready to see what's about to go down. All of this cacophony drowns out the drones hovering across the street, concealing themselves on rooftops. Or, in some cases, hovering about as peculiarly stable birds in the dark night sky.
After all, Terry Bogard is a key figure of interest, and sacrificing a person like Upsilon is no great deal. The man is, after all, so eager to prove himself superior.
Upsilon himself finally exits the van a moment after his complaints to his handlers were rebuffed. Buttoning his long coat, he takes big strides to reach the stage. The instructions in his ears to draw things out appropriately are ignored, he is fighting for himself here. He wants to show his own organization that he is something of import. He wants to show everyone. Jae Hoon, Tarmo, those losses and close calls are flukes. He is Upsilon. He is a masterpiece.
Unsurprisingly, the venue seems to be packed upon Upsilon's arrival. Terry Bogard is one of the most recognized names in the fighting world; if the desire is to test against a public figurehead, a tournament winner who almost never misses the Top Eight when he bothers to attend, he need look no further for data points. There is something unique about the Lone Wolf, something about his body, spirit or mind, that allow a man to excel within certain situations... to push towards the limits of ability. Something NESTS, no doubt, has ample curiosity in... even if it has no use towards divine manifestation.
He has been spending his time signing autographs and mingling with the crowd, a common enough event when he signs up for organized events. Although his attention shifts immediately when his opponent comes in, glancing over his shoulder and finishing the signature on a red hat before reaching out to yank it down atop the young child's grinning head.
"Well... Upsilon, wasn't it? Really didn't think anyone'd be able to take down Jae Hoon, but can't complain any about that intense of a match!" The thickness of his limbs and expansive chest are on high display with the dull, grunting stretch he does, shifting towards the middle of the fighting ring. "First Capoeira... now Kickboxing, of a sort? Looks like my theme this tournament's people using their feet."
Clenched fists drive together, and the presence of Terry Bogard is certainly nothing minor. His aura burns hot to those able to assess it, like a furnace constantly ramped up to near the maximum. Setting nerves, muscles, and mind constantly amped up near the limits he's pushed so high for himself at all times. "Well... I'm ready. Let's see what you got... but I'm not very good at holding back!"
Upsilon watches Terry Bogard's approach. How different it is from his own. A fan favorite. A man of the people. A display of comradery and friendliness that Upsilon finds both insulting and pointless. What does a fighter gain from tending to those people? Nothing, according to the stern faced Dutchman standing on the platform.
His lips are pursed and his eyes cold when Terry addresses him. "Dutch style. You would do well to remember it," Upsilon defines the underpinning of his martial art. Though with the thrumming pulse of chi running over his body, it's very clear that there is more at work than just a school of kickboxing. And that boy has more to learn. I should not have gone so easy on him." An internal, hollow excuse for a performance that wasn't up to Upsilon's own standard. He does not wish to admit just how good the young man was.
With an annoyed huff, Upsilon taps at his earpiece. For this fight, he doesn't want to hear the words of his allies. "If you did anything less than your best, you would be an idiot," he tells Terry. "There is nothing gained by not pushing yourself."
With a cold and sour face, Upsilon's arms slowly lift, his front leg cocking into a bent stance. He hunkers. Ready. His heart beat thudding along with the chi pumping around his system.
COMBATSYS: Upsilon has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: Terry has wandered into the fight here.
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Terry 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Upsilon
A pulse sounds off; a distant thrum and bass wave rolls off Upsilon. Taking advantage of the sudden moment, Upsilon heaves forward with a quick combination. A pulsing jab that bursts with a concussive bang. Not so soon as that punch flies, a second cross flies out with an even louder burst. And with his conservative approach, Upsilon finishes his student's combination with a low angled thrust kick for Terry's thigh. Out-fighting, risking his own chances to set himself up to play it safe. He isn't certain of Bogard's full strength, he needs to gauge. To draw things out.
COMBATSYS: Terry blocks Upsilon's Iteration One.
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Terry 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Upsilon
"If you want me to remember it... gimme a memory worth my time!" Terry challenges, with a wild sort of grin. It's easy to make assumptions about the man, based on his popularity. Yet he's called the Lone Wolf for a reason. His single-minded pursuit for his own strength has been nurtured since the day he saw his father die, and the basis for his fanclub is Terry Spotting, the simple act of finding out where he is and what he might do. He doesn't dislike his admirers... but every step he takes in life is almost selfishly for his own sake and benefit, all the same.
Yet as a master of Hakkyokuseiken, Terry's a much sharper master of chi then most realize. "Oh...? You've quite the aura about you, huh? Heh. I like it. Reminds me a bit of my own!" They are close to the same age. Although Upsilon's resurrection might be more recent... two decades of near-suicidal self improvement. What kind of an impact does that have, measured in the rational world of pure, efficient science? Every muscle and ounce of energy within himself has been hand-crafted alone!
"...hahaha!" The amusement isn't disrespect, but surprise. "Well, hell. You're looking me right in the face... and you said that dead serious. I don't hate that kind of confidence. Alright... I'll make sure to not disappoint! Nothing worse in this world then a fight filled with regret!"
There's a blink as Upsilon charges forward, and he's inwardly glad the other man goaded him enough to take a proper stance beforehand. Forearms shift, both sharp jabs intercepted, feeling like they are striking into steel cables. But he steps forward, and the defense to the sharp kick is much less traditional. Muscles almost explosively tense, slamming his heel upon the ground hard enough to sink it almost a half inch into the ground. Slamming into his thigh feels like kicking a rock... some kind of amplifying chi, combined with an endurance technique. No, Upsilon will not be able to ward off Terry with such traditional fighting tactics...! "But if you want me to push myself... that's up to you!"
He lashes out, both hands trying to catch Upsilon by the shoulder and hip. Twisting around, a sharp pivot tries to catch him and yank him clear off balance. There's not much finesse to it at the onset... trying to display his own raw power, and once Upsilon is upended, let out a snarl as he tries to fling him as hard as he can across the shoulder. It could set someone going head over heel, all the way until they impact either ground or obstacle!
Oh, Upsilon will probably find out the feeling is mutual. Feeling it out. He's curious about the man who took down Jae Hoon... well, that should be to his advantage, right?
COMBATSYS: Terry successfully hits Upsilon with Buster Throw.
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Terry 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Upsilon
Upsilon is out of his depth. He is, in some way, aware of this fact. But it's something that does little more than prod his malignant narcissism. He cannot abide by the idea that he simply isn't on the level of his opponent.
The ease of which his defense testing assault is deferred is something of a shock. A bitter pill to swallow. It leaves him open. This surprise, a mental back-foot position that makes it almost easy for Terry to showcase his own capability.
Finesse not required, a tight grip on the large coat, a twist, and Upsilon is taken clean off his feet. Over the shoulder, into the air, cracking hard to the ground with a 'woof' of air leaving the Dutchman's lungs.
Sharp stabbing of pain, but the blow was more to his ego than to his body. Upsilon rocks back and kicks up to his feet. A sneering curl on his lip. A short curse bubbles up, almost wordless in its intense slurring.
But without a further word, Upsilon rears back toward Terry. He brings around a heavy fist, and then a second, together, both hammer down for Terry's ribs. The chi power pulsing around his suit collects toward his wrists and explodes outward when both hands are brought together.
COMBATSYS: Upsilon successfully hits Terry with Mass Driver.
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Terry 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Upsilon
Shifting himself upwards, Terry does another gradual roll of his shoulders as Upsilon gathers himself once more. Fingers clench and open, and there's no particular sense of a dropped guard or lackluster appraisal. Upsilon wouldn't feel as if he's being underestimated... how much such helps in the grand scheme of things is another matter. Terry is someone who enjoys trash talk himself, poking at and even annoying opponents, and the verbal spar makes it clear he considers the psychological an important part of the fight on top of it...!
The next advance comes, but only the tip of his elbow intercepts Upsilon's fist. For many in the world, that might be enough, but he powers through and drives it into Terry's ribs with a seething hiss of energy. A wince flashes on the Hungry Wolf's face, before the eruption of chi sends him skidding backwards a couple meters. Smoke curls away from his burnt white shirt, and there's clearly pain on his face. "...Hahaha! Alright, you're not lacking in horsepower. Not bad! But you know... for a kickboxer, you've sure done a lot of PUNCHES!"
He then launches himself forward, and suddenly shifts forward in a front-flip. It's another of the most defining moves he has, but seeing it first-hand, it seems almost reckless and disorienting... the crescent arc of his booted heel dropping down like an axe, aiming to power into Upsilon's shoulder overhead and try to bring the man to his knees in a violent manner.
"Like this... CRACK SHOOT!!"
COMBATSYS: Upsilon just-defends Terry's Crack Shoot ES!
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Terry 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Upsilon
For a tiny, incredulous moment, Upsilon wonders why it is that everyone always associates kick boxing with Muay Thai's focus on legwork? The umbrage is a token moment of artistic frustration on his own part. And it surges a different kind of pride to Upsilon's surface. One that makes the man roll his eyes and grunt out exertion and frustration at a statement he finds too simplistic for someone that uprooted Upsilon so easily.
And in that moment of genuine pride, Upsilon finds a way to demonstrate his skill at his chosen form. The heavyweight kick swings down with all of Terry's falling behind it. And it glances Upsilon's shoulder, but it doesn't bite. A turn, twisting, slipping and stepping brings Upsilon to the side. A burst of orange light rings out around Upsilon, flashing outward from the kick before it seems to visibly pull itself back into the man's aura. He breaths a little more easier in stepping aside from the Hungry Wolf's jaws. As if he's done something, or the augmentation, has done something to pull the energy from the moment back into Upsilon himself.
"I use Dutch style. It isn't the same as American," he states, adjusting his glasses. "But if you really want a kick. . ."
Upsilon's leg cocks back like the hammer of a gun. He brings his foot forward. The air splits with the force of the roundhouse cutting the air.
Underneath Upsilon's coat, something sparks. The coloration of the chi pulsing in the tubes that cross his bodysuit shits from vibrant orange to a rich blue. A shock of pain passes through the man, but he discounts it; the constant force of chi tearing at his body already is part and parcel of his life. A little more damage and he won't notice. Certainly not in the moment like this.
But this time, instead of Upsilon's kick launching forth a ground shaking pulse of crushing force, a thin line scythes through the air. Thin and glowing white-blue rather than orange, it sings as it flies through the air, a bladed wave of energy set on a path to reave through Terry. It isn't natural, not something that matches anything like Upsilon's explosive measures. And something that, by the look of confused shock on Upsilon's face, he didn't know about either.
COMBATSYS: Terry negates Flare Wave from Upsilon with Power Wave.
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Terry 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Upsilon
"...ohhh?!" Terry's noise is teasing, and the absolute opposite of disappointment, as Upsilon manages to drive aside and cause that cutting heel to instead slam into the ground beside, kicking up a fierce plumb of sand and dirt a couple meters. There might just be a hint of suspicion... he has too much battle experience not to notice Upsilon is defying many of his expectations, thus far.
"Is that right? Never heard of it!" Instead of press the advantage, Terry kicks backwards to get himself a bit of space. This turns out to be a wise idea, primarily because he feels his own strange, disruptive flare of energy within himself. His right hand flexes, curling into a tight knuckle as ripples of glass rip through his glove and sleeve. His arm bulges, welling up with strength as he twists backwards, exhaling a hiss of steam from heated muscles.
"POWER WAVE...!" He strikes the ground with his fist, orange laced with a whirling cerulean storm of cutting edges. The scything strike hits it dead center, and there's a wild eruption, explosion sending shards of glass and bits of aberrant chi in all directions as smoke billows up. "Great... hah! I put some pepper into that one... okay. You pass. Neo League's got some good up and coming talent, doesn't it?" He flicks a spatter of blood aside, where it seems his own manifestation cut him.
"I think I'm done feeling you out... let's take this into the main event!"
A clash of chi between the two fighters. A brilliant show for the crowd. A more brilliant show for the drones. This sudden shift in the expected draws a frenzy of attention within the comms van. They shout to one another, scientist and agent alike, trying to figure out what this sudden change can mean for their datasets. Glass? Blue? these are not things their equations were expecting. They take to phones, they open lines, this is the moment they've been waiting for.
And Upsilon can't hear them at all.
Upsilon's leg lowers back to his ready position. His eyes narrow behind his glasses. He tries to figure out what's going on. He is at a loss. But the moment has passes, the curious feeling of the shift in his power base has left him. He can only save face by facing down the man across from him, to retake his posture, and to continue the fight.
If Terry wants the main event, then Upsilon opens up with a new showcase of direct and focused power. Once more, the flash of orange concussive force accompanies each blow of a rolling series of fierce hooking punches, going downward for Terry's gut, and swinging upward before ending with Upsilon using the force of his momentum to swing a head chopping reverse heel kick to Terry's head.
COMBATSYS: Terry blocks Upsilon's Iteration Three.
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Terry 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Upsilon
This isn't the first time Terry has used this strange manifestation of chi publicly... in the brawl with Lyraelle, he took her down with it, and it manifested against Aranha in the battle just before. Yet this time, countless analytic devices and scores of data can be brought to bear, decipher, and bring useful data points to Upsilon's handlers. He has probably already satisfied any requirements as a result... for all he might care!
Holding his ground, Terry ignites his own energy, both forearms flickering with orange aura. Each of those sharp blows strikes down upon his brought guard, driving him a couple inches backwards, before twisting up to cross his wrist and catch the kick within burning palms. Here his arms go tense, a brief show of force before he tries to simply drive upwards and send Upsilon off-balance. His right hand reaches out thereafter, trying to catch Upsilon by the shoulder before twisting in a single, sharp hook punch of his own. The twist of his foot, the flex of muscles, the rush of amplifying chi, all turn a simple motion into a devastating drive, that he aims to finish by shoving the enhanced fighter backwards.
"Not bad... not bad!! You getting tired at all, though? I'm still heating up!" His veins and tendons seem to subtly bulge, beginning to hop back and forth from foot to foot as he assumes that aggressive, mixed-style stance brought up defensively towards the other fighter!
COMBATSYS: Terry successfully hits Upsilon with Combo Grapple.
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Terry 1/-----==/=======|=======\=------\1 Upsilon
Everything in a moment. A pushing rush. But Upsilon doesn't crack Terry Bogard's shell. He finds himself exposed. Bodily taken, Upsilon feels the pain of a better fighter. Sent back, rocked on his heel. A sturdy blow catches him. A cry of pain. The glasses Upsilon wears are sent skittering along the ground, bouncing and cracking on the wooden platform.
Staggering, Upsilon plants a foot to hold himself up. To send himself through Terry and take advantage of this sudden rush of pain to capitalize on his position. But Terry is quick, and the driving shove, hooking twist, and Upsilon bounces off the ground with a deep, dull thump.
Coughing, sputtering, Upsilon rolls and rolls and pushes up to his hands and knees. Energy thrums around him. He sucks in air. "Not tired yet," he spits, lifting a heavy leg and hoisting himself back up to his feet.
He can't approach so cavalierly. So once more he makes a 'safe' bet. A simple approach, a shuffling motion. The air thrums, and suddenly that shuffle splits into a snapping kick for Terry's hips. A practiced move, but one little more than basic with a touch of pepper on it.
COMBATSYS: Terry dodges Upsilon's Medium Kick.
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Terry 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Upsilon
"Not tired yet... that's good. Hey! C'mon, c'mon!" He beckons the other fighter towards him as his own chi continues to burn through his veins, quite literally. He's building up his own momentum, like an iron ball beginning to roll down a hill. In no rush to fly towards the end zone -- not when all he gains is seeing less of a new fighter very much capable of hurting him, if he can slip past the man's defenses. "You've got a lot going for you... Upsilon, right? It's already a name I'll remember. But it's a big world, and I'm considered a little strong...!"
The sudden snap forward to kick, but Terry is already in the air. He launched himself straight upwards in a ripple of enhanced legs, well beyond the range of even the most dynamic kick. It's a simple, street fighting tactic; the more technically trained a fighter might be, the more they might be surprised by an unusual assault. Twisting backwards, focusing all his straight into his fist, he aims to drive it upon Upsilon from directly above... few styles bother teaching what to do against it, leaving it to the strength, intuition and talent of a fighter to defend against it, a question he's eager to see the answer to!
COMBATSYS: Terry issues a challenge!!
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Terry 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Upsilon
COMBATSYS: Upsilon blocks Terry's Fierce Punch.
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Terry 1/----===/=======|=======\==-----\1 Upsilon
Not tired. Frustrated. An ego more bruised than the ebbs of pain already settling in for long stays. Upsilon, agent of NESTs, knows he's gotten data that the people above will be happy with. Though he's surprised, even confused, at the momentary shift to the chi in his augmentations; he writes the matter off as one of increasing power. The matter at hand is still Terry Bogard.
The Terry Bogard that deftly stays one step ahead of Upsilon's physically terse and focused style. A weakness inherit in overly focusing on the technical repetition of basic strikes. Jakob van der Lans was more than capable of demonstrating knowledge of techniques, but before the power granted to him by way of NESTS, he was simply too rote to make a splash beyond his country. As Terry says, the world is big.
Terry's strike is simple as well, but it backs a great deal of force. Even if Upsilon is ready to receive, to intercept the hit with a steady footing and preparedness, the blunt force of the blow ripples through his body. The lines of focused chi that run over his suit flash brilliant orange, bright enough to be seen through the white of Upsilon's coat. The air thrums. It's enough to keep the man on his feet. Enough to keep him fighting.
And with a burst, enough to send Upsilon leaping far back, rolling in the air, and landing on the far edge of the fighting platform. Frustrated by the constrains of his jacket, Upsilon tears at the fasteners and lets the white coat fall fluttering to the ground. In just the body suit, the lines crossing him over, showing the physical side of NESTs technology, Upsilon retakes his stance.
"I will show you my superiority!" he makes a call back to Terry's 'taunt'. A step forward, a punch at the air, and a shot of orange chi rips through the air. A second punch, and a second cannon blast of chi rockets at Terry. But the finale is a standing, kick to the air, leg held high, and then crashing down. The axe kick cuts an orange streak in the air. A vertical column of power crashes through the wood panels of the boardwalk and cuts forward, tearing through planks like an ice breaker ship as it bears down on Terry.
COMBATSYS: Upsilon successfully hits Terry with Coronal Dominance.
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Terry 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|==-----\-------\0 Upsilon
Ripping his fist out of the assaulted ground casually, Terry slowly rises back up to his full height as Upsilon shifts to find himself some increased comfort. There's still a sense of playfulness, to be sure. He has many more ferocious techniques then has been displayed yet, and his pacing remains sedate, giving Upsilon a level of distance and time that likely makes his own style much more comfortable. To call it underestimating would be wrong... something more like a handcap. He wants to enjoy this brawl, but that doesn't mean he has any intention of actually losing.
"Superiority...? You might be going too far, there..." A forearm shifts, but the first strike seems stronger then expected. Terry's expression is happy surprise, before the next explodes upon his chest, sending him a step backwards. Off-balance, the final eruption cuts into him, a wash of fire and debris indicating a direct hit. Against most opponents, having torn into them to this degree, Upsilon might be very confident. He's hurting Terry... that much is clear.
But his silhouette is seen getting upright once more, before dense shoulders flex out. "Alright!! You're good. This tournament's great... first the Spider, and now you... that's a name the world's going to know soon." Before he slams his fist together, and the ripple of motion sends the smoke and dust billowing away rapidly. He grasps his jacket and rips off the tatters, leaving him only in his already damaged white shirt beneath.
"Lemme give you a taste... of my full strength. You earned it. Are you okay...?"
Then he twists, gathering up energy within his right arm. Once more the Hakkyokuseiken techniques ripple, but the ignition is much stronger and more potent. His already sizeable energy seems to ripple out more, and more, orange fire burning along his shoulders as defined muscles bulge. Pops and tears appear on his glove.
In a slit second, he is suddenly standing before Upsilon. Aiming to drive his fist straight into the man's chest, glowing so bright those in the crowd need to look away. Using it to amplify the destructive power, alongside sharp technique and raw aggression. His foot then stamps down, moving to grasp his striking wrist with his free hand and finally let loose that assembled power in a great, gigantic explosion of orange that sends the ground shaking, sand flying back for meters, and much of the platform shredded.
COMBATSYS: Terry successfully hits Upsilon with Buster Wolf ES+.
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Terry 0/-------/-<<<<<<|=======\=------\1 Upsilon
For a man like Upsilon, it isn't enough to simply be known. He is not satisfied with recognition. He is not satisfied with being as good as top competitors. He is not satisfied with a place among the stars. He must burn brighter than suns. They must quail at his light.
They need to know their place.
A fighter's confidence, turned to bitter obsession, Upsilon's ego and drive bring him to the foolhardy belief he can run against the crashing might of Terry Bogard's strength. The augmentations from NESTS kick into a sudden force. A thumping, pulsing power that drives the man. He meets the force. It blinds and burns. A terrific force he lacks the skill to handle.
Back at the Comms van, the collected scientists and agents look on in shock that shifts toward morbid curiosity the moment the readings begin to return. The drones watching the fight blanch white, the light blinding the lenses. But the more discerning readings are measured. The comparative charts on the two fighters are a dizzying array of data. The agents' silence lasts only a moment before they start shouting and making note of what they've just gotten.
While the girl in the face protecting mask twiddles her fingers nervously.
The blast tears the platform, makes the ground quake, and destroys any semblance of an organized fighting ground.
Left in the wake lay a collapsed Upsilon. Still and quiet, it seems for a moment that the waking world is miles away from the arrogant Dutchman. Until the chi veins that cover his body suit begin to drive and pump again. His eyes snap open. He lurches upward into a slumping half sit. He coughs, red dots fleck the dirt. "I will not be so beaten!" his cry shudders with indignity and body ravaged pain.
One knee, then another, then to his feet. He wobbles, staggers, reclaims his footing in a way no longer looking trained or skilled. Now he looks simply madly disheveled. Broken capillaries in his eyes bring a vibrant redness that matches the same staining around the man's teeth as he spits with venom. "Come on then!"
With no more than a rage filled scream of intent, Upsilon rushes for Terry Bogard. The words at the start of the fight come to mind: Upsilon does tend to favor upper body strikes for a kickboxer. But now, now he brings another kick forward. A driving canon kick. No skill or precision; simply a forceful forward pump kick that explodes with an air cracking blast of chi, leaping for Terry's chest.
COMBATSYS: Terry just-defends Upsilon's Regulator!
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Terry 0/-------/-<<<<<<|=------\-------\0 Upsilon
Terry takes the time to adjust his hat, twisting it left and right. He had begun to turn away, stepping past some burning wood, and there's genuine surprise when he hears the motion of the other fighter, followed by those defiant words. "...hahaha, really? You can punch that hard, but you're also that tough? I genuinely didn't mean for you to get back up from that!" He twists back to face Upsilon, but there's every sense his own fighting engine is on maximum. His battle lust seems to be fully triggered, and the rarity of an opponent he's trying to genuinely finish with one of the fighting world's most well-known attacks can't help a little dance from foot to foot...
"But... what'd you do to yourself? Strength that isn't entirely your own... is that still strength? I guess that's up to you to figure out." He extends his arms, orange fire rippling along in a surge across the bared flesh, before flickers of glass creep and seethe along it. "After all, what I did to get here isn't entirely rational either..."
He's not letting Upsilon up as an act of compassion, but focusing his own strength for a coup d'gras. Still, he hadn't expected that much ferocity from someone he feels must be on the edge of defeat. He shifts to a boxer-like stance himself, his ignited left arm rearing backwards. Before twisting, firing off a point-blank punch. Chi empowering his muscles, recklessly amplified by hakkyukuseiken, rife with technique and power. It slams into Upsilon's foot, as cracks and warbles of energy lance in all direction, keeping them at bay...
And then he twists downwards, abruptly causing Upsilon's kick to hit the ground at his feet, with a great crash of that diverted force. Yet that invigorating energy continues to pulse within him from the clash. "...! Hah... I was gonna lose that test of strength. But... that wasn't my RIGHT arm..."
And a moment later, Terry's in the air. Spiraling like a basketball player, once more casting his shadow across the ground below. All this time, he had still had his glass-sheathed other fist at the ready, condensing it down until his fists glow burning hot with a brass knuckle-like halo of twisted glass protruding out. "POWER..."
And then he drops, twisting to throw both the bunch and the descent of gravity into it, again trying to utilize avenues of angles and attack that most fighters might struggle with... intent to drive his fist explosively into the ground, and trying to set Upsilon between him and it. "DUNK!!"
COMBATSYS: Terry successfully hits Upsilon with Power Dunk.
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Terry 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Upsilon
"Why did he get up?"
"He's already gotten the data!"
"Please, Jakob, stay down. . ."
The collective in the comms van watch with discomfort and dread at Upsilon standing, still fighting, pushing beyond even the capabilities of his augmented body. They scramble to call back the drones. They throw themselves into 'recovery mode'.
They know where this is going to go.
The clash of energy explodes outward. Leaving the battered Upsilon facing down Terry; his body weak and warbling, held as much by the power granted to him as he is by his own need to push forward.
He is without words, unable truly to do much more. The movements Terry makes, acrobatic and powerful, are past what Upsilon can make. He can only watch, stare through clenched jaws, and take a lolling step aside before the glass empowered knuckle drops like a hammer down upon him.
A dropping fist crashes, a comet colliding with the earth. A blasting explosion tears through the man, the force rippling through Upsilon pulls at him, pulls him back, rips him off his feet and hurls him bodily through the air. He tumbles through the air, rolling, and crashing to the earth where he lay like a broken doll. This time, there isn't any return or rise to challenge. He simply lay. Beaten.
What did he do to himself? In his own mind he did what he needed to do. He did what was required. He was willing to do what others wouldn't, what they're afraid to do, what makes them lesser. Words aren't able to come from him. He was long past the words.
COMBATSYS: Upsilon takes no action.
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COMBATSYS: Upsilon can no longer fight.
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Despite the ferocity of both Buster Wolf and the following strike to bring Upsilon, and how it likely looked to the audience... for facing down Terry Bogard until the last, pushed beyond his limits... the actual scale of injuries is fairly moderate. No severe damage, no broken bones. This was a tournament brawl, after all... and he held back enough for it to be a proper fight, without more harm then required. Slowly drawing back up, an exhausted exhale leaves him, slowly adjusting his hat with a shift backwards as the medics pour in as the fight is called. "Heh... he was pretty damn tough. Not bad, Upsilon. I'll remember your fists and feet... fight me again anytime!!" The worn warrior turns away then, feeling the throb and ache head to toe from those furious blows. There was no fault with Upsilon's technique... but his chi, his power, felt much higher then it should have been. Facing him upfront like that made it very apparent. ...a thought he discounts. Those mysteries, those wonders... why would he care? He got a good fight out of it. "Looks like we'll be finishing this league with a rematch, huh...? Well. I don't mind giving that girl a Round Two...!!"
COMBATSYS: Terry wanders on to find the next challenge.
Log created on 12:08:14 08/31/2021 by Upsilon, and last modified on 01:32:27 09/05/2021.