Wheel of Madness - Alma/Kanji vs Mickey/Nassir

Description: The first Wheel of Madness match pits teenage psychic heartthrob Alma Towazu against the Tragic Pugilist Mickey Rogers, with Kanji and Nassir as their respective strikers. The fight starts out quite flashily for Team Buddhists, with Alma and Kanji showing good teamwork, but then, with much timely assistance from his striker, Mickey pulls off, like, the biggest comeback ever. Savage! (Draw Match)

The Duck Pond certainly is dolled up tonight for the Pay-Per-View crowd. The ring is decorated in "Wheel Of Madness" trim, and the lights seem even brighter than usual. The club is sold out, filled to maximum capacity with fight fans who want to see the brutal spectacle. Not many people turned out specifically for this undercard fight -- hence the name "undercard" -- but there is still a certain buzz about this match in the audience. This unusual grouping of fighters will be trying not only to defeat their opponents, but also to make a name for themselves so as to get bigger paydays in the future. The air is ripe with a mix of sweat, beer, and the electric spark of anticipatory anxiety.

Mickey Rogers, his fists taped up, and wearing his customary red trunks, red boots, and white t-shirt, stands at ringside, looking dead ahead at the canvas and not seeming to see the crowd. Earlier he had -- at length -- questioned why he was teamed with this kid whom he has clashed with twice now, but now all questions are absent, replaced only with his cold, professional demeanor and brown eyes which provide no insight into his mindset, reflecting nothing in the slightest. With little fanfare, Mickey climbs the steps into the ring, tucks between the ropes, and stands in his corner, dancing from foot to foot a bit, and shadow boxing occasionally.

Anticipatory anxiety. That'd be a great word for the churning feeling in the pit of Nassir's stomach.
The Shank Squad soldier sucked in a deep lungful of that delicious blending of aromas, fighting away the urge to gag and dry heave from the effort. Nervousness permeated his very being, thrust onto a stage that was arguably greater than any other mass-televised appearance he's made thus far. Granted, his showings at the Duck Pond have been stellar to date, but that didn't help the young soldier any. At least he'd serve as 'striker' in this tag match variant, and thusly could allow some of the nervousness to abate. He had no particular concerns about his partner--their clashes were little more than business or sparring from his perspective, even if Nassir's end of 'The Business' usually meant that the recipient would at least need some stitching.
Ascending the steps, Nassir takes up a position just outside of the ropes, hanging from the apron.

Deep breaths; find your center. You can feel the rhythm. It's inside you, and outside you, everywhere, and nowhere at all. The beat drives you, but if you find light within the void in your soul, and stand unafraid, you too may drive yourself. Peace. There is peace within this violence, peace within the joy of the flow of battle...
Alma stands, eyes closed, for just a few more moments in one of the back rooms. As he hears the babble of the crowd grow louder, he rotates his shoulders, rolls his neck, and steps out, into view, toward the ring. Still wearing his usual black silk shirt and designer jeans but with white strips of cloth now wrapped around his knuckles and forearms, the tall, bronze-skinned youth seems completely unafraid -- but in more of an oblivious way than a stolid way. Because, you see, he's still got the mild smile on, and his eyes even seem brighter than usual. Holding his head high, the fighting model heads straight for the ring and steps inside, raising his hand in greeting to Mickey... and wiggling his fingers at Nassir in a little wave, his eyes narrowing and grin only growing larger, his eyebrows raising slightly. Well, he's in a cheery mood, considering he's facing a fellow SNF winner *and* someone who's tried to kill him before, but, hey, he's Alma.
Speaking of which.
"Almaaaaaa! Almaaaaaa-kun! Weeee looooove yoooouuuu!"
How did they even get in here? Oh, well, there they are, the usual gaggle of 13-year-old girls. They seem quite excited, but their presence doesn't seem to change Alma's visage at all, though he does wave to them too, causing them to collapse amongst themselves in fits of giggles. Looking back at Mickey, Alma waits for the sign to go.
~ ...who is this Kanji fellow I'm fighting with, anyway...? ~

Who indeed?

A plume of smoke bursts beside the model, twisting and writhing into a vertical column. Strange smoke - not anything produced by the club's machines, but smelling sweet, too sweet, an almost sickly scent. The fumes clear, wreathing the tall, lean form of a man, suddenly standing besides Alma, a ghost melting from the mist. One wearing long robes of black, embroidered in crimson. A dark silhouette amidst the flashing illumination of the club. Kanji.

His head is bowed, his long hair shielding his face from view. While the others might be relative unknowns, Kanji is a complete cipher. He doesn't even legally exist. This is his first appearance, in the fight scene. And when he raises his head, it is clear...half of it is masked, his eyes covered by an opaque steel plate, bound by strips of fabric. Only his mouth and cheekbones are visible, as he smiles. An odd little smile. By all rights, he should be blind, with his eyes sealed like that. But he still shifts his head, as if looking round.

Kanji's hidden gaze settles on Alma. His smile widens, fractionally, as he nods, once.

It's been a while since he's been able to make a trip to the ol' Pond, and this seemed as good an occasion as any. Sitting somewhere amongst one of the smaller two-person booths, Terry Bogard sits quite lazily with a beer on the table next to him. He's sprawled out across both seats of the booth, feet propped up on the other seat with his cap settled onto the table next to his beer glass. There's an occasional murmur of discontent from someone forced to stand while some blonde takes two seats, but another murmur reminds the first of who the possesser of those two seats is, which tends to quiet the first up quick enough. Settled into his booth, Terry slumps back against his seat and waits for the fight to commence.

Jiro has arrived.

All of the fighters in the ring and accounted for, the ref (an inenviable job if there ever was one) gets on the house microphone and goes over the rules. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next bout is One Fall to a definite finish. Both teams shall use the "Striker" rules. Of course, no holds are barred!" This gets a pop from the audience. "Standing to my left, hailing from Southtown... Mickey Rogers! And his partner, and Striker, Nassir Mahomet!" There is a polite round of applause. "And to my right, I give you Alma! And his partner... Kanji!" The crowd applauds again, and then referee waits for the noise to die down before shouting again. He looks to Mickey. "You ready?" He looks to Alma. "You ready?" Then he shouts at the top of his lungs "LET'S GET IT ON!"

It's been said before that Alma doesn't really have 'surprise' in his facial expression repetoire. This expression, however, is about as close as he'll ever come -- some sort of mix of alarm mixed with curiosity, with a liberal dollop of 'oh hell no'. It is at this point that Alma could say something obvious, like, 'You!', but he doesn't, for some reason. In fact, when the moment of almost-surprise passes, he actually looks basically the same as before, only perhaps more curious. Finally, after staring at Kanji for a few moments more, Alma turns back to Mickey, and relaxes himself into his spring-ready-to-coil Hiten-ryu stance.
"'Kanji'," he says quietly, "after this fight, I'm turning you into the police."
Perhaps he doesn't realize how unfeasible that will be -- or perhaps he's already accepted the consequences. Whatever the case, he's ready to fight.
"Please," he calls out to Mickey in his dark baritone, smiling again a little and his eyes startling to glimmer with a pinkish light, "do your best!"

COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/-------|

Mickey Rogers nods sharply to the ref's question, and gets his hands up in the standard boxing stance, bouncing springly from foot to foot as the aforementioned ref beats it out of the ring. Mickey does not respond to Alma's wish of good luck, but merely stares at him, his brown eyes looking at a spot, for all intents and purposes, a million miles away. Mickey moves forward quickly, getting more into range, and the fight is on.

COMBATSYS: Mickey has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Mickey           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0             Alma

Taking a breath, Alma causes the sparks in his eyes to glimmer yet more brightly, and the smile on his face seems to grow first into one of beautific relaxation, and then, after a few moments of that, into a wide engaged near-grin. Little ripples of flame run up and down his hands. "Take your time, if you like," he says helpfully, and then actually winks. Considering how deadpan he usually sounds, it's pretty funny.

COMBATSYS: Alma gathers his will.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Mickey           0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0             Alma

Mickey Rogers likes to dance with what brung him, so to speak. Mickey moves inside of his reach straight away, and while Alma builds his spirit, Mickey is quick to take action. The boxer snaps his left fist out twice, jabbing but essentially catching air, the jab there more to keep his opponent in the right place than anything else. Moving with good speed for a light heavyweight, Mickey follows up the jabs with a hard right hand, looking for Alma's beautiful, important face.

COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Mickey's Hook Punch.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Mickey           0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0             Alma

Behind Alma, the man called Kanji makes a small sound, one that might be a laugh. His shoulders shake, slightly, in mirth, the expression on his face one of distinct amusement. In a quiet, low voice, one that carries further than the high registers of a true whisper, he murmurs, "Turning me to the police?"

His voice is dry, too dry. Almost cracking, almost hoarse. He gives another of those strange, not-quite laughs.

Then, as Mickey launches his attack, Kanji drifts back, his linen-bound feet gliding soundlessly across the floor. Giving the fighters room.

Not in the face, please, not in the face. Alma blocks the attack easily and gracefully, stopping the punch short with unnatural reflexes -- perhaps related to that unnatural light in his eyes -- but the punch is quite powerful, and sends him skidding back. Oddly, instead of maintaining his feet, he rolls backward. But as he raises, it becomes clear his right arm as ignited completely, and that he shielded that when he rolled. Without a moment to lose, he sweeps up as he's still rising, and sends a gout of flame out at a low strike toward Mickey.

COMBATSYS: Mickey endures Alma's Sacred Wave.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Mickey           0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0             Alma

While ordinarily, Jiro would not stick around to deal with certain businesses such as watching fighting events, he figured that he should show Alma the same report that Jiro was shown. To do that, Jiro makes his arrival, but not alone. Two other punks wearing the Gedo School uniform; a gakuran, are showing up after the young man.
Folding his arms, Jiro shifts his gaze over towards the fight. "Hrmph." He watches Alma in his battle, grumbling. "Doesn't frail boy even use any actual martial art attacks besides throwing that energy around?" He sneers.
Huh, Mickey is in action. Who would be the underdog in this kind of match?

Mickey Rogers keeps his feet as well, though the blocked punch was certainly very unexpected. Watching with sharp eyes as his more agile opponent flips back up to his feet and sends that burning wave towards him, Mickey quickly ducks down a little at the knees, turning his left shoulder slightly towards the flames and tucks his head down, his right hand hanging down close to his knees, the fist tightly balled. As the fires crash into him, Mickey turns to once more meet eyes with Alma, then says quietly, "Nice trick..." Throwing his right fist up as he once more extends to his full height, an arc of energy follows the uppercut, igniting a swelling flame of his own, which rolls across the ring right back at Alma. "Here's one uh mine."

COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Mickey's Rolling Upper.

[       \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Mickey           0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0             Alma

Who's frail? Alma's got seven inches and like fifty pounds on you, Jiro. But despite that size, he's still able to move it move it, and using Psycho Power engulfed arms and the sheer force of his gathered battle aura, he lunges into the rolling flame and dissapates it easily, with little apparent damage. Taking advantage of the momentum afforded by the flame torrent, the youth immediately launches himself into the air, and attacks Mickey with a flameless, fast hooking kick, quite reminiscent of Feilong. "Ha-CHA!" Good thing he doesn't sound anything like the guy.
So yeah, looks like he *can* use normal martial arts.

COMBATSYS: Mickey blocks Alma's Light Kick.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Mickey           0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1             Alma

Mickey Rogers seems to take the failed Rolling Upper in stride. With his hands up in front of his chin, just below his eye level, Mickey quickly gets them up to defend his jaw and face from the whirling foot of Alma, taking the hit on his wrists instead. Mickey peeks up over his gloves, and tries to get his timing perfect: the plan is to grab his opponent once he returns to the mat, hook him with his left arm and then let loose on his chest with his right. That's the PLAN anyway...

COMBATSYS: Alma endures Mickey's Body Blows.

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Mickey           0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1             Alma

A twitch of the facial muscles. A shift of the body, a subtle chance of stance. Kanji inclines his head, his blind gaze following the combat. The metal plate covering his eyes gleams under the shifting, multi-coloured lights. And his voice is nearly hidden beneath the pulse-pounding roar of the crowd, and the background music of the club.

Nearly hidden. Somehow it carries, drifting across the battlefield. Reaching the ears of both combatants, alike. "Rogers, Mickey," Kanji recites, as if recounting something distant, far away, "boxer, American professional. Said to employ technique, not power. Rudimentary control of chi..."

A moment passes, as the two exchange attacks. Kanji seems to take note of this, tilting his head. Continuing, in a whisper: "Towazu, Alma...Hiten-ryu variation. Attributes unknown...chi control..." Pause. He speaks the next word, as if it were some kind of joke, lips twisting in a grin: "...unknown."

Alma's kick fails, and he can't exactly get out of the way, what with being in the middle of the air and all, but he seems to take the result pretty well in stride too. He's grinning, but it's not a mischevious grin or an intense grin or, well, a grin of any particular normal emotion. It might be hard to place for most people; but this is the grin of someone who is completely engaged in the fight, and is putting his very all into a battle.
Even as he's blown back by the attacks, seeming to take them quite well, and incorporating the momentum into his own movements, the flames in his hands begin to burn so hard they form energy fields around them. "The yin that is the energy without! The yang that is the energy within! Combine and synthesize, in harmony..." And Alma brings his hands together, causing the two orbs of power to combine into a -- wow, that's big. That's, like, a wall of fire, not a ball of fire. "TWO HEAVENS HARMONY!" And there is goes, right toward Mickey. Snap.
But even after that monster, Alma wastes no time. "Kanji!" he calls, his voice projecting loudly. "Strike him -now-!"

The ears of the ponytailed blonde twitch briefly, and he lifts his head up as words that shouldn't get anywhere near his range of hearing manage to make their way into his earlobes. He turns to look from fighter to fighter in the arena, eyes breezing back and forth between Nassir and Kanji. His eyes finally stop on Kanji, not thinking the creepy tone in that voice would be possessed by the Shank Squad member. He tilts his head back a bit more, peering across the ring from underneath the brim of his cap... until that wall of fire materializes in the ring, the sudden flash drawing Terry's eyes from striker to fighter. "Mm. Too much talking. Giving it away long before the attack's going to hit." With a brief shake of his head, the elder Bogard settles back into his chair again, hefting his beer for a drink.

Giving it away? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Kanji smiles. Before Alma finishes the sentence...Kanji is already gone. Exploding in another plume of smoke, twisting in the dancing illumination of the club's lights. One heartbeat, two, as the flames of Alma's energy flare, blasting towards the boxer...Kanji is gone. Where?



Materializing amid the flames, blasting -from- Alma's wall of fire, the purple soul-forged energy spiralling round, distorting. Kanji's body forms into a lunge, one arm stretched outward - the one without a sleeve. Hand open, fingers spread. Before him floats a single strip of paper. Not so much resting in his palm, but before it. It is that which warps Alma's attack, wrapping it -around- Kanji as he screams towards Mickey. His own energies joining Alma's in his wake.

COMBATSYS: Kanji has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0            Kanji
[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/--=====|

COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Mickey with Two Heavens Harmony.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0            Kanji
[                  \\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Mickey           1/----===/=======|

COMBATSYS: Kanji successfully hits Mickey with Incense Paper.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0            Kanji
[                       \\\\\\\  <
Mickey           1/-======/=======|

COMBATSYS: Kanji has left the fight here.

[                       \\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Mickey           1/-======/=======|=------\-------\0             Alma

Mickey Rogers is just a boxer. The Tragic Pugilist, no doubt, but a boxer nonetheless. Even one gifted such as he is, with his ability to channel his spirit into attacks, is not in the same class as some of the people currently fighting in this world. Apparently, this little boy toy is one of them. As the seething flames tear into his flesh, Mickey Rogers feels as if he is going to die -- finally, his mind seems to say. But he doesn't die; no, he simply just absorbs all of that power, burning his skin and clothes, charring the tape around his fists. His face a bloodied and swollen mess, the second attack, though massively destructive in its own right, is barely noticed after the first one. Wavering on his feet, Mickey squints, and tries to figure out which of the three men is looking at right now is the real Alma. Spitting out a wad of blood, Mickey grits his teeth and snarls. He shouts, "Hey soldier boy! CMON!" Without waiting for Nassir, though, he charges, his fists exploding with yellow flames of his own. His fists flash faster than most in the audience can follow as Mickey Rogers unloads a barrage of attacks onto his opponent: lefts and rights, hooks and straights, crosses and uppercuts, all of which illuminated by that dull yellow glow arcing behind both of his fists as the dance from one spot to another. When all is said and done, an even twenty punches have been thrown... whatever the result may be.

Blinking for a moment at the match, Jiro is folding his arms for the time being. He observes the fight, and he winces at the sheer power of the strike between Alma and Kanji on Mickey. The young man gives off a low grunt, before he shakes his head in empathy towards Mickey. He knows what it's like to be strangely blasted by something like that. A grunt is made by Jiro, "...Huh."
Bob looks towards Jiro, "...Isn't that pretty boy model your friend?"
"Acquaintance." Jiro hisses out, looking at the fight before unfolding his arms.

Reappearing, in another hiss of smoke, having vanished in the clash of flames...Kanji returns to where he was, standing on Alma's side of the arena, the space which, under normal circumstances, would be the club's dance floor. He stands, arms folded, head cocked. Watching the fight with great interest. Arching one eyebrow, as Mickey stands, lunging towards Alma with an impossibly fast barrage of energy-charged strikes.

Kanji tsks. "A desperate man..."

COMBATSYS: Nassir has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Nassir           0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Alma
[                       \\\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-----==|

Up until this point, Nassir watched the fight with a passive eye at best. The striker rules did a great job of simply keeping the soldier as much an audience member as any of the alcohol-addled hanging around to watch the entertainment. Various strategies floated around, keeping the idle mind occupied, but ultimately his participation lie in another man's hands. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, even though his day to day existence as a member of Rolento's fighting unit was arguably of a similar vein...act when called upon, while the remainder of the time is spent either idle or in preparation.
But then, his activation comes, and those thoughts are pushed to the wayside. He had one shot at making his appearance worthwhile, even if the fight was in all reality just waiting to be concluded. Flipping over the ropes and into the ring, Nassir breaks into a hard dash towards Alma, Shadowy blue afterimages crackling off of his body as he does so. Turning the dash into a high, somersaulting flip, Nassir ends up landing outside of the ring and on the floor...though the afterimages don't follow him in this endeavor. Instead, they remain charging forward, looking to do little more than dogpile the model and perhaps draw enough attention to make Mickey's assault that much easier to accomplish.

COMBATSYS: Alma dodges Mickey's Rush Bomber.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Nassir           0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Alma
[                       \\\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-----==|

COMBATSYS: Nassir successfully hits Alma with Phantom Patrol.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
Nassir           0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0             Alma
[                       \\\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-----==|

Alma just watches as his attack and Kanji's merge together, surprisingly compatible, and the combined strike nearly tears Mickey apart. He doesn't look happy or anything; I mean, he just caused somebody a buttload of pain. But there's a certain something in his fully-opened eyes now. The joy of the fight has just grown stronger. Watching as Kanji finishes up the attack and then makes his way to the other side of the ring, Alma casts him a look, and yet again, this is pretty difficult to describe. It's not friendly, nor respectful, nor kind. But it's not angry, nor resentful, nor the gaze of one plotting anything. It's the look of a man who fights against his brother for a cause he knows is right; a man who has seen someone exactly like him, and knows he must destroy him. It is acceptance synthesized with the resolve to fight back. Nobody else would understand: but Alma does. And, most likely, Kanji does too.
So when he turns to the onrushing Mickey, Alma's eyes suddenly turn almost completely light purple, glowing with seraphic radiance, and he spreads his arms slightly, as though accepting something from the heavens. With a perfectly peaceful expression on his face, he does not move as the extremely rapid barrage of punches begins. The fighting model is lost in the explosion of punches and chi.
When the attack ends, he is not there.
He is behind Mickey, facing him.
"It's not the darkness in your heart that is your weakness," Alma says quietly, looking at Mickey with that same expression, though his eyes no longer glow. "It's that you no longer believe in yourself--"
Wha-POW! Damn, not again. Nassir's auraless march of attacks always gets him; he can never sense it coming. But even as Alma is thrown forward by the blast, obviously seriously wounded by the attack, he reaches out with one hand, ignites it, and reaches out to Mickey.
His expression hasn't changed.
"Sacred Wave."

The wash from Alma's aura - the distinctive purple of his spiritual energies - casts Kanji's face into stark illumination. Glinting off the blank featureless mask of steel replacing his eyes. That smile, that same, strange little smile, remains on his face as he witnesses the combat.

Alma, perhaps, might see some warped kinship with Kanji. But what does the robed man feel? Mm. Now, there's a question. Impossible to tell.

Mickey Rogers stands dumbfounded as he unloads his most powerful technique on absolutely nothing but air. He blinks, just staring like a deer caught in the rack of lights used by a flash hunter. He can't believe it. he just can't. The crowd roars, apparently with delight at his failure. Mickey turns as he hears his faster opponent speak once more, and just stares, his hands down as his sides. What difference does it make at this point? Then he gets inspired, and real quickly. "Hey Nassir!!"

COMBATSYS: Nassir overcomes Sacred Wave from Alma with Phantom Patrol.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Nassir           0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0             Alma
[                       \\\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-----==|

Mickey Rogers takes the opportunity to ready his attack. Clenching his fists as tightly as he clenches his teeth, a green shining aura begins to build around Mickey's feet, encircling his body as it does. His face still in very bad shape -- not to mention the rest of his body -- Mickey steps forward and punches hard with his right arm, creating an energy arc behind him as the a yellow fireball launches itself from his hand and streaks towards Alma.

COMBATSYS: Nassir successfully hits Alma with Phantom Patrol.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Nassir           0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1             Alma
[                        \\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-----==|

COMBATSYS: Mickey successfully hits Alma with Burning Upper.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Nassir           0/-------/-----==|=======\====---\1             Alma
[                        \\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/----===|

Watching both Alma and Mickey's fight, the young man shuts his eyes a bit, taking in the bask of raw power emitting. Jiro is blinking over towards Mickey and Nassir's teamwork. Even when things looked bleak for the former boxer, Jiro stares and he smirks. "Now... that's an interesting strategy now..." He smirks, sounding very amused at what has just happened. "Now... let's see how long before the guy.
Now -that- was a surprise.

Kanji seems just as amused as Jiro. He angles his head, forward a little. It still seems strange, the movement, given that his eyes are so very covered. But he watches, regardless, his expression intent. Studying the play of power, feeling the lines of force, as they clash and converge...

...he purses his lips. "Hm, unfortunate," Kanji muses, out loud. An understatement. Unfortunate, indeed. Yet he doesn't look too concerned about Alma's well-being.

Yes, that's right. Hup. It doesn't matter if it was said in arabic or english or japanese or latin, a hup is a hup is a hup. Going from the floor level, Nassir's legs strain to push the youth back up, backflipping into the ring. Either his afterimage effect, whatever it was, never stopped, or it began anew, since his body was emitting those puissant afterimages oncemore. Original_Nassir knelt in a crouch, his maneuvering done...though those phantom images, they're real troopers.
Landing about as well as a ghost would, four of the images start after Alma--one getting more or less totally balled over by the Spiritual Wave blast, but leaving the other three to...well, do remarkably bad things to him.

...holy crap, what a comeback.
The crowd goes wild as, after Alma and Kanji's devastating twin attack, Mickey and Nassir team up for an attack of their own. *Again*, the Phantom Patrol overcomes Alma's guard -- not only his guard, but his Sacred Wave too -- and blasts Alma full-on in the front. Stunned from the attack, the light in his eyes flickers, and seeming to lose his sense of rhythm for a moment, the youth stumbles; and most certainly can't get out of the way of the second attack. Torn apart by their combined might, Alma is hurled to the opposite end of the ring, and hits the ground hard on his back. Some of the audience members even stand up at this immense turnaround. It looks like... this fight is over.
Alma's right hand slowly clenches.
Pushing himself up weakly with his left, his head hanging so that none can see his expression, he says quietly to the ninja standing outside the ring behind him, "Sorry... I don't think I'll be able to fight you this time." Slowly, he starts to rise again, even as the remnant flames from Mickey's attack continue to lick about his body a bit. They mix with the purple flames beginning to grow around Alma as well. Slowly, almost laboriously, he rises to his feet-- and raises his head.
He's smiling widely.
Pain etched in those open features, the fighting model manages, "Really impressive. You really are a professional." Then, slowly, he's starting to move forward. He looks... surprisingly happy. "I really appreciate this fight. Before I fall... I'd like to show you everything I've got."
Then, all of a sudden, he's rushing forward at an extreme speed,images of himself blurring behind him. His right arm engulfed entirely in Psycho Power, he shouts, "Kanji, -now-!" and swings his arm forward several meters too soon to hit Mickey, sending out a shockwave of mental power in his direction. For a guy who's on his last legs, Alma, for a moment, almost looks completely fine, so involved is he in his attack. "SOUL SHATTERING STRIKE!"
The Psycho Power comes, and within it is the song of this fight, composed by all of them.
"It shall be engraved upon your soul."

COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.

[                        \\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Mickey           0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0           Nassir

COMBATSYS: Kanji has joined the fight here.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Kanji            0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0           Nassir
[                        \\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/----===|

COMBATSYS: Mickey dodges Alma's The One Strike EX.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Kanji            0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0           Nassir
[                        \\\\\\  <
Mickey           0/-------/----===|

A nod. An acknowledgement, a simple response to Alma's words. And when the call comes, Kanji moves. Flowing from stillness to motion in the passing of an instant. Gliding across the floor, a flitting shadow beneath the lights and sound of the club and crowd.
He smiles. It isn't a nice smile.
His speed is the same as Alma's. Uncanny speed. Turning him into a blur before the eyes of most spectators. The fighters, of course, would be able to trace his movements. But tracing isn't the same as stopping.
He flickers around, appearing behind Mickey. On his other side. And when Alma strikes...so does Kanji, the two acting in tandem. A mirror image, his hand laced in crimson fire. Raised, fingers stiffened. A palm strike. With a talisman resting in that palm, a paper charm, a piece of yellowing parchment with spidery writing etched upon its surface, pictograms stained in dried blood. Smouldering with baleful light as Kanji's hand descends.

COMBATSYS: Kanji successfully hits Mickey with Curse Seal.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Kanji            0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0           Nassir
[                            \\  <
Mickey           0/-------/-======|

Mickey Rogers is more than a little surprised by the effectiveness of he and Nassir's doubleteam attack. But as the younger opponent sets him up for the final attack, Mickey begins to realize that he has to get the heck out of dodge! Setting himself up for leap to the side and avoid the final strike, Mickey is ready to go... except he doesn't know the other guy is behind him. As the fiery strike hits him in the back, Mickey falls down against his will... but at least Alma's attack misses.

COMBATSYS: Mickey takes no action.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Nassir           0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0            Kanji

COMBATSYS: Mickey can no longer fight.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Nassir           0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0            Kanji

Alma hits the ground just as Mickey hits the ground, and neither move.
This one isn't too hard to call, ref.
"Double KO!"
For a short moment, Alma's eyes flicker open. He looks up at the ceiling... and smiles one last time, somewhat wistfully.
It's over.

Kanji steps back, lowering his hand, the paper seal crumbling to ash, black dust drifting down from his palm. He smiles, composing his features into a mask of serene calm. Bringing his hand to his head, he brushes his fingers across the metal plate, raising it, exposing his eyes. Red and bloodshot.

He studies both fallen combatants, his expression inscrutable. For a moment at least. Then he laughs, dryly. "Ah," he murmurs, "sweet, sweet irony, thy name is God."

Sketching a bow to the crowd, he smirks - and vanishes, in another of those plumes of smoke.

Log created by Alma, and last modified on 18:13:28 12/06/2005.