SNF 2005.08 - Ralf vs Duolon

Description: Ralf destroys Duo Lon. Luck is not on the ninja's side. Neither are angry shop owners. (Winner: Ralf)

10:25 rolls around, and while people gather around the Village Mall's nexus, cameras are being loaded, barriers put up, and all sorts of other, classic SNF crap... Duo Lon steps out of the mall's Spencer's, a glowy necklace thing looped around his neck, various, streaky paints splayed across his face. It was obviously the mostly serious young man giving his youth what it wanted... maybe he was gearing up for a dance event or something of the sort.

Maybe he was trying to learn how to manipulate rave materials into killing weapons. Who knows.

In any case, he's got bracelets, accessories, and all sorts of unnecessary shit up the ass. All this on his standard Chinese suit, and... well. It'd be hard to believe if you saw him. But you wouldn't tell him it didn't look good, would you? The Hizoku manages to make it to the mall's nexus at 10:29, pushing through the final group of spectators and stepping over the barriers, setting his merchandise down(He's still wearing half of it), and yawning. Most of the audience recognizes him, and a small cheer goes up(More girls than boys. Way more).

The mall's a hell of an odd place to have a fight, isn't it? Why, on the right, some store's got a plate-glass window, one of those shops that sells furniture and little trinkets that are so overpriced that no one in their right mind would buy them. On the other? ..Shit. What is that, anyway? A store that sells only sports caps? That's pretty god damned stupid. Fifteen dollars for a hat, man! A HAT! Tch. Ralf has passed all of these by for the stand selling giant pretzels, held in his mouth by his teeth alone. His hands are busy; one of them lets a beer bottle, mostly-emptied by now, dangle with the lip between two fingers, while the other hand is digging through his pocket, trying to stuff cash down in there, whatever change he got from the pretzel. Fucker looks like it's as big as his red and green-covered head.

Having shown up a good couple of minutes before the fancy lad he's up against, Jones ends up with his free hand leaned on one of the barriers at the edge of the 'ring', the preztel held up and away from it between two meaty fingers. "...The shit is this?" he muses, drawing a shrug from one of the spectators near him. A heavy grunt parts from the man's lips as he steps out toward one of the starting points, pretzel, beer and everything, twirling the former around on his uprighted index finger like a hoop. "The hell'd you do, fall of the 'tard cart, kid? Get that shit off so we can fight serious-like."

Hey. He might be wearing assorted ravewear/jewelry/whatever, but Ralf had beer and pretzels. One was just as disgusting to him as his stuff was to Ralf, and 'sides that... well. The ninja tilts his head to the side after Ralf makes his insults, and sets the bag down. "I'll be fine with this." Though he does take the more ridiculous things off. Like the bracelets and a necklace, can't really do much about the face paint and makeup... well, that's just Duo's preference.
Following that, Ralf's given a good lookover. The audience on his side's saying something about the "moron drunk guy" and "what the hell's he doing with that pretzel!?" Duo's fans love him... but he doesn't really feed their love by acknowledging them. If anything, they're given a quick, mildly irritated glance. He had a fight to win. Duo sets the bag down beside him, and steps forward, left foot striking the ground in such a way so as to have him balancing on it's /side/, and his fingers straightened into a standard piercing-style stance.

"It looks like you've already started things... I suppose it's only fair for me to fight back."

He reaches into a pocket, and withdraws, yes... a glowstick. Cracked, glowing, the epitome of Stupid Teenagers. It's thrown upwards, caught between painted fingers, and with a quick glance towards Ralf, a narrowing of slanted eyes, and a scowl, whipped towards the wrestler's face. "Good luck."

COMBATSYS: Duolon has started a fight here.

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Duolon           0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Ralf has joined the fight here.

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Duolon           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0             Ralf

COMBATSYS: Ralf negates Thrown Object from Duolon with Thrown Object.

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Duolon           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0             Ralf

A glowstick. How quaint! Ralf stops the spinning pretzel by bringing up his middle finger, squeezing the soft, baked goodness between it and his index finger. Thankfully, it's a big beast, and doesn't break so easily. His brows dip and furrow together at the flashy little display, eyes following the stick as it arcs up, and caught rather masterfully, if he does say. He has time after the retort for a quick grown and a shift of expression from curious to crestfallen, however. ..Great. It's gonna be a toy fight.. This is gonna su--WOAH! Hey, that thing's quick! More out of reflex than anything, Jones slings his other arm up, flinging his bottle toward the green streak.

The bottle's hard, but doesn't survive. The stick hits its side, flopping uselessly onto the ground and rolling away, while the bottle itself shatters into many, many large and small shards. What little beer is left splays about, making the floor in the middle a bit slick, not to mention dangerous with the all the glass shards there.


Whoa. His opponent wasn't a fuckup after all. Duo Lon's face is, for a moment, flooded with surprise and grudging respect, after all, not many could get away from things he threw at them. Well, except for Geese and his painful streaks of blue-chi. Duo's face regains it's inpassivity, of course, and the young man frowns a bit at Jones' display of emotion with the broken beer. "...Get over it. There's nothing you can do now, right?" He settes down, and simply... stands there for a moment, waiting for Ralf to do something. It wasn't like he could very well sprint across all that broken glass, anyway. Way to go, Ralf.

COMBATSYS: Duolon focuses on his next action.

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Duolon           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0             Ralf

Katana has arrived.

"You shut the hell up!" Dammit, man, that was GOOD BEER! It was imported! It was there with him when he was bullshitting around with Leona earlier, talking about each other's upcoming fights. It was there during the short walk to the pretzel stand! It saw fans and hecklers, precious shared moments of making fun of Old Navy, going 'ew' at sushi stands.. It was like a brother! You'd never understand! NEVER!

With another grunt and a rushed bite of his monster pretzel, the mercenary reaches back and tugs on the knot holding his bandana on, making sure it's good and tight. The chewed lump of gunk is swallowed, and lacking the drink to wash it down with, his mouth bellows out a deep yell. Indeed, he runs right toward Duolon, but instead of running through the batch of broken glass and beer, he jumps. His left leg swings up and around, sending his body twisting lengthwise with both booted feet heading right for the fairy ninja's face, along with a boisterous "RALFU KIIIIIIIIIICK!"

COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Duolon with Ralf Kick.

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Duolon           0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0             Ralf

Jesus Christ, people. Shingo. Ralf. B.Jenet(To a much less successful extent). What the hell was with calling out your name before a kick? Furthermore, what the hell was with him being /hit in the face/ with most all of them? Duo Lon's painted, "fairy" face meets the hard sole of Ralf's boot mid-dodge, and the young man is sent staggering backwards, but not down. Not yet, anyway. This wasn't looking too good, was it?

"Jesus." He regains his balance afterward, composing himself quickly, and doing that weird ass foot thing. It was probably a good time to start attacking or something, his old masters would say. Sure, they'd smack him around some for not getting out of the way from a kick... but, that's never to say that Duo can't get his lovely, wonderful revenge, is it?
He hops backwards, quickly, winding up in the middle of all of that glass, shards crackling painlessly beneath his own heavy shoes. A quick shake of his head to clear it, and his left foot shoots forward, a snap kick to nobody. Halfway through this kick, a purple cloud of chi envelops the limb, and it seems all of that force is redirected in such a way that it explodes out of the ground... right beneath Ralf's feet. Would he see it coming? Given the way the man's ranting about his beer... probably not.

COMBATSYS: Ralf blocks Duolon's Genmu Kyaku Uchikiba.

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Duolon           0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0             Ralf

The unorthodox kick sends Ralf a bit off-kilter too, landing on his stomach in true pro wrestler fashion..but thank god, the landed faceplant means he's not in immediate danger..right? Pushing up with his arms and drawing a leg up under himself, he rises to a kneeling position, one fist pressed to the super-shiny mall hallway floor. Duolon is still outside of arm's reach, so that's good.. There's no hurry to get up. But then, he kicks. ..Or starts to. What the hell is he planning on hitting? Did he jar the man's vision or something?

The answer comes in something that Ralf can only liken to a land mine, as the tingling sensation in his bones heralds the surge of chi from below. It's all he can do to push hard and roll to the side, his arc hightened a bit by the blast, his arms finding themselves crossed in front of his face for protection. A slight squeak of his bare arm against the floor starts and quickly fades as his momentum does, the roll finished off to allow him to spring back to his feet. "..That's a damn dirty trick," he asserts, craning his head to the left with a soft pop, slamming his left hand into his right with the cracking of knuckles. ..And that's how he squishes his pretzel. Shit. Dropping the mess to the floor, he rushes in toward Duolon, heedless of the glass, as he too has thick-ass boots on, his only aim to land a powerful swing on the other man's chest. Hit or miss, the attack is marked with a small explosion of his own, eminating from the fist with a flash of fire and smoke.

COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Duolon with Bomb Punch.

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Duolon           0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0             Ralf

Another failure. Duo's chest meets Ralf's exploding hands, and the ninja is ONCE MORE thrown backwards, this time landing on his back, in the glass, with a resounding /thud/. Blood smears the back of his suit, he's genuinely winded now, and'll probably have to take a break for a day or so. Ralf was slow, but Duo was horribly unlucky today. This translates into a face full of fist. Maybe it was time for Duo to try something a little less discreet. The ninja lies on his back for a moment, talking to himself, fingers moving, twisting about the others. A greyish/purple aura begins to surround him, and in a moment... well. It's gone.

Behind Ralf, a copy of the ninja stands, very likely Duo's own /spirit/ brought to coporeality. In front of the wrestler, the ninja gains his feet, and sneers. "I'll make it all even again. It'll be great. You'll love it." With that, of course, Duo surges forward, hands pushed into knife-straight planes, fingers tipped with those filed, sharp nails. Of course, if he lands this, the ninja and his simulacrum'll spend a good deal of time beating the hell out of Ralf, ninjaing the shit out of the other fighter.

COMBATSYS: Ralf endures Duolon's Ouji Tajiuu Genmu Ankei!

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Duolon           0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0             Ralf

Oh, Ralf is gonna regret this. You know that feeling you get when someone's right behind you, something to send chills up your spine and make those tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up? That's what Ralf gets. There's something bad behind him, and if he really knew anything more about Ash's team, he might be afraid for his anal virginity. A quick jerk of his head shows that, to his utter and complete surprise, Duolon is now BEHIND him..but the pants are still on, so it's okay. Relatively. Looking back, he's front of him! What the shit is this?! Ninja tricks! The Ikari's face scrunches up into a distasteful look, flexing his right hand and balling it into a fist. Should he take on the rear one? Yes, just an elbow swung back will do there. It's just a shame that it doesn't go his way, however. With all of his time spent thinking, RealDuolon is already on him, swinging his girlynails into his gut. At least a pounding (of fists) from behind (in his back) does a little to divert his attention, leading into the painful, vicious assault from both sides like some professional porn star. All the while, his teeth grit and grind against one another, his right hand stubbornly clenched with his arm muscles fully tensed. His chest and back end up riddled in shallow cuts from the nails, a pain worsened by each punch, until finally, FINALLY, Ralf's had enough. Fuck this.

His right fist is unleashed, mouth dropping with an almost feral yell, every muscle in his body twisting him even the slightest bit for that much more momentum. Again, the ninja must be punched. This time, it's not a little lovetap for the chest. This is the haymaker, his on-the-ropes punch, a swing that flies out like a rocket carrying the force of a truck, and it's headed right for the head of the ninja in front of him.

COMBATSYS: Duolon dodges Ralf's Galactica Phantom.

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Duolon           0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0             Ralf

Slash, slash, kick, punch. Ralf's body's a punching bag for a few glorious moments. Twin Duo Lon's maim the man, though he doesn't seem too terribly perturbed by it, and a moment later, the second dissipates. Necromancy, cool as it may be, has it's limits. And they have been reached. Meanwhile, Ralf's hauling back and lurching forward, the sheer /momentum/ of that punch sending waves of terror through Duo, the audience, and very likely, some old lady miles away on her porch. She'd look at her cats, mutter about an ache in her bones, and say, "Well, feels like rain or something."

And really, who can stop the rain? Nobody. So Duo Lon elects to get the fuck out of the way as fast as he can. The young man lurches backwards, /almost/ falling, but much too concerned about his appearance to let his audience see him do anything like that. So instead, he's teleporting, body dissolving in the most grotesque manner possible, and reappearing some ten feet behind his original position, well out of range.

And even /then/, his hair is blown all over the place by the force of that punch.

But Duo's not going to let all that bother him. So what if Ralf was probably literally a pickup truck given flesh? Duo Lon was a ninja. So screw Ralf. The young man flashes forward, body darkening, his running speed well above that of normal folks. He actually seems to /slide/ across the ground, directly towards the wrestler. At the critical moment, he stops, still moving super-fast, and slips his left leg out, spidery limbs and hands reaching towards Ralf's shoulders, an attempt to slam him face-first into the ground, and those glass shards.

COMBATSYS: Ralf blocks Duolon's Suishu Ransaiki.

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Duolon           0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0             Ralf

Screw Ralf, indeed! The force of his swing is such that, when he misses, he has to plant a foot down to act as a pivot and act like a pretty little toy top until he can halt the spin and regain his blance. Fuck! Both of his hands come up to slap on either temple, just a sharp sensation to keep any dizziness at bay. It really works, too, you should try it. He did get a passing glimpse of Duo Lon and his rather..unique escape, however, but..did his swing simply MELT the man, or what?

More glass shards crunch beneath his boots as he takes one step back, the foot sliding a little more than he meant it to, but he's still upright. Before he knows it, he..he's caught about the shoulders? His upper body leans back, fighting the coersion, and at the same time, his arms snake out to try and wrap around the more nimble fighter. If he's going to be thought of as a wrestler, it's as good a time as any to give him what he's expecting!

COMBATSYS: Duolon blocks Ralf's Super Argentine Backbreaker.

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Duolon           0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0             Ralf

Well, he kind of deserved it. Putting /his/ Pretty Ninja hands on Big Burly Ralf's shoulders, thinking he could get away with out-wrestling the larger man. Clearly, he's not the most intelligent ninja on the block. Duo's grabbed out of /his/ throw, and thrown sky-high, impacting the ceiling of the mall before he comes sailing back down, into Ralf's loving, crushing embrace, back carefully caught on the larger man's obviously rock-thick skull.

Except, well. That doesn't happen.

Duo's thrown alright, but directly into an overhead light display. Again, spindly limbs grab at the lighting, and while he hits it hard, the damage is significantly less than what it could've been. So Duo's pretty safe up there, for the time being. He starts to glow purple, chanting to himself, and after a moment of this, drops. Flailing, screaming, just like if Ralf'd succeeded! Good job, Ralf! WAY TO GO.

When Duo Lon lands, however... the world as Ralf knows it might just be turned around. Exploding out of the ninja, just as he lands on Ralf, is an aura of death, skulls, bones, misery and ghoulish tendrils of plain spiritual energy whipping the air around him. Ralf, unless he's faster than he looks, is probably in a bad way.

COMBATSYS: Ralf endures Duolon's Shiryou Hatsu Seikin.

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Duolon           0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0             Ralf

Indeed, Ralf a rather bad way, increasingly so as this little match goes on. The cheering for Duo Lon doesn't help the big guy, who's used to showboating around, and just generally having a good time of things. This, stuff is starting to hurt, and bad. He doesn't move at all after tossing up the ninja; to him, things are going as planned, and he just has to crack a spine over his head. Imagine his surprise when, instead of the wonderful sound of vertebrae being realigned, there's a sight right out of..shit. I dunno, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark or something. It's a horrifying sight, and at first, Jones doesn't know QUITE how to react. His body does, in that he lets out a loud, horrible scream that isn't going to carry over that well on TV. Little chickenshit.

Once more, he's forced to just grit his teeth and bear it; after all, this? This is nothing like what he went to just a couple of months ago. What is the carnage of a thousand horrors compared to having a cage of flesh-eating beetles stapped to your stomach? From out of the wrapping of energy, the Ikari's arm shoots out, trying to grasp his big hand around the ninja's through while the other hand moves for the gut, just trying to pull him in and lift him up.

COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Duolon with Northern Lights Bomb.
- Power hit! -

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Duolon           0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0             Ralf

Ninjas are supposed to be quick though, aren't they? Ralf's grip is strong, and through pain and torture, Jones simply lifts up the thinner man, turning him upside-down and facing the same direction he is. Duo Lon's shoulders are set against one of his own, the grip ensuring that he's pointing straight up. In that position, Ralf, he..falls. Backwards. He hits the ground, but nowhere near as harshly as his opponent surely does with the textbook suplex. Ralf, however, has a thick kevlar vest to protect him from most of the glass shards. Can Duo Lon boast something similar?

Duo Lon has Voodoo Ninja Powers. Ask anybody. And, while the impact elicits a sharp gasp from the younger, smaller man, his next action elicits a gasp from the audience... Ralf Fans and Duo Fans alike. Again, the Hizoku simply... melts. Ralf's dealt with a lot, the fact that flesh, muscle, and bone are melting directly against his body, warm, bloodied flesh draping itself over his form... well, that's /nothing/ like those beetles, right? Can't be. But don't worry, man... it only lasts a second. Again, Duo Lon has disappeared, and well... who /knows/ what's coming next.

See, Ralf's problem is that he's laying on the ground. On his back. Staring at the ceiling, one could assume, and probably mildly weirded out by the disappearing/dying ninja. A bloodied, tattered Duo Lon reappears in the air ten feet above the prone man, legs and arms together, entire body straightened for maximum leverage and impact. His goal is to stomp directly on Ralf's chest... but anything's possible. Maybe he'll miss. In any case, he's falling. Falling hard.

COMBATSYS: Ralf dodges Duolon's Genmu Hishou Keikou.

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Duolon           0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0             Ralf

"...What the fuck is this?!"

Ralf really is just..MELTING IS NOT NORMAL! This man, he..he's PUNCHED HIM, he knows he's real, but the feeling of flesh melting against your own is..disconcerting. It's good, however, that Jones is used to people exploding, being shot, sliced, all that stuff. It comes with the territory in Mercenary Land. ..You can never really QUITE get used to it, though. So shocked is Ralf that, at first, he just wonders about the goo on his hands, even though it fades, and those hands are brought up to his face to look at them. They're normal..but the man reappearing above him? That's not. Nothing about this guy is normal, except for the grounded reality of the impact of fist against flesh.
Jones merely manages out a "SHIT!" as he wrenches his body onto its side, pushing up with one hand so he can rise to a crouch, the fingers on his right hand curling and balling into a big fist. The crisis is averted; Duo Lon crashes into the ground where Ralf WAS, likely cracking the tiles and sending the floor shaking, but it's solid; good, firm concrete on top of bedrock, and the only loss is one of those five-hundred dollar faux-crystal dragons in the crappy shop next to them. Bet no one will miss that. Immediately, the overmuscled lug rises up, pushing hard with his strong legs, swinging a fist up and directly at the other fighter's face in that small stint of silence following the collective gasp of shock and ill sounds from the sight of people melting. Once more, his fist explodes, the smoke wisps trailing as he pulls his hand back, going for another..and another, and many more, each with their own blast, unless stopped.

COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Duolon with Vulcan Punch.
- Power hit! -

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Duolon           1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0             Ralf

Shit shit shit, Duo's bleeding, he's hurting, he's cracking floors and breaking dragons, and now Ralf's throwing Fire Fists at him. The ninja backsteps, weaving on his feet(This is not on purpose, he's just that out of it), and somehow managing to dodge Ralf's onslaught. Duo's lips split into something of a grin, and he staggers forward, stepping over a broken faux-crystal dragon to stab at Ralf with those damn nails.

Now, as Katana would say... "Let me tell you something about faux-crystal dragons." They're not easy to make. As a matter of fact, Mr. Takigachi Misaki, the owner of the previously broken dragon, had spent a good month and a half creating the thing, lovingly, with his hand-crafted tools and considerable knowledge of crafting. And now, because he had the GREAT FORTUNE(really, he loved watching) of having his stall RIGHT NEXT to the fighting arena... his dragon(Beatrice) falls to her death, shattering into pieces because of Duo's ground-shuddering stomp. And over the explosion of Ralf's odd chi, and the cheering of the fans at Duo's dodge... well, Misaki's own feral shriek overpowers all of it.

"YOU CLUMSY IDIOT! YOU BROKE MY BEATRICE!" The shopkeeper, incensed, grabs a hefty chunk of dragon crystal, and, shrieking once more, zings it at the bloodied Hizoku ninja. It's more a shotput throw, really, than a zing... but Thrown Objects are Thrown Objects.

Time might have stopped, the way everybody watches the projectile fly towards Duo, sinking after it's apex... and thudding, quite directly, into the place where pantlegs meet. The *CRUNCH* is so audible that people in the back row are wincing, and as for Duo Lon... well. The smirk leaves the boy's face, eyes roll upward, and he falls forward, face-down in the glass. Quite out of it.

COMBATSYS: Duolon takes no action.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Ralf             0/-------/=======|

COMBATSYS: Duolon can no longer fight.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Ralf             0/-------/=======|

..Oooh. Oh, oh, no.. That-- ...Aw, man, no.
The large Ikari is stopped dead in his tracks by the high-pitched scream. His fist is still raised, trying to chase the ninja down for another hit, but..what the shit? It's like someone in the audience got hurt. In a life or death fight, this would be the time that the bad guy comes in and royally rapes Ralf for looking away. This time, though? The form of that shopkeeper and his rantings are crystal clear, so to speak, and he can see the windup. All sense of decency and seriousness about this match have probably gone right out the window as Jones DIVES for cover, away from the glass, just to keep from getting hit. The sound of a man's jinglies getting smashed is one that's far too familiar to him, though, having been smashed there rather frequently, and he cringes in sympathy before even turning to look. ..Poor guy. Really...really poor guy.

"...Oi. OI!" Ralf gets up, just to check on the necromancer-slash-ninja, just to make sure he's still alive. He doesn't get to check much, as the ringside medics get to him just a few seconds later. "...." He turns, looks to the poor, distraught shopkeeper. "..Dammit, man! YOU DON'T HIT A MAN IN THE BALLS! Jesus!"

COMBATSYS: Ralf has ended the fight here.

Log created by Duolon, and last modified on 15:20:59 08/30/2005.