Hanmei IC: Battle in the City of Angels

[Callos_DeTerran]

Hanmei is Japanese for “the Proving.” The origins of this full-contact competition are shrouded in the mists of the tournament’s Yakuza past. Ancient documents obtained by a raid on a Hong Kong warehouse by Communist Chinese Internal Security forces suggest that, in medieval Japan, this kind of tournament was a way of choosing the warriors most worthy of being the Oyabun’s personal guard. However, some Japanese scholars dispute the original interpretation of these documents, which have since disappeared.

The Hanmei is held in three stages. The first stage is held in the backstreets of Japan and (in recent years) the West Coast of America, the second stage is held in secret locations in Hong Kong and Okinawa, and the final stage is held in the same location every year, but that location remains unknown at the present time.

Even now, fighters from around the world are entering into participation for the Hanmei, seeking their fame, fortune, revenge, or reconciliation through their strength of will and power of body. Who will succeed in their dreams and who will find them crushed under the heel of others?

The beaches of Los Angles were certainly a popular tourist attraction, even on a hot and humid day like this, as could be seen by the myriad of natives to the city prowling up and down the boardwalk in search of whatever occupied them on this day. Despite the oppressive heat, there was relatively little sunlight with angry rainclouds stewing in the sky above as if just waiting for the moment to begin a torrential downpour on those who dared to brave the threat of rain.

On the opposite side of the cement causeway was a line of stores and cafes to cater to all sort of tastes and shopping wants, or at least those for cheap and quick food and tourist t-shirts mostly. Street actors and musicians ply their trade for their small audiences, creating a cacophony of noise that was tuned out by those used to the constant chatter no matter where it had come from. And to this end...a plate of delicious fast food tacos laying on the grate-table with a sweating soft-drink cup sitting beside it.

It was coming up on the time for Sasha's contact to make their experience but there was still no one in sight. Supposedly this person was able to give info on the Hanmei and how to pay the right fees to the right people to join the illegal yakuza tournament. So far though, none of the people she would see walking about the boardwalk would match the image of an underground fight planner.

But that didn't mean there weren't any shady types around either, one of them even looked familiar actually. A Hispanic woman who was a little on the short side was approaching Sasha's table, dressed in a leather half-jacket over a bikini top with what could best be described as denim hot pants with tattoos covering more of her skin then clothes did. Black tattoos of bullets, octopuses, and so on that leave a very distinct image in one's mind. Mireia, if memory served, an adept Capoeira user whom Sasha had met on her own foray into the world of underground fighting. Mireia hadn't been matched against Sasha then, but would have if she hadn't shattered a leg in an earlier match. The fiery smaller woman is making a bee-line towards the table, a rakish grin across her sharp features and just a bit of a limp in her left leg.

"'ey, don't I know you?" She calls with a light accent, black sunglasses pulled low on her nose to reveal inquisitive chocolate brown eyes.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha whiles away the time with a cheesy grin splitting her face. There was an interesting sky about, a couple of neat performers, and best of all, food. She tilts her head to one side, as is only proper when bringing a taco to your mouth. Wonderful! Too wonderful, perhaps. Caught up in food related ecstasy, she almost misses the other woman's greeting, initially responding with a loud sip of her drink.

"Do you know me...? Oh! You're that chick from... from... crap! Was it Mireia? How's your leg? It was your leg, right?"

Flicking her own sunglasses off of her face, she brushes her short brown hair out of her eyes and picks up the half-eaten taco.

"Er, want one?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

The young woman's face screws up a bit at the memory of the injury, but it doesn't keep her from swinging one of the chairs out from Sasha's table and sitting in it backwards facing her.

"It ain't bad, but it isn't perfect. Had to find another way to make money until it's all better, y'know?" Mireia says casually with a shrug of her shoulders, giving a shake of her head to the offer of tacos. "You're...Sasha right? You end up winning that thing?"

With a wave of a gloved hand, she beckons to the waiter, placing a quick order for a plastic cup of beer as she leans forward against the chair with an awkward look on her face. Mireia almost seemed to be waiting for someone.

[PhoeKun]

"Beer? That's so unhealthy..." Sasha manages in between bites of taco. The wrapper for her latest victim joins three of its crumpled brethren.

"If I were you, I'd back off the bad stuff. It'll take years off your life, you know. But, hey you remember me! I like you, you're good."

Sasha takes a long, hard look at the woman across the table from her.

"Pfft. Who do you take me for? Of course I won. Sheesh, what kind of... oh. Um, sorry. So... you good enough to go again, then? Joining the Hanwhatever?

Ah, hell. I don't think I'm supposed to talk about that. Please tell me you knew already, I don't want to get in trouble..."

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Heh! It might be unhealthy but it really takes the edge off this heat." Mireia says as the waiter returns, sipping the foam off the top of the drink even as Sasha continues to munch down on the poor tacos. Finally she took a hearty gulp of the bitter brew before setting it down, leaning back with a disgruntled sigh, "'sides, I'm so damn bored these days. My rehab sucks and I can't get into any decent fi..."

But Sasha's harsh words cause the young woman's mouth to snap shut, eyes flashing angrily behind dark sunglasses as the powerful muscles in her legs tensed.

"Nah. Not ready for something like the Hanmei...but you know..I wonder how you know about it." Mireia says suspiciously, leaning forward once more, resting her chin on her arms as intense eyes fixate on Sasha.

"Maybe...you are the fighter I'm supposed to meet. You have a coordinator yet? Y'know...guy who tells you where to go to fight and when? Cause it's what I'm here for, to find the person I'm assisting."

[PhoeKun]

It occurs to Sasha that she might be pushing her luck with Mireia. A few more poorly chosen words might start a fight. And if that happened, the "best" case scenario was pushing back an injured woman's rehab. Probably not the greatest of moves from a karmic perspective.

"Look, about before... bones can be such a tricky thing, you know? I'm sure it was just bad luck. I'm sure you make for a fine opponent..." she laughs nervously as she reaches for the soda again.

"The math adds up, though. Here I am, waiting on a contact. And here you are, waiting on a fighter..." Slurp. "I heard about it because I ask about these sort of things. Seems like it's really hush-hush though... asking just gets you a 'show up here at this time and someone will contact you'... mysterious, ain't it?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

"It's not so mysterious, we just have to be careful. Rumor has it that some government agency or another might be trying to slip a fighter into the mix. We're supposed to keep an eye out." And there it was, as plain as day, the other woman almost telling Sasha that she was the contact as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Mireia seemed serious about it too, not some kind of lame joke for making fun of her.

"First things first, you have your entrance fee? You ain't gonna learn nuthin' else until you pay to play like everyone other fighter, got it?" She drawls out, leaving the half-finished beer on the table as she crosses her arms over her chest, sharp eyes never moving from Sasha.

[PhoeKun]

"Fighting tournaments that have to hide from government spies seem pretty mysterious to me." she quips, sliding a very nice handbag under the table with a soft push of her designer booted feet.

"There you go. So, like, does this come with a receipt or a membership card or something? I'm gonna be a teensy bit upset later if I get hit up for another entrance fee..."

She turns slightly to check the leather half jacket draped over the back of her chair, picking it up and patting it down. Phone, check. Wallet, check. Phew. No "extra" fees today. At this point, it didn't seem like Mireia would be the type to return them, even if she asked nicely.

"Er... oh, I think there's a new top in there that I saw on the way and thought it was cute. That's not really part of the fee, I don't think, so if you wouldn't mind letting my dig that out..."

[Callos_DeTerran]

A cheeky smile blossomed across Mireia's face at Sasha's request, one that didn't exactly foster feelings of good will as thunder crackled in the distance.

"No can do sweet-cheeks, can't risk you sneaking in a transmitter or taking some of the money out. Tell ya what, if I find it in there then I'll return it later." the hispanic woman says, reaching into her own left pocket to pull out a small folded piece of paper before fetching a beige envelop from the inside of her own half jacket.

"Alright, from what I can tell this is where your first match should take place. It's my job to make sure you get there on time and that the police don't interfere, but otherwise you are on your own. There's gonna be people there betting on the fight and stuff too, so don't worry. They're supposed to be there." Mireia says officiously, laying down the envelop next, "This is what I was able to find out about the guy too, this is somethin' extra from what other handlers do, so I expect compensation if you win. Guy's name is John Lee, he's some twerp from San Fran but he should be a good warm-up, huh?"

[PhoeKun]

As soon as the smile plays across Mireia's face, Sasha becomes crestfallen. She was paying for her teasing now, and it would almost certainly cost her that shirt. And it was such a pretty design, too... she hangs her head in defeat, only to perk right back up again at the mention of business.

"All right, so if this is the where..." she points at the slip of paper, "What's the when? Do I need to start running, or should I be looking for a hotel room?"

She leans back in the chair, tilting her neck to stair up at the angry clouds above. She sighs wistfully.

"One other thing. What sort of 'compensation' is it you're looking for?"

She doesn't bother to look at the other woman. Doing so is making her increasingly nervous.

[Callos_DeTerran]

"The 'when' is tonight until two in the morning when the spotter leaves. You have until then to get there and start fighting." Mireia says briskly, downing the rest of the amber beer and smacking her lips before abruptly standing up. One hand patted down her jacket pockets, as if making sure she hadn't left anything behind, even as she gave a laugh.

"Cautious much? I just want to be paid for looking up extra info on these guys, I'm putting my own neck on the line after all. That's unless you have a better idea for repaying me in mind?" Mireia says smoothly, arching one eyebrow even as she pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, "In any case, I gotta stop by at least two other entry-level people to give them the meeting place. I don't just handle you ya know. Any other questions?"

[PhoeKun]

Sasha starts to laugh, perhaps much too loudly to hide her sudden embarrassment. She hastily stands up and throws on her jacket, laughing the entire time.

"Hahaha... money. Right, right... haha, of course. Money. What else would you mean? Oh my god I'm an idiot... Haha... Ahem.

But hey, be careful with the whole 'sticking your neck out' thing. Don't get hurt, all right? I don't usually carry a ton of cash on me, so I'm not exactly worth the risk... I'll, um, see you later I guess."

She waves a bit as her contact takes her leave, then heaves a giant sigh. Tossing the garbage from her meal into one of the nearby trash cans that so conveniently dot the land of California, Sasha picks up the materials Mireia gave her. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, glancing at the time and then tapping the screen a few times to call up a map, checking her position relative to her destination.

"What was I thinking? As if she would actually ask me for... ah, you moron, don't say it out loud!"

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Dontcha worry about it a single bit, eh chica? I'll just put it on a tab for ya and collect once you have enough. And don't worry, I have very reasonable interest rates." Miriea says with avaricious gleam in her eyes behind the dark sunglasses, snatching her plastic cup and launching it towards a near by trashcan with an overhand toss, snapping her fingers when it bounces off the rim of the trashcan. With a shrug, the Hispanic woman leaves it there on the ground and waltzes off into the crowds on the boardwalk as if she had never been there in the first place.

Lightening thundered ominously out over the ocean, making more then a couple of the walkers jolt in surprise as a light drizzle of rain began to fall from the heavens above. Some few pulled out umbrellas and continued on as they had been, but others ducked for cover under the nearest protection including stores and whatnot as the wind began to pick up. An ominous beginning it certainly seemed like, but then again this storm had been building up for days now...

============

The rain still hadn't let up by the time the fight was going to roll around, forcing Sasha to pick up an umbrella on the way to the fight's location. There was an almost musical quality as raindrops pinged off the fabric and slide off, but at least it kept her dry. Not to mention the directions from her phone proved invaluable for actually finding the place since Miriea's directions didn't exactly make much sense. Her route takes Sasha into a construction site for a pair of twin skyscrapers that takes up more then a block of space.

At first it seems like a dive bar across the street from the iron skeletons reaching up into the sky was the place, but the longer that Sasha watched it the more unlikely it seemed. Regular white collar men and women were going in without a care for the world while none of them looked like the type to join an underground fighting tournament.

Then came the abrupt rise of hooting and hollering coming from the bowels of the skyscraper construction site like the roars from hell itself. But then just as quickly it receded to leave Sasha wondering if she had even heard it at all. Curiosity got the better of her, getting her on her feet and circling the perimeter of the building trying to find an easy access point...and finding the chain link fence leading into the site for the second building already opened and just barely ajar. A glance down revealed the foot prints in the dirt just on the other side of the fence, as if a large group had recently passed through.

With a sense of victory, Sasha slips through the gate and follows the muddy tracks down to the unfinished underground parking lot, multiple levels with a single opening in the center that down through all of the five floors of it. And at the very bottom...was light and noise. Getting down there was easy, if time-consuming, but once down there the sight was fantastic. Close to a hundred people were packed into the bottom garage from all walks of society. Gussied up gang members huddled in their little cliches while average businessmen huddled close to the open-to-the-sky portion of the garage to try and keep an eye on whatever was happening in there. Money seemed to change hands at a lightning pace as the people murmured back and forth to themselves. Jarring music plays from numerous stereos and speakers set up while lights had been rigged to sign into the central area where there was the most activity.

Even now there was arguing and jeering coming from those closest to the center but also a somewhat familiar sight...Mireia stood on the outskirts of the group with a frown on her face beside a man almost as short as she was. The object of her attention was a big bear of a man, rippling with grotesquely sized muscles circling warily about a wiry and tall fellow with two blunted knives in hand. It seemed like the Hanmei was well under-way already...

[PhoeKun]

Shaking out her new umbrella and rolling it up, Sasha breaks into a face splitting grin. Found it! She takes a deep breath to drink in the atmosphere. It was always interesting to watch other people's fights... although the fact that there are other people fighting makes her wonder if she's late, after all. She had meant to arrive before any fights began. Hopefully she hadn't upset anyone; it would suck to have the crowd against her on her very first fight...

Spotting Mireia, she waves and slips her way through the crowd over to her.

"Hey there! What's up?" Her tone is cheery, blithely ignoring the frown on the other woman's face. She looks curiously at the man next to her. Another client? Or...

[Fan]

Roy dances nervously from foot to foot, his wiry legs, and short frame quite used to such activities, he was unsure if placing what little money he had on the wiry guy was a wise decision any more.. the fight was at a stalemate though.. but he didn't like fifty percent odds...

He turns to the woman next to him, revealing a mildly tanned face, and sea green eyes. He straightens his white shirt, revealing a blood stain or two as he says to her in a casual tone.. trying to hide the fact that he was actually quite nervous.

"Say. Who do you think'll come out on top here? I'd say the thin guy personally, how about you?"


Description:


Roy himself is about 5"3, give or take a few centimeters, and has a mildly tan skin tone, indicating Central American, or South American decent. He wears a old, loose fitting, white t shirt with several blood stains on it.. making him look like a bum to anyone who would see him. However, his tight fitting slacks run contrast to this.. perhaps stolen clothing, or maybe just eccentric taste in dress? Either way, he seems clean enough to talk to.. and looks quite athletic despite his shorter height, being athletic looking, but more for speed than brute strength.

[Callos_DeTerran]

"If you want to put money on it, then mine's on the big guy." Miriea says off-hand as Sasha approaches the two of hem, the Hispanic woman turning with a smile on Sasha. "Oh hey, when did you down here?"

Just as quickly as she asked the question, she turned and thumped Roy in the chest with one hand, nodding her head towards Sasha.

"Roy, this is Sasha. Sasha, this is Roy. I'm supposed to handle for the both of you so I figured I would arrange your fights on the same night and place." Miriea comments off-hand as the impromptu ring bursts into motion. The large man rushed forward with a roar, the thin fellow ducking beneath his out-stretched arms and jabbing at his ribs with the blunted blades. In a surprisingly quick motion, the big man turned and grabbed hold of the dagger-wielder's outstretched left arm, falling to the ground and wrapping his big legs around the out-stretched limb.

"Kanpai!" A young Japanese guy shoots from the other side of the human fight-ring, pumping a fist exuberantly into the air as the dagger-wielder flopped and bounced about like a fish as the big brawler yanked on his arm.

"And there...is Lee. He keeps shouting that at the end of every match..I think he's crazy personally." Miriea says off-hand to Sasha as the dagger-wielder slammed his hand down on the concrete to forfeit just as his shoulder popped out of the socket. Some of the crowd began to cheer while others booed, even as money began to change hands again.

"Roy, you got a real treat. You get to fight a celebrity.." Miriea says with a grin as the ring began to break up as the tall man limped out of the crowd. An asian man with dark sunglasses pulled out his phone, quickly texting a message into it before impassively crossing his arms across his chest.

[PhoeKun]

"Ooh, look at that! You know, you always hear about the martial arts being the way the little guys always beat the big guys, but all those muscles take a lot of work to build up. Big guys like that must make a fortune playing off of stereotypes..."

Sasha laughs, adjusting both her umbrella and the long cloth wrapped pole she's carrying so she can clap her hands together.

"Roy, huh? How... um, very nice to make your acquaintance. I guess if this is how Mireia is going to handle us, we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Wanna be friends?" She grins.

Not really waiting for an answer, she turns her head slightly towards Mireia.

"So, if shouty over there is my opponent, and I'm here, then when can we get to beating on each other? I'm a little sketchy on the details, here."

[Fan]

Roy bemoans his gambling luck, handing over what little money he had remaining to an angry looking, and rather pudgy, middle aged Italian man who put it into some sort of sectioned wooden box.. The grimace on Roy's face is quite clear when he hands over the money, as if someone had shoot him.

Then Roy sighs, turning when his handler spoke up, wondering which celebrity he was going to fight, and secretly hoping that she meant someone like Tom Cruise, or Matt Damon rather than Chuck Norris, or Bruce Lee.

When Meria pops up, he gives her a smile, and all but throws out his hand to offer the young girl a hand shake as he says.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sasha.. and I'd be happy to be your friend, so long as we stay outside the ring."

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Simple...ya let me handle it." Miriea says with a casual wink tossed in Sasha's direction, cupping her hands about her mouth, "Lee!"

What followed next was a long string of what seemed like nonsense (but was in fact Mandarin), and throughout the course of it the cheerful oriental man's face turned steadily darker and darker until his face was a scowl. And just like that, Miriea was backing away from Sasha and shaking her head like the other had the plague and waving to the Japanese man in the suit.

"Get ready slugger!" the Hispanic woman calls out between hoots of laughter as Lee began to stomp towards Sasha, a new ring quickly forming around the two with an all too ominous meaning as the spry Lee settles himself into a basic karate stance with his eyes speaking to how mad he really was. He was a wiry little fella, like the knife user from the previous bout but much shorter. His t-shirt proclaims a fan of 'ADD' though nothing hints what that might be. Lee moves with an easy confidence that came from fools or experts, but a warm up fight wouldn't be an expert...right?

Not that Roy was getting off easy, Mireia was dragging him towards the outskirts of the group with a greedy smile on her face as she approaches a curious sort of fellow.

"This guy missed his chance to enter, but I worked out a deal with the suit over there. If you and him can beat your McMannis and this Waltrip guy then you both win this round. If you lose, he loses too though so we're doing this two on two style." Looking a bit..nervous, she gestures the man to come over and thumps Roy in the chest, "Don't embarrass me either, introduce yourself!"

Not too far away was the opponents, one of them eerily recognizable. The sorta guy who looked like he belonged in Hollywood rather then an underground fighting ring. Wavy blond hair, shining white teeth, a spray on tan, and a white dress shirt and slacks that stood out even more then the silent Japanese guy phoning in the results. He had decent musculature on him too, like a long distance runner. A squat little bald man stands beside him, talking to him animatedly.

"Terry, c'mon Terry! Listen to me, you don't need to go this far. I told you I had something lined up!" He wheedles in an oily tone, though the admittedly ruggedly handsome man ignores his words.

The other guy...well...he looked as if he should be eating his partner and picking his teeth with his bones. He topped out at close to six feet and four inches with a denim biker jacket on that matches his well worn jeans. Bandages are wrapped around his fists and hands, with scruffy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail while his short goatee had begun to turn into a full on beard. No one stood close to him, likely because the sullen man was glaring down any that came closer then ten feet.

"Ray? You want to pick who gets what one?" Terry McGannis says evenly, putting on a friendly front for his 'partner' in this fight.

"Hrm. Fight your own opponent, the new guy wants in he has to prove he's up to snuff." Ray replies, spitting at the feet of the man Mireia has lead Roy to.

[PhoeKun]

"You... you're freaking kidding me, right?"

Sasha can't hide the dumbfounded look on her face. She tries to turn to Mireia to ask what the f---, but her handler is already gone. Well then. She shrugs, casually untying the bindings on her pole and tossing the cloth aside, revealing a beautifully constructed spear. She slips into a wide stance, both hands with a firm but relaxed grip on the sleek black shaft of her weapon.

"You for real, buddy? If I poke you with this thing, are you gonna disappear in a puff of smoke?"

She smirks, tipping her head back slightly in the universal gesture of "bring it".

Initiative [roll0]

If she wins initiative, then an action readied to Block - [roll1]

And if the block is successful, then I think I get an AoO, so here that is too:

AoO: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]

[Dark_Prophet]

"Hey, looking good there big guy! You're not compensating for anything, are ya?" The shorter asian man standing before Ray smirks up at him through aviator glasses, idly moving one booted foot to avoid the spit. He straightens his blue polo shirt, leaning back in his khakis against a imaginary chair, not seeming to be the least bit concerned about the larger figure as he leans back forwards, just inches from his chest as he looks up at him, violating Roy's personal space throughoutly.

"Man, at least you got enough fluids to spare to make up for it, right? Don't want to disappoint the ladies....or the men either! Jack Chin doesn't judge when he ain't on duty, and that'll never be happening again. So what's your name, Tiny?"

[Fan]

Roy.. is very lean.. and 5"3... He is quite short, so there is no way you can exactly be referring to him when your referring to a "big guy".

Either way, Roy shrugs, doing stretches and such as to avoid pulling a muscle, or being "too tight" during the fight, and making a screw up. He was fighting an Olympic Master here... He had to be at the top of his game if he hoped to win.

As he did so, he looked over at his "partner", and gestured for him to try a overwhelming rush at Mcgannis when the fight starts.. He himself inwardly hoping that the two of them at once would be enough to bring down Mcgannis quick, and hard without having to worry about doing anything that isn't two on one.

The man's a criminal, of course he's going to suggest that they fight dirtier than a sailor's mouth.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0pYWGjECLE)

Sasha's opponent certainly seems to raise to the bait, wetting his lips as if contemplating something before he abruptly pushed off with his leading foot. The spry little man came in fast with a chop from his left hand, steely eyes set on his opponent as his fist sweeps in to connect with the side of Sasha's neck, possibly to try and knock her out in one swift hit.

Or that might have been the aim if Sasha had staid there to take the blow, but that didn't seem to be in the cards for Lee today. The woman sweeps beneath the blow, bringing the haft of her yari spinning about to thwack against the back of the man's head, sending him stumbling forward with a groan. But then he tumbled about, sneakers skidding on the wet cement below as he closed the distance between the girl and himself quickly. It wouldn't keep her from lashing out with that spear of hers, but it'd certainly make it much more difficult to use with less room to swing or stab.

In either case, the noise of the crowd began to rise from the new entertainment happening, but not just from the wet ring in the center of the basement. The heart-pounding music was spread evenly now, including the betting as the spectators spread themselves out among the two fights.

============

Roy and Jack (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAjv5svW_FA)

"Rapid Ray Waltrip, Big Mouth. I'll be administering your beating today. Unless you'd like your grandmother to stand in for you?" the big man growls out as his upper lip begins to curl into a snarl. As cliche as it might have been, Ray began to crack his knuckles, an act that showed off the tattoos of 'Love' and 'Hate' across one set of knuckles each.

Terry on the other hand seemed much more amicable, giving a benign smile to the plotting Roy and even crossing the distance between the two of them as if to shake hands with his opponent in the spirit of fair play...


...Seconds before a hundred dollar shoe (Roy could tell because a sticker was still on the sole of it) snapped up in front of Roy's face in an impressively fast snap kick that just barely clips the Brazilian man's chin and leaves it a with a small cut. Terry himself settled back into a simple looking stance, body turned to the side to keep blows from reaching most vital points with his fists raised up in front of his torso protectively with that same winning blockbuster smile on his face.

"I'll send you a cleaning bill tomorrow for the shoes, but lets get this done quick, alright?"

Jack would find himself in a similar predicament as one big hand abruptly lashed out towards his face, a murderous gleam in Ray's eyes...

Roy takes 2 points of damage from the kick. Jack needs to make a level check DC 24 or be subject to Ray's feint.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha grimaces. That was... pathetic. Among the worst strikes she's ever seen. Wasn't this the Hanmei, the biggest, baddest tournament this side of the... everything!? The hell was going on here? Still, he'd taken a pretty serious blow upside the head and was still hounding her with what amounts to a pretty solid strategy. Maybe toughness is a skill? Well, that would mean she'd have to really try and hurt him.

"Are you ready? It's going to be the pointy end this time."

She swings her hips fluidly, shifting from side to side before suddenly springing backwards, trying to reestablish her distance before suddenly snapping forward with a thrust of her yari. Hopefully, drawing some blood would give her an idea of whether she's being tested, or if Lee is as big a putz as he seems...

If I'm allowed - Balance check to attempt to "Back Off": [roll0]

Regardless of result; Attack - [roll1] +2 if she's backed off, -2 if she's not.

Damage - [roll2]

[Fan]

Roy thumbs the cut, he had gotten worse in knife fights back home, so it didn't worry him much aside from the fact that it might scar... lord knew that he had more than enough of those. Then, with a sly grin, he said.

"Come on now. That the best you can do? I've been hit harder by my kid sister."

He really had... 2 damage isn't all that fantastic. :smalltongue:

Then, cracking his neck, he sets off into a flurry of kicks against the larger man, each of his movements being fluid, and graceful in their own right. Each like a graceful, yet deadly, dancer about to put the smack down on you in some strangely profound way.

However, Roy knew not to discount a man who was working with an Olympiad, so the kicks were really nothing more than build up to a single sweeping kick aimed at his lower legs, a trip to get the man on to the ground where he would (hopefully) be more vulnerable, and where he could execute his most devastating attack.




Initiative ? : [roll0]

Attack (trip): [roll1]

If successful, go into a heel kick. (-5 to ac since it's not a ranged attack... maybe -4 can't quite remember off the top of my head. >_<)

[roll2]

If that's successful, and he's still on the ground, I add 3 dice to my damage

[roll3]

[Dark_Prophet]

Def 27 Hp 30/30 - Stagger stance.

Jack wobbles in his questionable attire, behind his aviator shades, seeming to stumble drunkenly as he approaches the enormous angry man. "Well maybe I should - cause she could kick your sorry ass back down to the jail where you belong, you overgrown monkey! Wait....I take it back, I should apologize...that's a disgrace to monkeys everywhere."

He stumbles to the side, then leaning back in towards his opponent, waving a finger chastisingly right up in the big man's face. "Hell, I should haul you in just on principle for being such poor excuse for a back alley thug! You should be ashamed of yourself - you're cleaning their muddy, filthy names they've worked so hard to make!" He suddenly ducks low off to the side around the opposite way, kicking him at the small of Ray's back, foot sliding past drunkenly before finishing with his back turned, shaking his head as he gives the enraged thug a wobbling salute from the back of his head. "Keep up the good work - you'll be a choir boy in no time! Just watch out for priests!"


Initiative [roll0]
Sense Motive 1d20+1d6+8 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2503686/) DC 24 - using action point. SUCCESS!
Entering Stagger stance if possible.
Feint! (Move Action) [roll1]
Kick! (Deceptive Attack) Attack [roll2]
Damage [roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha

Either it wasn't Lee's day or he was about as skilled as Sasha believe him to be, because the spear point almost unerringly found it's mark, drawing a deep gash of blood across the wiry man's side. It was only the last second that she noticed that he had all but rushed into the spear strike, taking the hit to lash out violently with a knife-hand once more.

This time he didn't seem to be playing around, aiming to strike at her right in the throat, but at the last minute he winces in pain from the strike he had taken. It allowed Sasha to tilt herself out of the way, setting herself up for further attacks though her opponent kept right in there with her.

"I..I don't care if you use the pointy end..I have to win!" Lee exclaims through gritted teeth, continuing to hedge Sasha so she couldn't bring the full length of her spear to bear. The crowd seemed to love it though, cheering all the louder when Lee was struck and continued to move in. Someone turned up the boombox closest to that ring as the rain continued to pour down, making the ground slippery and wet in the impromptu fight ring.

============

Roy and Jack

Despite Jack's constant prattle, and it did seem to be constant, Ray didn't seem all that perturbed by it, rather he just seems to wade through it all with his eyes focused right on the spot between Jack's eyes as if he was taking aim.

"Go on, keep runnin' that mouth of yours. Once I punch out those teeth of yours, you'll probably learn when to shut up and put up." Ray grumbles out of his throat, throwing out a lazy jab with his right hand that Jack all too easily stumbled out of the way of, though Ray proved just as quick to lower his left arm to block the kick with out too much effort on his part.

Instead he begins to hop lightly from one foot to the other, twisting his neck about as if to get it nice and limber for what was to come. "Geez, I don't doubt your grandma could do better then you with a kick like that. I've seen better legs on a chicken!"

The battle of wits aside, the battle with Terry wasn't going much better. The former Olympiad didn't seem all that fooled by the flurry of kicks, still smiling like he was posing for a photo-shoot when he hopped above the sweeping leg, landing back nimbly on his feet before launching himself from the ground with a hard kick right to Roy's stomach, doubling the shorter man about his foot for a moment before Terry drew his leg back and hopped back a couple of feet.

Oddly, he didn't keep talking though.

Roy takes 8 points of damage from Terry's Jump kick. Lee misses. Ray misses.

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack Chin - Def 27 Hp 30/30 - Stagger stance.

Jack chuckles, and weaves back, stepping back close against Ray, bumping with his chest in a absurd gesture against the larger man. "Hah! You're right! A chicken's leg would be enough to knock you right over in the right place with all that meat you got on your bones, Tiny!"

He staggers back from the larger man's chest, sliding alongside with him, moving a arm along his opponent's large shoulder and leaning in conspiratorially. "See...size matters. And right now...it ain't on your side!" As he finishes, the staggering man spins, shifting his grip on the larger man to kick out with the flat of his boot against the base of Ray's spine with a blow calculated to send him staggering forwards off balance, letting go of his body with a gentle shove and letting him stumble forwards.

Jack glances over at the embattled Roy and Terry, flashing a wide smile behind his aviator shades as he seems to pointedly ignore the large man in front of him. "Ain't that right, new friend of mine? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And damn they sure are bad at falling." He sways, turning back to Ray, stumbling a bit as he raises his hands in front of him, leaning back in the invitational stance of the Drunken Master style.


Move Action Feint: Bluff [roll0]
Standard Action: Feinted Deceptive Attack Kick [roll1]
Damage [roll2]

[PhoeKun]

Sasha's eyes widen as she sees the vicious ridge hand fly towards her throat. She leans backwards in a last ditch effort to dodge... only to have the blow fall just short of where she had been previously. She whistles. It was probably only the last second flinch that kept him from connecting, even with her dodge. One hell of a gambit...

"Have to win? If there's a story behind that, come find me when you get out of the hospital. Out of respect for that last shot, I'll listen."

Sasha twirls the spear once, then thrusts, sidesteps, and thrusts again. She felt mean toying with him - better to end it quickly and hurry up the call to 911.

Very simple round: Full attack action -

Attack 1: [roll0] (factoring in the -2 from Closing)
Attack 2: [roll1] (as above)

Damage 1: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]

[Fan]

Roy nearly doubles over when the kick hits... Okay, so maybe he was as good as his kid sister...

The girl did have a mean kick.

"Ah.. Well maybe you ARE as good as my kid sister."

He sets up his stance again, regardless of the rather large pain that still throbbed in his gut, before charging again. This time moving slower, and more fluidly. Looking for an opening in Terry Mcgannis's extremely well built defense... The man could dodge a bullet if it so pleased him!

Still, he had to try, he could not give up! His entire belief system was built upon the fact that he would rather die than lose... Then.. in an instant, a Terry moved in his odd stance, he saw a gap, and made a kick for his legs again...

Triptastic!:


[roll0] (touch attack, negating any armor bonus to AC... and any other bonuses that are negated on touch attacks.)

Opposed Dexterity Roll:

[roll1] (+4 dex, +4 improved trip.)

Attack against him prone if successful. Current AC -5.

[roll2]

Damage, Heel Kicking.

[roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy & Jack

The fight didn't seem to be going too well for Roy, his kick aimed true but even as Terry began to tumble backwards he curves his back into an arch and lands on his hands, turning the fall into a desperate back flip. Terry lands out of his reach once more at the very last second. With a dismissive smile, he reaches back to brush his hair back away from his eyes.

"You'd make a killer stunt double. If your hard on work or something, I think my agent could find a decent paying job for you..." he offers off-hand, as if this fight wasn't proving exactly trying for him.

Jack seemed to be having better luck, to an extent, when his boot lands solidly against Ray's spine and sends him stumbling forward. But instead of turning back around to face Jack, Ray just kept going straight with a heavy jab at Roy that misses by inches as the big man interposes himself between the two.

"You fight big mouth, if ya can Hollywood. I'll fight the mama's boy." Ray growls out as he settles into the familiar stance of a boxer once more, "He's more yer speed then mine."

Terry seems flabbergasted for a moment but then gives a sigh, turning and rushing towards Jack in a sudden burst of motion. At the last moment he hops into the air and spins his body about, whipping his expensive shoe right at Jack's head with a sharp crack when it impacted. That mostly came from Jack getting an arm up to absorb most of the impact though.

"You heard the gentleman, I guess I'm fighting you now..." he says dubiously.

============

Sasha

Lee had only just barely begun to set himself for another attack when Sasha seemed to dance in towards him and it was only frantic footwork on the slippery cement that keeps him in close to his opponent where his spear isn't as effective. But it doesn't seem to do him much good as the spear comes in again, once then once again to leave two deep slashes along his right side.

The sudden loss of blood pressure does wonders for ending the fight, the little asian man collapsing unto his knees as one hand goes to each cut with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"But...I can't lose!" he says hysterically before collapsing unto his side.

"Hey! Someone call 911! That guy looks pretty bad!"

"Not in here idiot! There's still fights going on!"

"Don't worry, someone will drag him a block or two away and call an ambulance. They'll think he got mugged."

Sasha was able to catch those tidbits of information as the cheering intensified and the ring collapsed in on itself to surround her. Hands were everywhere, patting her on the hear, shoulders, and back in congratulation for the victory. It was a dizzying effect to have so many people pressing inwards, but through it all she had the clarity to note them an in the suit smiling before dialing in the result.

Abruptly a hand gets a bit too intimate, but in the moment it takes Sasha to angrily see who it was (and for the crowd to back off some for fear of her reaction), Miriea has already pulled her hand back with a massive grin on her face. Probably because that same hand was holding a wad of bills.

"Wooo! Good job girly! A stunning win and the crowd roars, this is addicting isn't it?" She says with an impish grin.

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack Chin Defense 32 20/30 hp Stagger

Uffff...." Jack grunts, reeling back, blood running down his head from the kick, but comes up laughing in a stumbling stance, wobbling back and forth. "Hehe...can't take the little man down, Tiny? Its fine...man, who the hell you supposed to be?" He squints at Terry, wobbling. "Some kinda actor...ooooh, you're one of those porn stars, right? Those ones with horrible plot....the pay isn't very good, is it? *hic*

He puts a hand up, looking back from behind his aviator glasses. "For you to be fighting here to get money, I mean....nowwwww....that's gotta be some cheap ass porn." The smaller man chuckles, running forwards, and then goes into a cartwheel, standing up right in front of Terry. "Be sure to drop me the titles, all right man? I'm always on the lookout for cheap porn..." He rolls to the side, coming up at Terry's flank and wobbling a bit, looking quizzical. "I mean, its American stuff, right? None of that Russian crap?"

The roll continues, sliding back to the movie star's front as he stands up a third time, shaking his head as he wobbles, a kick spinning around with the momentum of the roll as he finishes, whirling at Terry's chest, knocking into him. "I guess it'd have to be Russian porn....so I gotta pass."

He bends to one side, taking a step a back and raising a hand, palm facing outwards as he weaves back. "Hyaaahh....you ever make anything halfway respectable though, you come get me, all right there pal?"


Move Action: Dodge Roll Tumble 1d20+13 = 33 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2517403/) DC 15 +2 def - +1 every 5 past. 33 = +5 def
Standard Action: Deceptive kick [roll0] Damage 1d6+2=7 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2517409/)

[Fan]

Roy is suitably pissed, not only has everything he's tried to do failed, but it had always failed right as he would've been most capable... Eh, he guessed he'd just have to keep trying... At least this big lug would be less likely to be as lithe as Terry was.

"Why hello there. Big man seems to be having some trouble with his opponent so he comes at me? Well, I'll go ahead and tell you, I may not have any of the fancy tricks my friend here does, but I'm no slouch myself."

He then leaps into the, flying at the larger man to make a kick for his face, the flying axe kick being blocked solidly by the larger man, however, this hit was just a decoy. Roy falling to the ground as he made for a reverse axe kick that lead into a sweep at his legs, the flurry of kicks, and almost fluid movement an exemplary performance of Caoperia for any master of the art.



Tripping again, I know, One trick pony.

[roll0]

Opposed Dex roll:

[roll1]

If hit, going to wail on him on the ground.

[roll2]

Damage using Heel Kick:

[roll3]

If critical:

[roll4]

Damage if critical:

[roll5]

[PhoeKun]

Sasha's scowl quickly turns into a look of mild embarrassment when she sees who the hand belongs to. Among other things, it would be a very bad idea to clock her handler, even if she took the handle a little too literally. Then she noticed the cash, and burst out laughing.

"So, let me get this straight. You get money for being a handler, you're charging me a retainer for scouting my opponents, and... what's this, then? Are you placing bets on me, too? What, are you using me to buy a mansion? Oi..." She grins, and takes a deep breath to soak in the moment.

The adulation of the crowd is almost enough to wash away the negative vibes about the caliber of her opponent. It practically felt rigged. She makes a note to ask Mireia about it later. As for Lee, he was somebody else's problem, now. California law prevents her from being the one to make the call... much too messy, and probably bad for the tournament. She puts it out of her mind.

"Hey, is the other fight over yet? Can we go watch? I heard something about a celebrity opponent, I wanna see!"

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Hey, the only reason I have to bet on your scrawny arse is because I can't fight in the tournament myself!" Mireia says boisterously as she idly flicks through the roll of bills one more time, taking a quick stock of the money gathered even as Sasha enjoys her praise. After all, she was the first one to have defeated their opponent without even being hit in return and the crowd loved it.

But at Sasha's question, Mireia nods and takes hold of her fighter's arm to drag her through the crowd around Jack and Roy's fight until they stood on the periphary of it.

"Yeah...I bet on them to, but I'm starting to wonder if it was a bad choice. They've been handling the big guy alright, I suppose, but that Terry guy hasn't got hit yet, and not for Roy's lack of trying." the Hispanic woman leans over to say conspiratorially, chewing on one thumb as she watches how the fight progresses with her two other fighters.

The two actually began to watch just as Jack's kick caught Terry full in the chest, leaving a wet and muddy footprint on his shirt even as he stumbles back from the kick. If anything, it was actually the smack that Jack was talking that got to him the most.

His eyes harden into sapphires as he reaches up to slip his jacket off and toss it over to his flustered looking agent. Then his silk shirt came next, carefully unbuttoned and tossed over as well to reveal a lean physique with some definition to the muscles underneath.

"I'm going to make you eat those words." Terry promises, even as Sasha would notice that Mireia had begun to grin.

"Man, this is just like that Scorcher movie, close to the finale. The main hero got real cheesed off cause his girlfriend or dog or something got shot. He just went to town on...his..uh oh." As if on some sort of unseen cue, Terry stepped forward and delivered a flurry of kicks at Jack that seemed to follow him no matter where he ducked or swayed to. Three to his chest, two to his left side and one to his right, the next two threatening to take one leg out from under him, while the last kick caught him in the side of the jaw and spun him about like a top.

Those watching began to roar at the display as Terry hopped from one foot to the other as if they were burning from act, though his eyes remain as angry as ever.

"What's the matter? You aren't done yet, not with all the smack you just said. C'mon then, you want to run your mouth then back it up!" Terry says loudly, the onlookers roaring again.

Roy seemed to be doing a little better against the big boxer though, even if the big man stepped back away from the sweep in a surprising display of nimbleness. The moment Roy was back on his feet, Ray launched a couple of jabs at him, as if testing the Brazilian's reaction time before his right came in hard and fast. At the last moment, Roy noticed that Ray's left was already bunching into a fist and bent over double at the waist. The heavy-handed body hook passed just barely above Roy's body, close enough that he felt the breeze off it even as he heard Ray's growl.

"Quick little f***, why can't none of you stand still and fight?! Too chicken or too young to fight like a man? Take your pick, but your still fighting like a two-year old!"

Terry: -7 hit points and crits Jack for 9 points of damage.

Ray: -10

[Fan]

"Hey man, just cause' your too fat to keep up with us doesn't mean we don't fight like men. But hey, no need to get angry about it. Why not go into Body building, or construction? It's not as glamorous as any of this, but you look like you'd be a lot better at it."

Roy says, snubbing his nose at the larger man before attempting a mock up of the larger man's most recent attack, stumbling forward as if to show some form of mockery at the man's apparent inability to hit anything larger than a wall... and then he showed what the movements were really for, now close enough in his ground, he raises his leg high, and stomps down with enough force to cause a small dust cloud near the ground even if he doesn't hit.



Heel KIIICK!:
[roll0]

Damage:
[roll1]


If by some miracle I actually, hit, or crit. Here's a confirmation.

[roll2]

[roll3]

[PhoeKun]

"Scrawny!? Oh... you. You are lucky you're cute, or I'd belt you but good..."

Sasha shakes her head, while the sour look on her face melts into a grin. The adulation from the crowd is really starting to go to her head, and it's not like she really minded a bit of ribbing, anyway.

"I'll let you in on a secret, though." she says as Mireia leads her over to the other fight. "Betting on a fight is risky business. Even when you know a lot about it, it's tough to predict how a total stranger is going to react in a given situation. That's why I only bet on the one person I know enough to trust - me. I mean, I'm sure Roy's a wonderful fighter in his own right, but who knows what could happen? That's why the only sure bet is me. Keep that in mind, chérie."

Watching the two-on-two fight, she grins from ear to ear. The best part of a major tournament was (other than the stellar competition) always the chance to see such a wide variety of fighters in action against each other. Her mouth drops open a little bit when Terry begins his infuriated onslaught. It really is just like in the movies! She loved that scene... who knew he could really do that sort of thing?

Sasha licks her lips in anticipation. If he won, then maybe she'd get a crack at him... and after that little clinic, that's a thought that sends chills down her spine.

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack Chin Defense 29 11/30 hp Stagger

Jack coughs up a bit of blood, wiping his chin with a grin as he looks at Terry, standing up and still reeling from the impact. "*cough* Hey man...take it easy - its nothin' personal, I don't judge. I don't think I'll be buying any of your films though - probably way too hard for my taste..."

He spreads his arms, staggering to the side, shaking his head. "I mean...****, if I want to see a scantily clad woman get the crap beaten out of her, I can come here. Above company excluded, of course!" The slender man calls out as a afterthought as he glances back almost apologetically towards the women, anticipating the inevitable attack from Terry by falling straight down, kicking straight up at the enraged actor's knee.

Jack shakes his head as he scrambles back to his feet with that smug smile behind his aviator glasses as he leans back, wiping the bit of blood running from his mouth away as he continues working it. "I mean, think of all the women! All the little girls? What kind of example are you setting for them? Although, maybe you should stop thinking of them, hm?"


Dodge Roll [roll0] DC 15 for +2 def
Deceptive Kick [roll1] Damage [roll2]

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Lemme tell you something chica," Mireia says off-hand, eyes focused on the fighting before casting a glance over at Sasha over her sunglasses, "How am I supposed to keep making money if I'm only betting on you?"

"Oh stuff it..they're both getting their butts kicked! C'MON YOU TWO! I BET GOOD MONEY THAT YOU WEREN'T CHUMPS!" she cups her hands around her mouth to holler over the noise of the crowd as Terry and Ray, respectfully, begin to circle around their opponents once more, "Stuff it. C'mere Sasha!"

The crowd's roar intensified again, drawing Ray's eye just as Roy slipped forward and slammed his foot against the boxer's own in a painful heel kick. He howls and steps back, but rather then looking like all of these little hits were getting to him, he just looked madder! The reason for his distraction was too obvious though, Mireia had grabbed hold of Sasha by the chin and yanked her down into, what looked like, a passionate liplock that had the male bystanders hooting and hollering wildly in appreciation for their fan favorite. A couple of picture phones even snapped a snap shot of the photo.

Ray let out a roar though, lashing out with a big body-blow that swings wide of his opponent, his blood-shot eyes narrowed hatefully on Roy.

It wasn't the sight that accounted for Terry's mishap, like Ray he was losing his calm to the constant rankling that Jack spouted but his wasn't a hot anger. Just as Jack had hoped, Terry's foot zipped by where his spine should have been, just in time for the actor to get popped good in the knee and almost collapse unto the ground from the sudden hit.

"Grrr..Bastard! This leg is worth more then your entire house!"

Terry: -11
Got hit and missed.
Ray:-20
Got hit and missed.

[PhoeKun]

"You make a bigger bet on me, obviously. Or more bets. Or prop bets. You're risking all that money anyway, I'm just saying, I'm safer."

Sasha doesn't turn her head away from the fight as she talks. "See? Look at that. Everybody's fighting to a standstill. Don't you wish you had bet less on them and more on... huh? What do you need me fo-- mmf!"

If she wasn't prepared for the shorter Mireia to reach up and grab her by the head, she certainly wasn't prepared to get pulled down into a wild kiss... she drops her yari with a loud clatter in surprise. Her heart starts to race while a million different questions start to blaze rapid-fire through her head, most too quickly to even register. When they finally part, the invincible warrior of only a minute earlier is blushing profusely and wearing a stunned look on her face.

"I... you... what?" she manages to stammer out. "Wh-why did you do that...?"

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack Chin Defense 30 11/30 hp Stagger

Jack laughs uproariously at the at the "I'm safer" comment, almost doubling over before turning his full attention back to Terry. "Ahaha...ohoho....haah...That leg was worth a lot, huh? Hope you invested in medical insurance, cause you aren't gonna be able to make any of your films for a while. Might as well get paid to get the **** beaten out of you."

He grins, charging at the movie star, seeming to trip and stumble partway through, and going into a uncontrolled roll forwards between Terry's staggering legs. At the end of it, he brings the heel of his foot up long up, knocking the full force between his opponent's legs, quickly retracting it and completing the roll, staggering and weaving as he stands up behind him, readjusting his aviator glasses and mussing his hair. "Ooooh, sorry...was that your balls there? Guess you won't be making any of those movies for a while either....not that there's much difference."

Dodge Roll [roll0] DC 15+5 = +3 def
Deceptive Kick [roll1] Damage [roll2]

[Fan]

"Oi, keep your eyes on your opponent big man. I know the girls are nice, but you gotta keep your eyes on the prize!"

Roy says, pressing the attack close with a few street fighting moves he learned as a kid, before lunging forward with his legs again, a almost acrobatic sweep being preformed as he attempted his trip once more.. Roy dropping to the ground before springing up in order to preform said sweep in a rather fluid motion, hoping to bring down the bigger man at least once.


Attack, Trip.

[roll0]

Opposed dex check:

[roll1]

Heel kick when he goes down.

[roll2] against -5 Defense..

Heel kick:

[roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

The handler's response is a cheeky grin and a pointing finger at how the fight had changed once more in such a short period of time, with Jack and Roy back on the offensive against their increasingly incensed opponents.

"Just take a look girlie, I might have violated your private space, but if this keeps up I'll have doubled the money I bet on you." Mireia says smugly, crossing her arms over her chest again as her attention shifts from the flustered warrior back to the fight.

"I can't wait to upload this on YouTube!" Sasha might hear from somewhere in the crowd, though when she looks it's difficult to pick out the specific person when everyone seemed to have their phones out to record this fight.

Roy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRxHHZEqwpw)'s lunging sweep almost met with disaster, a big fist passing barely half an inch from his cheek before his leg slammed against Ray's. Unlike the first time, the boxer didn't just shrug off the blow but...well...his leg buckled underneath of him and Ray went down with a strangled curse and loud thud on the cement below. Capitalizing on the moment, Roy did the most logical thing he could think of. That was throw his body into a forward flip that brought his leg up, around, and crashing down into Ray's chest like a shotgun blast. It forces the air out of his lungs, even as Roy feels a rib or two cracking from the powerful strike that leaves Ray bug-eyed and gasping for breath before slumping down on the wet cement. Before Roy might get too concerned about how his opponent had been fairing, one of the spectators rushed over to check for a pulse and gave a nod up at Roy.

"Hey, nice kick man! What is that? Tae Kwon Do or somethin'? Don't worry about the lummox, he'll be fine once he gets to a hospital."

Terry's luck seemed to have turned against him as well, thighs pressing together wordlessly after the painful slam into his groin, looking like a fish out of water. It didn't keep him from whirling about, lashing out with a wide circle kick that comes dangerously close to breaking Jack's nose in passing.

"Shut up! Just shut your big trap!" Terry wheezes out, still looking a bit 'ginger' from the attack.

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack Chin hp 11/30 Def 27 Stumble Stance

"Traps? Hey man, I bet you know more about traps-" Jack flows into the kick, seeming to abort his next low kick, rolling below it, then snapping his hands to grab at the ankle, pulling it down and vaulting his body up from the ground, tilting his frame as uses Terry's leg with a vicious smile, cocking his own leg back as it comes around. "-then me. Your whole profession, you know? Bet you've run across some....my advice on all of that for pretty boys like you..is to just bend over and take it like a man!" The kick, winding with all of the Drunken Master's momentum, both vertical and horizontal, crashes down heel first onto the movie star's wounded knee, driving it against the ground as Jack literally puts his whole weight on top of the blow, wobbling back up to his feet. "Or a woman. Speaking of compensation, some of them charge extra for that....course, you'd know, eh?"

Feint
Deceptive Attack 1d6+6 = 8 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2540469/)

[PhoeKun]

Sasha's mouth hangs open in pure disbelief. Not at the incredible turnaround currently happening in the fight; at this point that holds almost no interest for her in light of what she's just been told.

"You..."

She hangs her head. Someone in the crowd mentions uploading the moment onto Youtube, and her face flushes again. That'd be the end of her reputation, then. She clenches both of her fists...

"You just... in front of all these people...

Just to win your stupid bet!? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what I just...!?"

Sasha trembles with anger.

"You're telling me there was nothing behind that? Don't you dare try anything like that again if you're not serious about it..."

[Fan]

Roy, for a split second, considered repeating the heel kick on the spectator, but he realized that the fight wasn't quite over, and with a rather ginger jaw, he moved over to flank Jack's opponent, giving a approving nod to Jack, going in to tighten the circle around Terry.

"Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! Just who the hell do you think your dealing with here? Keep your eyes on the guy who just downed your partner in one shot!"

He then went in, moving swiftly, and fluidly towards his opponent in the dance like motions all too common to caoperia, moving in with an attempted kick to the head that feinted into his signature heel kick, hopping to throw the quick man off of his game further by damaging his lower body further.



[roll0]

[roll1]


Critical:

[roll2]

[roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Escucha aquí chica, apuesto a una gran cantidad de dinero en estas dos en la remota posibilidad de que trabajarían juntos y patear el culo. Ellos no se lo que tuve que tomar medidas extremas." Mireia's rapid fire Spanish bursts out after Sasha finishes her little tirade, the petite Hispanic woman glaring up at the spear-wielder before abruptly switching back to English, "Listen here, I wouldn't have done it in the first place unless I was pre-disposed to, now was just a good time cause it's helpin' me win money too!"

Aside from the growing catfight, of which more pictures were being taken, the fight had drastically swung against Terry and everyone seemed to realize it. His agent was wringing his hands, bald head glistening with sweat as he worried about his meal-ticket. Those who had been cheering Terry began to fall silent, perhaps beginning to realize that their bets were about to cost them a lot. Terry himself adjusts his stance, trying to keep the both of them in sight at the same time but it's...difficult to defend against two skilled opponents at the same time, let alone when they were on opposite sides.

As was proven when Terry sent out a tentative kick towards Roy, only to have the dance-fighter slip underneath of the mis-aimed blow just as Jack dove in to drive a hard blow against his wounded knee. It buckles under the blow, the one-time Olympic competitor driven down unto one knee just as Roy sweeps in with another of his heel kicks. It crashes down atop Terry's right shoulder, instead of the gut where it had been aimed, and Roy can feel the struck shoulder pop out of place with a slight crunch as Terry wobbles and collapses backwards unto the wet cement.

"Winners! Collect your bet money!" the call comes from, oddly enough, the black suited Japanese man as he quickly text-messages the fight results to...someone who was elsewhere and authoritatively snaps his phone shut. As if a hidden signal had been given, the music is cranked up even as the crowd roars out with sated fight lust, pressing inward to pat the winners on the shoulders as they hoot and holler.

[Fan]

Roy himself, slowly, walks out of the arena, basking in the glow of people thanking him for turning the fight around, getting those high odd bets to land in their favor... Then he sees the two girls arguing, and remembers what just happened.. He didn't need his handler made into a spit roast on the other fighters spear, so with a push through the crowd he intervene'd himself between the two.

"Now, now ladies. No need to get angry here, I bet that Mierea'd be willing to take us to dinner with all that bet money she just won to make it up to you. Right Mierea?"

He says this as he casts a nervous glance back to his handler.. He wanted to stay in this fight, and honestly.. He wouldn't be able to do that without a handler.. He didn't have the smarts to organize and deal with all the types that dealt in the Hanmei.

[PhoeKun]

Of all the things Sasha had prepared herself for, the sudden outburst of Spanish was not among them. Instinctively, she tried to pick out similar root words to compare to the French she knew much better, but the other woman was moving much too quickly. Between that and the sudden admission in English, she was completely disarmed. The poor girl's feelings are now very much stuck in a spin cycle... she clutches at her head like she's trying to keep it from exploding.

Eventually, she hangs her head in defeat.

"So... you wanted to do it... but only did it when it could win you money? I don't think... ok, fine. But you owe me!"

She bends down to pick up her yari, pausing for a moment to shoot Roy a dirty look for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, then freezes with her hand around the weapon when she hears another *click!* behind her. She snaps up straight and leers over her shoulder.

"The next person to take my picture... is getting his camera fed to him." she snarls at nobody in particular.

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack leans back, snapping another picture of them with his cheap disposable camera, a s*ht-eating grin beneath his aviator glasses, the blood from his mouth having been wiped away. "Hey, c'mon. We get to dine like kings, she made a killing, both your latent tendencies were brought to light. Everybody's getting something tonight! *click* You two make quite a pair, anyway! Of pairs, that is! Now...say cheese! These are going right in my scrapbook - I want a nice, frontal shot...maybe let loose a button? No? Aww...come on..."

Jack slips the camera into his coat as he takes a staggers back towards Roy with a wide, mischevious smile at all present, still a little unsteading from his beating as he pauses. "So...dinner, right? I can stop by and drop these off for development afterwards...
...
...
...you girls want copies?" He loosens and relaxes his body, preparing for the impending beating.

(Sorry, I guess I lost track of Hanmei! Thought it was still waiting on someone else >.>)

[PhoeKun]

It was the very last straw, on a night that turned out to be full of the little bastards, piling one atop of another. Her feelings about this night were already very muddled, torn between the joy of earning herself a "fan favorite" title in her tuneup and the decidedly off feeling that came from the lopsided match. Between the excitement of what was, now that she thought about it, her first kiss, and the cheap feeling of having been used. Not knowing if she should hope for more or dread it...

Amidst all of that are a few too many camera clicks and some very poorly chosen words from the shorter man who had apparently been Roy's partner. Now, steam needed to be let off. And Jack has made himself a very tempting target. Quietly, she curls the fingers on her free hand into a fist. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. One last chance...

"...you girls want copies?"

Bzzt! Wrong answer. All of that tension explodes forward into a hook aimed straight at his stomach.

"Say you're sorry. Now."

Um... Attack roll? [roll0]

Damage? [roll1] (nonlethal)

[Callos_DeTerran]

Mireia, unlike Sasha, didn't actually seemed that phased by Jack's behavior and slips him a discreet nod, just before Jack gets himself slammed by the retaliatory hook by the incensed Sasha. But with the end of the two on two brawl, the fights seemed to have come to an end and the crowds of blood-sated Los Angelites began to disperse back up through the half-built building to return to their every day lives.

One man wasn't leaving just yet though, the slight Japanese man in the suit was moving among the other winners from this round of the legendary Hanmei. To each one he offers a hand to shake and a plastic smile that doesn't reach the rest of his face before moving on through the crowd. There's something about the way he moves though, graceful and precise in the same way as most of the fighters that he greets. All too soon it's the turn of Sasha, Jack, and Roy.

"Knock it off! We've got company!" Mireia hisses before falling respectfully silent as the meticulously groomed man puts on his phony tele-evangilist smile once more and holds out his hand to each in turn.

"Congratulations on your wins. My name is Takada Yoshi. I'd like to officially welcome all three of you to the second stage of the Hanmei tournament. I'm sure you'll provide...interesting fights." he comments easily in somewhat stilted english, eyes shifting from each of the four to the next before shifting back around from behind his black sunglasses, "The good news is you'll each have five days or so to get medical treatment, tend to your wounds, and prepare for the second round. Then, five days from now, you are to board an airplane to Japan. Your handler will give you the details once she receives them. Failure to be aboard the designated plane will result in disqualification from the second round."

He pauses for a moment, giving a telling look at Mireia as if to impress upon her...something before his smile returns.

"Once you arrive in Japan, you'll receive notification of when and where the next round of matches will be held. I look forward to seeing you fight." he says finally before turning about swiftly and striding away. Mireia, for her part, flips him the bird as he walks away before returning her attention to the three.

"He's got a point though, have to get you lugs bandaged up before we go anywhere. If you want, you three can crash at my place tonight and I'll bandage you all up...and make you dinner. As an apology."

Congratulations on completing the first round! Each of you will go up to level eight, but the changes don't need to be finished until your characters actually get to Japan so no rush.

[Dark_Prophet]

"Oooffff....I'm sorry...really sorry, just so cuuuuutteeeee....oooaahhh..." Jack folds over forwards onto Sasha's fist, dropping the camera, collapsing down to the ground with a silly but pained grin on his face, looking bemoaningly at the camera. "Ooohh....they were good though."

The Drunken Master slowly stumbles back up to his feet, leaving the camera on the ground, looking between it and Sasha sadly. He leaves it to its fate as he listens to the businessman, rubbing the still red indentation on his stomach from the angry Jeet Kun Do practitioner. "Japan....he he he...we get to go to Japan...even better fights! An' used panty vending machines! He he he...."

He nods back at Mirea, eyes still a little glazed, stumbling a bit, but grinning like a lark in response. "Hooray! Can I have a pretty nurse? And plenty of beer?"

[PhoeKun]

Looming over Jack, Sasha grins with a mixture of triumph and something a little more sinister playing out in her eyes. Her boot comes down on the fallen camera. Hard. Her grin widens as she twists her foot on the ground, slowly grinding the poor thing back into its component parts.

"I'll forgive you if you... you..." She claws at her own face. "Would you knock off the pervy comments for five freaking minutes!?"

She lets out an exasperated huff, but resolves to ignore him in favor of the Japanese businessman and his wonderful news. She's even nice enough not to make a "what injuries?" jab at the others expense... although this is probably more in deference to Mireia than anyone else. But also, Japan! This was quickly turning into the world's best vacation. She can only imagine the sights and experiences waiting for her in the rest of this tournament.

If only she could stop feeling guilty about her method of advancement. Almost like cheating. She shrugs at her own line of thinking. Jackie over there had taken out one of her movie heroes, she'd just dropped him with one punch. Given the state he was in at the time, she estimates she's beaten about 3/4 of an actual opponent. Eh, close enough. The universe would make up for it later.

"What, so I get to watch you patch these two up all night? Well..." Her stomach takes a second to remind her how incredibly finished it is digesting her last meal. Uh, deal!"

[Dark_Prophet]

Jack looks down at the destroyed parts of his disposable camera, gathering up the pieces and shaking his head. As he rubs the wounds on his body, he's not sure which one pains him more...but as he slides his hand back across to the backup in each of his coat pockets, he lets himself enjoy a silent grin while Sasha and Mireia aren't looking.

This was going to be a lot of fun, after all. Challenges are the best kind.

"So, ladies, what are we waiting for? I think I'll be falling down from these horrible injuries any moment now...where's that chariot of ours? Ohhh god...." Truth to be told, Jack wasn't feeling especially steady on his feet, even aside from the staggering habits of his preferred martial arts style. Without the forbidden rush of victory, the bruises throughout his body, particularly from Terry's kicks really were starting to starting to tell, and his wavering was becoming a bit more pronounced, especially as the dull ache from Sasha's last solid punch.

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Nah, they can take care of one another. You and I'll get something to eat..." Mireia says casually as she motions for the three to follow her, beginning the long walk back up the parking garage where it seems as if the storm has begun to lighten up outside. The handler does hang back though, to lean over and whisper into Sasha's ear...

Sasha Only:
"And I'll make up my little social blunder to you, okay?"

Outside it's merely a drizzle compared to the downpour from below and, way down the street, the three can spy an ambulance that is undoubtedly picking up one of their defeated opponents to rush to the hospital. Mireia's car (assuming you don't take your own rides) is a non-descript blue compact with rust splotches here and there across the chassis. It runs well enough and in the time span of a half-hour or so she's driven(guided) the three fighters to an apartment block in the Projects, her eyes intent on the people along the side of the road just as much as the road itself. Briefly she had flipped out her cellphone, making a quick text before rolling up her windows. Gangsters and other undesirables watch the car warily while others lounge about on their porches, despite the late hour. The car's doors seem to slam unnaturally loudly as Mireia saunters up the building as if she owns it, going right to one of the bottom floor doors and unlocking it.

"Welcome to my little slice of heaven. Take off your filthy shoes though, I don't want blood or mud on my floors." the hispanic woman says sharply, kicking off her own boots before limping further into the apartment. It looks as if she's knocked down the wall between her place and the apartment next to hers, turning it into an impromptu training gym of average quality. More then could be expected in a place like this anyway.

"Beers are in the fridge and I got a pizza..."

Ding dong.

"Alright, it's already here, never mind. Save me some though, I'm going to go get some cold compresses for your bruises." Mireia calls over her shoulder as she limps her way into the 'bedrooms' part of her dual apartments, leaving you three to decide who to pay for the pizza and to get to know one another...

[PhoeKun]

Sasha seems to be in a particularly good mood as she follows the others to Mireia's car, although whether or not this is because of Jack's obvious discomfort or more to do with her excitement about the prospect of food, or Japan and the tournament in general, it's very difficult to tell. Perhaps it was a mixture?

But when Mireia hangs back to whisper in her ear, she nearly falls over mid-step. Only quick reflexes and her newly re-wrapped spear keep her standing while she waits for her legs to reconstitute themselves from their jelly-like state.

"Merde..." She swallows hard. She will not give anyone watching the satisfaction of a stronger reaction than she already had.

Once inside the car, she proves much more amicable. Laughing, chatting with whomever about whatever, and largely apologizing for the awkwardness of bringing an 7-foot pole into a car never meant for such a thing.

She keeps her mouth shut on arrival. Although used to (naturally) a higher class of accommodations, Sasha learned a long time ago not to let little things like bad neighborhoods and the like get in the way of a good time. She grins wolfishly on her way inside.

"So..." she says, slipping out of her boots. "I'm curious. How long have you guys been doing this? What got you into the fight scene? Mireia's a familiar face, but you two I don't know from a hole in the ground. I gotta say, I'm not exactly into you're... ah... methodology. But if it works, it works. Right?"

She shrugs, sliding out of her rain-soaked half jacket and stretching. She glances at herself briefly. Neither jacket nor umbrella had done a very good job, and there were large rain splotches all over her camisole. She shakes her head.

She catches Mireia's comments about the beer, and oh dear gods yes, Pizza. After the knock on the door, she pauses to give the two men a very critical eye. Penniless, she's almost positive. She rolls her eyes.

"Right then. I've got this..." She spins and answers the door.

[Fan]

Roy sighs.. he wasn't exactly feeling too good himself, but he was in better shape (overall) than Jack.. he'd need to be a little more creative next time he dared to delve into the ring. He had figured a signature heel kick would be enough.. he had broken 1 inch thick bars of steel with that before.. But here he had learned it would be unlikely to hit..

When they get in the car, Roy is mostly silent, thinking about what exactly he would need to change.. a leg sweep could work, but he'd need to work it into some sort of.. combination move with his heel kick if we wanted it to be even close to effective.

When they arrive, Roy gets a little more social, giving out a winning smile, and generally looking like a friendly guy despite his slightly scruffy looks..

When the pizza comes.. Sasha's suspicion about him proves true, he had to take what he had as is, no one had ever gave him anything, and Hanmei was his first attempt at an honest career. Something to keep him away from the dangerous realm of crime.

"My apologies. That last bet I made took what was left of my cash. I can chip in a dollar or two, but otherwise.. I'm sorely strapped for cash."

[Dark_Prophet]

As soon as he makes it into the car, the drunken master goes limp, snoring soundly against the window. When the car finally stops, it takes him a moment to wake up even with the disturbance of everyone else leaving, hurrying to catch up in his groggy state. Once inside Miriea's apartment, Jack similiarly slumps down, collapsing into the nearest couch, and falls into a similiar state, mumbling softly in response to Sasha's questions. "Mmm...wha? I've just been breaking into the scene...wanted a piece of the action, see what it's all about...works better then your fancy whirling round your spear....zzzz..."

However, this time it proves to be much more permeable, as when Sasha goes to get the door he stumbles up to his feet, reaching into one of his pockets and withdrawing a five dollar bill before collapsing back down onto the couch. "Rrggghhh...got some money left over from my old job...lotta people liked me there, if not my department..."

[PhoeKun]

Sasha pauses at the door to give Jack a long, appraising glance. Her eyes flicker over each one of his bruises. She then looks down at her own completely unharmed self, as if trying to prove a point, before glancing back up at him to stick out her tongue.

"If you say so, tough guy."

After that, she opens the door, pays for the pizza herself, and sets it on the first convenient table she can find, taking three slices with her to the fridge. One of them does not survive the journey.

"Hokay, beer, beer, beer... ugh, really Mereia? Do you keep nothing else in here? Ugh!"

She shuts the door in disappointment, and fetches a glass for herself, filling it with tap water. Another slice disappears in the interim, which does a wonderful job of freeing her hands to actually complete her desired tasks. She returns, finds a seat to recline in, and kicks back, evidently intent on savoring her last slice of pizza.

"You know..." she reflects in between chews. "Neither one of you seem all that talkative right now. I'm not scaring you, am I?"

[Fan]

When Roy hears the word beer, he finds himself almost dancing towards the fridge, snatching one from the fridge, spinning it between his fingers before popping it up into the air, and popping the cap off with the back end of his metal shoe as he kicked it back up, and took a sip.

"Mhmm. Damn good. So, everyone. An Englishmen, a Frenchmen, a Texan, and a Spainard are on a plane. Things seem to be going fine; until the pilot pops up on the loud speaker, and says. "The plane is severely overweight, however if 3 of you jump, we can make it to the next airport alive. At least one of you can live. Englishmen, being all noble, jumps first shouting "God save the Queen!", next one to jump, surprisingly enough, is the Frenchmen who yells as he jumps "Viva La France!".. Now this gets the Texan really pumped up, he yells "Remember the Alamo!", and grabs the spainard, tossing him off the plane."

He finishes the joke with a bit of a chuckle, taking a sip of his beer, not knowing what impending dread may be looming in the air around him, but hey, live life for today.

[Callos_DeTerran]

A cold blue ice-pack is slapped down over Roy's face from behind as Mireia returns from...well, elsewhere in the dual apartments. While Roy reaches up to pull it off, the short hispanic woman snatches his beer and gives him a cheeky grin.

"Sorry chico, but there's a 'bad joke' tax, one beer per joke. If it makes you feel better though, I'm sure Jackie boy is going to run up a much larger tab then you by the time he leaves." Mireia says with a cheeky grin on her face as she takes a swig from the beer, heading to the fridge and pulling out a new one. In just a moment she's lobbing an open beer through the air towards Roy though, spilling just a little of it across her floor.

Jack gets his beer and ice pack handed to him before Mireia takes a seat on her table and grabs a slice of pie.

"I hope you all have been playing nice out here while I was getting you stuff. Little bit of teamwork never hurt anyone after all, especially in this kind of situation. I have to ask though, how'd you lot hear about the Hanmei? Usually it takes big money to find someone willing to submit you..."

[Fan]

Roy reflexively ducks the beer, too slow however, as the thick glassed bottle hits him in the back of the head when it rebounds off of the back of the couch... he manages to get it before it spills though..

"Honestly, I found out about the Hanmei through my master, the guy who taught me Caoperia. He was an ex-fighter himself, took my off the streets, taught me respect for myself, and for others. He pulled some strings once he felt I was ready, and next thing I knew, I was on a plane here."

Roy sighs then.. the back of his head was a little sore, but he hadn't gotten beaten as bad as Jack had.. so he didn't complain. Couldn't seem like he had less stamina than anyone else here after all.

"I came here because he never really achieved his dreams of winning, he got too old before he could go to the second Hanmei.. and well.. I feel like I owe it to him to bring him back the prize."

[PhoeKun]

"Well, of course your master never won this thing. He's a C--" Sasha freezes in mid-sentence after unintentionally catching Mireia's eyes. She breaks into a sudden fit of coughing that sounds suspiciously like "Capoerista" before desperately draining her glass of water.

"Er... anyway. From what I've heard, the Hanmei is as big a prize as you can set your eyes on in this business. By definition, pretty much everyone is gonna fall short. I'll guarantee you that before the end of this, one of us is going to find ourselves in danger of losing out on a total fluke. I'm not a believer in grand schemes or motivations... it's a real downer when they don't pan out."

Sasha takes a moment to finish her pizza. She sits up, glancing around the room and smiling. What a fun bunch of people. Not the best fighters in the world, but... eh. Maybe they just had an off night. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Me, I'm just here because I like this sort of thing. I wanna find my limits, and see if they're enough to break me in half. I'm not beholden to anybody here... except Mireia, I guess. Slave driver." She laughs.

[Dark_Prophet]

"I'll have you know, madame, that I've been a absolute angel. A angel without alcohol, even. Teamwork, you joking? We'll probably end up fighting each other, for crying out loud." Jack sniffs, catching the whiff of beer and slips back up, taking the bottle....and beginning to noisly chug it as he listens to the others tales, nodding sagely in between gulps. "Man, Roy, you here on your mentor's lost dreams? That's all noble of ya, doing the proper thing. Anyone else and I'd call em a damn fool with a deathwish. But none of that heroic crap - you don't **** around with honor or nobility. You could probably get in on some good films with that attitude, if ya know what I mean, eh? Human beings love some of that heavy **** when you get down to it." The bruised drunken master chuckles, taking another sip.

"And Sasha, nah, you ain't scaring me. Well, aside from my poor camera....I'll get you for that, just you wait! He he he...but seriously, you're not expecting to win, just treating all this like a game? I like your style." Jack raises his now empty glass to her, setting it down. and stretching out a hand expectantly. "Mira, get me another one, I'm about to share my dark tragic past."

"As for why I'm here? Its something to do. I learned the drunken master style of martial arts in Hong Kong from my father - one of the last remaining practioners of it, and when we moved to the States, I became a cop, decided to use it to help people, clean up the streets. Course, my supervisors didn't like my style - didn't do things by the book, caused too much of a a scene, and eventually got discharged on police brutality after I beat down a ******* drug dealer. But man, they didn't have anyone who knew the street crowd like I did, who had their respect, who KNEW em."

A strange expression crosses his face, which quickly passes. "So now I don't even bother with any of this justice and for the greater good crap - gotta live somehow, gotta do something in life, and frankly, I love fighting. It pays the bills...it gets me wine and women...and if I lose, then nothing more to complain about, eh? To me, its a game, just like life."

[Callos_DeTerran]

The conversation continues on warmly for a little bit longer...when Jack slumped over in his seat, causing Mireia to grin evilly as she pulls a large black felt marker from one of her pockets.

"Jerk has this coming for the pictures..Any of you want to join in?" She offers offhand as she approaches the drugged up Jack. It wouldn't take her long to follow through on her 'threat' drawing various things across his face and appraising it like a master artist. Off-hand she tosses the marker to Roy and gives him a wink.

While the other two, if they do so, participate in the vandalism Mireia prepares a camera and takes several snapshots before laying down the schedule for the next five days or so. That was all the time that each of you would have to prepare for the second round of the Hanmei. Five days to get in any last training or practice that you thought that you might need, to say goodbye to friends or family, and then it was unto round two of the deadly underground fighting ring. After that...Mireia has no answers. the locations of the fights, who they were against, all of that was kept a secret until the second round had finally begun.

"So get some sleep..We got lots of work to do from here on out and it's not going to go away just because we're tired. Roy, there should be another bedroom close to the showers you can use. Drag Jack there if you want but I'm guessing he's no stranger to waking up on the floor smelling like beer." Before Sasha could even ask about her own accommodations, Mireia's hand grabs hold of Sasha's as the handler begins to limp off towards her own room...

[PhoeKun]

For a time, Sasha debates with herself over the decision to take the offered marker and apply it to the sleeping Jack's face. On the one hand, he'd done something really, really stupid and needed to be punished. On the other hand, she'd already hauled off and belted him but good, not to mention smashed the offending camera to bits. It was probably immature to keep this up. Maybe he'd had enough. Maybe the right thing to do was let him be. Mmmm... naaaahhhh.

"Gimme that." she says with a playful smirk. When Jack next wakes up, he will find the logos of several prominent anti-drug and alcohol groups emblazoned on his forehead, in... what one would have to admit is remarkably good penmanship. Somebody must appreciate her craft...

Not that she's given time to appreciate it. Because, almost immediately after she's done putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece, she's grabbed rather forcefully by the hand and dragged off to bed.

"Wha... hey! Wh-what are you... Mireia! Hey!"

...The morning finds Sasha sleeping peacefully, curled up slightly and with a soft smile on her face. She wakes up, yawns, and stretches. She sits up, just sitting in bed for a couple of minutes before it dawns on her that something doesn't feel quite... well, she'd have to suppose "normal" is the word. She blinks, and looks around the room.

"Wait a minute... where the hell are my pants?"

-------------------------------------------------------

Each of the five days passes more or less the same for Sasha. There are no loved ones to say goodbye to, no loose ends for her to tie up. There's only the countdown to the next stage of the tournament, and the no doubt supremely kick-ass plane ride waiting to take her to Japan. But one hardly waits for something like this by just sitting around.

She trains like a madwoman. Sometimes, she's seen in an open area in Mireia's apartment working on the mechanics of her spear thrusting, other times it would elaborate twirling and swinging/slashing displays with the selfsame weapon. Occasionally, she'd work a knee or a kick into these routines. Other times, she would forgo the spear completely, the sounds of her feet striking the floor echoing across the complex as she initiates a long series of punches and kicks. On more than one occasion, she backs herself into the corner of a room, ripostes off the wall, and whips a foot out at some imagined opponent's head.

And in between these furious martial arts displays are long regiments of pushups, situps, and calisthenics. Always by the end of a session she is sweaty, out of breath, and ravenously hungry. And every time, perhaps mysteriously, perhaps not, a plethora of fast food finds its way into the home...

[Fan]

Roy chuckled as Mieria dragged Sasha off to bed, but he knew that he had a duty of "Bros before The Female Alternative" to comply with, staying up late enough that Sasha, and Mieria could be trusted to be asleep, and he gives Jack a shake, handing him a mirror, and a rag coated in rubbing alcohol for scrubbing in case it was a permanent marker.

Once this was done, Roy kicked back, the couch being more comfortable than most beds he had slept on, his hair slightly tussled from the fight before.. his body sore, and bruised.. by a sort of soothing charisma bore him while he slept.. like that of a young boy resting after his first day of true hard work.


[The Next Five Days]

Roy spent the next five days under extreme duress, well, for him. No alcohol, no women, and only Caoperia. An elegant dance of swirling kicks, sweeping movements as elegant as a gracefully soaring bird. He focused his intent though, and an equally deadly movement was behind this dance like series of attacks, his final strike landing, splitting a 1 inch thick steel plate, and shattering it down the middle...

He got up.. feeling the new equipment, and rolling his shoulders back as he knew that now.. more than ever... he was ready.

He packed his bags then, only his equipment, and a simple change of clothes included within. He carried with him a water battle, and his wits... he then sat at the door, waiting for the others to awaken from their slumber.

[Dark_Prophet]

A couple hours later, Jack groans, opening his eyes. "Damn....that must have been some of the good stuff...." He looks at the mirror in his hands, and his eyes widen. "What..how...hahahahah...AHAHAHAHAHA..." He starts chortling, laughing so hard he cries as he looks at himself. "Oh man...that's good.....that's beautiful...nice one. Had to be Mira....no one else...all right." The drunken master composes himself, and uses the combination of the mirror and the rag to wipe off the rest as he draws himself up. "Enough of this fun. Time to go train."

~

Training, for Jack, consisted of going to each of the seediest bars with the worst reputation, starting from those he was a regular at. His first exercise was to get to his standard tipsy level of drunkenness, and then one by one attempting to provoke each patron into a fight, off culminating in a all spanning bar fight within the first several attempts.

His list had laid out the demographics and overall strengths of the patrons of the known bars, and he rotated - as the Sanquero Inn was primarily frequented by construction crews, he marked it as endurance training to take down the burly men.

In contrast, the Blazing Gut in had stronger docks men and loading hands from the port, which Jack classified as Strength training for enduring their lucky hits. In such a fashion, the Drunken Master rotated through Strength, Endurance, and Finesse training at the designated bars, with the Finesse section often consisting of the local constabulary chasing him from his second or third visit that day, with one surprisingly enlightening session with the arrival of the local circus.

By the time the end of the fifth day had arrived, Jack had improved upon his record of only visiting the hospital once and being held overnight twice, in contrast with his old record of twice and three times. Lying in his filthy bed, he reflected on the merits of his training - in addition to the holistic physical benefits of constant avoidance, the drunken master counted a extra incidental benefit on his grungy, beer stained notebook -charting out and categorizing five new bars to his chart, and with a added note to attend more entertainment events for their aesthetic benefits - acrobats are surprisingly nimble, after all.

(My sincerest apologies on the delay. I hadn't realized how long it had been, and I've been having several trouble maintaining all my games in the wake of dual grad test prep for my tests in two weeks. If this continues, I might have to enter standby status for that time, but I'll be doing my best to keep things moving on my end as much as I can.)

[Callos_DeTerran]

The five days seem to pass all too quickly, a blur of sweat, pain, and training that culminates in this single day. Each of the three wake up, with a feeling of electric excitement racing down their spines as they finish their individual preparations for the long flight to Japan and the second stage of this deadly tournament. What waited for them was uncertain, but Mireia seems grumpy and ill at ease as she rounds up all of her charges for the ride over to the air-port. Sasha's spear had already been shipped, with some rather exorbitant bribes, to an address in Japan so there was nothing to hold them up at the airport.

There was even some time for a brief cat nap on the plane ride over...

But the airport they land in seems to be in chaos, a column of smoke rising from the control tower as the plane touches down and the passengers begin to disembark. If anything...Mireia seems even more nervous then normal, anxiously checking her watch as she limps out into the terminal.

"Alright, we're a bit late so we have to put a rush on things. I have to go talk to the proper people, let them know that all three of you have arrived. Here. This is the information I have on your opponents and where to find them at. Up to you when you go do it though, you have a day or two before you need to." Mireia says quickly, passing out a couple papers to each of the three in turn before rushing out of the building, signalling a taxi quickly and speeding off...

[PhoeKun]

The plane ride is a quiet one for Sasha. She spends almost the entire flight asleep, headphones covering her ears and playing a variety of catchy pop songs to drown out the airplane ambiance. She wakes up no more than 5 minutes before the attendants make their rounds to remind people to turn off their electronic devices, and spends the entire landing approach rubbing her eyes and yawning.

In stark contrast to Mireia's irritation and nervousness, Sasha is the picture of composure. She takes the info-sheet on her opponent and grins, even as her handler blows past her and speeds off in a taxi.

"...Well then, guess we're free to do whatever."

With a shrug, she pulls out her cell phone and turns it on, flicking the screen a couple of times with her thumb before frowning.

"Really? Aw, damn it... all right boys, I've got a walk and a half ahead of me to go pick up a package. Then I am going to find lunch, and then I am going to beat the crap out of some guy I've never met. You're welcome to tag along if you want, but I doubt I'm either of your ideas of a good time. Au revoir, mes amies... don't go getting pasted without me, ok?"

And with that she's off; calmly walking away with a casual flip of her hand to wave goodbye. This isn't her first trip to mix business and pleasure, and she knows pretty much exactly what she's doing. First, she heads straight to her prearranged shipping address, getting her weapon back after a rather gruff exchange with an unkempt and impolite man.

After that, she maps out a path to a restaurant - this being Japan, the order of the day is sashmi, and lots of it. She eats in silence, looking over the information about the man she is about to fight. All in all it felt so unnecessary, but since she's getting charged for the service anyway, why not indulge in a little reading? In just a little bit longer, she'd be at the designated area, and then she'd either have a match on her hands or a chance to scope out the spot she's going to be fighting at. Business first, pleasure second. Get it all out of the way at once, and then that's several days of getting to be a spectator and a tourist with no interruptions... beautiful. A smile creeps its way across her face.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha

The destination she was being sent to was just as likely to take that smile right off of Sasha's face, being more then a little bit out off the beaten path in a foreign country with most of the signs only being in Japanese. But, phone in hand, she's able to get there not long after her meal and starts to notice something very...poignant about her destination.

The closer she gets, the worse the crowds around her get.

At first it had just been business men and women on their way back to their homes, with a spattering of kids out for a good time. Then the business men had fallen away for regular citizens of Japan and some...brightly dressed women. It was almost a relief when Sasha's destination took her past a row of red lanterns strung across the street. If nothing else, it helps to explain the transition as the sky above begins to darken with night. Just how long had her errands and dinner taken after all?

As night came on, the streets around Sasha seem to surge to life with impromptu stalls and tables being set up on the sidewalks with colorful lights creating a dizzying display of color that almost seems made to trigger a seizure. Not that this would stop the new, sleazier, elements from being added to the crowd, the sort who frequented this den of inequity as often as they could, some of which even eye Sasha in a certain manner, but the sight of the long traveling case makes most of them think twice. It was actually a relief to reach her destination...and see two Japanese men in suits with purple tinted shades on standing outside. A quick glance at the destination itself would only confirm Sasha's suspicions, the two were way too...professional to guard such a dump unless it was for something important. The front is wooden with only a single stained glass window in front to hide what was going on in the bar beyond, though light spills through the door and window both to make it obvious that it was open for business. It's bordered by a wide alley on one side, but it reeks of urine and vomit from unsavory patrons drinking too much, however the most surprising thing is the sign. In bright neon colors, it proudly proclaims itself...

Jim's Divebomb!

From the looks of it, it seems to be a bar that had been constructed by an American when the USA had occupied Japan with more men. Hopefully that meant it'd be a spot of something familiar for Sasha, and, with that in mind, she enters quietly once the two Japanese men nod respectfully to her.

Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bErmgE9toD8) booms loudly enough to make it feel like Sasha's bones are rumbling once she enters, making it difficult to hear anything within the dimly lit club. A thick haze of smoke mingles in the air with the sharp acrid smell of cheap beers and whiskey, almost as bad as the alley outside, but then again Sasha hadn't come here for the sights...she was here to find her opponent. So, with all her natural confidence, she strolls up to the bar and takes a stool for herself before glancing about to see which of those present would be her match. A couple of people stood out quite readily...

In one of two corner booths, an elderly Japanese man sits with a short cigar lite in one hand and dressed in a well-pressed black suit with a short-brimmed fedora. However, it's not the man himself who draws Sasha's eyes but his bodyguards. Four men, just like the one's from outside, stand or sit rigidly closely around the older gent's table while only two people sit with him. The first is a short sweaty man in sweat-pants and a t-shirt, a bit rotund and clearly panicked as he speaks hurriedly at his more prestigious companion. The other person at the table made Sasha suspect there was some kind of hallucinogenic in the air, because it was more then a little difficult to believe what she saw.

A young woman who was about Sasha's height, sat protectively beside the older Japanese man in what could only be described as a luchador outfit. A red and white mask obscures from her nose up, while letting a thick head of brown hair out to be tied back in a pony-tail. A tight spandex leotard hugs her lean body, compact with tough muscle, from the neck down though it exposes her shoulders, upper arms, and has a brief neckline to give the young woman some room to breath. She has a relaxed posture and calm face, but Sasha can't escape the impression that the luchador is aware of everything going on around her at the moment. She didn't match the info that Sasha had been given, but she was a figure of interest to say the very least.

Despite the spectacle of a luchador actually seen in public, Mireia's information on Sasha's opponent could only match one man. And what a man he was! The massive specimen sits in the other booth, but only because it seems the only seat big enough for him! The giant of a man broods in his own corner, despite the attentions of two fawning women, more like girls actually, running their hands along iron-hard muscles that easily look larger then their own heads. His skin is a dark brown color, almost pure black actually, marking him as from Africa though what part can't be determined but it's his eyes that were the most striking. Sullen, deep-set brown eyes rove aimlessly over the crowd in the bar but there's something frightfully cannibalistic in the way he does it, the same way a lion might size up the cubs of another male to be killed and devoured. He doesn't fit in, to say the least, but not just because of his demeanor. The African man towers over most other patrons of the bar, or anyone really, while most of his hard, dark flesh is left exposed since he's stripped to the waist with only a pair of ragged jeans to his name. All across his skin are old welts and scars, and unlike some glory hounds might, he doesn't wear them with pride. There's simply something cold and reptilian about him, as if he'd fit in more at an ancient Roman arena then in the modern world.

As Sasha takes in the two extreme oddities though, the rotund and sweatpants-wearing man leaves the table he had been at, hurrying across the barroom (and ignoring Sasha completely) to sit beside the black giant who seems to shift his gaze between Sasha and the luchador. His handler maybe? In either case, whatever the unpleasant little man says, it makes his company begin to laugh. Or rather the girls do, tittering loudly while a savage grin comes to the man's face, exposing yellowed teeth.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha strolls confidently down the streets, enjoying the simple things like the little flairs of culture that dot the cityscape, or the comfortingly familiar weight of her spear as it rests on her shoulder. She smiles at passing families and watches as the scenery slowly shifts into... hazier territories.

Upon spotting the red lanterns, she rolls her eyes. What else could she expect? A tournament like this could only take place in the worst ditches of society, and unlike the fair City of Angels, Tokyo was probably pretty short on thuggish construction sites. That would leave the sex shops as a place where few would bat an eye if someone wound up in the hospital with the tar kicked out of them. Or worse; one never knew... she catches the stiff bodyguards at the door, returns their nod, and steps inside. What she finds knocks some of the spring out of her step. She coughs and fruitlessly attempts to wave the smoke out of her face before strolling up to the bar.

"You guys serve tea? ...You don't. Ahuh. No, I don't want... no, I... No!"

Without another word, she spins and pushes herself away from the overly enthusiastic server and scans around for her target. Alcohol... blech. How so many people can stand to stuff themselves full of it is beyond her ken. Further fouling her mood, she can't find any sign of Mireia... she had been sure that whatever business had sent her handler speeding away this morning, it'd have been handled by now and she'd be here looking for a way to bet on the fight. Evidently, Sasha didn't rank highly enough on her list of priorities tonight. She sighs.

And then, for two seconds, she forgets to breathe. Is that a... no, really, that can't really be a luchador? Her jaw hangs agape at the unbelievable sight. Moments tick by one after another while her brain re-engages itself from the emergency shutdown procedure it had just undergone to protect itself from the reality of the situation. What self respecting person would dress like that in public? She shakes her head and starts to laugh.

But that woman isn't what Sasha came into this acrid hellhole looking for. No, it's that behemoth of a man sitting at the booth in front of her. Sasha licks her lips in anticipation, remembering her own remarks about muscled fighters back at the first round. This guy had the look of someone who had the advantage over her in every physical category... she couldn't have asked for a better challenge. She watches him sit there with his little "entourage", watches as the fat man waddles over to him and whispers something in his direction, and watches as everyone at the table but him bursts into varying sorts of laughter. After that, she decides, she's done enough watching. She hops off of her stool and strides confidently up to the table, prodding one of the waifs off of his arm with the butt end of her spear.

"Jeez, could you possibly have worse taste in men? Time to scram now, kids. It's playtime for the grownups now."

She stands there with a confident smirk on her face, eyes locked with the man who is to be her opponent, and waits.

[Callos_DeTerran]

The 'waif' that Sasha prods gives a loud, and rather undignified, squawk at the rude gesture and petulantly pouts once she catches sight of the spear that Sasha holds. No sensible person would make a move against someone who openly carried a weapon like that, and while their taste in men might have been poor the girls seemed fairly sensible. As they slink around the outside of the table, they leave a veritable cloud of pungent perfume in their wake along with undecipherable mutterings in Japanese, likely of the un-flattering variety. Her opponent's more rotund companion launches into a similar flurry of Japanese, but it seems more pointed towards wondering just who the hell she was and why she was at their table.

For his own part, this 'Jengo' (as Mireia's file had called him) didn't even seem to take notice that his company had left him in the face of armed opponent. His sullen eyes are on Sasha's...well...not her face. He doesn't even seem to be aware that she's spoken at first.

"Ah..no spake Engrish." the massive man rumbles painfully, butchering the English language just because it was a helpless bystander. It draws the eyes of several patrons close by but, much more disconcertingly, that of the old Japanese fellow who gives a wry smile at the situation. "<Do you speak French? I am much better at French.>"

The switch from broken English to much more natural sounding French is a startling one, even as the brutish giant gestures to the seat one of the girls had vacated, not that there was many other options. The only other one was beside the unpleasant sweaty man.

[PhoeKun]

"Oui, je parle assez bien le français. Mais, je vais rester debout, je vous remercie beaucoup. Je me suis promené beaucoup aujourd'hui, et je crains que si je m'assieds, je ne veux pas prendre du recul à nouveau. Puisque vous et moi sommes censés être s'entre-tuer dans un autre moment ou deux, ce serait très gênant, non? Après tout, n'êtes-vous pas 'Jengo'?"

Sasha shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, stretching her arms out on the spear. She watches the giant's eyes closely, trying to figure out what's going on inside his head. It's irritating to her that he hasn't yet made eye contact - it gives the impression he's looking at her as a replacement to the scrawny twits she just chased away rather than a combatant. But other than a slight twitch of her left eye, she doesn't betray her irritation, and her confident smile stays rooted firmly to her face.

She starts to lean a little more heavily on each leg in turn, loosening the joints and muscles up for the upcoming action. And there would be action, even if she had to flip the table over and kick it in his face. She clears her throat, stealing a glance at the old Japanese man. Was he involved in all of this? A tournament official, maybe? That would... sort of explain the luchador. Sort of. She cracks her neck, and her knuckles shortly thereafter, hopping lightly one step backward and motioning for Jengo to rise.

"Je m'appelle Sasha. Vous devez avoir entendu parler de moi, je suis de votre adversaire pour ce qui n'est pas mentionné. Ce n'est pas le temps de visser autour, et si nous pourrions nous passer les plaisanteries et passez à la partie où nous nous battons, je serais bien obligé."

She grins.

I'm less than 100% confident on the accuracy of my French, but the gist of what I was trying to say -

"Yes, I speak French quite well. I'd rather not sit down, because I've been walking a lot today and I'm afraid if I do it now I won't want to stand back up again. And since we're supposed to start killing each other in a moment or two, that would be very inconvenient.

----

My name is Sasha, and I'm your opponent for that thing we can't mention in public. This is no time for screwing around, so if we could just skip to the part where we fight, I'd be much obliged"

[Callos_DeTerran]

The man's scowl twists up into the rictus of a smile at Sasha's words, something that is altogether unnerving to watch. It was less like he was smiling and more like imitating people he had seen smile, a crude imitation at best as he looms up to his feet, actually obscuring the light behind him to cast a shadow over Sasha as his ham-sized hands settle unto the edge of the table.

"<I like you! You have more guts then the others they make me fight!" 'Jengo' proclaims loudly, his tone surprisingly jovial, even as the thick muscles in his arms begin to strain. In just a moment, and with a loud metallic screech as it was ripped from the floor, Sasha finds the dirty table flipped towards her. She just barely has time to shoulder check it before something massive hits it from the other side, pushing her back a couple of inches as she grits her teeth and pushes back. It was a losing battle, that much she knew, so instead of trying to win...

She stabbed him in the foot, piercing right through the thick leather combat boots with steel toes, making him hop back until the back of his legs are against the seat.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha tips her head a fraction to acknowledge the unnerving compliment the giant man had paid her. As he rises, she stiffens. Here it comes...

"Eh bien, la chose qui me distingue de tout le monde..." She pauses, listening to the creaking sound of the table as he strained against it. Was he really planning to -- "Jesus!"

Yes he was. It's all she can do to brace herself against the table-turned-projectile, using it a bit like a shield as she jabs at his foot. She crouches low and disappears behind it. Her chest is rising and falling much faster now from the exertion and adrenaline. He ripped a table out of the floor. He ripped a table out of the floor! What the hell kind of workouts does somebody have to do before they can do that!? Sasha shakes her head. Crazy strength. Perfect!

"Je sais que je peux gagner!"

She explodes into motion, jumping up onto the edge of the table and springing off of it to propel herself high into the air, spear trailing in one arm behind her. Instead of striking with that, though, she whips a hard kick at Jengo's chin. As she lands, she hops away to one side and assumes a wide defensive stance, holding her spear with both hands in front of her and taking great care to put it between herself and her opponent.

"J'espère que tu penses de moi si tendrement de votre lit d'hôpital."

If necessary, a Jump Check: [roll0]

In any case, Attack - Jump Kick: [roll1]
Damage - Jump Kick: [roll2]

Balance: [roll3], attempting to "Back Off"

Finally, Sasha will spend an Attack of Opportunity, as per the Block feat, to... well... block Jengo's next attack. [roll4]

With a counterattack of [roll5] (plus 1 if Backing off successful) for [roll6] damage.

Translations - "Well, the thing that sets me apart from everyone else is... I know I can win!"

"I hope you think of me so fondly from your hospital bed."

[Sucrose]

As the fight between Sasha and the giant begins, another behemoth enters. Standing 7'0 tall, he has to stoop noticeably just to get in the door. An Eastern European man, by rough guess at his ethnicity, he's wearing an immaculate suit, which he looks distinctly uncomfortable in. He peers around the room for a moment before spotting the elderly Japanese gentleman surrounded by bodyguards. He walks over to the bossman's table, and looks him in the eye.

"Sir," he says, in a heavy Russian accent, "may I have a moment of your time?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

The suited guards bristle as the second behemoth enters, hands darting beneath their jackets to what are, undoubtedly, concealed firearms before the elderly man raises his hand to stop them. For her part, the luchador seems more interested in the fight going on across the barroom floor that has other patrons scurrying out of the way then on the Russian who had approached her table. The Japanese man's age-worn face meets the giant's own without comment, silently nodding to the man...but not before he signals his bodyguards.

Two of them step forward, quickly patting the Russian down in a proffessional manner, even going so far as to unbutton his shirt and check for wires before giving a nod to the one singled out as the 'boss'. "He's unarmed."

"But not helpless I'd wager. Please, take a seat." the old man says in a clipped, cordial tone of voice, with almost immaculate english. He gestures casually to sit across from the garishly dressed young woman who finally, and quickly, appraises him before turning back to the fight. "You'll have to excuse my rudeness, but are you an acquaintance of mine? It is difficult to remember faces when I've seen so many of them.

Across (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgA2hT4PMvc)the bar though, things couldn't be a farther cry from civilized as Sasha picks up the offensive against her own giant foe. With a deft leap upwards, she cracks her foot against Jengo's chin to twist his head about and draw an irate grunt from the dark man before she cautiously leaped back. She's quick to interpose the sharp steel point of her spear between herself and him, the image of the table still vivid in her memory, waving the tip to keep in line with Jengo's chest as he steps around the table warily. Not of the spear, Sasha notices, but of her. It's as if he doesn't even noticed the weapon yet, despite the wound to his foot.

"La victoire est dénuée de sens sans survivance." He says, the melodic French language doing nothing to hide his grim tone or words. And then, just like that, he's trying to step inside of Sasha's guard by side-stepping the spear and bringing up his wounded foot between her legs in a viciously under-handed blow. Luckily she was waiting for such an attack and swept her spear around, just able to push his kick aside and leave a bloody cut on his calf that starts to stain his pants crimson.

Jengo howls, not in pain but in anger, at the wound as his dark eyes become blood-shot with fury at Sasha's temerity in striking such a wound. But Sasha's desperate block had opened up the perfect chance for him to strike forward with his massive left hand and savagely drive his knuckles right into her eyes. First her vision goes watery and then it goes black from the painful strike, even as she quickly swings her spear back and forth to drive the behemoth of a 'man' backwards before he could do more harm.

"Lit d'hôpital? Vous n'allez pas me tuer?" the rough voice comes out of the blackness where Jengo had been standing, but already he showed signs of moving away from that spot and the noise from the disrupted bar-goers made an effective cloak to hide his movements. His words were much more ominous and only proved how different this situation was from the one with John, back in Los Angles. The karate-using Asian had been almost laughably incompetent but seemed to have a measure of...pride in a fighter. Jengo seems the opposite, with finely honed kills and from every indication the desire to inflict great harm on Sasha...


"Victory is senseless without surviving"

"Hospital bed? You are not going to kill me?"

Jengo gets pegged for damage when he goes for his first attack, but hits with the eye gouge for 11 points of damage and, as Sasha failed the save, 2 rounds of blindness and all that brings.

[Sucrose]

The Russian shakes his head as he takes a seat.

"I have not met you before, and odds are good that you do not know me. I am Grigori, a chef who has been blessed with some measure of success. However, I have found a larger goal, and my present reach is not great enough to grasp it. To gain more money, establish connections, and find wider fame, I wish to join the Hanmei. How shall I convince you to let me?"

[PhoeKun]

Sasha stumbles backwards, reeling from the blow. She shakes her head, once. Twice. No good... getting worse. Black wraps itself around her vision and holds her fast, and just like that the confident fighter is stranded on an island with a dangerous predator out for blood. A chill runs down her spine.

She slashes with her spear in a wide arc all around her, trying to get her bearings as much as anything. When the weapon fails to make contact of any sort, it's as if the world around her has expanded infinitely. Jengo's words echo in all directions from a thousand miles away and just inside her ear all at once.

"Je n'avais pas prévu à ce sujet. Maintenant? Je suis de l'examiner." She snarls. The threat is hollow, and does little to even slow down her overly excited heart. This is it, Sasha. You've really hit your limits, and now they're going to kill you. Hope it's been a fun ride, because...

No! That is not how the story ends! Sasha takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, narrowing her stance and putting all her weight on the balls of her feet. Like water, now... like water. Listen. Feel the attack, absorb, and redirect it. Or haven't you learned anything? She closes her eyes and grips her spear tightly. Time to be a Jedi, baby.

Listen check, Round 1 - [roll0]
Listen check, Round 2 [roll1]

Round 1:

Full attack block - [roll2] plus [roll3] = 17 (plus 2 if Listen is above 15). Second attack blocks at 12.

Round 2:

Full attack block: - [roll4] plus [roll5] = 27 (Plus 2 if Listen is above 15). Second attack blocks at 22.

Translation:

"I hadn't planned on it. Now? I am considering it."

[Callos_DeTerran]

The Japanese man doesn't speak at first, simply reaching down to tap his short cigar against the side of the ash-tray to knock off the cylinder of ash that had slowly accumulated there. Finally he raises it to his lips and takes a brief draw before exhaling, smiling even as he begins to cough, making the luchador reach a hand up to rest on his arm in concern.

"Do you know why I like this bar Grigori? It helps me to remember the worst times and the better. I do not get bothered by this or that concern." he says slowly, leaning back against the ripped leather seat, "But now my peace is broken. First by the Kenta, the fat slob who 'handles' my large dark friend over there. Now, by Russian chef who seeks to swim with sharks."

Another brief pause as he snuffs out the cigar and leans forward, reaching into his pocket to pull out a large manila envelope with a rather prominent bulge in the middle of it. This he places on the table top, but he keeps his hand on it as well.

"This is no place for someone who isn't ready to risk their lives Mr. Grigori. Take a look at that girl over there..if she is lucky, she will survive her match, if not then she will be no more. Think on the value of your own life Mr. Grigori and then decide. If you value it too much then it is best you walk out that door and forget that you ever met me, but if you are willing to risk it then you will need to complete the task in this envelope." A frosty smile touches his wrinkled lips, baring slightly yellowed teeth, "Do so and you will have your place in the Hanmei."

There was no room for bargaining or negotiation in the old man's tone, mostly because he is well aware that he holds all of the cards here.


"Vous n'étiez pas avant ? Ahh.. j'ai pensé vous étiez la fille différente." The voice booms out of the darkness Sasha had thrown herself into, trying to steady her breathing and focus on the situation at hand and how to over come it. Jengo wasn't exactly being quiet either, she could hear his boots scuffing on the ground to her right. She had to wait until she felt the blow coming and then the right side of her face exploded in pain as a meaty fist that seemed as big as an engine block tried to take her head off! For a brief moment the even darker pit of unconsciousness yawned before her, threatening to engulf her as the spear-fighter fell to one knee. Something wet trickled down from just above her eye, making it slick way down across her face, blood by Sasha's guess. Jengo's punch had opened up a deep cut above her right eye which was trickling down her face.

The darkness was finally beginning to lighten the tiniest bit behind her eyelids as Sasha reeled from the last strike, only just beginning to recover the vision in her throbbing eyes as she tries to steady herself once more. Like water, she had to be like water if she was going to survive, no...to win this fight! Time to be a Jedi, to be one with...there! Sasha quickly spins her spear about, slapping the shaft of it against an impossibly thick forearm, turning it aside so she only feels the stiff whoosh as the powerful blow whips by a scant quarter inch from the back of her head.

"Peut-être c'est meilleur avoir de la chance alors consommé cependant, non?" Jengo says, remarkably reasonable about the missed haymaker, his voice coming from Sasha's left now. How had such a big man moved so quietly all the way around her without her noticing? But, a small gift, her eyes finally seemed ready to open up and do their job once more to show the big man with his arms spread wide and a feral grin across his dark-skinned face.

"You weren't before? Ahh..I thought you were different girl."

"Maybe it's better to be lucky then skilled though, no?"

And Sasha takes 15 damage from being punched and one point of Charisma damage.

[PhoeKun]

When Sasha opens her eyes again, she is greeted by the world and its new slightly reddish tint. Bleeding pretty badly, then. She licks her lips and can taste some of the runoff. She whips her head around to face Jengo, her face twisting into a sneer.

"Je suis fatigué de vous entendre parler."

She adjusts her grip on her spear, holding it in one hand behind her as she hops up and down on her feet. One, two. One, two. Watch him. Watch him. Here he comes. He needs momentum, while you...

Suddenly, she is standing directly in front of him. Dangerously close. She looks up at his face, and there is a flash of something like triumph in her eyes. Her free hand shoots forward like it was shot out of a cannon. There is no tell, no twitch of muscle or pull back as her fist seeks to smash against his solar plexus. Without waiting for his reaction, she twirls her spear and steps backward, slashing with the tip across the exact same spot she had just punched him as she resumes her two handed grip.

And instantly she is back on the defensive, setting her weapon against him as though he were a charging rhino.

"Tu veux mourir? Amende. Je vais te tuer." She hisses.

Moment of truth time.

Balance - Gain Facing: [roll0]

Attack 1: One Inch Punch - [roll1] plus Action Point: [roll2]
Critical Confirmation (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2684240/)
Attack 2: Spear - [roll3]

Damage 1: [roll4] (plus one if she's Facing)
Critical Damage - 12 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2684241/) (plus 1 if Facing) for a total of 20 Damage (22 if Facing)
Damage 2: [roll5] (plus one if she's Facing)

AoO to Block: [roll6]
AoO if successful: 1d20+14 = 17 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2684244/) (I messed up the code on this one, Rolled on IC to fix).
Damage: [roll7] (plus one if she's Facing)

Translation:

"I am tired of hearing you talk."
"You want to die? Fine. I'll kill you."

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Ah (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25xULBvqp48), mais puisque vous frappez aussi légèrement que les baisers d'une vierge, vous devrez endurer ma voix." The behemoth of a man rumbles aloud with an honest-to-God smile coming to his face, not quite one of bloodlust or sheer animal ferocity, but one that was almost...at peace. That is until Sasha rushes in, then his widely thrown arms begin to snap shut like a bear-trap even as she looks up into his face. This man was a mystery in his entirety, he showed none of the discipline or technique of other fighters. Hell, Sasha would be hard-pressed to think of a moment when he'd shown any sort of trappings of a taught style. To think there were people like this beast of a man in the world who over-powered centuries of martial teachings with animal cunning and sheer ferocity.

And then his eyes widen in surprise as her fist slams home into his solar plexus, Sasha more then able to feel one of his ribs break beneath the strain before she twirled back and slashed the spear-tip across the same wound. One hand lifts to dab the slash mark, coming away wet with blood that was leaking freely from his many wounds now, while he had barely managed to get any blows in on Sasha herself.

Then everything just seemed to go wrong, his pupils dilated to mere pinpricks as his wide chest rises and falls quickly, breathing becoming labored even as the steel-like thews of his arms bunched up into powerful masses of raw power. In a blur of motion he's grabbed one of the wooden chairs nearby, swinging it one-handed to smash over Sasha's hastily raised shoulder, even as the brute plows forward as if utterly fearless.

"AHHH!" He roars loudly. Even as the haze of splinters still hangs in the air, Sasha can see Jengo rearing back for another bone-breaking haymaker and reacts quickly. Once his arm begins to extend, her spear flicks out to stab into the inside of his elbow, making his arm recoil reflexively in pain as he pulls the ruined arm back from the punishing spear.

"Bon, bon! Maintenant vous combattez pour de vrai ! Maintenant vous combattez pour survivre!" He says almost happily, raising his arm up to drag his tongue over his newest injury, eyes rolling back into his head at the taste until only the whites of his eyes how. Jengo definitely seems to have more then a few screws loose.


"Ah, but since you hit as lightly as the kisses of a virgin, you shall have to endure my voice."

"Good, good! Now you fight for real! Now you fight to survive!"

[PhoeKun]

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Tais-toi! Shut! Up!"

Sasha meets the monstrous man's blood frenzy with every growing hostility and anger. She glares at him through one open eye; she's forced to keep blinking and closing the other to keep the flow of blood out of it. But there's no time to wipe the open wound, and no point. Feeling his rib break had been satisfying, but not enough. That shot had been meant to put him down... and for the second time in the span of just a few moments, she is forced to confront the idea that she might not be good enough to beat this... this... wall of undisciplined muscle.

In the very back of her head, a running commentary is building about her hypocrisy and how she should be admiring the obvious effort that went into training his body instead of his technique, and similarities between the two of them as fighters who have rejected codified styles, but that voice is a tiny, nagging buzz, unable to be heard over the rush of the blood in her veins, the roar of battle, and the sheer, overwhelming, all consuming need to put this bastard on the ground.

She plants the butt of her spear on the ground, bracing against the thankfully still nearby table for support, and suddenly pole vaults off of it, rising up off the ground to deliver a hard kick to the temple. Her momentum carries her further up, and at the crest of her jump, she releases the spear with one hand and throws another explosive punch across his jaw on the way down. As she lands she drops to one knee and spins away, returning her spear to an active defense position and regaining her distance from Jengo in a single smooth motion. He cannot punch a waterfall...

Attack 1: One Inch Punch - [roll0]
Attack 2: Jump Kick - [roll1]

Damage 1: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]

Block: [roll4]
Attack of Opportunity: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]

Translation:

"Shut up!" I'm sure you guessed this one. :smalltongue:

[Callos_DeTerran]

"Que? Vous pas vous amusez plus?" He asks quizzically, sounding honestly confused even before Sasha pulled off perhaps the most acrobatic display he had likely seen in his own years of fighting. His entire body lurches for just a second as she delivers a powerful kick to his temple, but he regains his footing almost immediately and actually turns up into that explosive punch that snaps his head around as if she'd broken his neck.

Sasha wasn't that lucky, the giant of a man slowly swiveling his head back around to look at her with a hateful gleam in his eyes as his smiling countenance faded. Puckering his lips, he spit out several teeth and a mouthful of blood before his grin returns, sheer crimson this time. Just how much punishment could he take?!

The answer didn't seem like it'd soon be coming as he steps in close, waiting for her to lash out with the spear...just to grab the weapon just behind the broad-bladed spearhead with one ham-sized fist and hold the weapon in a tight grip. With a powerful yank, Jengo pulls the spear out of his way and before Sasha can attempt to pull it back in, he's stepped in and crosses her own jaw with his massive, stone-like fist. However this time he presses his advantage, delivering a short but powerful uppercut to her stomach that has Sasha bent over his meaty arm. A small providence lurked in the situation though, because she sees how the muscles in his injured leg flex and on instinct she closes her thighs just in time to prevent his booted foot from rising up into her groin once more.

"Qu'est arrivé à votre zèle? Votre...votre passion?" He demands in the deathly silent bar, all of the other patrons having cleared a silent circle around the duo except for the conversation going on in the other booth. The stillness is unnerving as the behemoth seems to become more agitated once more, crouching down with bent knees as if he meant to tackle her.

Sasha takes 10 points of damage from Jengo's punch/punches.

"What? You aren't having fun anymore?"

"What happened to your zeal? Your...your passion?"

[PhoeKun]

"Guh!"

Sasha has to fight the urge not to black out of throw up as Jengo lands another couple of hard blows, finally having pierced her guard again. Gritting her teeth, she sets her fingers against his elbow before he retracts his arm and drives into another punch, this one from absolute point blank range with the intent of shattering the joint. She watches with some satisfaction as he hastily retreats out of her range.

"... Quel est-il? Vous voulez que je vous tuer ou vous amuser? Impossible de faire les deux à la fois ..."

She heaves with exhaustion, and begins to sway back and forth. Her muscles burn, her cuts sting, and her lungs are starting to feel too small for their job... she had to stop being so predictable. He'd kill her if he caught her like that again. So rather than press her advantage while she has the chance... she waits. This time, he'd pay for moving inside her zone. No openings. She would exist in all directions...

Attack: Another One Inch Punch - [roll0]
Damage: 14 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2684381/)

Block 1: [roll1] plus [roll2] Total 28
AoO: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]

AoO Block: [roll5]

"Which is it? You want me to kill you or have fun? Can't do both at once."

[Callos_DeTerran]

The fight was remarkably similar to that between a wounded hound and a wounded porcupine, the former trying to find an opening to get at the spiny critter while the latter waited for it's chance to punish the canine for trying. It was an odd thought to come to Sasha when in the middle of this frantic brawl, but there it was. Both of Jengo's arms seemed battered and broken now, his right bleeding from the inside of his elbow where Sasha had likely come close to cutting an artery while the other didn't sit right, proving that perhaps Sasha had done some damage to it.

But, just like everything else she's done to him, it doesn't seem to phase Jengo despite the extraordinary pain that he had to be in at that moment. A deep-throated and rumbling burst of laughter bursts out of his bleeding mouth, even before he began to speak once more.

"Pourquoi pas? Pourquoi devoir le deux sont séparés?" He asks...moments before spitting a mouthful of blood right into Sasha's eyes, darting in to try and land two quick jabs at her ribs with blows that surely would have broken them if they had hit. However, by now Sasha's become quite adept in fending him off despite his long reach and is quick to slash up his left arm when it flicks out, even as the haft slaps the right of course when it seeks to take advantage of the distraction.

"Why not? Why must the two be separate?"

Both of Jengo's attacks are blocked.

[PhoeKun]

Jengo's latest attempt to finish Sasha off, and the question he accompanies it with bring a playful smirk back to Sasha's face. She doesn't answer the question, and in fact she's not sure she really could if pressed. But there's a clear distinction in her mind between fighting to take someone down and fighting to kill them, and for her that is enough.

But more importantly, she's noticed something. With his arms in the state their in, his guard has slipped. There's nothing in between her and that broken rib. Tossing caution to the wind, she lunges forward, suddenly jumping up and sending a roundhouse kick smashing against the injured ribcage. She lands on the balls of her feet and, without waiting to see the result, spins around and bashes his chest again with the shaft of her spear, swinging it like an over-sized baseball bat. She puts every last remaining ounce of strength into the blow. This was it. It had to be. If she couldn't win the fight here, he is immortal and she is as good as dead.

"Au revoire..."

Attack 1: Jump Kick - [roll0]
Attack 2: Spear - [roll1]

Damage 1: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

As (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCmJ6NP4vSA&feature=related) furiously as the battle had started...it ended. Sasha's abrupt roundhouse kick catches the bestial Jengo by surprise, drawing a grunt of pain from the big man as the rib is driven against his lung but doesn't puncture it. No, he doesn't go down and it's only quick footwork on Sasha's part that keeps the limb out of his grasp.

His bloodshot gaze looms in her gaze as she spins again, trying to gain enough momentum to finally bring this malevolent giant down as the haft of her yari is spun around to crack against his broad chest. The shaft springs back as if it had struck a stone wall, and for one horrifying moment it looks as if Jengo wasn't even phased. And worse...he was reaching for her! Something betrays the truth though, perhaps the way his shoulders are sagging or how his legs briefly waver, and Sasha hesitates before striking him again. Thick, clumsy fingers briefly paw at her brown hair and stroke over it before the big man stumbles backwards with that very same easy-going smile crossing his dark and blooded face. He collapses unto one knee, wheezing before his failing body is unable to carry his weight anymore and he lets it follow it's natural course.

"Au revoire...ma cherie..." he mumbles before collapsing back, making the wooden floor rumble for the tiniest of moments as his breathing stilled and the tortured pit fighter known as Jengo finally found a couple moments of peace before passing on. His wide chest ceases to rise and fall, and for the first time the massive dark fighter doesn't loom as an ever-present threat on Sasha's life but rather...just as a man. Flawed, crazed, and seemingly impossibly strong...but just another man. For a long couple of minute...there is naught but silence...then a scream, from one of the girls that Sasha had chased away, and the regular patrons are pouring out unto the street in one panicked herd. They jostle Sasha about and trample the corpse in their rush to evacuate the scene of a murder, even as the pudgy Japanese man who had been speaking to Jengo slips out in the confusion. The only ones left are the bartender, the guards, the old man, the other monstrously big man, and the luchador who stares at Sasha silently, neither approving or disapproving of what has happened.

It would probably take some time before she even noticed that she had received a text message while she had been fighting, but who could blame her? She had certainly had other things on her mind at the time! But who was it from? All it says for sender is 'Mirrie'.

[PhoeKun]

The pushing and shoving of the crowd is, for Sasha, a lot like skiing moguls. Each push forward is accompanied by another push backward, and only in this way is she able to keep her feet. When the last panicked patron has fled, she is forced to lean on her spear to avoid an embarrassing face plant. She turns her exhausted head to give a long, hard stare at the only people in the bar who remain. Her head drops, shifting the focus of her vision to... Jengo.

Lying there, dead, on the floor, he doesn't seem half as vicious as he had when they were fighting. She frowns. It didn't feel right. She'd done what she had to do to survive, but... it didn't feel right. She sighs, a gesture probably lost due to the sheer effort she's forced to exert to be breathing in the first place.

Eventually, she stoops to pick up the trampled cloth she usually covers her spear with, and lovingly wraps the weapon up in it. Slumping back into a stool, she feels a buzzing in the pocket of her jacket. She winces, and is mystified. What could be...? Oh. Phone. Wait, how the hell had that survived all of this!? Once again she's mystified as she fishes it out and glances at the screen. The name brings a tiny, if tired and a little bit sad, smile to her face. Ignoring everything else around her, she opens up the text...

[Sucrose]

Grigori listens to the event coordinator, and then watches the fight, observing as the battle ends in a painful death. Then, he looks back to the manila envelope, takes it from the table, and opens it up. His eyes are as calm as a frozen lake.

"I have my will made out, and the matter is important to me."

He then looks in, inspecting the contents...

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori finds a small casette player within the manila envelope, and when he looks up at the elderly Japanese man he merely gives a small shrug and a smile.

"This task was originally meant for someone else, but I figure if you are so determined to fight...then you can do it." He says simply and pragmatically, beginning to rise up from his seat with the luchador quickly following suit. He readjusts the position of his black hat, giving a rushed required bow that one only extends as the most base of courtesies, before he begins to slide out from around the table. "It's been a pleasure Mr. Grigori, I hope you enjoy your little swim or at least survive it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some very important work to take care of elsewhere."

Then he's breezing out towards the door with his bodyguard accompanied, pausing only long enough to pat Sasha's shoulder with one shriveled, claw-like hand. The luchador silently glares at Sasha as she passes, but says not a word, while the other four guards take little to no notice of her whatso ever to leave her with just the bartender and the massive Russian for company...

Not that Sasha didn't have her own things to check out. She opens up the text message quickly to find a curious message...

Text Message:
have big infro but being watched now. come over when you can, make it seem like a freindly visit

[PhoeKun]

Sasha doesn't even spare a glance at the Japanese man or his luchador as they leave the bar, being far too preoccupied with squinting at the screen of her phone. There are words there, she is sure, but at the moment it's exceedingly difficult to figure out which words they are. Her vision blurs, comes back into focus. Once. Twice. Black swims around the edges of her eyes.

"Oh god. Not again..."

She rubs her eyes with her free hand. Thankfully, it helps. She winces as a few droplets of blood splash onto her phone, and suddenly she remembers the cut on her eye. She looks around for a moment for some sort of cloth or handkerchief, but of course nothing of the sort is available. She settles for tearing a section of her spear wrap off toward the bottom, and wipes her forehead clean. She can feel fresh blood oozing out now, so she takes the blood soaked rag and ties it around her head to cover the wound. Now then. Distractions out of the way, onto reading.

She frowns, staring at the message for another long moment. At last, she flips the phone onto its side and calls up its virtual keyboard. With practiced speed and precision, her fingers tapdance across the screen, firing off a quick response.

on my way. could really use a drink. have 1 ready?

And that was that. Enough time had been spent in this hellhole, it's time to move on. Shakily, she gets to her feet and stumbles toward the exit. She pauses at the doorway, leaning on the frame and finally turning to look at the very tall man still standing off to the side.

"...Buddy, take it from me. You do not want in this thing..."

She doesn't wait for a response, simply taking a deep breath and dragging her feet out the door. This is going to be a long walk...

[Sucrose]

Grigori blinked. Concern for his well-being was not something that he expected from another of the participants. However, his cause called for no hesitation. He drew out the casette player, put on the earbuds, and hit 'play.'

[Fan]

Roy swung down from the higher parts of the arena, he had been into parkour a little before he had done any of this, and he felt like showing off a bit despite his entirely.. legal.. or is it illegal? presence here. He also had his new... spiky shoes that he had gotten from his oh so generous handler Maria to thank for his ability to even gain purchase in half the places he did.

He landed on his feet, and turned about looking for one of the 4 people he would recognize in this whole damn country, his eyes settled on Sasha walking slowly, and he made his way over with a confident stride in his step.

"Hey, Sasha. How are the battle wounds? That was a good fight earlier. I can only hope to do so well myself when my own comes around.. but I forget my manners. Would a lady care for a drink?"

He said offering her a small canteen filled with some cheap whiskey barely a step above rotgut, he understood as a fellow fighter that drinking is an effective means of dulling pain when anasthetic was not around (which was usually.), and as cheap as the whiskey was, as well as the high chance of the offer being rejected. He figured it was worth a shot.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha stares at Roy the way a tiger would stare at a particularly abstract painting. After a moment, something bordering on comprehension flashes in her tired eyes.

"You were watching? I didn't see you... must've been tucked into a corner somewhere." she says with a shrug.

When the canteen is offered, she snatches it without so much as a 'thank you', unscrews it, and takes a long and reckless swig... after which she gags and sputters, stumbling several paces on the sidewalk and nearly running headlong into a horrified Japanese businessman.

She shakes her head violently, as though that will somehow get the horrid taste out of her mouth, then surrenders and searches out the nearest vending machine to purchase a soft drink. She hands the canteen back with a look of disdain.

"You don't want a fight like that." she says after a long swig of soothing cola. "That wasn't a good fight. I didn't like it..."

She gives Roy a small nod, assuming he'd understand what she means, and glances at her phone again to confirm her directions before resuming her walk, looking back to see if he falls into step. Although at this point, the thing she cares about the most is getting to a place where she can lie down...

[Fan]

Roy chuckles when Sasha stumbles from the drink.. he hadn't honestly found it that bad, but he guessed that there were those used to sweeter drinks. Ah well, at least she didn't die after that relatively reckless foray into the Japanese street.

"Hehehe. Well, my apologies Sasha. I had not expected the fight to have dulled your constitution so.

He said, predictably falling into step with the girl, happily grinning, just enjoying being alive as the crowd's of business men rolled by, oblivious to the raging conflict that raged underneath their feet.. then Sasha spoke up, finally having drowned the crap whiskey out of her mouth.

"So it was one of those.. admittedly something was off about that guy.. but at this stage Sasha. I am only glad that we have not yet had to fight each other, and that we're alive. Nothing else really matters."

Seeing that as a bit.. survivalist he decides to hastily add after a moment of awkward silence.

"I mean, you can't win the Hanmei if your dead, and it wouldn't be any fun for any of us to be seeing what's on the other side eh'?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori blinked. Concern for his well-being was not something that he expected from another of the participants. However, his cause called for no hesitation. He drew out the casette player, put on the earbuds, and hit 'play.'

At first there's just some static playing over the ear buds, but then it clears out and he can hear an authoritative male voice begin to speak right into his ears.

"Hello Bando-san, your services have come highly recommended to us from our 'kindred' in the west. We have a job that requires your uniquely savage skills. Recently, a band of miscreants have begun to interfere with Qin-sama's businesses, likely to try and carve a niche for themselves in Japan. We've managed to get one of their own to turn against them and give us some inside information, so we know where they will strike next and roughly when as well, but their numbers or weaponry are a bit more unclear.

They're target is one of our centers for the sale of children bought from China. This is a delicate matter and requires a bit more discretion on your part then usual to avoid drawing the attention of the police. No large explosions, no involving bystanders, and try to limit the noise of gunfire. As an added bonus, try to keep from causing too much damage to the building itself or the product. They're worth less if they are injured. Directions to the location will follow this message. We hope you accept this mission Bando-san."

[Sucrose]

Grigori's eyes widen as the protectorate is revealed, but he reins in on this tell relatively quickly. Nevertheless, his expression gets grimmer and grimmer as the tape plays out. After it's finished, he slips the earbuds back into the envelope, and sits quietly for a minute.

He then sighs, and stands back up.

So, I must do this, if I wish to create my charity? ...Very well, then...

With no further words, he heads back to his hotel, where he changes into his fighting clothes. An hour later, he enters the place specified in the directions, hands clearly visible, to avoid unecessary provocation.

"I have been sent to protect you."

[PhoeKun]

"Dulled my...? Look, I gagged because you're drinking poison. Which means I drank poison, and... gah. Disgusting. I will never understand how anyone drinks that crap without fruit."

Sasha shakes her head again, cradling her soda with one hand affectionately. At least her body eroding chemicals taste good, she thinks with a small huff. But when she turns her attention back to Roy, she's grinning in much more of her usual manner.

"As long as we keep winning, we'll fight each other eventually." she remarks idly. "But I don't really like looking ahead like that. You've got at least one whole fight before you can afford to be worrying about me. Don't take it lightly; I don't have any idea how many of the remaining fighters are like Jengo. Be ready to fight a war."

Sasha walks in silence for a while, thinking about... well, everything, really. Something like doubt gnaws on the back of her mind, and she quickens her pace. Which, as it turns out, hurts.

"Oi. I need a vacation..."

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha and Roy

The trip back from the dive bar takes on a much more solemn tone after the two have finished talking, walking through the streets until they are able to hail a cab. From there, the ride is slightly long through the streets of Okinawa until they reach a better part of town and the hotel where Mireia had given Sasha directions to. It wasn't a rich part of the city but it was well off and it reflects in the buildings around the two as the cab pulls to stop in front of a modest apartment building.

A short trip up a couple flights of steps and they are at the right door too, knocking softly and getting a muffled, "Come in."

Inside, the room is dark with none of the lights on and is (from first glance) a simple four room affair with comfortable amenities to keep the 'customers' content with their lodgings. But even with the lights off the two can tell something is wrong, the smell of blood is thick in the air with an obvious trail of the stuff leading toward the apartment's bathroom. Inside of it they can hear the noise of water running, but there's no other sign of Mireia so far...

==================

Grigori

Unlike the female spearfighter and the one who had joined her, Grigori's path takes him further into the redlight district instead of out of it. The 'establishments' become seedier and more run down the further he goes, just as the presence of people on the streets slowly diminishes until the point the big Russian feels like he's intruding on something private, though not necessarily nice.

Surprisingly, his route takes him to a surprisingly well lighted building that illuminates part of the street outside of it, the noise of raucous laughter coming from within. There's no obvious guards in sight, but that didn't exactly mean much either. The person to speak to steps up quickly to greet him, an officious looking Japanese man with a certain...kiss-a** attitude to him and an oily smile on his face. The sort of fellow that likely ticked off the wrong person and got stuck in this place.

"<Ahh hello, hello! You must be Bando-san, yes? I was starting to worry something had happened to you!>"

[Sucrose]

Grigori smiles in a way that is completely devoid of good humor, and flexes his fingers inside his blood-dyed gloves.

Sycophantic leech. A worthless being like you would sell others?!

"Not precisely. I have been sent in Bando's place. Rest assured, I can deal with those who have been harassing you. So, how much time do we have before their raid?"

[PhoeKun]

As much as the trip to the hotel had done to relax Sasha, one look at the state of the room is nearly enough to crush her spirits completely. Her face darkens as she takes in the scene, the... the smell... and the sounds.

"God damn it all to hell." she hisses, squeezing her spear nearly hard enough to crack the shaft.

Without another word, she stalks into the room, her head snapping this way and that in search of anything out of place and, most importantly, in need of a beating. She wastes no time in following the sound of the running water, and pounds on the door of the bathroom hard enough to rattle the hinges.

"...Mireia? You're in there, right? You're all right? I'm not going to open this door and get pounced by goons? Come on, give me a sign here."

She leans against the door, waiting for a response.

[Fan]

Roy slips on the dagger assisted kicking implements, probably making a mess of the floor if it's hard wood, and takes the fore.. trying to do his best to at least APPEAR manly enough to take the knife first... odds are he wouldn't.. He listens intently for any sound of continued struggle, of the sound of more than 1 set of footsteps (If Mieria had already eaten these guys it wouldn't be anything of importance, and just one guy isn't nearly fun for Sasha AND Roy.).

"Last call, Mieria... Your beginning to worry us."



Listen Check (always a class skill. Always.)

[roll0] (9 ranks, and -1 wisdom..)

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

Motion flashes by Grigori's sight from one of the several doors at the back of of the one he had entered into, a small crestfallen face peering out at him before abruptly disappearing back into the depths of this despicable building. Despite the knowledge of what happened here, the Russian would likely be forced to admit that it would be difficult to tell just what went on here from appearances alone. For all intents and purposes, it looks like a well off hotel lounge, and there was even one or two 'customers' lounging around reading some bizarre magazines.

"<Ah, yes, yes. Of course, you'd want to get right to work, yes? I believe you've already been briefed on everything that we know, yes? The only warning that I was given, Bando-san, is to expect them within but a few hours time. You've gotten much sleep, yes? Or do you need rest in one of our rooms? Perhaps company, yes?>" Grigori's 'host' offers helpfully while fitfully rubbing his hands together, "<Or drink, yes?>"

===========================

Sasha & Roy

Roy carefully presses his ear against the door, motioning for Sasha to be quiet as he listens for the noise of any potential ambushers on the other side. All he can hear though is the noise of a running faucet and pained, labored breathing.

"Yeah, ten goons crammed into my ****ty ten by ten bathroom with me still in here. Be careful now!" comes the sarcastic reply from the other side of the door, the tone just as pained as the breathing but undeniably Mireia's voice, "What took you so long to answer your damn phone Sasha? I had to have called you like...ten times or something..."

Upon hearing the hispanic woman's familiar voice, Sasha and Roy both quickly open the door and step inside to find a pale-faced Mireia sitting on the edge of the tub with her right foot wrapped in towels. Towels that were slowly turning red with blood at that.

"See...? No...ambush. Were you followed?" Mireia says furtively, trying to look past the two to the apartment room beyond, even as she sways back and forth as if about to pass out.

[Sucrose]

Grigori keeps his face as neutral as he can, though his eye does twitch. He gives no outward indication of having seen the saddened face. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low, to avoid the 'customers' panicking.

"...That will not be necessary. First of all, get these customers out of here. Business will need to be suspended until the threat has been dealt with, unless you wish to explain having gotten them killed. Next, you should get all the children into a safe room in an interior hallway, and guard the door. When I tell you they are coming, you may move inside with them to remain safe."

Grigori turns to regard the customers, then glances back to the sycophant.

"Ah, and I will be requiring a smoke bomb and any flash grenades you may have. I trust you have at least a few armaments?"

[Fan]

Grigori


Sasha & Roy

Roy carefully presses his ear against the door, motioning for Sasha to be quiet as he listens for the noise of any potential ambushers on the other side. All he can hear though is the noise of a running faucet and pained, labored breathing.

"Yeah, ten goons crammed into my ****ty ten by ten bathroom with me still in here. Be careful now!" comes the sarcastic reply from the other side of the door, the tone just as pained as the breathing but undeniably Mireia's voice, "What took you so long to answer your damn phone Sasha? I had to have called you like...ten times or something..."

Upon hearing the hispanic woman's familiar voice, Sasha and Roy both quickly open the door and step inside to find a pale-faced Mireia sitting on the edge of the tub with her right foot wrapped in towels. Towels that were slowly turning red with blood at that.

"See...? No...ambush. Were you followed?" Mireia says furtively, trying to look past the two to the apartment room beyond, even as she sways back and forth as if about to pass out.

Upon seeing the bloody foot, an expression that can only be defined as "Aww, ****." crosses Roy's face.. that looked bad, and deep. Especially since it was soaking through some damn towels.

Ah **** Mireia, what did you do to your foot? You know what, never mind, I'm calling some help.. Sasha.. she's more comfortable with you touching her than me, so try to stop the bleeding?"

He tries his best to find any emergency number, but eventually defaults to the operator asking her to direct them to emergency services and that they had someone who had been injured on their premise followed by an address, and a room number. He only prayed they would get here before the angry broad bled out.

[PhoeKun]

For an extended time, Sasha doesn't say anything after stepping into the bathroom. She simply stares at Mireia, her mouth hanging ever so slightly agape. Roy makes his comments and wanders off to go contact emergency services, and still she stands there virtually immobile.

On her head, her own makeshift bandages begin to fail at their job, and a thin trickle of blood works its way out from underneath them to drip across her eye. She blinks and wipes the crimson fluid away with a little flick of her hand.

"...Ok, new rule: We don't go anywhere without each other. If you're gonna go get beat to hell while I'm in the middle of getting beaten to hell, this just isn't gonna work out. Know what I mean?"

Sasha stumbles a little bit. Her muscles ache like nobody's business, and she finds she needs to lean against her spear to keep balance. Plus that damned blood trickle won't stop. She shakes her head, and turns to see if the door had shut after they came in. It had. Her eyes dart back over to Mireia.

"Ok, in order: no, I didn't see anybody following me, and just what the f--- happened? You look like you were in a damn knife fight. What was with that text message, why does it matter if I'm being followed, and before any of that, are you going to be ok?"

The small torrent of questions leaves Sasha worn out, and her heavy breathing can be heard clearly in the silence before the answers. A thought occurs.

"...Also, 'Mirrie'?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha & Roy

"Hey, it's not exactly like it's easy to text with one hand while trying to hold on a make-shift bandage!" Mireia protests at Sasha's last question, looking a bit flustered for a minute, "And...I don't know. The bleeding seems to have slowed down so...either I'm running out the stuff or it's clotting finally. Wait, where's he going?!"

With a look of alarm on her face, the hispanic woman gets to her feet and hobbles after Roy, smacking the phone out of his hand just when the operator comes on and quickly picking it back up.

"Um...yeah, so sorry..misdial! MIS...DIIILL...Do you speak English? Misdial!" Mireia quickly stammers into the phone before hanging it up, plopping down on the edge of the bed with a disgruntled groan, "No ambulance dammit! How the hell am I supposed to explain how I got my big toe cut off to doctors?"

Finally given a moment to sit and explain, Mireia does just that.

"Listen, this isn't an injury I can just go to the hospital for, not without ending up in worse condition then when I got there. I didn't do anything to myself or get into a fight, got it?" Briefly glancing at the two of them, it's apparent that they didn't and she gives another pained groan, "Listen, I was trying to find out some intel for you guys and...well I didn't find any, I heard something else though that's...a bit more important but I got caught. They couldn't just kill me though, so they...well...when one of their one f***s up, they take a finger so he learns a lesson. I make a living fighting with my feet though...so...they took a toe instead. And it's my own damn fault for it too."

Quietly she lays back on the bed, closing her eyes for a long minute to gather her thoughts and organize them into a fashion that would make sense.

"That's why no ambulance or hospital. Their watching me now, I'd bet everything I have on it, and they might just be watching you guys too. It's why I wanted to know if you guys were being followed or not, to see if they were suspicious about you...three...Where's Jack?" Mireia asks abruptly, sitting up quickly with a wild look in her eyes, "He went with one of you two, right?....Right?"

==================

Grigori

The unpleasant little man's face falls as he listens to the super-sized Russian's requests and directions, blinking rapidly even as his oily smile falters.

"S-sorry Bando-san but did you say armaments? Like guns, yes? T-this is not a gun place! What if child grabs shotgun, yes? Very messy, for us and for child. No guns here, no! Maybe...uh...smoke bomb? Maybe? Would need to check, but YOU supposed to protect customers too, yes?" he babbles, looking on the verge of having a mild panic attack as he dabs a handkerchief across his forehead, "You protect customers, that your job!"

Rather then sticking around to wrangle the finer points of Grigori's job, the fellow goes through the door in the back, muttering in fast-paced Japanese to himself. It takes several minutes before he returns, carrying a dubious looking green canister that he holds out disdainfully.

"Here. All I have. You make do, yes?" He sniffs out, as if handling the very thing was below him.

[Sucrose]

How does the canister seem to be constructed? How would Grigori probably think to activate it, and what would the probable contents be?

Grigori takes the canister, the impassiveness not leaving his face. However, to signal a slight defrosting of his attitude, he takes up his native Russian in responding to his contact.

<"It will be sufficient. However, my job is not to protect customers. I kill the interlopers, and protect the merchandise. If it happens that you can be protected at the same time, I throw this in for free. These people are too much of a liability. They don't even know what will happen; they will panic, and get themselves shot. It is simpler to have them come back at other hours. You are the customer wrangler, so I trust that you can keep them appeased.">

[PhoeKun]

"I haven't been bothering to keep track of everyone." Sasha admits with a shrug. "I mean, you'll excuse me and all, but I haven't exactly been on the lookout for conspiracies here, and I wasn't about to drag everyone along on a long walk to pick up a package before picking a fight everyone else may or may not have wanted to see. I wound up in a bar in the red light district, and knowing that idiot he found plenty to keep himself occupied..."

The fighter taps her foot impatiently, watching Mireia with concern as she sits there on the bed. What she's waiting for is anybody's guess, but whatever it is she soon gives up, and sits down.

"But the hell with him. He's a big boy and he can take care of himself. But... you're telling me 'they' cut off your toe? Who did? What the hell did you hear, anyway? Jesus..."

Sasha flops backwards onto the bed, letting her spear fall to the ground. She heaves a large, heavy sigh, and holds her fingers up against her gently bleeding temple.

"I just wanna say this again for emphasis: no more splitting up. Ok? And put some ice on that thing..."

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

The switch to Russian seems to throw the little man off, making him look uneasy before the mountain of a man explains himself in a different language once more. And, with some grumbling under his breath in Japanese, he begins to cajole and placate those people who had come to the despicable business to return another time.

In the mean while, Grigori excuses himself to enter the back and secure the children back there, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, moving them to a slightly safer place while waiting for the unknown assailants who were supposed to be on the move. It's more then an hour later, as the muscle-bound chef waits patiently in the narrow hallway beyond the door into the back, that he hears the first sign of someone coming. The high-pitched and motorized whine of motorcycles can be heard on the street beyond, pulling up in front of the building before stopping as a tense sensation of waiting hits Grigori.

This was it.

Then (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) everything (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) turned (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) to (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) noise (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs).

In (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3u0TnQ-aOg) the aftermath of the barrage of small arms fire, dust hangs thick in the air while numerous holes in the door make it a small miracle that Grigori hasn't already been shot at least once. He has an almost perfect view of close to a dozen men in motorcycle riding jumpsuits and helmets standing in front of the building, all of which holding smoking uzis that are quickly dropped to the ground as they advance on the building. Only two remain back on the street, casually reloading their weapons as if they believed there was no true need for them anymore. Over the ringing in his ears, he can hear the noise of the children trapped here crying in the room they had been secluded within, the sound of boots on wooden debris and shattered glass.

Whoever had come here had at least arrived as if they expected a fight...

====================

Sasha and Roy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgnYIctjdrw)

Mireia, for her own reasons, can't help but chuckle weakly at Sasha's response as she lays the back of one hand against her brow. For a long couple of minutes, she doesn't respond and makes the two begin to wonder if she's perhaps passed out from blood loss finally...but then she speaks in a soft tone.

"You two have...never wondered who runs this tournament..have you? Who has the green and the influence to hide a bunch of fights like this? Who could convince the terminal to allow a frickin' spear through customs?" the handler says a bit aimlessly, rambling a bit about her own point, "It's not just some rich suits looking for a bit of blood sport to liven up the day, it's the goddamn yakuza...or one of the families anyway. The head guy, Lin..something or another, he runs this tournament about every two years. He finds us handlers...he sets up the locations...and on some occasions he finds the fighters too and gives them 'encouragement' to fight."

"Nobody's sure why...but no one really cares either. People make a killing gambling on who's going to win and the prize money can ensure the winner never has to work another day in their life if they are careful. A real win-win for everyone, y'know? Well I have a couple guys on the inside who were slipping me info on who you guys were fighting and that's who I was going to go meet." she laughs again, this time sardonically, "I should have known better to go snooping around on my own. Got too greedy...saw something...some people I shouldn't have."

Slowly Mireia sits up, taking a deep breath as her chocolate colored eyes find Sasha's and holds them, the exhausted Hispanic woman working up the nerve for what came next.

"That's when they caught me...they were waiting for me actually. They...suspected that Jack wasn't on the up and up, and they were right. He works for the FBI I think...I was supposed to get Jack into the tournament and make sure he got to round three, but they knew the entire time." Mireia nervously wets her lips, glancing at the door, "They know he's a blue at heart and now that they know I'm helping him...well...I...I don't know what's going to happen now. They still need me until the tournament ends...but I know things I'm not supposed to know and I'm helping a cop!"

[Sucrose]

Grigori stares for a moment at the door. It is, he muses, a good thing that he'd chosen this particular hallway. Odds are any other would have ended unpleasantly...

As the interlopers approach, he also begins walking forward, drawing out the pin in the smoke grenade that had fortuitously been available. His blood begins to boil at the wails of the children. These scum knew that there were innocents here, and they still opened fire with such abandon! There would be no mercy for them. As the door opens, he hurls the grenade at eye level...

I'm assuming that Grigori gets a surprise round. I'm spending it approaching the door, entering Rage, and readying an action to throw the smoke grenade at the face of whatever yakuza punk opens the door. Hopefully, even if Grigori misses the guy himself, it'll still land in the proper square, and provide him some concealment from the enemy force. Please apply whatever modifiers you consider appropriate to the ranged attack roll. I don't even begin to know what the proper model of the damage would be, so I'll just assume 1d4. If you'd prefer a different base dice, then that's fine; I'll trust you to roll it. Spending the extra Cheap Shot dice now (if he's fortunate enough to hit), on the grounds of statistical probability and drama.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Fan]

Grigori

The switch to Russian seems to throw the little man off, making him look uneasy before the mountain of a man explains himself in a different language once more. And, with some grumbling under his breath in Japanese, he begins to cajole and placate those people who had come to the despicable business to return another time.

In the mean while, Grigori excuses himself to enter the back and secure the children back there, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, moving them to a slightly safer place while waiting for the unknown assailants who were supposed to be on the move. It's more then an hour later, as the muscle-bound chef waits patiently in the narrow hallway beyond the door into the back, that he hears the first sign of someone coming. The high-pitched and motorized whine of motorcycles can be heard on the street beyond, pulling up in front of the building before stopping as a tense sensation of waiting hits Grigori.

This was it.

Then (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) everything (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) turned (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) to (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs) noise (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcNkyIrSsfs).

In (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3u0TnQ-aOg) the aftermath of the barrage of small arms fire, dust hangs thick in the air while numerous holes in the door make it a small miracle that Grigori hasn't already been shot at least once. He has an almost perfect view of close to a dozen men in motorcycle riding jumpsuits and helmets standing in front of the building, all of which holding smoking uzis that are quickly dropped to the ground as they advance on the building. Only two remain back on the street, casually reloading their weapons as if they believed there was no true need for them anymore. Over the ringing in his ears, he can hear the noise of the children trapped here crying in the room they had been secluded within, the sound of boots on wooden debris and shattered glass.

Whoever had come here had at least arrived as if they expected a fight...

====================

Sasha and Roy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgnYIctjdrw)

Mireia, for her own reasons, can't help but chuckle weakly at Sasha's response as she lays the back of one hand against her brow. For a long couple of minutes, she doesn't respond and makes the two begin to wonder if she's perhaps passed out from blood loss finally...but then she speaks in a soft tone.

"You two have...never wondered who runs this tournament..have you? Who has the green and the influence to hide a bunch of fights like this? Who could convince the terminal to allow a frickin' spear through customs?" the handler says a bit aimlessly, rambling a bit about her own point, "It's not just some rich suits looking for a bit of blood sport to liven up the day, it's the goddamn yakuza...or one of the families anyway. The head guy, Lin..something or another, he runs this tournament about every two years. He finds us handlers...he sets up the locations...and on some occasions he finds the fighters too and gives them 'encouragement' to fight."

"Nobody's sure why...but no one really cares either. People make a killing gambling on who's going to win and the prize money can ensure the winner never has to work another day in their life if they are careful. A real win-win for everyone, y'know? Well I have a couple guys on the inside who were slipping me info on who you guys were fighting and that's who I was going to go meet." she laughs again, this time sardonically, "I should have known better to go snooping around on my own. Got too greedy...saw something...some people I shouldn't have."

Slowly Mireia sits up, taking a deep breath as her chocolate colored eyes find Sasha's and holds them, the exhausted Hispanic woman working up the nerve for what came next.

"That's when they caught me...they were waiting for me actually. They...suspected that Jack wasn't on the up and up, and they were right. He works for the FBI I think...I was supposed to get Jack into the tournament and make sure he got to round three, but they knew the entire time." Mireia nervously wets her lips, glancing at the door, "They know he's a blue at heart and now that they know I'm helping him...well...I...I don't know what's going to happen now. They still need me until the tournament ends...but I know things I'm not supposed to know and I'm helping a cop!"

Roy sighs, this was some heavy ****, beyond his or Sasha's ken. They were martial artists, competent ones; but the first thing they taught you in any art was to never confront someone with a full auto weapon, or even a semi auto weapon unless you were directly on them. If it came to a conflict.. it would be rough at best, they'd likely be hospitalized. However. Roy had never backed down on the streets during a gang fight, or when one of his friends were attacked. Even when the enemy out gunned, and out numbered him he hadn't backed down.

This fiery bravado is what lit his eyes now, but a cold understanding dulled these fires, and kept them from raging as he said to Maria.

"Listen Mieria. Your our handler, but to Sasha, and hell even to me. Your more than that. Your a comrade in arms, and the person who's given us a shot at our dreams. I've taken more than my fair share of shots for people not half as deserving as you. So if the Yakuza wants to come? Let them. We'll be waiting and ready to kick some nippon brand ass."

[PhoeKun]

Hearing Roy's response, Sasha bursts into laughter as she hoists herself back into a seating position.

"God damn straight. Look, if I've got to learn how to shoot a gun, I will. I don't know much about the Yakuza, but whatever hot water you've gotten yourself into, I'm going to get you out of. Eventually they're either going to run out of patience or bodies, got me?"

She stretches, producing many a loud popping and cracking sound.

"In the meantime, you've got to calm down. You said it yourself; they need you alive right now. You're the handler of two legit competitors in this tournament, and you know for a fact that at least one of us is heading for Round 3. That makes me high profile and that makes you untouchable. They can't make you disappear without causing huge problems for themselves, so they're not going to do it. Stick with me, Mirrie, and you'll be fine for as long as the Hanmei is still going on. And nobody's going to touch you afterward so long as I have two legs to stand on, I promise you that.

Relax for me, ok? I don't need you getting spun up and bleeding all over the place even more. Just sit here with me and... Roy, would you get her some ice? And relax. After I'm sure you're not going to die on me, we're going to eat, and then we're going to rest. And that's all the extra worrying or planning anyone is doing today, or I'll have to deck someone. Don't think I'm too tired to do it, either. Got me? Say it..."

[Fan]

Roy shook his head in acknowledgement, and went off to raid the freezer for an ice pack, coming back as quickly as possible to prevent you know, any more blood being lost, and it.. well it has to hurt like hell, and he wasn't exactly going to leave his handler in pain.

When he returns, he'll hand Mireia the ice pack before going back into the kitchen and coming out with a rag, and some pinesol... one can't exactly allow the blood to coagulate on the floor, and well.. we wouldn't want house keeping to ask any questions.

So, Roy got on his hands and knees, a pail of water, and a bottle of pinesol beside him, and began to scrub in the other room..

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

Those who had arrived to attack the despicable business that Grigori had been sent to protect seem rather surprised to see the mountain of a Russian come charging out of the back rooms towards them. His chosen target even more so when the metal canister slams into his face with a crunch, obviously shattering his nose and dropping the man to the floor like a sack of potatoes. As he hits the ground, the canister clatters beside him and begins to spew a noxious looking yellow smoke that slowly begins to expand from where it had landed.

The others quickly get over their surprise, especially the two who had decided to hang back, leveling their MAC Ingrams at him, squeezing off a quick flurry of bullets at the chef as their faces distort in anger at the plight of their comrade. One of the others, without a weapon, doesn't seem inclined to wait and see if Grigori could withstand the hail of gunfire before charging in with a wild howl! Just as he reaches the big man, he does a quick and pretty looking spin before throwing a particularly mean kick at Grigori's side, close enough that Grigori can see his reflection in the man's tinted bike visor and the triumphant look on his face.

Another rushes over to the one already dropped, bending down to check for a pulse...just to reel back as begins to cough and sputter, his entire body shaking as his head pulls back out of the cloud.

"Gah un un! T-The bastard threw tear gas!!" he coughs out in English, body wracked by his coughing.

19 to hit Grigori (for 8 damage) and 21 to hit Grigori (for 11 damage) from the two gunmen. Can't find his sheet, so I can't check his AC. 17 to hit for the guy in melee for 4 damage.

============

Roy & Sasha

Despite the impassioned speeches, Mireia can't help but let out a slightly bitter laugh.

"They don't need me..they could replace me in a heart beat...but alright. I'll quite bitchin' for the moment and rest." She concedes, smiling just a bit as she flops back unto the bed and wriggles about until she's laying on it properly. Mireia's eyes close as she lets out a small sigh, even as the noise of Roy's cleaning begins to fill the room as he begins to scrub.

"There's a folder in here...somewhere I think. Should have your next opponent in it Sasha. I'm gonna take a little...nap....now...." was the last mutter before the Hispanic woman passes out from blood loss, though thankfully it seems to have stopped for the time being. The room-cleaning service was going to hate them for this mess though, Roy's valiant efforts or not.

[Sucrose]

Grigori merely grimaces as the bullets rip through his sides, seemingly not fully registering them.

The melee challenger, however, elicits a feral grin, the big man accepting the blow, but standing firm, and taking the brief lapse in his enemy's defense to haul back and hurl an all-out blow at the side of the man's helmeted skull.

Sheet is here (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=232974).

Bullets hit, kick misses, Grigori has DR 1. Grigori takes a full-round action to launch a Haymaker. If he manages to drop the guy, then Grigori intends to use said thug's body as impromptu cover against the gunmen.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Edit: Given the dangers associated with missing a Haymaker against multiple opponents, going to go ahead and spend an action point on that. New result, per invisiblecastle (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2751298/), is a 23.

Edit2: Forgot about AC drop from raging. All 3 connect.

[Fan]

Three ruined rags later, Roy stands up from his duty, sighing as he saw that even that wasn't enough.. damn.. Mieria sure had a lot of blood in her to still be alive after all that. He looked down at his wrist to find a stunning lack of a watch there... well.. It was probably because he never had a watch. How silly of him to think that he did.

Instead, he looks up at the clock, and an expression of mild discontentment with the current time crossed his face, and he immediately ran out of the door, tossing Sasha the rags along with a hurried exclamation of "pleasefinishthatforme!", and he was bolting out of the door towards his match, snatching "a" folder off the desk, hoping to god it was his, and opening it to read it as he ran.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

With a single thunderous crack of broken plastic, the melee challenger begins to fall to the ground like a felled log, only for the big Russian to quickly slip a beefy arm around his throat and pull him up to try and give himself some cover. It didn't a come too late either as the noise of gunfire erupts once more, the bullets slamming into his impromptu shield just as Grigori turns to face the two still on the street. The second gun man proves less...selective with his targets and begins to spray bullets all around Grigori, some of which slip past his barrier to score some shallow wounds on his arms and legs. After ward, he can see the man slide the clip out of his gun, reaching into his pocket to pull out another one.

Grigori has another problem though as three more of the intruders step forward to try and take him down. All three warily circle around him until one is coming at him from his left and right while the third approaches him from head on. Almost as one they lash out with a flurry of punches, most of which either go wide, hit into his trusty human shield, or he blocks almost disdainfully.

==================

Roy

The information contained within the folder is surprisingly succinct and precise, not leaving a lot of room for interpretation in what it might mean. The directions were...less so. It was full on night time by the time Roy is stumbling up the loose stone steps towards the shrine at the top of the hill, only the soft glow of candles giving any indication that his opponent was still waiting for him.

The courtyard is filled with wooden training posts, some padded and others not, with a broad stone walkway seperating the two areas. Only a single man is present here, kneeling with his back to the entry to the shrine. Surprisingly, he doesn't wear a gi but instead what looks like a long tunic and baggy black pants.

"You're later then I thought you would be." comes the soft voice, "Are you Roy?"

[Fan]

"Yeah, sorry.. I kinda.. ran into some trouble. A friend of mine got hurt.

That's nothing you care about though, better for you after all if I'm exhausted."

He says, rolling his shoulders, and starting pre match stretching exercises, he was going to hurt after this.

To be honest.. he probably needed the smack upside the head more than most. Doing a few experimental backflips from standing position before adopting a fighting stance, his body forward and aggressive, and his movements as quick and provocative as ever.

[Sucrose]

"You men are not very careful with your guns."

Father Korskii had always taught Grigori to use his head to settle disputes, rather than letting his fists do the talking. Thus, as the man on the right threw one more punch, Grigori grabbed the wrist, pulled the man forward, and did as Father Korskii had instructed.

"I WILL TEACH YOU RESPECT!"

Immediately thereafter, the Russian turned slightly to the left, spitting a wad of phlegm and blood at the central attacker, before ungracefully kicking between the man's legs.

Headbutt attacking the man to the right, then a groin kick to the guy in the center. Streetfighting dice goes to the headbutt, while the groin kick, of course, is a Cheap Shot.

[roll0]
[roll1] (nonlethal)
[roll2](nonlethal)
[roll3]
[roll4](nonlethal)
[roll5] (nonlethal)

[PhoeKun]

Sasha is so engrossed in the information folder for her next opponent that she almost doesn't notice the bloody cleaning rags Roy tosses at her in the midst of his hasty exit from the hotel room. Only a quick glance up from what non-Jedi would refer to as "luck" allowed her to get a hand up and avoid catching the thing with her face. She glances down at the rag, not having had the chance to give Roy so much as a "good luck" or a "wait you bastard and finish what you started!" before the other fighter had disappeared out the door. She sighs and tosses the rag back onto the floor where it's needed.

"...would it have killed you to wait for us? Jerk." she huffs.

A full minute passes while she stares at the blood stained carpet, and at the supplies she had on hand to clean it with. She looks around at the very fine hotel accommodations around her, then back at the stain.

"You know what? Screw it. This is exactly what they pay a cleaning staff for." And with that she goes back to reading. Seconds later, she's choking on what remains of her drink.

"I'm fighting him!? Is this a joke? This is going to be harder than I thought..."

Shaking her head, Sasha returns the file to its resting place. She's suddenly feeling very tired, but under the circumstances in which Mireia had just passed out, it seems like a bad idea to drift off before she's certain the blood loss wasn't going to be too much for the other woman to handle. Besides which, her finely tuned instincts were telling her that something else needed to be done before she'd be able to sleep. With lightning speed and precision, her hand shoots out and grabs... the hotel phone.

"...Yeah, room service?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy

"Better? How do you figure? Please, take a couple of minutes to rest and collect yourself. I've waited this long for the match, I don't mind waiting a little longer for you to catch your breath." Roy's opponent says evenly, still not turning around to look at him just yet. Eventually he does, rising up to his feet and turning around, but he doesn't seem in any rush to start the fight yet either.

Instead a slightly rueful smile comes to his lips, especially as he looks over Roy.

"Though, for the record, I'd have one of my students running laps if they were ever this late to an appointment. You really should have a better mind for the time, it may come back to haunt you some day." Finally he bows, his eyes never leaving Roy, and it finally hits the Hispanic man that his opponent likely wasn't Japanese. "My name is Da Heng and, as I mentioned, I already know your name. Are you familiar with the White Crane style perhaps?"

==================

Grigori

Grigori's luck seems to be holding for the moment as he lashes out at two of the attackers, dropping one with a strangled proclamation of pain that his grand children would probably feel for the entirety of their lives. The other seems more surprised that he was head-butted by the big man, but he dropped to the ground all the same as his eyes fluttered up to the back of his head.

However, the smoke from his grenade was soon upon him and he knew exactly what the other had meant by it too. It stings his eyes and makes them water up, making him feel like he has to cough up the entirety of his lungs. If he wasn't quick then he'd suffer the same crippling nausea that his second victim had fell prey too. Still...he accomplished his goal, the gunmen couldn't get a clear shot at him and so they saved their bullets for the time being...he could actually hear them reloading.

Then a hand slams into his side, the one who had escaped his onslaught on the other two, trying to break his ribs with one good punch and failing. The other men seemed...reluctant to approach Grigori now, and for good reason! In almost as much time as it had taken for them to shoot up the store front, he had felled almost half of their number!

[Fan]

"Man, I'd have ME running laps for being this late. If it were anything but the most dire of emergencies. I would've been here on time. Shows disrespect to be late, and that's the one thing I don't tolerate."

He says, flashing his smooth, and easy smile that somehow beheld to the other the deepest of sincerity, it was a naturally charismatic move, and one Roy liked to play to lower his opponents guard.

When his opponent bows, so does he, because again, respect. Honor among thieves and all. He adopts the caoperia stance, doing a few experimental spins in the air, better to show off some basic moves in the air and get him believing he was a dance fighter than any of his traditional ground fighting.

"White Crane? Nah man, but if you got through your rounds so far it can't be anything too shabby. Shame that I'll have to face a master."

[Sucrose]

Grigori turns, slowly, to face the final fistfighter, discarding his human shield in the process. He picks the man up by his lapels, smiles, and delivers a headbutt that cracks his foe's helmet.

As the remaining members of the gang peer into the cloud, a clang is heard, and the still-hissing tear gas canister clatters past those at the door, to begin asphyxiating the gunners. Then, through the mists, Grigori's shape slowly appears, now carrying a less damaged human shield. He does not act impaired in any way by his exposure to the gas.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy

Roy's opponent gives a small, mirthless, smile at the other words before giving a quick shake of his head.

"You have me wrong Mr. Roy. I'm no master of my style, merely another practitioner of it." he explains as he rises to his feet, taking a moment for several deep and calming breaths. He notes how Roy carries himself with almost clinical precision before...doing something that Roy had only ever seen in movies.

Heng lifts both of his arms high above his head like outstretched wings, while his left leg lifts off of the ground as he prepares to kick with it. It also reminds Roy of the way a crane might stand in the water while sleeping, a 'coincidence' that seems entirely purposeful. "But I'll instruct you however I can Mr. Roy. But I will win this.

==================

Grigori

The two gunmen begin to cough and sputter as the canister is kicked towards them, stumbling out of the cloud as if in a daze, the one almost tumbling over his bike in the process.

The remaining fist-fighters no longer look as sure about their goal as they had been, but they don't move to retreat either, a trait that seems somewhat unusual for gangsters or criminals.

[Fan]

"Sure buddy, that's what the last one said."

He says, though his stance wasn't quite as flashy, he felt it was more effective, after all, one leg did reduce your balance considerably, and make you easier to knock off center.. or so Roy thought.

He rushes forward, meaning to start the battle himself, his atypical hotheadedness driving him towards his opponent to drive as many blows as he could into the shortest amount of time, leaping into a full on front flip in order to drive as fast as possible, however, he propelled himself a tad.. TOO hard. Flying about 12 feet into the air.


ROUND 1. FIGHT!


Initiative: [roll0]

Jump: [roll1] + 4 due to speed (sorry.. did some sheet cleaning, and realized I had forgotten this bonus.) 22 final result.

[Sucrose]

Grigori's features soften, ever so slightly. He steps toward the hesitant fighters.

"Your courage speaks well for you."

Without warning, he whirled and hurled his fist into one of their heads. He looked to the others, and growled.

"Your carelessness does not. THERE WERE CHILDREN IN THERE! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED THEM!"

5' step to get into punching range, then going with another Haymaker.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy

"Then their resolve must have weakened at the critical moment, I assure you that mine won't." the contemplative man says softly just before the short hispanic man launches himself into a headlong charge that culminates in a forward flip into the air. But it was what happened next that proves difficult for Roy to figure out, still in motion as he was when Da's planted leg bends ever so slightly before launching him up into the air at the tumbling Brazilian man.

Light as a feather, Da reaches Roy's height with ease and, at the apex of his carefully controlled leap, lashes out with his sandal-covered foot at Roy. Pain flares in the man's right thigh at the abrupt impact, even as the two both take their own measures to avoid falling atop one another. For his part, Da lands just as easily as he had lifted up off of the ground, quickly resuming the awkward looking stance that he had taken once the match had first begun. The silence of it all is striking, oppressive, yet serene as well, almost as if the two had been transported back into a more barbaric time where duels such as these were a matter of course and not the purview of gangs and underground organizers...

===============================================

Grigori

One of the gunmen falls prey to the smoke's effects, doubling over as he begins to wretch inside of the confines of his helmet, while the other seems far better off. As the big Russian slams his ham-sized fist into another man's head to send him reeling to the floor, there is the quick rapport of the gunner's sub-machinegun firing once more. Luckily the bullets fly wide of their intended target, gouging holes in the walls and what remained of the furniture.

But there were more important matters to attend to for Grigori as the remaining three fist fighters rush him at once. Everything becomes a blur of hands and feet as the three lash out with un-coordinated blows that would have quickly over-whelmed a less experienced fighter, one that would have panicked at the idea of trying to defend themselves from the attacks. Grigori knew better though, bringing his arms in close to cover his chest, ribs, and face to stoically weather the storm and wait for his own chance to strike.

Not that he was able to completely shield himself from his flailing attackers, a momentary lapse in concentration found a gloved fist pounding into his cheek to bring about a dull throbbing ache in his jaw, but not a particularly damning injury.

Grigori takes 6 damage before DR is taken into account.

Roy takes 5 damage and needs to make a Fort. Save or take a -1 dodge penalty to AC

[Fan]

Roy falls swearing in Spanish as he does so, his right leg simply killing him the pain sending white explosions into his vision, but the hot headed Brazillian was FAR from done yet. He assumed his fighting stance again, dancing from foot to foot as he took the head way again, charging the contemplative jerk hole head on.

What happened from there, was similar to his initial move, only this time with far more actual caoperia involved, kicking up off the ground in what could only be considered the new combat application of a cartwheel, he spun into a downward kick, bent on bringing the old man to his knees, and hopefully farther if the old coot didn't have what it took to stand against it.


TRIP ATTACK!:


Touch Attack:

[roll0] (5 BAB, 4 Dex, 4 improved trip, 1 from Mastercraft spikey feet.)

Opposed Dex Check:
[roll1]

Free Attack if he goes down, Heel Kick.

[roll2] (Against -4 his current AC)

Damage:

[roll3]



Also:

Fort Save:

[roll4]

[Sucrose]

Grigori grits his teeth, instinctively realizing that his remaining fighting strength is starting to wane. As the storm of blows slows for a moment, he uses his human shield to fully mask his movement from the eyes of the leftmost fighter, before pulling it aside and slamming an elbow into his victim's side.

Seemingly by a sixth sense, he takes a step in, just as another of the fighters sails past with a jump kick. He whirls to face this second enemy, and strike him down before the man can recover. As he lacks the time to wind up a limb, Grigori once more opts to use his head, simply lunging straight into the man's temple.

Normal melee cheap shot, streetfighting head butt.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy

The sudden acrobatics seem to take Da by surprise, the downward kick forcing the older man down unto his knees. But not by a blow, the Crane practioner's arms were up-raised in an 'X' shape to catch Roy's leg between them and prevent a dangerous impact with his body. It had been the power behind the kick that had forced Da down and as Roy retracts his leg, ready to take another potshot at him in case his opponent tried to get up.

Only for Da to pull off some acrobatics of his own, rolling back along the ground nimbly until he was outside of Roy's reach and springing up to his feet. Again he goes into the bizarre stance, but it doesn't really seem to be helping him out much so it was beginning to become difficult to take it seriously. Now wasn't the time to get cocky though either, the second he took Da less seriously could be the very moment that he turned the fight around.

=======================

Grigori

For once, the big Russian doesn't drop one of his opponent's with a single strike, the man bearing the elbow strike with a grimace of pain even as his comrade wasn't so lucky. Grigori drops his second target with barely a whimper when the big man's head crashes against his own, collapsing as if someone had replaced the bones in his legs with jelly. At that very moment the two other fighters take advantage of their monstrous opponent's momentary distraction...to drive their fists into his ribs in unison. A surprisingly fierce attack from fighters who hadn't shown much promise so far, but there was more hope...as the next man drops Grigori can see the gunmen clamber back unto their bikes before screeching off into the night as if the Devil himself was chasing them.

Through all of the furious fighting, there comes a wail of distress from the doorway leading into the back of the building, but thankfully not that of a child. The despicable man who had greeted Grigori to the establishment stumbles out of the back, caterwauling loudly even as he slowly makes his way towards Grigori as if in a daze.

"B-bando-san! The children! They escape! Another one came in the back and let them out! Quickly now, you must go fetch them, yes?!" he shrieks loudly, flailing his arms about.

[Fan]

Roy grits his teeth, this.. was some kinda ****ing game to this guy? He was toying with him! He would show him the power of his techniques!

Roy, suitably enraged, runs forward, thankful for the added distance as he leaps up again. Fine, if this guy wanted to roll, and keep him off the ground? He would be more than happy to fight this guy up in the air. He leapt gracefully into the air, spinning like a top as he cried.

"Don't underestimate me (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9X1Ta1jN8E&feature=related)!"

He turned that artistic leap into a forward kick aimed with his heel down, the jumping kick connecting squarely with the guy's jaw, likely sending a few teeth into the pavement, but the laws of physics wouldn't let it stop there, he spiked, and booted foot pushing the both of them forward until the man fell back, catching himself narrowly as Roy tucked and rolled onto the ground behind him, a singular thought going through his head.

"I kicked so much ass right then."





Jump check:

[roll0] (+11 ranks + 4 from speed + 1 from Caoperia stance. )

Attack:

[roll1] (CHAAAAARGEE! FLYING KIIICK! +2 Charge, +2 Combination, +10 from base attack + dex.)

Damage:

[roll2] (+2 combination, +2 for 11 ranks in jump.)

[Sucrose]

Grigori smiles vaguely as some of his problem jets away. He turns to face the remaining fistfighters, somehow still fully upright despite the repeated battery that his body has taken, and his grin takes on a vicious edge.

"Good hits."

He hurls another right cross into the right one's cheek.

"I will return them."

He barely gives the facilitator a glance.

"A LITTLE BUSY RIGHT NOW!"

Another Haymaker.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Roy

As Roy lifts into the air once more, Da seems to wait patiently for his opponent to come closer to himself before his entire body bursts into action, as if a spring inside of him had snapped to unleash all the built up tension in his arms and legs. The White Crane practioner just...hops. It seemed so very simple, but was deceptively powerful as the leg that had been curled up beneath him in empty air is pressed down to the ground for balance while the other kicks out in a harsh kick right to Roy's side.

This was at almost the same time that Roy's own steel-toed boot crashes against Da's jaw and spins him about like a broken jaw. For a moment it looks as if he was going to catch himself...then he simply falls to the ground with a thud. If it wasn't for the rise and fall of his back to signal the man's breath, it'd be almost impossible for Roy to tell if he had merely knocked the man out or cleanly snapped his neck in that one blow. The sudden silence in the shrine courtyard is just as oppressive as it had been when Roy had first climbed the steps to it, the lone chirping of a cricket the only noise in the air...

================================================== =======

Grigori

"B-but Bando-san! My profits!!!" the unpleasant fellow wails to the ruined waiting room, still stumbling about it as if in a stunned daze as the fight seems to approach it's conclusion. Grigori's right cross takes the helmeted man full on, spinning him completely about before he clatters to the ground noisily to join the rest of his fellows in blissful unconsciousness.

Taking advantage of the momentary gap in the Russian's defenses, the remaning motorcyclist darts in beneath, what he clearly hopes is, Grigori's reach to pound in a harsh fist against the cook's bruised ribs and side once more. Once he had gotten in one blow there, he seemed determined to keep hammering on that spot again and again until he brings the big fellow down.

[Sucrose]

Grigori grits his teeth, ignoring the wailing cretin for the moment, and focusing on finishing this fight before it finishes him. As the final enemy continues trying to hammer his wounds, he draws back his fist, before slamming it full force into the streetfighter's gut.

"You should know when to quit."

Final (hopefully) Haymaker of the fight.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

As the final fighter falls unconscious at his feet, Grigori finally gives the slaver his full attention. Despite his rather extensive bullet injuries, and dozens of bruises, he still stands fully upright, seemingly just as capable of handing out a vicious beating.

"I am certain that your superiors will understand the situation."

With that, the Russian pulls off his bullet-riddled jacket and bloodstained shirt, and begins methodically bandaging himself with strips from the aforementioned shirt.

"Now, go write an English note confirming that I completed this job. I'll go and look at the point where the children escaped from."

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

The slaver, and that is undoubtedly what he is, nods numbly when he catches sight of the fierce look in the big Russian's eyes and gulps noisily.

"Y-yes..of course Bando-san." he says uneasily as sweat begins to trickle down his face once more as he turns to gaze around at the ground to find a piece of paper. Several of Grigori's victims groan and grumble in their fist-induced slumber but they don't do anything more then weakly stir where they had been dropped in the debris.

Without another word to the repulsive toad of a man, the big guy turns and strides back from where he had been hidden, looking for the entry way from which the children had been taken. He passes several finely decorated rooms, likely where clients inspected merchandise, and several others that were...less comfortably furnished with little more then steel bunkbeds bolted down to the ground and blankets haphazardly tossed on them. No place for children to be living. Then a faint noise reaches his ears, a faint voice urging someone...

He hurries ahead and leans against the wall, listening intently to the voices through the push door leading to the rear of the building.

"Come on kids, everyone up into the truck. Keep a hold of your buddies and don't let go! Soon this'll all be over..." A soothing feminine voice urges warmly...

==========================================

[Sucrose]

Grigori quietly pushes the door open, closes it behind him, and steps into the middle of the rescue operation, hands in his pockets.

"Your stealth could perhaps use some work."

[Fan]

Roy sighs, turning in place to crack his back once the opposing fighter had dropped. He had.. gone down pretty quick...

Maybe a little too quick.

Roy walks over to the man, his step a soft jaunt across the cobbled pavement of the small area that had been made "Safe" for the fight. He didn't really know how long it was actually safe, or if the location had been picked specifically because it wasn't in the patrol area of any of the authorities.

He squatted down over the guy, examining the likely broken jaw, and the myriad other injures that were likely considerably less severe. He had made this a fight with honor, and the guy had been fairly straight up. Roy had been the one to pull the dirty tricks.

If the guy actually IS out and not playing dead, then Roy will attempt to pick him up, carrying him on his back. His goal was to find a 'safe' place for the guy to sleep off his injuries.. and find a much needed street doctor for not just his opponent.. but far more importantly. Mieria.

Checks?


Search:

[roll]1d20[roll]
Spot:

[roll0]

Gather Information:

[roll1]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

At the sound of Grigori's voice the woman freezes, then abruptly spins and pulls a 9mm pistol from her side with the click of the safety being turned off an oppressive noise in the air. Steely blue eyes meet Grigori's own as the woman's lips set into a firm frown.

"Alright everyone, keep moving to the trucks. I'm just going to have a nice little talk with this nice man." She continues to say in that soothing tone of voice, though the dirty children hesitate now and glance uneasily at one another and the big man they had seen earlier being 'hired' to defend the business.

"The children are coming with me. If you stay calm and don't make any sudden moves then I won't be forced to use this." she says in a steady, and low voice. It seems as if a stand-off has been reached...

===========================================

Roy

As Roy goes to pick up Da, the slender man stirs and opens his eyes blearily, prompting the short Hispanic man to quickly recoil and prepare himself in case the White Crane practitioner seemed keen on continuing the fight. However...he doesn't and instead let's his eyes close for a moment.

"Ngh...I lost, didn't I?" he says, wincing in pain as one hand raises to feel his sore, possibly broken, jaw. "Hmph...not a bad kick."

[Sucrose]

Grigori smiles calmly, and slowly removes his hands from his pockets, raising them in the universal gesture of surrender. His tone remains perfectly level, almost unaffected by his expression.

"Well. This is unfortunate. Where will you be taking them, then? Are you with the gang that I just fought off?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

"Away from this filth!" the woman spits, giving the pistol a shake in Grigori's direction as she continues to back the children back up into the van while interposing herself between the big man and the grubby looking children. In just a couple of moments all of them have been loaded up and she fumbles around behind her blindly to slam the van doors shut.

"I should shoot you anyway for defending this place!" the woman snarls out, gripping the pistol with both hands and lining down the sights at him, "What'd you do? Kill my friends out front? It certainly sounds like it after all..."

------------

Sasha

Mireia was sleeping now, still pale from blood loss and weak looking, but still alive and looking as if she'd make it through the night as well. For now, there was only eating the room service that had been brought up for her and keeping an eye on her trainer. Still...it's a bit dull to just wait for Roy to come back from his own match after getting the information for Sasha's own next match and the majority of the television programs are in Japanese. So no TV, no company, there just wasn't much of anything to do!

So, as it was inevitable, Sasha's eyes begin to drift shut from where she sits in her chair only to fly open every now and then when she realizes that she's dozing off. Would that be such a bad thing after all?

That was when she heard ever-so-soft foot steps outside of the hotel room and the mechanical noise of someone jiggling the door handle. Finally there was the scratch of metal on metal...was someone really picking the lock?! Sasha's question is answered a moment later as the door swings open slowly to reveal a cowled form crouched against the door jamb with the glint of metal in one hand...

[Sucrose]

Grigori

"Away from this filth!" the woman spits, giving the pistol a shake in Grigori's direction as she continues to back the children back up into the van while interposing herself between the big man and the grubby looking children. In just a couple of moments all of them have been loaded up and she fumbles around behind her blindly to slam the van doors shut.

"I should shoot you anyway for defending this place!" the woman snarls out, gripping the pistol with both hands and lining down the sights at him, "What'd you do? Kill my friends out front? It certainly sounds like it after all..."

Grigori's smile fades, and his stance ever so slightly adjusts as she apparently prepares to finish what his fight had started. His knees tense, readying for the inevitable dodge... or perhaps, a sudden lunge?

"...So, you are working with them. I did not kill them, though they would well deserve it. At worst, some mild brain damage, and a great deal of pain. If you are so righteous, I would reconsider your friends. Those men were indiscriminate in their fire, and could have easily killed an innocent."

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

Reclining in her chair, Sasha stifles a yawn and turns around to glance at Mireia for the thousandth time in the last hour. She was pretty much the only thing in the room to look at, what with the tv shooting on a mile a minute in a language she'd never bothered to learn, interspersed with commercials that made absolutely no sense. She had long since shut it off, which again left her with nothing to do except maybe browse the internet on her phone. Which... eh.

"Why am even up right now? It's not like I need to be on guard duty or anything. Can't really afford to be paranoid, it's not like some mysterious stranger is going to break into the room--" *click* "...right...." *click* *clickity click* "now? Oh god damn it."

Sasha quietly reaches for her spear, lying conveniently next to her on the floor, wraps her hand around it, and pulls the weapon up to rest on her shoulder. Maybe it was just Roy fumbling with the keycard, but... *click* *clack click* ok, no. Nobody's that stupid with the thing. Something's up. She leans back in the chair and half closes her eyes, so that it looks like she has just fallen asleep.

But from just underneath the bottoms of her eyelids, she watches the door like a hawk. Her grip on her weapon tightens involuntarily as she sees the cowled figure enter...

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori

"We've been scouting this place out for days, the children were never in any danger, just the scum who frequent this place." comes another hot-blooded declaration and, for a moment, her finger tightens on the trigger as if to end this confrontation here and now. However...she drops the barrel to point towards Grigori's feet once her slow back-step brings her up alongside the driver's door of the cargo truck.

There, she throws open the and clambers in nimbly, flooring the gas without even bothering to close the door. With a loud screech the truck peels out of the enclosed loading bay, taking a wide turn out towards the street that threatens to send the U-Haul-type truck rolling unto it's side. Grigori can hear the sound of screaming rubber and frantic car horns as the truck forces itself out unto the main road and the traffic there, but other then that...he's left alone in the outdoor loading bay with only his thoughts to keep him company...

=============================================

Sasha

The figure hesitates in the doorway, and after that first moment of confusion Sasha can clearly tell that the glimmer of light came from the hall's lights playing off the jagged edge of a long knife. After a moment they creep into the room, almost disappearing into the shadows from Sasha's sight as they creep over to the bed. For a moment Sasha tenses for action, thinking this mystery person to be an assassin to finish off what the yakuza had started with Mireia but after a tense moment...they step away from her.

Briefly they pass by a window and in that moment Sasha is able to pick out some details. This intruder was female for one, and of a tight wiry build that's mostly hidden by a long dark blue trench coat that breaks up her outline. A motorcycle helmet is pulled untop of her head, hiding any sight of her head through brown hair slips out from underneath of it in the back. Fingers tighten around the knife's handle as the woman approaches, raising the blade up into the air as if savoring the moment before plunging it into the 'sleeping' Sasha..

[Sucrose]

Grigori tries to make out the license plates for his own use, then sighs and heads back inside, to hopefully receive his writ of completion.

Then, there was business to attend to with the dispatched members of the gang.

Regardless of his own sight of one of the children from a vulnerable point, the gang had, in fact, avoided harming any of the kids, though whether that was from infrequency of children getting to such a point or through Grigori's own preparations was not so clear. In any case, they apparently had proper intentions...

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

The figure stalking through the room could see Sasha sprawled over a chair, passed out in a highly undignified position. Maybe she had been trying to stay up and watch for something and just couldn't manage it. The illusion is almost broken when the intruder hovers over the bed, and it takes a Herculean effort from Sasha to control her breathing and wait for the right moment.

The knife gleams in the light seeping into the room from the hall, hovering over its victim in that moment of perfect ecstasy before the kill... and it is at this moment when Sasha's eyes snap open. In a blur of movement, she's slipped off the chair onto the ground, one hand still planted on the seat for support as she coils up like a snake. It's an apt comparison, and remains so as she suddenly explodes forward, aiming a very sharp kick at this very stupid woman's kneecap, seeking to drive it backwards, tearing the ligaments and snapping the joint in one swift motion.

In another blur of motion, Sasha whirls about, pulling the chair in between her and her would-be assassin. She levels her spear at the other, tip gleaming dangerously in that same intruding light.

"You have exactly three seconds to tell me in English what the hell this is all about. Or you are going to live the rest of your life in a wheelchair. Got me?"

Please forgive me for playing fast and loose with the descriptive aspects of this attack. I haven't had Blood and Fist on any computer in months and months, and cannot for the life of me recall if this is explicitly forbidden. If it is, I'll redo it. But...

One Inch "Punch": [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Block of Opportunity: (If attacked) - [roll2]
Initiative: [roll3]

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYXj2tk6c0Y)

Sasha explodes into motion as the assassin raises her knife to strike, giving a brief glimpse of the clothing she wears underneath of the coat...was that red spandex? There wasn't time to confirm since she's landing on the floor and lashing out with a vicious kick towards the woman's knee-cap. At the last second though she barely catches sight of the jagged knife sweeping down to plunge into her own knee-cap and sweeps her spear around to knock the knife off course so it buries itself into the upholstery of the chair with a loud rip.

A moment later and the assassin as sweeping her heavy coat around to tangle around Sasha's spear and almost yanks it out of her hand, pulling the woman off-balance so that she's forced to use her kicking leg for balance or lose the spear. In a flash the assassin has retracted the knife from the chair, already in pursuit of Sasha as the spear-wielder tries to put the chair between the two of them. All it serves as is a foot-stool though as the assassin plants her foot on the seat and launches herself against Sasha, slamming them both painfully up against the wall. Quick as a serpent, she raises the butterfly knife back and thrusts it forwards, aiming for Sasha's throat.

Thwack.

Sasha's spear shaft slaps against the woman's wrist, driving the thrust off target so that it cuts into the drywall of the apartment wall. Sasha has just enough time to duck underneath of the outstretched arm before her assailant rips it across the space where Sasha's vulnerable throat had just been, gouging a rift in the wallpaper and wall. The spear wielder takes the chance to reset the chair between them again, but warily keeps her spear up in case the assassin tries to dive through the air at her again. No words come from the woman, even as she raises the knife to eye and crouches low to the ground.

"What the hell...?!" The strangled cry comes from Mireia's bed as she bolts upright at the noise at stares slack-jawed at the scene in front of her. Abruptly she fumbles to open up the night stand as the assassin takes the chance to bolt for the door, leaving a brief moment of vulnerability for Sasha to exploit...even as Mireia raises a small handgun and blows a hole in the TV and bathroom door trying to catch the fleet-footed woman. As she runs into the light from the hallway, coat billowing around her lean-bodied form, Sasha can finally get a good look at her. Red and white spandex hugs an oddly familiar looking body, a wrestling leotard by the look of things, with fingerless gloves with metal plates sewn unto the back of them protecting her hands. She's moving fast though and if she gets out of sight for too long then Sasha might lose her!

===============================================

Grigori

The big Russian storms out to the parlor once more, looking over those bikers who hadn't awoken while he was in the back and fled. Finding one who looked on the verge of waking up, Grigori hauls him up by his lapels and slams him against a nearby wall, slapping him awake. The furious Caucasian man behind the bike visor struggles futility while Grigori promises retribution on any more who come to this place and his desire to meet the others of his group in combat.

The slaver however proves outraged and almost shoots the survivor before Grigori convinces him to stand down and explains his fear-mongering strategy to the man. The unpleasant fellow looks dubious...but nods, even as he hands over the letter confirming that Grigori had done his job to the best of his abilities.

"Ah already called the boss Bando-san, yes? He said he would contact you shortly about if you have been accepted into the tournament or not." He says offhand, clearly not interested in such matters.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

The chair that had meant to be a line of defense had proven to be anything but; the assassin being far too agile for much of anything to be an effective deterrent. Damn... she's good. And now that she's running, the chair is actually proving to be a hindrance to Sasha, instead... or not!

Planting her foot on the seat, Sasha vaults over the wayward piece of furniture, spear trailing in the air behind her. She thrusts the weapon forward, offering the smallest smirk of triumph when it slashes through the other woman's trench coat and into her leg. That's one step toward a promise kept. But... tch, not enough. The assassin is off and running amidst a sudden cacophony of gunfire from the now-awake Mireia. And that couldn't seriously have been spandex, could it? But there's no time for any of these distractions, or the insufferable b-tch would get away.

"Damn it all..."

In an instant, Sasha is off and running, riposting off the wall to make her turn faster and dashing down the hallway after her would-be assailant.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!? We're not done yet!"

[Sucrose]

Grigori

The big Russian storms out to the parlor once more, looking over those bikers who hadn't awoken while he was in the back and fled. Finding one who looked on the verge of waking up, Grigori hauls him up by his lapels and slams him against a nearby wall, slapping him awake. The furious Caucasian man behind the bike visor struggles futility while Grigori promises retribution on any more who come to this place and his desire to meet the others of his group in combat.

The slaver however proves outraged and almost shoots the survivor before Grigori convinces him to stand down and explains his fear-mongering strategy to the man. The unpleasant fellow looks dubious...but nods, even as he hands over the letter confirming that Grigori had done his job to the best of his abilities.

"Ah already called the boss Bando-san, yes? He said he would contact you shortly about if you have been accepted into the tournament or not." He says offhand, clearly not interested in such matters.

Grigori nods calmly, and accepts the letter. What matters to this toad is of less concern than the color of the bikers' shoes.

"Well, then, we would appear to have finished our business together. I will call some medics, and soon be out of your hair."

He then flicks out a cellular phone, and dials one of the nearer hospitals. Now, he could only recover, and hope that one of his two plans would work correctly. He'd have to be sure to get his name on the register as 'Grigori'...

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NibdZQYuK4)

There's no response from Sasha's assassin as she bursts into the hallway, leaping at the last moment to bounce off of the wall to carry her momentum into an abrupt turn down the hallway, much in the same way that Sasha imitates the move by planting one foot against the wall and using it to push off after the wounded assassin. Once out in the hallway, she looks quickly after the assassin, catching a flicker of the other woman's black trench coat as she ricocheted down another hallway...towards the elevator! Gritting her teeth, the spear-woman rushes after her quarry but her haste means she doesn't take her own kick start quite as well, feeling her ankle twist on impact before she's rushing down towards the woman. Every step with the foot brings a dull throb of pain but there wasn't any time for that, she had to press on!

Having reached the elevator doors, the assassin hammers down on one of the buttons, glancing back in Sasha's direction before abruptly slamming the fire alarm button down. A loud siren begins to ululate in the building but the assassin pays the noise no mind as the elevator halts where it had been and gloved fingers force their way into the seam between the sliding doors as the assassin tries to force the door open.

Too late! Sasha thrusts forward with her spear the moment she's close enough, the tasseled tip taking the woman in the right bicep with a long cut that has her recoiling from the elevator doors and turning to face her persistent quarry head on. When the next thrust comes, the helmeted assassin ducks beside the point and rolls along the shaft until she reaches the hands grasping it. One arm snaps up over-top of Sasha's left arm as the assassin continues her flowing movement until she's behind her opponent and can place her free arm directly against Sasha's shoulders. Thinking quickly, Sasha throws an elbow behind her, using the same principles as her favored 'One Inch Punch', but hits nothing but air. Then, with a quick jerk and shove, Sasha feels her left arm pop out of it's socket, pain shooting up from her shoulder as the assassin quickly rolls back and readies her knife.

Gritting her teeth in pain, Sasha sets herself for a charge (or at least a flying tackle!) but it never comes. Instead the helmeted figure abruptly turns and launches herself at the window and the three-story drop waiting beyond it. With a strangled curse, and acting purely on instinct, Sasha leaps forward herself to shoulder check the assassin away from the window only moments from impact. Both women hit the ground and roll to their feet, the assassin to slam through the door leading to the stair well and Sasha in fast pursuit. There, the assassin vaults on-top of the railing and throws herself up at the next flight of stairs in a daring display of parkour that Sasha had been intending to do herself! Not that seeing her assassin do something similar stops the spear-woman from following in kind, though her injured arm and the need to carry her spear makes this difficult. With out the dislocated arm and bulky spear to carry, the assassin scales the inside of the stairwell up to the roof with all the grace of a monkey and is soon scrambling over the railing at the top, slamming through the door out unto the roof. Taking a moment to catch her breath (cause really, where could she go from the roof?), Sasha takes the chance to lean her dislocated shoulder up against one of the pillars of the stairwell, gritting or teeth before abruptly slamming her shoulder back into place with a loud pop that has her greedily sucking in breath for a couple of seconds before steeling herself and climbing up the rest of the way.

Now was the time for caution, Sasha advancing on the push door carefully and kicking it open, leading the way with her spear as her eyes dart left and right, trying to see if the woman she was pursing had flattened herself against the wall to try and hide herself for an ambush. Nothing.

Feeling a bit safer, Sasha advances forward while keeping an eye peeled for the woman...the scuff of boots on top of the stairwell coming seconds too late. Sasha spins to see the woman launching herself from the top of the stairwell, body splayed out outregously to slam into Sasha's and carry them both to the ground in a heap before a fiery line of pain crosses across Sasha's belly where the jagged knife traces it's path. In a flash the assassin rolls off of her opponent and springs to her feet, only to find that Sasha has followed, swinging the haft of her weapon in a vicious sweep the slams into the side of helmet and knocks it clear off the other fighter's head. Brown hair is pulled back into a pony-tail, but other features are impossible to see past the red-and-white mask pulled over the woman's face. A gust of wind gusts her trench coat around the assassin's body, revealing the familiar red-and-white wrestling tights that looked oh so familiar.

The luchador's lips are set in a firm line as she backs away from Sasha towards the edge of the building, stepping up unto the edge with her arms dangling down loosely by her sides. That very same knife, now red with blood, is slipped into the woman's belt as she calmly looks at her opponent through the mask...A cold wind gusts across the hotel's roof, sending chills down Sasha's spine as the two fighters stare each other down...

================================================== ====

Grigori

Grigori has no trouble in finding a nearby hospital to go to, stumbling in through the emergency room doors to the stares of a lot of startled people. Still, he explains that he had gotten mugged to the assistant manning the desk and silently takes a seat beside a harried looking Japanese woman clutching a sick baby to her chest. They make for quite the contrasting images, the blood-spattered and shot up fighter next to a fretting young mother.

It doesn't last though, soon Grigori is called in to have the bullets removed, his wounds bandaged up, and a bed given over to his use..

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

"Funny. I don't remember falling asleep..."

A dream. It has to be a dream. In no just and loving world would there be masked wrestlers sneaking into her hotel room to murder her. And they certainly wouldn't be giving her such a difficult time. Simply impossible. Completely and utterly... oh god.

Sasha winces as a sudden surge of pain shoots up her side, reminding her of just how much knife wounds hurt. The sort of super intense pain that tends to wake someone up from... oh god no.

"...Fine then." she says, spitting some blood on the roof, "What's next, huh? Are we going to ride a series of explosions down to ground level and resume our merry chase? Are you going to jump and catch a helicopter on the way down? Come on, don't disappoint me no, it's been so much f--king fun so far!"

After a quick, flamboyant twirl of her spear, she thrusts the tip of the weapon in the direction of her assailant, taking three cautious steps in her direction.

"I am not asking this again. What. The. Hell. Is. This. About?"

[Callos_DeTerran]

Sasha

There's no response at first, just the soft whistle of the wind as it gives a lonely gust that carries the noise of the city down below past you. The loud call of car horns and wheels on pavement, the quiet hush of a restless city that doesn't know the meaning of the word 'sleep'. Even now the night is lighted up by brightly colored signs and advertisements that proudly proclaim how their project is superior to their neighbors, in that bizarre sounding Japanese language and characters. For a moment it seems as if the luchador has no intention of responding at all.

"Revenge..." she just barely says, gloved hand flicking down to grab the jagged edged butterfly knife off her belt as she rushes forward the short distance between the two! A flurry of swift thrusts some then, each aimed at a fatal spot as the suddenly incensed luchador presses her advantage with lightning speed and precision. "Revenge for the life I could have had, if it wasn't for you!"

The last word drips with palpable venom that could have melted stone as Sasha desperately wards off her attacker, constantly finding that the masked fighter has slipped in past the reach of her spear while her knife waves in a dizzying pattern that makes physically striking at her a painful prospect. Always to the right too, where the cut she had gotten from Jengo had become puffy and hampered her vision somewhat, the attacks always pulled back a moment before lacerating flesh. The movements are eerily familiar to Sasha, who realizes in a moment of brief panic that if this routine continued on then in a moment or two her throat would be fatally exposed! She redoubles her efforts, to no avail, and waits for the painful gash...but at the last moment, the luchador does the unbelievable, she retreats!

A series of acrobatic back flips carry the mashed luchador to the very edge of he roof, and with one parting glimpse of a mocking, cocky grin...she falls over the edge. The sheer suicidal nature of the act leaves Sasha standing there dumbfounded, staring where her opponent had been, before she rushes to the edge of the roof and looks down...just in time to see the assassin's hands slip from the hand grip they had taken on the edge of a roof two floors down to drop safely unto the lid of a dumpster to roll off unto the alley floor besides an ominous looking black car with tinted windows. A car she quickly climbs into as it's engine revs up.

If Sasha was going to continue pursuit, this would be her only chance!

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

As the getaway car speeds down the street below, Sasha simply watches it. Gauging distance, obstacles, and skill, if she did this just right... she'd get killed by an insane masked wrestler.

"...Revenge?" she finally calls out, uselessly. "Revenge for what?"

She winces and watches a line of blood trickle down from her stomach and ruin her pants. And steps back from the edge of the roof. And sighs. A memory floats into her head of a conversation she'd had not that long ago. How did it go? 'I'm just looking for my limits' or some stupid crap like that? Well limits found, Sasha. Fruity, flamboyant, impossibly stupid limits found. Might as well not even have had a guard for all the times that witch had slipped past it... she shakes her head.

"You get round 1, you Saturday Morning reject. But don't think for a second I'm not going to hand you your ass if you try that again."

Shouldering her spear, Sasha begins the long walk back down the stairs, taking them like a normal person this time. Down, down the stairs. Through the hall. Around the corner. Through the door at last, where should finally... deal with the aftermath of having a gun shot in her hotel room in the middle of the night in Japan. God damn it.

"The yakuza cut off your toe. I'm being hunted by a figure from the mysterious past I did not know I had. If you're going to turn out to be a triple agent for the Russians, could you just get it over with and shoot me now? I really don't have the stomach for any more B-movie surprises."

Sasha rolls her eyes. It didn't really matter if Mireia was alone, or awake, or even there. Just saying it, just giving a voice to how humiliating and stupid this situation is helps her feel a little better...

[Callos_DeTerran]

The walk back down to the apartment is, surprisingly, uneventful. No ninjas leap from the shadows, no gangsters lurking about the door in ambush, and definitely no luchadors with gleaming knifes awaiting their moment to strike, a thought that had never occurred to Sasha before this night. However, the room is not quiet, Mireia is actually quite busy with tossing her things into a suitcase between hobbling over to the window desperately, glancing out for the tell-tale sign of red-and-blue lights flashing in the distance that would give away that the cops where on their way.

"What the hell was all that?! You know what? No time! C'mon, we have to pack and get the hell out of here! Vamanos!" the pale-faced hispanic woman rants, mostly to herself before hopping over toward the door with a haphazardly packed suitcase, "C'mon chica! I'm in trouble just for having a gun, let alone using it! We need to bail and fast!"

Seeing the wisdom in such a statement, the exhausted and exasperated spear-fighter follows suit even though there isn't exactly much for her to pack up in the first place. In only ten minutes time they've checked out, hailed a cab, and disappeared off into the Tokyo night scape to try and find a fresh source of shelter until the morning came. This shelter is found in a run-down looking motel that, from the sounds of it, is jam-packed with regular customers who paid no heed to two newcomers, if they even noticed their arrival in the first place. Of course the downside was...it was noisy as well. Both of them can hear the sounds of too-loud telvisions, talking, not-talking vocal noises, dogs, and even the nearby road...but at least it felt oddly safe and the two fell unto the two beds gratefully...

================================================

Next Morning

Sasha is woken from her death-like slumber by the noise of spoon clinking against bowel as Mireia sets aside an empty cereal bowel with a certain...solemness as she sees her companion has awoken. There's a small stack of bowels actually hinting at a ravenous appetite that isn't that surprising actually, considering just how much blood Sasha's handler had lost.

"Mornin'...We uh...probably need to come up with a game plan, things have gotten kinda intense."

[Sucrose]

Grigori's stay at the hospital is largely uneventful. He is polite to the staff, insisting that the name 'Grigori Korskii' be placed on the hospital registry, and that they let him know when anyone wishes to visit, and not immediately turn away anyone. He pays whatever is necessary to see that this comes about.

He then waits for a connection, either from the people that he so boldly challenged, or the king atop the mountain of slime whose territory he just defended.

[PhoeKun]

Sasha

Sasha doesn't even bother getting out of bed, despite waking up. She glances over at the table from where she is, noting with irritation that she can only really see out of one eye at this point, and spends a long moment listening to her stomach complain about all the food that it wasn't getting and life isn't fair.

"...Plan? Ok, fine. I'll tell you the 'plan'. We're going to stay here until my face doesn't feel like it's been pounded with a jackhammer, and then we're going to get on a plane, you and I, and fly to... I think it's Hong Kong? Whatever, I can't remember right now. We're going to fly away, and I'm going to have a nice, relaxing, official yakuza-sanctioned brawl. Nothing changes, Mireia. I'm not getting scared and going into hiding, or slinking around with my tail between my legs. Eff that."

After another moment, she finally hoists herself into a seating position, testing out her muscles to see how well her body's going to move while it recovers. Good enough for walking, but training's right out... at least for today. Bah. She cracks her neck.

"I'm not letting that bitch win for one second." she mutters.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Grigori (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVFiYsciTGU)

It was only when Grigori was leaving the hospital that he got word of a message, a nurse handing him an envelop that had been left for him upon his departure from the hospital. The Russian chef waits until he's outside and found some relative privacy before opening it, finding nothing more then a small dossier and a picture of an unshaven man with merry eyes. Sun-browned and wrinkled, the man in the photo has the unmistakable look of a man who's been at sea for most of his life. A cap is jauntily pulled to one side bearing the logo of the French Navy on it's front.

Dossier
Name: Piers Picard 'the Saveutur'
Age: 30+
Match Location: 18th Floor, Century Tower. Conference Room 5
Time: Midnight

The location is a bit of a surprise, the Century Tower is hardly a private place to have a fight and doesn't seem like it would allow for the privacy a tournament like the Hanmei would demand. Still, there didn't exactly seem like there would be a lot of wiggle room in where or when the match would take place either. So, after looking around for a replacement leather jacket in his size, Grigori heads to the skyscraper to check it out before heading on up. Japanese businessmen enter and exit throughout the day, but at around ten the building closed down. For another hour and a half Grigori wondered if this was some kind of joke, if he'd been rejected without being told, but then at a half-hour before the meeting something happened. Four SUVs pulled up in front of the building to unload two dozen men in black suits and earpieces, half of which establish a perimeter around the building with military precision while the other half quickly enter and ascend up the elevator in the lobby. Soon other cars arrive as well, disgorging what look to be the elite of Japan or those who can imitate it well, who laugh and joke as the men at the front door allow them in as well.

Just before Grigori moves to go in at last, one last limousine arrives...for the man Grigori had talked with in the dive bar to step out, luchador in tow though something was...off about the woman. There's a bandage wrapped about on of her legs and her normally colorful costume has been exchanged for a black one, making it impossible to tell if it even has eye-holes. Another man joins them, and though it's difficult to tell from this distance, the big Russian guesses this is Piers. They commune quietly for a moment before entering the Century Tower, leaving Grigori the only one left. Taking a deep breath, the cook approaches the tall building and is allowed in without a word from the guards. The ride up to the eighteenth floor is quiet, alone as he is, and a veritable procession of yakuza enforcers acts as the perfect guide to the right conference room considering all the directions are in Japanese.

There's the man of the hour!" a bright voice chimes out as Grigori steps into the room, finding that numerous tables had been arranged into an impromptu ring. A small murmur permeates the room from the men lined up around the circumference of the 'ring' while Piers himself stands easily in the center of the room, "I'd begun to worry your nerves were...not so manly, but not such a big problem, eh my very large friend?"

==================================================

Sasha (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcqUkaYRTno)

Mireia nods to the proposed plan but remains silent before going to the phone to order some food and some other muttered conversations on her cellphone to arrange for transportation to Hong Kong, bright and early in the morning. The remainder of the night is actually spent eating and patching the battered Sasha up before packing, the understanding that the two would be able to catch a cat-nap on the flight to Hong Kong being the understanding. Both women arrive during the day, but the city is just as racous and hive-like as Tokyo had been at night. People are constantly bustling too and fro on their business, numerous signs and banners painted with the almost arcane looking Mandarin language (and it's various counter-parts) and it takes almost a half-hour to wrestle a taxi away from the various other tourists and visitors to the city.

It actually reminds Sasha of Los Angles, in an odd way, since the cityscape is just as imposing and looming as the great cities of the United States. The taxi driver is just as talkative, and unintelligible, as others the well-traveled Sasha has met and makes for an almost nostalgic ride to a surprisingly nice looking hotel.

"Damn, I hadn't figured they'd be giving us such nice accommodations." the Hispanic woman mutters under her breath as she looks up at the glittering monstrosity, giving a shake of her head, "Alright, from what I've been told, finding your next fight might be a bit difficult. They move around a lot so I haven't been able to pin down a house or anything and, more importantly, we need someone from the Hanmei there to officiate the match anyway."

"My best idea is that we try to lure this...'Reincarnation' to a pre-arranged location that we get an official to. A trap in other words but...uh...that's not really my forte. I'll leave the 'how' up to you." Mireia says with a bit of her prideful smirk on her face, "But I got some info on the ride over. Apparently 'Lu Bu' will be racing through one of the poorer districts and I know the end location but...not when the race is. So I suppose you can wait there until they show up."

[Sucrose]

Ten hours ago

Grigori stared at the dossier that he'd been given. Did his opponent have something similar? Did the yakuza know his full name? His contacts? If he angered the tournament sponsor... could he be putting his friends' lives at risk? ...This would require greater thought, going ahead.

Present

Grigori sighs, and cracks his neck, as he steps heavily into the ring.

"I'm afraid you won't be getting on to the next round quite that easily, Mr. Picard. Please forgive the insult, but are you sure you won't stand down? You may enjoy a good fight... but fights with me are not so good. You will not enjoy yourself."