The Gym

arrow The Gym

Welcome to the training area of the stadium.

Down the stairs and to your right.

We've got everything here to test your might...from physical body strength to endurance.

Free weights...and machines for you pussies who like pulleys.

Treadmills, an actual running track that goes all the way around the colosseum (try not to run into innocent bystanders or tourists purchasing merchandise, although most of the people here oughtta be able to hold their own), and a dojo (with assorted weapons lining the walls) for you guys who like to spar.

Head thumping...wrapped in bandages...barely able to see from his swollen right eye.

In the burning heart...just about toooo burst....

Creeeak, slip, scuffle. On went his track jacket, quickly followed by a pair of gym shorts and cleats.

There's a quest for answers, an unquenchable thiii-iiirst!

Clatter, skifff! The locker door slammed shut, even as he popped a cigarette into his mouth and burst outside at full sprint. Both feet flew in rhythmic motion....

In the darkest night...RISING LIKE A SPIII-YAAARE!

He cupped his hands about the ember flaring up at the tip of his cig, flicked the tarnished brass lighter shut, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Hah.... "Hah.... "Hah...."

He pumped his tape-wrapped fists...his breath visible in the night as the temperature dropped...and the laps about the colosseum began.

IN THE BURNING HEART, THE UNMISTAKABLE FIRE...IN THE BURNING HEART!

"Oh, shit."

He continued to accelerate, kicking it into high gear as he finished his lap about the stadium, leaving a residue of missing hats, unkempt hairdos, upturned skirts, and chocolate chips before he burst into the gym and skidded to a smoky halt.

"Hey, anybody! I'm coolin' down. How about a quick spar!?"

"!"

He quickly ducked the object careening toward him, feeling it graze the top of his head and swipe a few hairs in the process. As the punches came in, assuming they did, he responded by blocking and throwing his own jabbing blasts in tune with those of Kid's. So fast they moved that to the trained eye, maybe the Saiyan eye, all that would be witnessed was a flurry of exchanged fists with a few odd kicks thrown in here and there. And to the untrained eye...merely the two standing there, looking at each other...until Clash's posture relaxed, his form glistening with sweat before he wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve.

"A warm muscle's a strong muscle! Thanks, Kid! ^^"

Incidentally, he didn't even know this guy's name was Kid yet...but what he said worked either way.

With that, he stripped off his jacket and whipped off his cleats, throwing on some sneakers, donning a sweat-stained white tee in the abdominal and pit areas, and dashed over to the barbell with some big weights on the ends.

Pump....

"Hff."

Pump-!

"Hsssh!"

PUMP!

"Haaah!"

The sweat dripped...his biceps and forearms flexed...and a big grin plastered itself to his face.

After getting his workout in with some other free weights, he went over to the punching bag Kid had already softened up and went to work on it with some combos.

After entering, and walking around the complex, he gave a nod, returning to the gym so he'd be able to get a good training session in. The Arena wasn't his thing yet. He'd keep most of his powers to himself, but he could use a good amount of a workout to keep him and his body finely tuned.

Nothing too heavy, or too hard. After all, he'd be up eventually, and he was already in prime shape.

With a shrug, he looked for a locker, needing a place to stash his weapons in the meantime. Kinda hard to benchpress when you have a 7" gun barrel poking you right in the asshole.

He sung to himself softly, closing his items in the locker and simply locking it by just freezing the inside of the locking mechanism.

*When we wore a heart of stone, we wandered to the sea Hoping to find some comfort there, yearning to feel free And we were mesmerized by the lull of the night And the smells that filled the air And we layed us down on sandy ground. It was cold, but we didn't care

Yes, we were drawn to the rhythm Drawn into the rhythm of the sea Yes, we were drawn to the rhythm Drawn into the rhythm of the sea...*

It was a pretty good song in his opinion. Even though he'd been trained to kill, it was always for a greater purpose. It was why he loathed magic. It made war simple for people, and lead to more death and problems than it could solve.

He engaged in his usual whiptrance, relaxing his body to the calm, battleready state of tensed relaxion, going through his calisthenics and streches.

It seemed that someone was staring at the training ring. And he was pretty fucking big, too.

"You as new here as I am, friend?" he asked, hand outstreched for a handshake.

He chuckled at that.

"I'd be glad to. I hit pretty hard, but you look like you could take it. The name's Vernedead Wynn. Or, Wyvern, if you prefer." Wyvern replied evenly, noting the details of the man. He'd have him "marked" by now- speech tone, stance, everything he could find. Petit perception did him well.

"Although I must admit, I've never been much of a hand to hand fighter. So if you could give me any pointers, I'd be glad of that." he admitted. No harm in admitting it. He wasn't exactly a blademaster either, but he could hold his own in a fight.

He caught them and pulled them on, untucking his shirt from inside his pants. Wyvern could use the breathing room, really.

What is a drop of rain, compared to the storm?

He gave a nod to the man, turning to his usual battlestance- left foot leading, 45 degree angle, right foot behind and below the shoulder, on the balls of his feet and knees slightly bent, slightly twisted with his side leading.

What is a thought, compared to the mind?

He gave a nod, putting his arms up, right arm crossing low and in front, left high and to the other side.

Can you not feel the glory of the flesh?

He was ready.

Hopefully.

Fast, too. He'd also remember that.

He flickered his left arm up and out, aiming to hit the inside of Mooo's wrist with his forearm and knock the blow to his left.

If it would work, his mormal reaction with a blade would've been just a slash down, but when it came to hand to hand, he was unsure on what to do.

Eh, he who hesitates dies.

Thing is, Wyvern didn't come into any fights with any expectations at all. The theory was "expect what happens." And though it was good in principle, it sometimes had a time-lag from the reality to the mind.

In this case, it had, as he'd not expected another attack, really. Oh well. Enough musing, time to reply.

He slid back slightly himself as he made a quick chop down with his right to try to stop the hit, as well as using his extended left to go for a quick swing to go for the face of his tutor.

Maybe it'd work.

He remembered that much from his Unus Mundus training. Keep your opponent off-balance. He was still rather shocked, that he'd managed to connect, though.

Going at a pretty good speed, he pushed forward and brought his right fist forward and up, taking a step to throw his momentum forward into the strike as he swapped his lead side, pulling back with his left to set it at a crossed middle level, top of his fist about even with his lower lip.

((I feel as though I should post more. >.<))

Seeing the fist out of his peripheral vision, he knew he wouldn't have time to block effectively. Tightening his mucles as he braced for the blow, he tried another punch with his left, being sure to aim a bit lower so it'd be aimed for the chest.

When it hit, it felt roughly like he'd been hit with a brick in the ribs. A bit of air was forced out invoulentarily from the blow as he raised slightly on the balls of his feet, lifting his frame (and punch) a good bit off the ground.

Pain. Pain reminds me that I am still alive. Or at least, not dead yet. Pain is a gift. Gifts...should be shared.

He'd give this one a bit more force to it- something that wouldn't be obvious from looking at him.

After this fight, he'd buy the man a drink, assuming he did drink, that was. So many people didn't.

Either way he did this, it would be bad. So he'd go with his immediate instincts.

He'd throw his right up and across as he leaned back slightly, aiming to catch the arm right in the elbow. If he was lucky enough to have things go as planned, he'd manage to just get a light clip on the jaw and throw the man's arm up and out of the way. Too close to dodge effectively, really.

His left wasn't going to be able to do much of a hit, but still, he'd draw it back a bit and try to pepper the man's midsection with a series of light and rapid blows.

He turned his head a bit, but that blow was gonna hurt, as would the one he was going to deliver.

For his last little hit, he would draw it back more, and then go back with a solid and heavy blow. It'd probably hit about a split-second after he'd get decked.

Pain. I welcome it, really. It's like a clarion call in life that is perpetually muted. Pain tells me that my life isn't just some dream. It reminds me of the things I've done...terrible things. Demons that haunt me.

At least, he thought an attack was coming, what with the advance. The earlier blow'd distracted him enough frm his whiptrance to let him overreact, mixed in with his self-doubts.

Reason for edit: Anonymooo: Just to let you know, my guy didn't ATTACK in my last post XD Anonymooo: He just stepped forward to pressure your guy into doing something Mingan29: Oh? Mingan29: Fuck, I misread that. Mingan29: Should I edit it? Anonymooo: Yeah, he's just getting in Wyvern's face. Mingan29: I did not think that one through. Mingan29: blinks Anonymooo: Personally, I say it'd be better if you did, so if people look back at it, they can go "OHHHH, that's what happened" Mingan29: Okay.

He really wasn't paying a whole lot of attention, it seemed, because his right arm was still just up in the air, not really doing anything.

Until now. He'd bring it across in a backhand, more of a reverse closehanded bitchslap than a proper punch, but still it would be a bit of a disraction to catch a hit to the temple or nose, depending on the range. His depth perception was realigning and he wasn't 100% sure on that range. He knew it was going to hit him if it wasn't blocked, but where...was out in the air.

Well, he'd work with it, giving a bit of a spin as he tried to at least use his other arm to try to knock the other blow out of the way. He couldn't stop it and he'd be leaving himself open, probably, but what choice did he have?

Not a thing he could do, aside from kicking, and he was under the impression that this was a punching match. Not that he'd even be able to see the attack, what with his position, anyway.

Taking the full effect, he kept with his spin and left the ground with no control, his arm missing going back to try another blow by far. It wasn't even worth a dodge, with it missing that badly.

Well, unless, for some unknown reason, his opponent would simply walk forward and in the direction of it. Which probably wouldn't come close to happening.

He collapse on the ground, not particularly enjoying the feeling. He didn't get downed very often, but hey, he was outclassed.

With a groan, he got to his feet, resting one arm on his knee as he was bent over, the other arm up in the air.

"I'm out." he laughed, still breathing pretty heavily. "You okay? Shit, I didn't mean to make you-" A deep breath. '-bleed. Sorry."

He nodded, a grin on his face. "It was well worth the pain, I'll say. Later on, I'll buy you a beer or something, assuming you drink."

With his usual salute- touching his index and middle finger together to his widow's peak and snapping them out jauntily, he made his exit, going to the locker to retrieve his stuff and working with his biochemistry to realighn and rengerate.

Ohgami walked in, wearing silver trousers, and a white T-shirt. He found that the treadmill was open, and got on it.

Feet carrying him in with an element of eagerness, Omi made his way into the entrance of the Gym for the first time. It looked well taken care of, what with all it looked to offer. As he started to make his way towards some sandbags hanging from the ceiling, the mercenary began to slip the sheathed-blade of his off his back, before letting it fall to the ground next to him. This, didn't make much noise - a light blade & encasement, obviously.

However, as his left hand ran it's index finger along the leather straps of his right gauntlet - slipping it off slowly before letting the loosened gauntlet fall to the ground, quite the opposite seemed true. It gave a peculiarly loud thud. Same with the other, as he rubbed his right arm's wrist just once, looking nice and ready for a little 'exercise'.

With that, he began squaring himself up - raising his right arm up, fist just barely bent forward. Left arm, on the other hand, slightly lower and farther back - a similiar, though opposite angle. With that, he began assaulting the 'sandbag' - held to the ceiling by what appeared to be extremely strong chain links. His fists barraged the exterior of the bag with a one-two, then a left hook with a bit more force. Each blow made the bag sink back furiously, but since it was so close to the wall - it didn't have enough room to be swung back, so he could continue to assault it.

His strikes were considerably quick. Yet, he also seemed to be pacing himself to an extreme, just so he could do this for a whiles without tiring.

"Ah?" Omi broke himself from the assault upon the sandbag - right fist nicking it with considerably more force before the same hand opened wide, and grasped a bit of the fabric, pulling it to a sudden stop. Turning to face Kuro, he remembered the other day - and shook his head, laughing with a sheepish expression.

"Yeah - it's no problem, but I'm afraid I wasn't able to do much. Omi Barsait, good to meet you." His left hand was offered up lazily for a handshake.

Shaking Kuro's hand in kind, a bit of pressure in his hold as well - Omi withdrew his arm, shaking his head once. "Ah, thank you very much - but I'm telling ya, I was useless in the most part during all of that." Still, he was a bit taken by surprise, by the offer to be repaid for his few deeds during the fiasco with Cziri.

Again with a sheepish laugh, he replied, "I couldn't accept payment for what I did.." But then, a thought crossed his mind. For, a slight mishap had occured prior to the tournament. He had been travelling in the expanse of forestry leading up to the arena and such, when.. he happened upon an odd sort of demon. Obviously not in it's normal habitat, it saw him - deemed him prey, and a lucky catch at that considering it'd not eaten in a while, and lunged at him.

The beast was dispatched, but it's skin was nothing short of stronger than steel. And so, unfortunately.. the blade which Omi carried was broken. It was a common, mid-length sword, so he didn't take much displeasement with it - and in fact, he could even use it still. But, it was fractured on several points in the core of the blade's material. In it's state, it would prove useless in battle.

"Eh- there's one thing you could help me with, if you don't mind. Would you happen to know whether they have a welder around these parts, or a swordsmith? My weapon was damaged a bit back, and I kinda need to look into getting it repaired or replaced." The last word made Omi cringe inwardly. All the times he'd bought ten bowls of Ramen in a row were starting to take a toll on him - he didn't have too much gold left.

Omi's eyes went a tad blank for a moment. "Wha-? You're serious? Perfect - I couldn't thank you enough." With a quick bow of his head, the mercenary began to think over exactly what specifications he could give. This was a fortunate event indeed. He knew a fair share of qualities an enbladed weapon held, after all - so it wasn't an impossible subject. But, thinking of a weapon's specifics from scratch was always something to be considered with detail..

"Alright.. if you could, I'd like a sword with a 22 centimeter hilt.. and a 45 cm blade span would be great. And far as how the blade'd be crafted.. perhaps, similiar to a common katana until the end, then have the blade slope off?" Knowing his description to be a bit vague, he added, "If you can't be that specific with things, I'm perfectly fine. And ah, what metals would you have for the blade's forgery?"

Kuro_Tsuwamono Wrote:

> "Ah, yes...all is well. I specilise in blades that utilise spirit energy...and now that I think of it, demons...yes...like my Oni Ittou..." finished Kuro, mumbling at the end. > > "Oh, of course. How is this. A blade, to your specifacations, with the ability to control demonic spirit energy. If you agree I shall start right away..."

"Kwahh?" His jaw dropped a tad - this situation had gone from good to much better in an instant. Not only was he gaining a substitute weapon - but a far greater one to boot, all for an instance he still felt wasn't highly contributed to by himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded once. "I see. That is quite fine, I accept - of course, and thank you kindly for your work in advance."

This group that associated with Fas.. none of them were of the 'average level', so to speak - they all had something to them of skill. This reminded Omi just how badly he'd need to train himself prior to the branch opening - but for now, he was rather pleased that he'd be receiving such a gift. "If you wish, I could give you some gold to compensate for the work. I don't have very much, but if you'd like it, accept it with my gratitude."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Wyvern watched the transaction going on. Demonic energy spirit blade, indeed. Soulsteel wasn't really anything new. 'Course, he didn't know much about forging a blade, so he had no room to criticize.

Oh well. Not that anybody would be able to use the bastard arts of magic, psionics, or energy against him anyway.

With a shrug, he left.

(empty)

Hiroki is suddenly in a corner of the gym, seemingly to have come out of nowhere. Even though it was simply a specialized form of travel, he walked out of the shadows. Looking around at all the people, he called out.

"Anyone care to have a friendly spar?"

• GTB, the second day *

Despite the fact that the tournament is well underway, Trei has found himself with nothing to do. And, while boredom itself is bad, Trei is suffering from a mixture of boredom and restlessness, brought on by a sort of "combat blue-balls." His opponent had quit before their match could even get started, and the only other person he'd gotten to fight had just kind of...given up, halfway through their fight.

So, with nothing better to do, Trei hits the gym, the soft thud of his boots his only companion as he enters the dojo alone. He's left Honour and Glory behind for the day...he needs to practice unarmed, or he'll end up relying too heavily on his guardian's old blades.

The pause in the Drunkard stance doesn't last long...suddenly, his right arm arcs back and then slams forward in a powerful strike...only to swerve down as the young man suddenly throws his body into a flip, landing on the same hand's palm as his right heel whips up and over his body in a vicious arc followed by it's brother...the heel slams into the ground with a resounding crash, spared from shattering by the padding of the young man's boots, followed by a second slam that signals the bottom-first landing of his left foot.

Immediately, he rolls to the left and pushes up off the ground, both legs shooting beneath him to provide support as he thrusts his upper body back and up, thrusting back with his left elbow as if trying to slam it into an opponent's gut, allowing his body to lean back as if it's lost control...

[Well, since Trei's caused some time to go by, and my to-be sparring partner doesn't seem to be responding.. ]

A dumbell, "70 lbs." crafted upon each end, fell to the tough flooring of the gym. Then, another. Omi was panting heavily, sweat lining his skin all over; his gauntlets, his boots, and the mesh which he often wore still upon him. Adding even more weight onto his body during these exercises. Every day, he came here and focused his body farther - worked harder, trained harder, ran farther and struck faster. His arms and legs felt weary at the time being, for this day alone, he had worked and worked at furthering himself but a few minutes after waking until the current time.

His resting periods were minimal at best, and his eyes were blazingly intense. Slowly rolling up with a quick exhale, then rapid inhale - forcing himself to recatch the tempo of his normal breathing, the mercenary used his left palm to raise himself up a bit, before coming to his feet. Then, he quickly stepped over to the punching bags - even this simple couple of movements set in a pace as though he were exercising - and began assaulting it with rapid jabs from either hand, fists coming up just a few inches in front of his chin.

Ripping the gauntlets off after a few strikes, letting them drop to the ground as he'd well gotten used to - Omi rammed his fists against it again, knuckles looking rather red at the moment. A right hook from the inside to the left.. a left straight right into the center..

Then, he seemed to lose his balance.

"Gah!" The mercenary comically attempted to catch his balance, as his right hand greezed along the sandbag - but then, as his feets planted themselves firmly in balance once more.. his expression seemed rather odd. Both his eyes were investigating the sandbag quite closely. For.. there was an extremely small, horizontal opening in the bag. So thin, the lower and upper end practically came together and kept it's contents inside; luckily so. However...

Placing his left foot back, right shoulder forward - Omi assumed a basic stance, right fist up in front of his face vertically, left hand towards the stomach - held out horizontally. Then, he tried to mimick what he just clumbsily and mistakingly performed but moments ago - thrusting his fist forward, like a straight punch - but at the last moment before it came to the bag, turning entirely to the left, performing a horizontal flicker at the edge of the bag. Putting what force into it he could.

Another 'cut' was observed, as Omi withdrew his right hand back to it's original placing. He was throwing his full bodyweight into the strike - but then, just before it would outstretch to his opponent, forcing himself to avert the weight in an opposite direction - and flicking his fist to the side at the very moment it made that minimal contact. The right straight would make an opponent believe they were about to be hit at the shoulder or face, throwing their arms up to block - only to receive this unpleasent strike. Provided they managed to even block.

Intrigued - breath still heavy, but recovering quickly - Omi began to repeat this act. Attempting it in the opposite position; left shoulder forward, right leg back, left hand being the assaultee. Using his non-dominant hand at any given time to give a blow to the bag's lower-mid side; a "liver blow", as it'd be caused, which would force an opponent in the direct line of the main fist to perform this little number. And, that's what he continued to do.

Fresh from several days of intense magic-based healing at the infirmary, Mooo was ready to get his sweat on. Today was going to be a light workout, going over basics with Kid, somebody Kami had recommended to him, and somebody who apparently would learn very well from the way Mooo was taught.

Poking his head into the gym, Mooo gave a polite nod to the gentleman bouncing around and performing aerial attacks in another section of the gym. Mooo had a reason for not liking aerial techniques, but that was a story for another time.

Making his way to the 6m x 6m boxing ring, Mooo found the 16-oz sparring gloves he'd worked with before, tugging them onto his hands and waiting for Kid to show up.

Kid walked into the gym, not having gotten any medical attention at all since his battle a few days before. He hadn't actually withstood many blows, aside from a bruised rib. He didn't like talking about how it happened. Despite his obvious combat ability, he still felt very much a student, one with some rather towering figures to grow up to. His last teacher seemed to either need a sanity break, or maybe just was done with fighting for a while. Either way, he had passed him off on a new guy, something he was plenty fine with.

"Sup nig?"

He could be found on some corner, infront of a mirror doing jump-rope drills. Hey it was a public gym, so its free shit.

Rolling his eyes.

Stepping forward from the back.

Gloves on tight.

Shorts on tight.

Gripped shoes on tight.

Cigar in mouth.

Cigar tossed to the side.

Exhale smoke.

Place in mouth piece.

Stands in wait.

Looking half bored and less amused than ever he would extend his left hand and touch the glove gently, recoiling it right back as he was finished.

He knew his style of combat, keep all three keys on the same plane and explode.

He would await his target, his right foot gently pressing back on the toe while the left stood flat.

His hands come up to either side of his face about the height of the cheek.

His eyes would not lock to that of the fist but to the area behind his opposition. He would use a crafted style of abstract sight where he fixes on the background and notices any foreground manipulation or change in shape and thus giving his mind the right reaction speed to deal with the situation. This would come into play as his opposition would come to strike towards his chest, of his first reaction would be to slightly pause his body back and let the fist come to short of reaching the desired area, and thus as he did this body pause his right hand would come swooping down to the given area of his oppositions gloved hand and would smack it to the inside left area of Ertai, and thus would set him up for the next set of actions as his right hand would slide off of the gloved area and come to be the next ignition.

Noting the placement of his opposition’s feet he would acquire a taste to mirror his opposition but as he would step his foot work would change to that of a toe bounce with the right foot cocked out to the side as if he was lunging forward. His body would cock forward like a piston and aim for the area right below the jaw with his left hand hooking as his body did to keep the distribution of the weight and pressure on a high. As his left came hooking towards the jaw like a piston his right arm would drop straight down and would be like a straight line in relation to his body, as if it was apart of his chest.

His face would still look bored as he would give a lack luster show to his cocky opposition.

Numerous other people had entered the gym in his time spent practicing that day; and perhaps, the mercenary known as Omi had been slightly overworking himself. For, he was still doing as he were earlier; practicing the relatively simple, yet deadly liver blow to right hook - already, just from the constant, rather sharp blows, he'd destroyed two high-weight sand bags. Even with an attempt at restraint. But, this was a gym of fighters assumed unnatural; things such as this were anticipated. There were many more bags and tools where that came from.

His breath was calm now - pupils sharply gazing at a brand new punching bag. For, this time.. he wasn't going to pull his punches. If this 'technique' was to work effectively in a tournament like this, it'd have to be a blow that knocked an opponent down on the ground in one go; a move that would make a prolonged melee confrontation... unlikely.

First, he assumed the same stance as before. Left hand down and horizontal at his waist, arm the same. His right arm, on the other hand, raised up just in front of his chin vertically - and a bit farther forward than the left. Right foot spaced apart from left, and a bit farther along than said left - right shoulder leant forward as well. Neither of his gauntlets were adorning the knuckles of his hands; rather, they laid to the side idly. One on top of the other. It was hard telling how long Omi had been going at this; both of his hands' knuckles were quite a bloody shade of red. Yet, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

Taking a controlled breath, he began. The mercenary swurved his left shoulder in an arc to the right - his left fist, despite being such a short distance from the bag, splitted into it's lower side - the simulation of an opponent's lower waist/"liver" - with tremendous force. It was an impressive blow in and of itself. However... by keeping his body in that same stance, his right fist never left where it was.

On the other hand, the sand bag swirved violently just where Omi wanted. An opponent would follow suit; getting knocked by the rough blow to the liver, to Omi's right and a bit farther than normal. Directly... into the line of his right fist, when.. he switched the stance of his body quickly. All was reversed; his left fist had taken the position his right was in, as did his left foot and shoulder, etc...

For that brief, singular moment - the bag swerved. And in that short time, he had changed his stance entirely.. to fake out an opponent in case they tried to stop this 'combo', probably. But, then, as the bag came to his right - chains groaning from the stress, his left and right feet spread apart - and then, Omi put the entire force of his body weight into his right arm, arching his shoulder forward with a right hook that cut through the air. It was a sharp blow, yet with a bizarre amount of force; probably because of his entire body leaning into it. Almost like a haymaker, but with considerably more control.

Yet, the next moment showed his reward for practicing what seemed to be a mere, simple move.

His fist connected into the upper-right portion of the bag, which was forced towards his fist thanks to the liver blow... and throughout the gym, even over the rather noisy spars, a grand strike commenced. His knuckles made contact with the bag - and slammed through it like it were nothing; the momentum of the bag mixed with the force and speed of the punch were too much. A large gash ripped across the otherwise extremely sturdy bag.. then, the chain took the force of the blow, being knocked back violently against the wall behind it. The chain coiled, shooke, and gave it's proper noises as though barely supporting it's weight.

Finally, it swung back into place - Omi already turning around and stepping away, rubbing the swung fist a bit. It stung.. yet, if one looked at the bag.. they would've thought that an animal had gotten into the gym and tore it apart; for, it looked.. demolished. Much of the upper right portion was destroyed, and the insides were forced out by the violent upheavable of the bag. Obviously, it'd need replaced. Yet, the mercenary was too occupied with what he had just done; analyzing it, thinking how a melee opponent may react to it, how to nullify a potential reaction.. perhaps, he needed a little rest and relaxation before his next match, instead of constantly peering over his potential opponents and honing his skills. But, such things could easily wait.

Snapped out of his thoughts, Omi's eyes slowly trailed up to this man whom had entered the establishment.. and he couldn't help but blink once. A darkly garbed man with equally dark sunglasses covering his eyes from any one person's view had entered the gym; then, he remembered with a slight tug of annoyance at the back of his mind. Omi had agreed to have a duel with this man - Albert, was it?

Regardless, he relaxed his posture - rotating his left, then right shoulder - and smirked, nodding in response. "Naturally. To the dojo in back, than?" As he said this, the mercenary lazily pressed the tip of his left boot onto the top of his right; removing them from his feet for the spar ahead. And, oddly, even though each boot only fell over upon their sides with minimal force - they gave off disturbingly loud thuds, as though they weighed.. much more than what they looked.

His gauntlets were already off - as was the chain mesh beneath his clothing which he normally wore, the weightiest garment he wore. And since he'd rested for a short while, the mercenary was in good shape; feeling relaxed and prepared for a quick spar. No, rather - he was sure he'd enjoy it. The fact that he couldn't practice his 'combo' further disappointed him a tad, but.. it couldn't be helped. That was a melee technique designed not to harm an opponent... but to utterly demolish them. Not something he'd like to use in a supposedly friendly match, of course.

"Hnn. Lively guy." Omi thought with a hint of sarcasm, chuckling inwardly. This would no doubt prove.. entertaining, were it. And so, he stoo walked along the matted floor, between the opened double-doors of the dojo - and into it. The walls, the floors.. all created for maximum traction, and endurance. A lovely little place to fight, no doubt.

But, he had no time to think about this. The match, more or less, had already begun.

He took a number of steps forward - still quite far from Albert.. tracking his distance, but not even assuming a fighting stance. It was odd; Omi merely stood there, arms at either side. Not too far from his opponent, but even if Wesker lunged forward as far as he could - not close enough for an effective strike. His feet were squared as well; just two feet apart from one another, hands palm forward.. but surely at his side. Not even a single tensed muscle was seen on him. A bizarre way to start a fight, no doubt - but, it was how Omi twas doing so.

Here's what Omi was attempting to gouge; Wesker's reach. Both legs and arms. Certainly not bad, but not incredible either. Avoidable. Yet, Omi's new opponent had made a poor move in being the first to strike - for, even if he were prepared for a counter attack.. the posture in which he'd attacked would make a number of openings available for the mercenary.

Wesker's left hand was traveling to Omi's right shoulder, right foot going to Omi's left foot. This made a bit of a cross-over between the blows; one of Wesker's feet was swinging to the left, the opposite arm swinging to the right. Furthermore.. this man hadn't gauged the spacing quite as much as Omi had, which was shown in his counter attack.

Well, one might not've called it a counter, perse'. Rather, Omi rushed directly into the blows - before either Albert's hand or foot could reach full momentum, stiffling the force of either strike significantly. Yet, the mercenary had done this with the forefront of his body.. and, had never moved his hands. Both of which, gladly flew from either side - and both began to swing two powerful hooks towards either side of Albert's head. One from the lower right, one from the upper left - so it'd be that much more difficult to dodge or block.

::A small, dark figure appears up in the sky, possibly as high as three hundred feet above the ground. This shape begins to grow larger as it approaches the ground at high speed. Now obviously a man, the tall figure hits the ground feet-first, his knees buckling somewhat to cushion the impact as a few pebbles bounce and tumble away from his boots. Standing up straight, the stranger appears as a 6'4" teenager, slim with a pale complexion, long and tapered ears holding up his glasses.

A large-brimmed black hat atop his crown, a red headband and one-way glasses mask his eyes from direct sight. Hands strapped tightly with leather gloves, he wears a fitted red sleeveless shirt with a collar and simple black jeans. His footwear consists of two zipped-up black leather boots. His long crimson locks cascade down over the nape of his neck, his spine leading down to an elongated wolflike tail under the small of his back.

Standing in a relaxed position, the lone Orinian takes a brief gander over his right shoulder at the field behind him, then down at the rocks under his boots. He finally looks up, gazing at the huge structure before him with a gentle grin on his face.::

...well...this brings back memories...

::His tail swaying lazily behind each step, Deity moves forward, his thumbs hanging from the pockets of his jeans as he enters the colosseum through the first archway. Moving across and into the next acrh, the tall boy enters the stadium, the architecture rather intriguing to him. He knows he will be fighting here soon, though the ring itself is considerably different than the one of his own making. Especially with walls directly around it. Should make things easier, actually.

Following the nearest local signatures, Deity is guided casually across the arena and down a stairwell. His pace slowing, he eyes the walls, floor and ceiling as he moves, analyzing the structure of the building he's now in. Before he knows it, he's reached flat ground again, now within a dojo of sorts, numerous types of equipment around him. In the presence of beings he has not yet laid eyes upon, the quiet demon continues his stride, staying out of range of any battling. He doesn't really move further than five feet from the wall, his head turned toward his left to spectate the events while moving along the right side of the dojo.::

::The red-headed Orinian blinks a few times, raising his brows somewhat visibly to the boy nearby. Coming to a stop with his right foot forward, the toe of his left boot drags along the floor slowly until his sole is flat to the ground. Here, he pauses, glancing partially over his left shoulder at the stranger with a relatively blank expression on his face. That look is soon replaced with the faintest hint of a smile, and he turns to face the new acquaintance, taking a few long-legged steps to reach him.

Stopping within a yard away from the man, Deity unpockets his left hand, holding it out toward him. As he does, Deity speaks in a surprisingly quiet tone, probably inaudible if this man weren't paying attention, or if the room happened to be too noisy.::

Yo yo, yourself....Deity.

::Slowly lowering his hand and returning it to his pocket, Deity clears his throat, glancing away in thought for a moment. It isn't custom for him, though such a greeting also isn't custom for everyone here. Oh well, no matter. It is now that the boy's gaze is pulled back by Trei's words, his ears perking up in response to the man's inquiry on if Deity felt up to a bit of combat or not. He replies somewhat hesitantly, taking a step back as he does.::

....a spar...?

::The way he says it, one would think he doesn't know what on earth Trei speaks of. After a few seconds of contemplation, however, he concludes that it wouldn't hurt to go ahead and have a match of friendly competition. Though he'd honestly rather do so in his normal form: while it may give away some of his abilities, it will show him how he fares against others here. It cannot be helped.

Nodding once in an answer, Deity speaks in a slightly higher volume to Trei, shifting his right foot toward the center of the dojo, where they'll undoubtedly have more room to move.::

...why not? After you...

::Deity starts his own casual stride toward the center of the room, enjoying the relatively soft flooring. It should be decent enough for absorbing impact, rather than simply taking a certain extent of pressure before shattering. Even so, a simple spar shouldn't require a lot of serious battle anyway. His head tilted down, Deity speaks up a bit louder, taking a few steps back to distance himself eight feet away from Trei. He'd move back further, but space is limited, as is his knowledge of his opponent.::

....use what you will...

::Clearly unarmed, it seems that the stranger will be fighting using his hands, despite what Trei brings to the table. Slipping his digits from the pockets of his jeans, his black fingernails are revealed as he interlocks his fingers, extending his arms forward with his palms facing his opponent. Curling his wrists up, his pops the joints of his knuckles before releasing his grip and letting his hands fall to his sides.

Shifting both heels roughly two feet apart and lifting his head at an angle to look up at Trei through his one-way lenses, Deity raises his palms, motioning collectively with his fingers alone towards himself, an invitation for the man before him to open with an attack. He then lowers both hands back to his sides, tucking his thumbs nonchalantly into his pockets as he waits for an answer.::

::Not one to unnecessarily take his time, the instant that he realizes Trei will not be opening, Deity tips his body forward, lifting his left knee up before kicking down at the ground, sending his body bolting forward into the air, leaping this eight-foot distance in a single tenth of a second.

His hands remaining at his sides and that gently blank look lingering upon his countenance still, the tall Orinian's right knee is extended forward, heel against the base of his thigh as he so quickly approaches his opponent from four and a half feet above the floor. Mid-leap, however, his path swerves suddenly to the target's left, Deity's upper and lower body leaning somewhat in the same direction, his hips causing his horizontal posture to be that of a curve.

Staying just over a yard away from Trei, the moment he reaches the man's left side, Deity swiftly turns his body one hunrded eighty degrees as his right leg swings in from behind the target at a speed of four hundred feet per second, his shin aimed upward toward a spot one foot below Trei's neck. The power behind the attack is surprising to say the least, capable of sending someone of Trei's size careening a few meters into the air with ease. Even so, Deity is immediately pulling his heel back against his thigh after the initial attack, showing that the hit could've packed more punch, should it make the intended contact.::

During the other two mens' spar, Albert had to leave - and abruptly did so, without saying a word further save "Goodbye". Which, left Omi, still in a fighting stance and just getting warmed up, at a loss for words. But, after a few moments, he rested his guard - stepping to the side of the dojo so he wouldn't be in the other two's way, and sighed lowly.

"WELL, that was a damned waste of time.." Sitting down on a thin yet secure wooden bench, Omi watched the spar between Trei and Deity. Despite the ferocity of his 'training' that day, the mercenary felt as though not enough had been accomplished. "In this tournament, there seems to be two common elements in fighters. Close melee, and those bizarre assed psychic attacks.. perhaps, Kuro can help me with the latter, but with the first.."

As his eyes followed Trei nimbly kicking himself off the dojo wall, Omi's amber brown eyes fell upon his right hand - knuckles still bloody red from all the sandbag work he'd done. "..I'll have to outclass every opponent I face, if I intend to keep them from pulling their trump card and eliminating me. Even if it means going farther than what I'd like. For this.. that punch is what I'll need to focus on."

Deciding to not leave the dojo - he stood up slowly, rubbing his right wrist with the responding left hand, before walking to the left side of the dojo. Away from the two sparring, so they wouldn't have to worry about him taking up space.

Then, he began a light form of Shadow Boxing - pretending an opponent was in front of him, and launching blows at said imaginary foe while trying to imagine how they'd react. Omi was performing the action from earlier - first, assuming that bizarre stance, one arm and shoulder/foot forward.. then, giving a liver blow with the off-hand, before slamming his dominant hand forward at where the head would be with a tremendous amount of force. Even though the fist met nothing but air, the force of the strike could still be heard - a signal of how much muscle was put into it.

Yet.. now, he was doing something different. And, perhaps, devasting to later matches.

The very moment his right hand had came forward and finished it's blow, it retracted in an instant - and then, Omi quickly jumped just an inch off the ground, turning his body so he was in the same stance as before.. albeit, in the opposite fashion. Left shoulder, hand, and foot forward, right down further and back. And, using his right to give a liver blow, his left hand did what the right had done earlier; a tremendous hook at where the opponent's head would bob after the liver blow.

The time between the first combo and the second were next to none; it looked quite bizarre, though fearsome. A combination of combo-assaults?

Trei's good eye seems to flash as he sees the man begin his landing, and it's emerald gaze never leaves it's target for a second. As the man bends down, Trei begins to react as well...his right leg, of course, would be falling towards the ground...but his left leg was still scrunched from his original hop.

The man suddenly thrusts forward...and Trei's left leg thrusts out, a mighty kick that is fully extended just as the second "thump" of the man's footfalls blends with the third...at the speed the man was moving, combined with Trei's own reverse motion off the wall, the guy SHOULD end up with a face full of foot...

Trei lands softly on his right foot, swaying a bit before gaining an almost serene balance, left leg still extended for the kick. This guy...this guy made his first too matches seem like schoolyard toussles.

About. Damn. Time.

With a grin, Trei brings his leg in and down, standing normally for a split second...however, the stance doesn't last long, and immediately the young man darts into action...he lunges forward in a feint of a gut-punch, only to suddenly swing his right leg around and perform a dropping scissor kick towards Deity's right knee in hopes of taking away the man's base, and thus setting him up for another strike...

Lys had never been in a gym like this one before. Something about it seemed out of the ordinary, and as she walked into the unusually dark basement, it seemed to more confirm her suspicions.

As she turned the shadowed corner, she proceeded into the open room, seemingly designed for fighting of all sorts. As she flicked a light switch to the on position, she noticed that whoever was supposed to keep the gym in order had left out this room, as several of the lights were out and left the corners of the room cloaked in shadow, and the rest very poorly lit.

Even still, the room seemed rather expansive for just a sparring room, and Lys guessed that most of the competitors here must use many great techniques to require such a large area just for practice.

"Hello..." said Lys, to check if any others were in the room with her.

Frightened by the odd red light, she noticed in the corner, Lys retreated to the shadowed corner opposite the figure. Her mind started going through all the possible scenarios of what the creature was, and though she was in no way feeble, Lys never saw herself as strong.

Worried for her own safety, Lys pulled a dagger from her pocket and quickly made a small cut on her finger. In the shadowed corner she began to make an odd symbol on the floor with her blood.

Though it was not a difficult symbol to produce with a clear mind, Lys was far too easily frightened and thus threw herself into a panic as she madly sketched the drawing.

As she was halfway through with the symbol she looked across the room to see what the red eyed figure was up to...

Still focused with worry on the red eyed figure, who now had both eyes visible, Lys had to finish the symbol quickly.

Placing several more intersecting lines into the initial circle, Lys placed her hand in the center of the circle and stabbed the knife all the way through, pinning her body helplessly to the ground.

Though this would hurt most people, through the years Lys had come to realize that her body was mearly a vessle, or tool for her soul, and was replaceable by another at any time.

As the blood from her hand ran fresh over the symbol, it began to glow a vibrant purple. So brightly infact that most of the room was fully lit for 5 seconds or so. That is when Lys noticed that the figure had almost reached her.

Luckily, the darkness receeded over the room again, and as the darkness returned, Lys was glad that she was no longer alone with the red eyed figure.

::Still standing sideways with his right side facing the incoming opponent, the red-haired Tonepian watches Trei move in, shifting the toe of his right boot toward him. He stands very still, cautiously observing each of the young boy's steps as he closes in to his destination. The feint attack itself draws no attention to it; Trei's aura reveals the feint, no malice shown to be in this fake attack. Ignoring it and now wary of a second attempt, he sees the movement of Trei's right leg moving out in tandem with his left, a blow aimed at his kneecap.

In a deft fluid motion, Deity lifts his right knee up as he hops from the ground with his left foot, lifting himself just over a yard above the floor. Tucking his left leg up and out of range of Trei's current attack, Deity waits not a second as his right foot snaps out diagonally, his leg extending like an uncoiling snake as the toe of his boot aims to connect with the target's left temple. The speed exceeds that of his former attacks by far at nigh five hundred feet per second, but the impact is lacking severely compared to his other kicks, his leg snapping back immediately. It is clearly meant as a stunning attack to set up for a larger one.

As Deity pulls his foot back, he pivots his leg from a diagonal position to a vertical one. Right after the first kick, should his actions flow smoothly, the Mystic Orinian waits not a moment before releasing a second blow with the same foot. The sole of his boot flattened, Deity performs a powerful stomping attack directed at Trei's sternum, only a sixth of a second after the first strike. The speed of this kick is sacrificed, half as quick as the last but over four times as powerful. Whatever is so unfortunate as to be hit will be one with the floor for a moment or two, Deity's long leg intending to smash Trei forcibly against the ground.::

::Though still in the air, Trei moves in quickly after Deity's first kick, aiming to tackle him to the ground. A maneuver not seen by the Orinian often these days, and a bit of a surprise, at that. As he sees the boy lunging forth, he pulls his right foot back in as planned, the relaxed angle of his elbows showing that his arms are simply hanging by their thumbs in his pockets.

Fortunately for Deity, he has already planned for such a counterattack, prepared to strike quickly should Trei remain in range and ready to pull a counter himself. Should one be able to sense it, a rapid spike of energy can be felt within the boy; Deity leaves little room to analyze this power surge, however. His movement suddenly in the range of one thousand and one hundred feet per second, the Mystic demon's poised left leg explodes into motion as a supersonic blur, making a second attempt for Trei's sternum.

The strength of the attack is immense, Deity's foot aiming to slam into his opponent's chest and send him rocketing across the room at a speed human beings are not meant to be sent. The odd surge of power is over the instant it is released, obviously used to quickly enhance the speed and strength of that kick and made brief to reduce the chances of someone catching it entirely. Hit or miss, his left foot swings down after reaching the intended contact point as the Orinian's body lowers back down to the floor, touching left boot first, followed by his right.::

Though Trei isn't naturally an aura sensor, he can't help but to feel the spike of spiritual energy emitted by his opponent. What happens next, though, is unbelievably strange...

The man's kick, powerful as it was, would never impact with Trei's body... rather, the man would find his foot slamming into what seems to be a wall of warped, iridescent air that seems to move forward with Trei's own motion.

"What the hell..." Trei stops himself mid stride, looking at the shimmering barrier as it fades away. "Ummm....did you do that?"

Vit remaining: 10

::Rather than kick the intended target, Deity's left foot comes into contact with some strange sort of barrier, hitting it like a wall of force that halts his movement. This in mind, he simply kicks off of it into a backflip, flying across the room to land two meters away onto his right foot, his left soon to follow.

Once again assuming a comfortably relaxed position, the Orinian's long wolflike tail sways back and forth at a dull pace as the tall boy examines the fading shield. He says nothing, his eyebrows raising up in acknowledgement of his opponent's question. He responds with a simple shake of his head, curious as to how Trei did such a thing on such short notice.::

::Remaining silent, Deity nods shallowly to Trei, now wary for another sort of barrier the likes of which he has just experienced. He finds that a different approach to his next attack is in order for this next attack, Trei undoubtedly expecting another high-speed direct attack. Without a word or sign of tension, Deity again stands sideways, his left foot forward as his thumb slips from the jean pocket positioned at his left hip. Slowly raising his arm and extending it forward, his fingers open gracefully and stretch out, as thought he were holding a basketball. There is a sudden airborne tremor, very subtle, distorting the atmosphere around Deity's arm.

Bursting out of the Orinian's body is a heavy collection of physical force, just smaller in dimensions than a full-size bed mattress. Invisible to the eye, it bolts forth to slam into the target like a wrecking ball. A fast one, at that, covering this two meter distance in one hundredth of a second.::

::The result of Trei's movement forward does little to change Deity's battle plan - he simply releases the attack sooner instead of taking his time. Upon his first steps toward Deity, Trei still faces the threat of the kiai exploding out toward him, the fact that he is closing the distance between them causing the attack to reach him more quickly. Even should the boy prove so quick as to knock the Orinian's hand aside, it'd still do nothing to stop the kiai, which needn't be released from the palm to begin with.::

::The tall Mystic Orinian stands tall and still as Trei regains his bearings and returns to his feet. There is something about this one; the average joe would have found it useless to continue. A gentle expression - a smile - finally is shown on Deity's face, but just for a moment. Keeping his left foot forward, he calmly gestures with his left arm, opening his palm, fingers together, and swaying it from his right to his left, indicating the greater space inbetween the two. He retains a soft tone in his voice, just loud enough for Trei to hear clearly as he speaks.::

....do as you wish.

::Deity's smile slowly fades back into that solemnly concentrated expression as Trei approaches, wielding two swords, both sheathed. He senses an attack, but his ability does not, however, show from whence the attack comes. With two possible outcomes and the first - the right-handed attack - more than likely being used as a diversion, the tall stranger opts for a direct counter-offensive maneuver.

After Trei has begun his right-armed swing, Deity waits only a fraction of a millisecond before moving in as well. His limbs again moving as - to the human eye - nothing more than supersonic distortions of color, Deity lunges his left leg forward and to Trei's right-hand side in a sidestep, knee bent at an eighty-five degree angle with his right foot sliding along the ground, leg kept straight. In this exact deft motion, his left hand reaches up and attempts a grab at the underside of his opponent's right arm (the tricep area), his fingers intending to curl tightly around the limb in a grip that one would find all but impossible to shake.

After the grab, Deity's elbow bent halfway, he quickly straightens his left knee to one hundred and thirty-five degrees, shifting his balance into that side and standing, therefore letting his right foot slide closer. The toes of both boots face partially away from eachother at slanting angles, the boy's heels just two feet apart. Along with this standing motion, the Tonepian forcefully guides Trei's arm further forward, twisting it with his hand somewhat inward to make an attack with Trei's right hand impossible - unless his elbow can bend the other way.

His body still moving like the speed demon it belongs to, Deity lets go of the young man's arm the instant his face is at level with the Orinian's. All actions unhindered thus far, his attack comes powerful and swift, his left fingers curling slightly as his right thumb unhooks from his jean pocket.

The moment he releases Trei's arm, his right-angled elbow pounds backward toward the boy's face at the same speed as that monstrous kick a moment ago, though lacking somewhat in power when compared to it. The instant he makes contact, he tightens the muscles of his wrist and fingers and pulls his elbow mere inches away before swinging his arm by Trei's face in a tight curve, aiming a follow-up backhand for the exact same point. An attack moving faster still, but a hit still with not enough power to do more than make Trei stumble back should he recieve it.

Waiting but a heartbeat, the Mystic devil pivots his right foot so it faces his left, dropping his right knee to the ground. As his left arm swings away from Trei's face, Deity's third strike of this attempt comes in the form of a right-handed palm strike. Just as his knee hits the floor, his fingers curled atop his palm slightly, Deity's right arm extends forward at a speed of two thousand five hundred feet per second, a force worthy of that speed ready and willing to send Trei into the wall behind him. The surface of his palm aims to come into contact with the very bottom of the breastbone, the target well within reach even if the first two hits hit home as intended.::

His fists were tracing the pattern which they'd done before; retracting, re-expanding, feet happily changing stance just at the end of one blow, to continue the next. Yet, strangely, Omi happened to not notice this person come up to him. At least, until she spoke - which, nearly caused him to fall over clumsily.

Turning to face the source of that soft voice, his pupils came across her - hearing her question, and nodding once with a sheepish smile. "Surely. A nice spar would do me well, I 'spose. Hand-to-hand, than?" Gesturing his head over to the pile of things which Omi had removed from his person; both of his boots, gauntlets, chain mesh, and sword sheath - the latter was the one which he'd motioned towards. "Afraid my weapon's broken, and I'm not much of one to handle a strange blade - or we could've had a friendly match with 'em. But, a spar's lovely as well."

"Polite girl. Though, something seems.. dead, in her voice? Nah, none of my business - I'm one to talk, dammit." Finishing reprimanding himself in his thoughts, the mercenary relaxed his tensed arms - a polite bit of warmth to his expression, though.. his eyes had such a piercing gaze to them. As though, every detail around was being watched for.. calm, merry - yet, so attentive to every little detail around? Regardless, a few steps were taken back, so a nice bit of space had been struck between them.

"My name is Omi, a pleasure to meet you. You may strike first."

Raine. Very well than, his opponent was Raine. Despite what distance seemed present in her wrods & posturing, Omi still felt as though she was rather polite - kind, though mysterious. Naturally, his thoughts began to ebb away - as his gaze fixed onto her. Watching the outer edges of her as a whole, to predict the direction of her movements as they came. The bow which he received, was more than unexpected; but, he quickly bowed his head in response, before returning it to a normal posture.

As usual, he stood upright. Arms stiff at his sides, feet spread but a foot apart. However, something was.. different, this time. Unlike previous spars he had participated in, his shoulders were positioned a tad more forward than usual. And - Raine began with a sudden rush towards him, little distance to cover. Quickly, his mind rushed over what he could, and couldn't do; his previous spar, had Omi rush into a blow in order to deaden it. But, the force coming towards him - it couldn't be done.. though, something was done to counter the strike. Thanks to his leant-forward shoulders, his arms were spread apart just a bit more towards the front of his body, than the sides; a moment or so before the impact of the blow would come, he turned, to his left. Right shoulder forward, almost pushing against the side of Raine's fist with his waist as his body re-positioned itself. His gut was safe; and, the direct path of the blow was ruined. Despite it's power, if a straight punch was forced to bend late in the strike - how much power it had would, obviously, be dwelled.

Furthermore, his left arm was still at it's side. At that moment, her right hand had gone to his right side, thanks to how he positioned his body; her right arm was crossed in front of her left, for a brief moment. If he was to strike early in this spar, it had to be now - as his own left arm bent up, fist now facing her - and, then, it shot forward. A blow that close shouldnt've held much force.. was it even a foot's distance? Yet, as the blow came towards her outstretched right arm, the air rushing over his knuckles would assure one whom could hear it: it was going to be a deadly blow, if not dealt with.

The man sidesteps Trei's lunge, fast as always. There has to be a way around it...

For the moment, though, Trei has to figure out a way out of a rather compromising position... Unluckily for him, the man was in the process of grabbing and dragging Trei by the arm like a rag-doll. Well, rag doll Trei would be. When the man pulls down on Trei's arm, Trei allows all of the muscles in his legs to loosen almost to the point of limp-ness; so, rather than bending Trei's body forward, the man's yank causes the boy to fall to his knees.

From his rather...compromised... position, the young man tries yet again to mount a counter offensive. His left fist whips around in a powerful arc, a powerful strike aimed for the man's right thigh. In Trei's mind, though, this attack is a feint much like the previous one...

Her position at that current moment was one might call..Er..Uncomfortable. Her wrists bent oddly, her legs up in the air. It wasn't exactly a casual position..

She hadn't exactly expected her force-kick to be countered as it was. A normal opponent would have backed up, or side-stepped. He showed a great skill in simply standing his ground and counter-attacking. It took a fearless warrior to do that, or one that had overcome past fears of pain. Either way, that move from him had to earn slight respect from her. But..No time to think about that..

Her position wasn't exactly a good position, not by any means. He currently had the greatest advantage. Her arms were occupied, her legs unable to kick him in any way. Defenseless. But, she wasn't a fool. She wouldn't merely sit there..Er..Rather hand-stand there and take a straight blow such as that.

So, if you can't dodge, can't attack and can't block properly, what do you do? Well..The only thing running through her mind would be to cushion the force of the blow by forcing her own body onto his kick. It would still hurt..But it wouldn't be nearly as bad if she smothered his kick in time. So, she did just that.

Raine's head was tilted backwards while she was still doing the hand-stand/bridge. It was tilted back so far that she was able to see his foot coming towards her just in time. She knew that there were by no means any way to avoid this attack, so with adrenaline and reflexes, she did the only thing she could do. Abrubtly, she dropped her body weight down, allowing a slack in her wrists. Her legs would also drop, if he did not obstruct them in any way. Forcing her body weight down, she was no longer balancing on her palms.

Now, what she had done, was force her body weight down into his kick directly, pushing his foot back down to the ground and smothering it with her back. Her legs, if allowed, would also come down to help her lower body also smother what else of the kick may be left. Now, this move may have cushioned the force of the kick a bit, but the force of it would most definitely hurt despite what she had done.

Raine winced as she felt a blow land hard at her mid-back, narrowly missing her spinal area. The kick, even when smothered, had a lot of force involved in it. She was glad she had cushioned it, thinking about what it'd have been like to be hit with a full out kick. Cushioning it, would most likely push the foot back towards himself.

She now would be lying on her back on the floor. For a brief second, she lay there panting. This guy was by no means an easy opponent, despite the fact it was only a spar. But, good fighter or not, she had a determination that would not yield. She could fight just as well. But, she remembered, she had to pace herself and not go full-out. This was only a spar after all.

Almost as soon as she had landed, she would then abrubtly roll to her right side very quickly, in just a few seconds getting out of range of his feet. With the same speed as before, she stood up. Now facing him, standing, and panting from the force of his attack, she remained there, waiting for the warrior to advance towards her this time if he weren't doing so already. If there was anything she was good at, it was defensive maneuvers. She once more assumed no stance, the blank expression on her face the same as always.

Good thing Raine had no intentions of blocking it then. From what she had observed, this guy wielded a lot of power within his attacks. Maybe it wasn't a giant amount that she had seen, but he still wielded power. It wouldn't be a good idea to try to block a large amount of force, especially when you havn't had time to build up any power yourself.

As he advanced, she noticed his footing being flighty. He had the footsteps of an agile race, also his attacks being just as agile. This, she liked. A fast-paced action-packed spar. No stopping, the speed remaining the same. She smirked, wondering what kind of power this guy was actually hiding. After all, it was only a spar..So naturally both of them would be holding back. She'd love to fight this guy in a match sometime, but for now she'd have to be satisfied with a spar.

Since she was in this defensive stance, he had been quite correct that she would react to this feint. But not in the way he might like her to..

As his right fist shot out, Raine abrubtly side-stepped to her left, dodging the blow narrowly, she'd now be standing at his right side. What she hadn't known, was that this was a feint. She immediately figured that out when she saw his fist recoil suddenly. She smirked.

Right now, she would have the advantage, since he'd just about now be striking where she was just a second ago with his left hand. She was on the right side of him, so, in the speed she had demonstrated before, she began an attack of her own, launching it towards his right side.

She abrubtly reached forward with her left wrist, grabbing his right wrist that had recoiled back near his side. Grabbing the wrist, she would then harshly pull backwards with it, it now being pulled behind his back in an odd position. In the way she did this, she made sure when she pulled it back that his elbow would be locked in place..He'd be unable to unlock it from the position it was in.

She would then take her right hand, and very cruelly smack her palm down very hard on the back of his locked elbow. This..If successful, would completely break his arm, since elbows weren't meant to bend that way. A sickening crack would be heard, and this action would render his arm useless.

If this was successful, she would then immediately jerk back even farther with her left hand, pulling him backwards off his feet and onto the floor, where she was sure she would have the upper-hand then.

In case he found a way to counter her move, she positioned her right foot forward slightly, already plotting severl dodges, counter-attacks, and defensive moves she could perform against anything he tried to do. It was just the way her mind worked, analyzing every situation until she could see every possible outcome.

This action of breaking his arm was indeed cruel, but if one was to fight Raine than they'd better be prepared to deal with cruelty in the fullest. She may be nice at times, but in battle she was insane, not caring about the safety of anyone she fights. Her only focus, usually, is taking them down.

This was was one of the outcomes Raine thought this situation might have. But nevertheless, it was still somewhat unexpected. What was shocking was the force and anger he put behind his counter-attack. She could see it in him. Such a determination and fierce attitude that came so suddenly. His strike was led by these emotions, which would only make it way more powerful.

She definitely wouldn't want to try to block this.

Of course, who would want their arm to be brutally snapped? Especially in a spar.

But to Raine, battle was pure joy. Cuts and death were only minor draw-backs, but to her they were nothing. She didn't care about her life and she didn't care about anybody else's life. Pain didn't bother her, though she did feel it. But to her, it was a small price to pay for happiness in taking another's life away. That was what made her so dangerous. The fact that she was so insane when it came to these things. Her mind was pure chaos when it came to battle. Her insanity..Leading her attacks with an unknown power.

Raine knew she had to back off. If he carried this out and she got knocked away, plus an injury that could affect her movements, she would be in a bad position. She didn't want to lose to this man..She wouldn't.

Abrubtly, she let go of his wrist and spun to her left while stepping, spinning out of the way of his shoulder coming for her with a great agility. He would merely go right past her...Which, she would then perform her attack. As he would go past her, the momentum and force he put into attacking her would be carrying him forward right now. Especially since his target disappeared, he would have no obstruction in his path to slow him down. So naturally, his body's gonna go farther than he intended.

This was when Raine took her chance. As soon as he went past her, she took a step forward towards him. She'd now be standing right behind him. The next thing she would do, would most likely be rather shocking if it worked.

Abrubtly, both of her hands shot out on either side of him and grabbed both of his wrists. Her right hand would have ahold of his own right, and her left would have ahold of his own left. Abrubtly, she would then lift her right leg, being as flexible as she was, and press the bottom of her boot against his middle-back. Once again, being as cruel as she was, she harshly jerked back on both of his arms, pulling them both backwards really far while she held the rest of his body forward with her right foot applying pressure to his back. She kept pulling, pulling harder and harder.

If this was successful, it would dislocate and temporarily render both of his arms useless. Perhaps even break them from the force of them being pulled back. Either way, his arms would be completely useless if this action were successful. If it worked, a sickening snap or series of snaps would be heard as the shoulders were dislocating and possibly the arms breaking. She would then use her right foot to apply more pressure to his back and let go of his arms, kicking him forward, which would most likely send him sprawling to the ground from the sudden force.

The thing was, Raine hadn't forgotten about his legs. In fact, she had expected it. Since, there would be absolutely no other way he could defend against an attack like this without using his legs. So naturally, those were the things she had expected to strike back.

The scary thing was, she hadn't expected his kick to consist of that much force within it. That, set her on edge. This guy..He obviously feared losing his life, or the use of his limbs. That in itself was all she needed to gain the upper-hand. She only grew stronger as her enemy's fear grew. She thrived off of their will to live..It only made her want to destroy them even more. Of course, even if her opponents cared nothing for their life, she was still a formidable foe. But her true strength came from what she enjoyed more than anything.. Obliterating the very soul and crushing the body of the soul until nothing but blissful oblivion dawned on them. She was obviously...Not alright. In many different ways. Insanity was what she was best at. Which is why their 'friendly' spar had suddenly turned into a fight for their very lives. Though, her fight..Was only a fight to take away his life. To her, the only sad thing about dying is not being able to fight anymore.. But who knows? Maybe she'll be able to fight in the after-life. It was the only thing her whole being consisted of.

Destruction.

A grin had been upon her face as she had tried to brutally rip his arms out of their sockets. This grin was an emotion of pure enjoyment. It seemed she had forgotten that this was merely a spar.

Out of her peripheral vision, she caught his foot slightly starting to shift. She knew immediately what was about to happen. But, she hadn't expected so much force and speed to be applied within that. Good thing she was in a position that would enable her to get away fast enough from him. Or rather, him away from her.

Since she was applying force forward on him with her right foot, and pulling backwards with his arms, if she let go, what would happen? He'd act as a catapult, shooting forward from the two forces pushing against each other. But since his left leg was on the move, he'd rather..Fall forward, probably sprawling all over the ground when this happened. Either way, he'd be away from her.

So, that's what she did. Despite the speed of his leg moving, letting go would take less time. And, she did just that. Abrubtly, she let go of his limbs, pushing forward slightly with her right foot to send him forward with even more force. With the force that she had shoved him and the fact that his left leg had been raised from the ground around that time, he'd almost certainly fall flat on the floor when she let go. Since he'd be sprawled all over the ground, or hopefully he would be at least, she would then approach him from the side of him. If, he didn't suddenly pop up and strike her or something. Then she'd just have to counter-attack, dodge, block, or plain get hit. Either way, if he didn't do any of these actions she would approach him. Cruelly, she would smack her right foot down on his back, though not with all that much pressure. This wasn't an attack. It was more a taunt. She would rest her right foot upon his middle-back, and she would then say to him in a cruel, mocking voice.

"...Do you wish to die? Death's not so bad.. I died once.."

With this she let out a short little laugh, as though she had told a very clever joke. Suddenly, her tone grew quite serious and extremely hostile.

" If you wish to defeat me.. You will be prepared to give up your very privilege of existing. Despise me..And you have a chance of keeping your meaningless life. Fear me..And you will die.

Push through the darkness and find your strength. If you can not manage this, then you are but a bother whom shall be eliminated immediately.."

With that, she would then let up off his back and step backwards a few steps. Her stance would be casual, waiting for her opponent to stand.

The words she spoke were indeed odd. Cruel, mocking, hostile, yet...They were..Encouraging. In her own insane, cruel way, she had tried to encourage him to do better. To get him up and going faster.. Or else, he would have no chance of defeating her. He would be obliterated if he could not find his own insanity buried inside of him. Despite this being only a spar, she had every intention of fighting as more than a spar. That's why, nobody ever sparred her twice in a row when she got like this. That is..If they even survived the first spar.

His attack, at the least, got what he wished; her away from him. Though, thanks to her letting go of his arms & her foot kicking him away, little else had to be done. The mercenary fell to the ground, bangs overshadowing his eyes; Omi was now on the ground. Face gazing forward, palms ahead of him and upon the ground. For some odd reason, he didn't move. He felt a foot smack down upon his back, resting there comfortably.. and then, her words.

Those, tore his mind into a horrific rage. A frighteningly calculated sort - but, berserk rage none the less.

As he heard Raine step away, Omi finally began to push himself up. Elbows bending to allow himself up, feet slowly carrying him upstraight. The pain in his arms ebbed, though slowly fading into nothingness; besides, even if it did ring with agony, he didn't care. Slowly, he turned around; facing Raine once again, back no longer to her. Eyes still not visible at all, arms at his either side.

Something dull, yet fierce was tearing at his insides; and his lips began to spread apart - before he spoke in a casual tone, though lower than normal.

"It is true, I do not wish to die. Not out of fear of death itself, nor out of fear of you - of which, I have none. It is because, I've other things to accomplish in my life. Many, many more. My death, as much as I dislike it, would mean the damnation of others whom don't deserve early, eternal 'rest' theirselves. I cannot allow that." Rotating his right shoulder once, a bone popping - the mercenary continued in this low thrawl, "Originally, I held respect for you, as do I to all people I meet at first. Lest, they act in a way that should lose that respect. Which, you have. Our terms, were on the grounds of a friendly match. Which is why, we've both held back, as of yet. My question is.." Slowly, his head rared up. Neither one of his eyes held an amber hue anymore; they were both a sickening, swirling green - the pupils trembling out of pure rage, despite his calm voice. "Which of us, I wonder, has held back more?"

Slowly, a line of blood oozed down his right arm. Past the short, dark cotton sleeve of his shirt, dribbling along his bare arm. Yet, during the entire spar, not a single wound of the sort had been struck on him. Something seemed unnatural at that moment, to say the least, as crimson red drops of blood slowly accumilated upon the dojo floor. Drop, by drop..

"You're a fool. You view death as something that can be rationalized away by power, strength.. rank, "worth". You don't mind dying. Which means, you also don't mind taking other's lives - I'd almost be assured, you would do so without a second thought. In fact, I'm sure you've done the same thing you did to me, to other, less experienced fighters.. and slew them." Cocking his head to the right for a moment, he spat on the dojo floor. Then, his eyes barred onto her - this time, with an almost unsettling hatred. "People like you disgust me. There are others here besides us; I'd rather them not get caught up in this foolishness. Plus, you've completely disregarded the honorable nature of this spar. I would highly recommend, you leave this room. Right now."

Then, his lips barred back - teeth flashing, gnashing together. His entire body posture was inched forward, despite the casual stance itself. As though, at any moment, he would roar forward and.. not strike. That wasn't a proper term for him, now. More like: assault. And then, this time, something much more unsettling occured. He spoke as usual, but another, more sarcastic-toned voice at a different pitch spoke in unison with he; it came off as something demonic. Unnatural. "**Make no mistake. I see no challenge in you. And, you no longer interest me as a fighter; now, you are a bother to me. An unhonorable wench whom couldn't abide by her own word; a pitiful disgrace. If we fight, I will not give you a 'challenge'. I will rip your head from your neck. We grow tired of you! Again: leave.**" His knuckles gripped together; resonating a soft sound of cracking, his teeth beginning to gnash together even harsher. If one's eyes were careful - precise, they could probably spot a strange, red 'light' beginning to pulsate down along his mid-right & left arms, at the very exterior so faintly. This time, his voice boomed, vocal cords resonating in a bellow & roar,

"Otherwise, I will kill you where you stand!"

::The tall Orinian's left fingers keep hold of the underside of his opponent's arm and keep him near eye-level as though he were much lighter than he is, weighing no more than a tablespoon - doing so even after Trei is no longer supporting himself with his own legs. His body not even showing any sway in that direction, Deity's attention is ever so briefly drawn to another incoming counterattack, his gaze immediately scanning across the boy's entire body in search of it; a left-handed strike with the other scabbard.

Hoping to possibly outrun his opponent's attack and overpower him, Deity immediately proceeds with his intended maneuver, the sheer speed of his attacks rendering them capable of completing before gravity could pull Trei down and out of the Mystic devil's line of sight. Due to the rate of speed at which the red-haired devil is moving, Trei's intended strike hits a spot just below the Tonepian's hip as he lowers for the right-handed palm strike... <> ...though as of intended impact, he shows no signs of reaction to the blow.::

Raine had heard his words, but they didn't bother her or interest her in the slightest. She had heard those sort of insults before.. She grew tired of people and their petty words of so-called wisdom. What interested her...Was the sudden chance that this man had taken. His whole being changing into something way more poweful and way more angry.

"...Heh.... Dishonourable? Disregarded the honourable nature of this spar? You're a fool. I asked for a friendly spar. To me, this is friendly.. I had every chance to kill you so many times and I didn't. I could have, but I have kept my promise to keep this a friendly spar. Though it may seem challenging and yes...Our bodies may be injured, it is indeed still friendly. I never had any intentions of killing you from the start. Mark my words.. I care nothing for your life. But I do know where my honour stands. I have kept my word. If your idea of a friendly spar is simply fighting with fear of hurting the other person, than I want no part in that. Fighting involves pain. I wanted to see what sort of power you truly hold..And now I have seen it. Though I am sure what I am currently seeing is only a small portion of what you can do, it still shows you were most definitely holding back. As I suspected. If you want to spar with our abilities, than I suppose we can. But I do believe that you stated this was only to be a hand-to-hand battle, which I have also kept my word and stuck with. It is now you that appears to be breaking that boundary. So if you want to call me dishonourable because I kicked your butt a little bit, than you may call yourself dishonourable for breaking your own word. If you don't want to fight me anymore, than fine. But I will not leave. I have just as much right to be here as you. If you don't wish to spar, than tell me so now and we'll stop. That is all I have to say."

Her voice held a hint of annoyance in it. She merely stood there, waiting for the man to reply to her words.

One of Omi's teeth, revealed in his upper gum, looked to be similiar to a fang. Although it probably had little to do with what he was "achieving" at the moment, it did give off an ambience that he was a demon - whether that held truth or no, a bit of the lit dojo glimmering off it in a glistful shine. Both of his hands had their respective fingers dig tightly into the upper palms of either's skin; the sound of knuckles cracking being heard whistfully aside the other fighters sparring in the gym's designated area.

"Idiot.." Slowly, he bowed his head just an inch - shutting his eyes fervently, before he swallowed deeply. As though, something wounded his throat. Then, he began to speak again whilst gazing upward again - in his normal tone of voice, "You lack honor, or the concept of it. When I said friendly spar, I meant just that. Friendly. Not to the death, not to the breaking point of my opponent. These 'spars' are not meant for us to defeat one another - they are meant for us to improve ourselves. Something.. I doubt you can achieve." Barring his lips back once more, he growled huskily, "Just because your words are open to interpretation, doesn't mean you're not obligated to go by them. Whether you intended to kill me or no, you attempted to break my bones - and, mocked me with your pathetic, ill brooded comments like they were fact. Furthermore, don't feed me that bull - had your last attack gone in a slightly off angle, my spine could've been snapped as well as my arms. This fight is over; I lack reason in fighting you, nor interest."

Slowly, his eyes began to mull into an amber hue again; the red 'light' festering at his skin's surface dulling into non existance. However, his expression still held a sharp rage.. as he began stepping along the dojo floor, the sound of his feet coming down then leaving the floor just faintly audible. The mercenary stepped past Raine, before calling over his shoulder, "Oh.. and, you believe you were winning?" There was a slight pause, before he added, "Next time, I'll kick yer' ass. How about that? Ciao~" Then, with a lick of his lips, the mercenary left the dojo; stepping by the weights and grasping his things with a bit of weighty resistance, before slinging the chain mesh around them - and swinging the quickly made 'package' over his right shoulder. Leaning to the left just a tad, in order to balance the load - Omi stepped over to the front door. A thin line of blood still oozed down his right arm; for a moment, his eyes faltered to it. Then, he thought with concern, "Pissed you off too, ah..? Rest. Maybe she truely believed her words, however much foolishness rang in them."

As his right foot left the Gym doorway, a sweatdrop oozed down the mercenary's forehead comically; his eyes narrowing. "Shit! I forgot, I need to go check on Kuro's progress with the blade.."

::The force of the tall Orinian's final blow is lessened to some degree; Trei's final attack hits home upon Deity's right side, exploding outward and tearing a huge gash into his clothes, hitting his hip like a sledgehammer. The force of the blow is significant enough to push the devil's knee inward, shifting his balance for the worse and taking away the equilibrium of his palm strike. Though still connecting with Trei's sternum, the result would more or less be a spin from the target, Deity likewise spinning in an opposite rotation of counter-clockwise, knocking him forward and off of his feet.

Hitting the floor flat on his back with a heavy thud, the Mystic Orinian quickly pushes up into a sitting position with his right hand, looking over his shoulder and across the room towards Trei, freshly off of the wall and on the ground now. He looks hurt. Lifting himself onto his feet slowly, his lowering right hand takes ahold of the ruined waistline of his jeans, holding them up and keeping them from slipping right off, as his boxers underneath are threatening to do. Glancing down, the tall Tonepian leans to his left, lifting his right foot from the floor and swinging his leg gently back and forth.

A dull ache permeates through his leg and hip as his foot sways about; with his ki not held very high, his body was unable to take the full force of that blow without consequence. After he fixes this problem, his first priority is getting Trei a bit of help - thinking back, Deity may have overdone it a bit.::

Nuri Yasuo enters the gym. He noticed that some people where looking at him. It must because of his age. He sees so many machines to excersies on. Nuri has a slim build. He has blues eyes and brown hair. He is wearing gray pants and with a brown shirt. He is wearing a belt. There is a slots that hold different items, but there is none. He sees that there is a sign up sheet for sparing. Desiding that he should learn something he desides to sign up. After singing up he desides to walk up to punching bag and starts to practice some.

Mooo stopped the bag with his palm, taking a few slow breaths--the workout was far from strenuous, but it was still a good idea for him to keep his breathing even. Noticing the young man who walked in, Mooo figured he might as well ask, since the guy was on the mats and it was his turn.

Tugging his right bag glove off and tucking it under his left arm, Mooo made his way to the mats, making sure his presence was known as he approached him in clear view.

"'Scuse me," Mooo said in a friendly voice. "I don't have a partner to practice with--since you're here, would you be game?" While probably not taller than the other young man, Mooo was most definitely wider, his broad shoulders making him seem bigger than he actually was, even with his friendly grin.

Fop. Fop. Fop. Fop.

Marching merrilly down the stairs from the coliseum that lead into the Gym area came... [insert dramatic sound effect here] Tommy v1.20213.

This slightly newer version on the Tommy NPC (nonspecific person clone) came equipped with the 'man of mystery' feature. Specifically, despite the ragged street clothes that were signiature to most of the Tommy models, this one also had an expensive black leather briefcase handcuffed to his left wrist... though this one small sign of class certainly did nothing for that same, stupid grin on his face.

"Oi OI!" Tommy shouted, waving his hand around in the air when he entered, briefcase and all. "H'all y'all gym people doin' 'ere!?"

As was standard procedure, the incompetant LabTechs at the NPC factory outside of Durem fucked up again with v1.20213... how, exactly, was yet to be seen.

"Oi-wha?" the seemingly deranged youth replied in a boistrous tone. He shook his hands, shook his feet, then hopped up and down on his left foot for a few seconds.

"Feck yeah!"

And at that, Tommy waved his right fist in the air in front of him menacingly, or just plain bizzarely. Either way it was confirmation that taking ass and whupping names would shortly commence.

Whether it was a moniker or a surname, no formal designation would be safe from his wrath!

Nuri was still training. He kicks the punching back once and when it came back he side steps it and than kicks it really hard with a round house and it sends the back all the way back. Nuri quickly side steps it again and avoids the bag. He turns around and wounder if he should check to see if anyone else had signed up for a spar.

Raine's eyes widened when the figure used his own head to bash the punching bag. The Tarzan yell confirmed her beliefs that this man was indeed...Different. He acted like a two year old on steroids. It was rather comical.

She shrugged, assuming that he wasn't going to answer her question. So, Hand-to-hand she would do then. She quickly followed the man to the Dojo area he had abrubtly skidded into. He said he wanted less talking and more punching, so she would begin.

Approaching the man, she positioned herself a few feet away from him. No stance assumed.

"Ready?"

If he wasn't that was too bad, because she was going to start. She had said that merely to alert him that she was going to start, since this...'Man' seemed so impatient to start. She had to admit she was ready to begin also.

Standing about 7 feet away from the man, she began.

With no stance assumed and no warning, she bolted towards the odd man, heading straight for him. As she neared him, her right arm pulled back, her elbow straight and wrist stiff with her hand balled loosely in a fist. She pulled the arm back until the fist was across from her ear. When getting close enough, she abrubtly launched the fist towards the man's face with enough power to knock him out.

It was odd that she could wield that much power in a simple punch, but that's what years of training had provided. The punch, if successful, would probably knock him backwards or knock him out. Or both.

Either way, she hoped he was ready. Otherwise, he was going to have an unpleasant surprise.

Steriods? Maybe a little, as a part of the cloning process. Tommys, though, tended to have an unnaturally high level of testosterone that not only drove them to act immaturely and self-gratuitously, but made them into angry little combat-ready freaks at the drop of a hat. Forget 'balls of steel', Tommys have balls of ada-fucking-mantium.

On that note, Tommy just sort of stood there while Raine took up her position, and even when she started to move he didn't take up much of a stance at all. Tommy dropped back his left foot a little when she started, and when she drew close with her right ready to throw a punch, he stepped in and to the right with his right foot.

When she struck, his body turned sideways and he leaned back slightly, allowing the fist to pass over his left shoulder instead. At the same time he brought up his right arm quickly; but not with a fist. His arm came straight up, with the forearm seeming to try and strike her under the chin when she came close, using the momentum of her own charge.

The briefcase in his left hand was still by his side, swinging inwards a little bit with the motion of his step.

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> As soon as his arm jerked towards her chin she abrubtly shot her left hand out towards his stomach in an extremely poweful palm thrust. > It would strike him just as his arm would strike her, that is..Unless he pulled back on his attack.

Such a responce was completely basic, though. She attacked with her right and kept her left back. It was to be expected that when her right missed, she would attack with her left afterwards to prevent the counter.

themightyjello Wrote:

> The briefcase in his left hand was still by his side, swinging inwards a little bit with the motion of his step.

When he saw shoulder pull back slightly at the start of the motion, the slight swing of the briefcase turned into a full turn; swinging the heavy black box up between them so that her palm strike struck hard and firm exactly where it intended to go... just with the addition of a large black box between them that hit back against his side and hip to a significantly lesser effect.

Barely tapping his toe on the ground after that right step, he slid his foot out a little further and shifted his weight onto that leg. When the forearm smacked her on the chin and caught the top of her throat with the momentum, Tommy made his move.

His left elbow popped up, under Raine's right arm to keep it at bay. He grabbed at the right side of his neck with his right hand and pulled outwards quickly, and at the same time, pushed up and forwards with his left elbow against the underside of her right arm. All this together would have put her in a rather inopportune position, as with her center of balance still off from the rush she had made, Tommy would throw Raine over his right knee and onto her back on the ground beside him.

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> Immediately after she slammed into the ground, she rolled away from him and hopped up in a crouching position. Her left hand was on the ground for balance and her right hand was in front of her face, her index finger and middle finger pointed straight up while the rest of the fingers were curled downwards. > This was clearly an odd stance to have, yet it was what she chose. She now knew that she would need to take this seriously if she were to stand against him. > > She closed her eyes briefly, formulating her next attack. If he tried to advance while her eyes were closed, she would easily hear his footsteps and counter accordingly.

She wouldn't have to hear his steps, he made himself pretty well-known when he decided to shout "Heeeeeeere comes the-"

At that point, he had taken one step towards her with his right foot, and his left was following up behind him with the windup to an upwards kick that would, again, come up under her chin. His left hand was behind him, holding the briefcase again, and his right arm was about mid-level in front of him, still bent.

"KICKOFF!"

There was hardly enough force behind the kick to do anything serious like launch a person into the air like those fancy rising dragon whatchamajiggers you see on TV and in video games... hell, it was more like a soccer kick than a football one, anyways. Though it would certainly give her a good enough whack to knock her on that pretty lil' bum of hers, and be more than enough to leave a split lip.

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> She abrubtly tilted her head up as far as she could and tilted her whole head and neck back slightly, which would cause his foot to just go right past her face.

This is the part that was more or less assumed... someone who knew how to fight, like this woman obviously did by her words earlier and her initial attack, should be able to dodge something so obvious without incident.

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> This action would also bring her palm up..Which would obviously bring his leg up. > She would raise his leg as high as she could and push forward ever so slightly to throw him off balance, which would almost certainly cause him to fall onto his back.

However, she certainly one-upped herself from before with this one... it would have worked, too, if not for the angle of the kick that allowed the follow-through-

The kick wasn't exactly a straight up and down thing, as he was coming at her from a few steps away, it had a bit more of a sideways swing to it (yes, something I probably should have written in before; appologies on that part, but I didn't think it would quite be reacted to as a straight front kick). He had expected it to miss, and with that, was intending from the start to swing with it like a roundhouse and land on that foot. She wouldn't so much be able to stand with it unless she caught it, but she could certainly push it up a little higher than he had intended to throw his balance off.

If Raine could see much in her periphrial vision, past the heel in her face at the time, she'd see something moving on her right. What that was, exactly, was the heavy black briefcase again; swinging around in Tommy's left hand to T-bone her right on the side of the head right around the time his foot was passing her left shoulder.

If all went well, he'd end up standing in a wide stance with his back facing where she had been... a little off balance so that he would have to roll up onto his toes for a moment to regain it. As for her... well, that depends on how good her eyes are.

Face-sprawling action.

Sort of.

His arms came out in front of him, though since he had a briefcase handcuffed to one of them, he had to grab onto the sides of it with both hands and use it as sort of a base to land on. For a moment he was flat on his face, in a more or less prone position, and looking as if he had just performed half a pushup on the briefcase.

Then-

"WHOOO~!"

Tommy started running... not even bothering to get up, he gripped the edges of the briefcase firmly and started running across the ground while pushing the damned thing over the floor. He made for the far wall and performed a broad turn, then came back at her.

"YEE-HEE-HEE-HAW HAW!!"

A thing about gravity... it makes things take JUST as long coming down as they do going up. If she were to do a handspring with quite a bit of height to it, it would have to arc, and coming down from that arc is what would bring the power to it. If she, instead, were doing more of a straight out handspring, it would be able to get off much faster, as was her intent, but would have little more force than if she had just run into him.

However, no matter which type she had decided to do, there was still the matter of the arc... and when Tommy got that close to her, even if she hadn't performed the handspring, he would have turned his sliding into a low run by pushing off from the floor and pulling the briefcase up against his chest. This would increase his running speed at that moment, which would screw up Raine's timing a little bit.

With the handspring, this more or less left an opening.

An opening where?

Well, when she was coming up in the handspring, he would have more or less dived forwards and slammed the edge of the briefcase into the small of her back.

Things like that tend to ruin perfectly coordinated acrobatic maneuvers.

Depending on how she took the fall, either she would fall to the side, flat on her back, or flip over and end up on her face where she was, with Tommy falling over on top of her.

Tommy would get up just as quickly as Raine would, and, well, they'd be back where they started.

"Aw haw haw 's a lil' bit o' the ruff stuff, innit, oi?" he said, laughing.

Instead of a real stance, Tommy slid his right foot back a little and held up his left hand... the briefcase was still chained to his wrist and the handle was still held in his fist, but with a twist of the wrist he flipped the thing to the side and ended up with the bulk of the briefcase sitting atop the back of his forearm.

"Ho-kay thar then, miss'n!"

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> The fist would shoot for his face at a high rate of speed, almost happening within a matter of seconds.

(( I think you worded that wrong. xd A few seconds for a punch? Slooooow~. @___@ ))

The problem with all of that being, Tommy's left arm was extended between them. If she attaked with her right, he would simply move his left slightly so that her feint punch struck the flat of the briefcase at an angle and completely missed... not that it mattered much, as she would pull it back anyways - albiet perhaps with some sore knuckles.

When she began to approach, Tommy had raised his right arm slightly; rather than it hanging loosely at his side, it was up near his hip and ready to move, though not in stance. From the way she was attacking he had already planned his action before she had gotten close, and when she attacked with her right fist he was already stepping in against her with his right foot.

Her second attack wasn't ready, it wouldn't be performed until she pulled back with her right. However, as soon as she got close enough to throw that feint he thrust out with his right hand, not in a strike, but to grab a fistfull of the collar of her shirt. As soon as he had it, he yanked her forewards, and... well... they met face to face.

Her palm strike wouldn't have much chance of succeeding, seeing as how they were now so close. She wouldn't have much chance of performing any thrust-type attack with that arm as they were, either, as with his grip upon her shirt his elbow was out in front of her bicep, and to move her arm up and in for a body-blow she would have to push past it, which would greatly deminish the power even if the obstacle in her range of motion could be circumvented.

Sith walked into the gym. Oh my fucking god. That's amazing. He sat on a weight bench. OH MY GOD! Even more amazing.

((...>_> I'm an idiot. I completely missed that too. I'll pay more attention from now on..o.o;;

||EDIT|| She's 5'8. o.o ))

Raine hadn't been paying much attention to where his arm currently was, so she hadn't noticed that he would easily stop her attack. Huh, she should pay more attention.

Anyways, Raine was obviously in a bad position. The Tommy though didn't seem like all his attention was currently focused on what they were doing. He was staring at...Somethin' else I guess. Raine didn't exactly wanna stand there forever. Anyways, so it seemed like anytime she tried to punch it just got countered. That was really getting annoying. So, if she can't use her arms all that well against this thing, then what else is left? Obviously the legs.

She was rather mad now, getting angry that anything she tried didn't work. Her teeth gritted, her eyes cast downwards staring at nothing. Anger became purely visible upon her, not that the Tommy was even paying enough attention to notice that. Her right foot slid forward slightly for some reason.

Suddenly, in no time at all, her left knee shot up in a clean blow to his abdomen. Hopefully, though she doubted it, but hopefully this would work, since his left arm was raised already. She wasn't sure he could bring that briefcase down in time to block. This action would probably knock the wind out of him and cause him to let go and maybe even fall backwards. If it worked.

Black_Oblivion Wrote:

> This action would probably knock the wind out of him and cause him to let go and maybe even fall backwards. If it worked.

The knee made Tommy pull away slightly, but it didn't quite knock the wind out of him, as she had hoped.

Instead of letting go, however, Tommy just twisted his grip a little tighter and- while he had drawn back slightly from her kick, that had simply made room to give him a 'running start'.

WHUD.

Facebutt #2.

The 'running start' was far from that. It was simply the small amount of distance, inches really, that had been put between them as a result of her strike. A more accurate word would have been 'the windup'.

Regardless, if she decided to roll backwards, he'd let her. She couldn't really go anywhere since he had her about three inches from his face with theat grip on her collar. So she fell back, and he fell back with her. But his left hand was still out, and it slammed palm-down onto the ground above her head when she fell.

With the momentum of the fall and his own weight behind it now, Tommy gladly accepted the knee pressed into his stomach, and returned it by driving his forehead right into hers... as per his apparent style. The difference being, with all that added force, she still had nowhere to go, as it'd crack the back of her head harshly against the mat.

Headbutt #2: Revised

A small thud could be heard at the entrance-way to the Gym, as a weary figure comically collapsed along it, before quickly standing erect again. Cracking his knuckles, the mercenary 'Omi' let out a loud yawn, before stepping away from the doorway and into the Gym's forefront - eyes on a power bag nearby. Supported by chainlinks that were made quite powerful, just for the kind of beings whom'd assuredly use it here - Omi intended to test out what he'd learned since his match with the man 'Ki'oshi'. And, feeling fresh in spirits & stamina - this seemed like the perfect time.

"Hn.." Looking to the left, then to the right - amber-brown eyes peering about - he seemed to be watching for something.. then sighed with relief after a few moments. "Wooh.. no Raine. Damned good; I don't think I could handle another encounter with her right now. Too tired~" Narrowing his eyes with a sweatdrop at the back of his head, the mercenary began to take a few quick steps towards the power bag he'd eyed earlier; until he was but a foot away from it, squaring his shoulders out with it. Black leather. A fine quality bag, to be sure..

"Alright! Time to give this a shot." Rotating his left, then right shoulder, Omi slipped the index finger of his right hand into his left's gauntlet - slipping it off before doing the same, in the opposite fashion. Then, he rubbed his bare knuckles for a few moments.. reddened nicely from bare-knuckle training, before eying the power bag intentively. His expression was focused. Refined. Peering it over at it's every detail. Then, his thoughts reeled back to the O/M Branch Match between Reegan Hitsomaki, and Strider Sanako.

Quote: Wrote:

> "Sheath-Sword Slash!" > > Reegan would mutter under his breath, as he struck out his Tachi in a vertical motion - Hoping to stop the boomerang type of attack his opponent had used. Knocking it out of the air quite easily, as he side-stepped forward. Sheathing his Tachi in the process, while his other hand would unsheath the wakasaki blade, made out of adamanitum and uru, two of the most durable materials ever known to man.

First, Omi assumed a basic 'boxing stance'; bending his knees a tad, placing one foot forward and one back - standing shoulder first, both arms raised up in a basic, yet effective guard designed to shield the face & chin. Then, he gave a quick, simple left jab to test his reach out; easily meeting the bag from his position, arm uncoiling forward and striking the exterior of the leather bag prior to retracting to it's previous position. Letting out a soft exhale & closing his eyes for a few moments. As though, to calm himself; letting out his pent-up anxieties. "This will work.. this.." Opening his eyelids again with a fierce glare, he continued, "..Will be what wins me the tournament, at one point."

What he was about to perform, would, in actual application, be supplemented by his 'serpentine' ability. However, he had to get it down.. and with one final moment of hesitation, Omi began.

First, his right fist thundered forward in a right straight, just slightly tilted to knock the bag to his left; then, he jumped quickly, switching his stance so his left shoulder & foot were the ones forward, and the right back - and did the same, giving another thunderous straight with his left hand. This time, the bag moved back to his right, almost quicker than before.. "Timing's off.. dammit.." Gritting his teeth, the mercenary continued this; right, left, right, left. If an opponent were to try and escape this odd assault, they'd find it hard to move, lest they be struck in a shoulder; and, if they tried to assault Omi.. the way he was moving, recoiling his arms before thundering them back fourth - it'd just cause them further injury by moving into the blows.

However, he began to do this 'properly'; punch, punch, punch.. each blow echoing through-out the Gym, the bag going back and fourth violently with great speed. An opponent would dislike this most certainly, as gashes began to form on the durable material of the power bag. Yet, it wasn't over yet.. each time the bag seemed to lurch to the left or right, it seemed to move faster.. with more force.. Omi was using the momentum of the bag - or in an actual battle, his opponent - to reinforce his own blows, causing them to be hit harder.. and harder..

Then, at one point, as the bag swung to his left - Omi leapt up this time, just an inch. And when he was square with the bag, for but the briefest of moments.. both of his arms performed respective hooks on the bag, right arm giving the right side of the bag an upper hook, the left hand giving the left side a lower. And then, the bag stopped in place; the upper section twisting a bit to his left, the lower section to his right. If an opponent were to be struck by this, much the same would occur; their torso'd twist a bit to the left, lower body to the right..

He couldn't let up, as he shuffled back - right shoulder & arm forward, his right hand being dominant.. "*Get it right - GET IT RIGHT!*" His eyes seemed to blaze, sweat forming at his skin, as he roared forward at the oddly positioned bag.. and, mimicking the forward-strike Reegan Hitsomaki had preformed with a sword, Omi's right hand thundered forward - using his entire bodyweight to reinforce & empower the right fist, turning his waist to further enhance it. And, the fist met the one point of the bag not twisted in those brief moments. The mid-section. Or, for an opponent.. the gut.

The bag flew upward, both sides twisting further due to the pressure applied - before striking the wall with a painfully loud 'slam'. Upon impact, the upper & lower sections of the bag may as well have exploded; the tension too much, as stuffing and such rained down, the bag completely severed from it's reinforcement chain. And there, stood the mercenary; fist stinging a bit, but slowly recoiled as he took an inhale, before giving a suited exhale. Standing up straight, Omi took his left hand and rubbed the wrist of his right; gazing at the aftermath.

He had been brought here to watch the frivolry and aptitude for disgusting acts that was held within all life tainted by variance and impure fluctuation of Prime Element. He was purely focused, the hand and favored tool of the Prime Sanctity, Light, untouched by the other Primes and a judge for those that mixed their faith unduly. No thought, no meandering distraction of focused mind. One purpose, one drive, one source to control him and naught more to influence his motives.

Silent, steady as rock in his presence, Lord Alabaster Whitte stood, watching everything within the confines of the sparring dojo. What drew him here, even he did not know, and would not ponder upon even if his mind posessed such a thing as thought. He waited, guided by the will of his basemost design.

Why was this robed man doing no training regiments, etc.? Simply, he kinda fell asleep against the wall with arms folded across his chest. A bit strange, but Arcanine was an even stranger person. He was shook a bit at the man's sudden greeting. At his bodily movement, An adamantine jingu staff could be seen somehow stored inside his robe but running his back. Basically, stored vertically via a secured sash inside the robe. Despite looking male, he spoke in a girl's kinda voice.

"Maybe. Maybe not. What's it to you cutie?"

"I was hoping for possibly some foreplay. But, weapon-play sounds a bit interesting and a bit of hand-to-hand. You can probably guess my weapon, sweet thing."

He said as he worked his staff out of his robe and into being held by both of his hands. He walked into the center of the gym without even waiting for an answer back.

(( By the way, just to clarify. His robe looks like the kind a friar would wear. ))

He took an odd fighting stance for a staff weapon. His right foot was forward, left one back. Both were in alignment with his shoulders in a way. His right hand held his staff like it was a massive buster sword over the back of his neck. His left side went downwards with his left hand most reaching the floor. If not for the left hand/arm placement, he might be the spitting image of Auron and how he held his massive sword. Also, there was a little bit of roundedness that could be seen at the area of his upper chest. His nails fashioned to that of a woman's.

Only this man was using a staff that was approximately 1.25 times his height when fully standing up and was made of adamantium. It would be seen how much punishment it could take from the other blade before becoming damaged. Likely, a lot.

"Name's Arcanine. I prefer lovelies like you to go first." said Arcanine before opening his mouth and flicking his tongue back and forth at Omi.

Arcy just stood in the same position, perfectly still. It looks uncomfortable to be in his position. Arcanine would not fall for the feint. He was waiting for the man to seriously strike. His response to the feint..putting his lips together and made with a kissing motion at Omi. Complete with sound effect while he stood in the same position.

The chained feint was a failure as well as Arcanine remained still. As far as the sickle kick went, Arcanine would see it coming as if in sorta slow motion. His remaining still was in fact a preparation stance. This stance being for very quick movements that required a greater amount of precision.

The sickle kick was absorbed and caught by Arcy's left hand/arm; now slightly angled from it. That is to say the foot was absorbed by his left robe sleeve that covered left arm which blocked the blow. The kick would be blocked as close to the wrist as it had to be so that the appropriate hand could grab a hold of it. This would also reveal that his robe wasn't just an ordinary cloth. Rather a deceptive looking armor as well.

As far as Arcanine's next action, he just stood there in the same spot despite the new positioning of his arm. He was waiting for his opponent's next move.

Who said he had to use his own body to block the blow? Arcanine simple raised his left hand/arm holding the leg. Arcy's left hand wouldn't be dealing with the blow. Rather, it would be Omi's own caught left leg that would block the oncoming punch for him. Simply put, the man damaged himself with his own punch.

As for the staff, why go against the weapon when you can go along the weapon? Arcanine used his right hand to pull on the staff. Using his own neck as a plane, he made the other end of the staff be lifted along the outline of the sword. This would basically free it and set it up for the upcoming attack that came as the same speed as the thrust punch. The staff would be whirled around to sweep along the ground and go for Omi's open right leg. Not the foot itself, but for the back of the knee to try to fuck up his positioning and cause him to fall. His staff hand positioning in front of his front foot to avoid self-collision.

**Dante entered the dojo in a normal fashion. His attire was as always casual. A pair of black jeans and a loosely worn formal shirt of a crimson hue. They may have seemed to be hardly helpful in battle, but the clothing worked well for him as a shinobi. He had a katana sitting on his back among a few other things that stuck out. His ears and tail were evidence that he wasn't a mere human.

His hands were tucked into the tight pockets of his jeans as he stood waiting for his opponent. A cigarette sat limp on his lips as he watched the doors.**

**Dante's eyes glimmered with blood lust as he witnessed his newest prey. His furry black ears twitched upon catching the vibrations of the man's voice snapping from his malicious daze. His facial expression sat monotone leaving his eyes to give off the normal cold look that peered deep into his opponents.

He slipped his hand behind his back to pull a mask from the leather bag that was attached to the back of his hip. The mask depicted a wolf with all of it's normal features. Extended snout, sharp fangs, pointy ears..the works. It was covered in a white base paint with red strokes for whiskers and to line the hand crafted eyes. Although it may have seemed to have been made of a plaster material, it was actually a metal similar to steel on the hardness scale.

A wolfish grin manifest on his pale lips hidden behind the mask which oddly hugged his face tightly with absolutely no space between his skin and the mask. How this was done was unknown to everyone but him.

" Of course," he said as he linked his fingers and extended his arms to pop his fingers.**

**Dante stood completely still as he watched the man. This energy that released from his body was observed by Dante through the use of his secondary visual skills. He wasn't disturbed much by this releasing of energy. It was common for a fighter with physical energy or spirtual energy based techniques to do. It would merely put him on a slight alert that the man was planning something.

His own chakra began to fluxuate from his body from all 360 tenketsu, or chakra pores. A 35% output of chakra that pulsed in an even beat to his heart. If one could see this manifestation of energies from his body they would look as though long thin tendrils were sqwirming about from his body looking for something to feed off of.

He had no intentions of having any staring matches. His hand slipped back behind him once more as he bent low. When his hand came back around something would be consealed inside. There was about a twenty yard gap between the two combatants at the time. He would sprint forward at a mild speed in a jagged pattern of unorthadox shifts and turns. When he was about 10 yards away his right hand would come forward to release a barrage of 5 small black orbs. Upon hitting the ground around the man they would quickly explode with a burst of a pinkish colored gas. The gas had a strong thickness to it so vision past a foot in front of you would be extremely difficult. It had some toxic like qualities to it. It irratated the eyes and seemed to cause a slight burning feeling in the skin. When inhaled it would tickle at the membranes of the nose to cause sneezing and, when into the lungs, coughing spasms. Later effects of the gas would arise upon inhaling. The gas would cover a radius of about 20 yards.

As Dante moved into the smoke, a filtering fan in his mask would keep the toxic gas from getting into his lungs. His skin and eyes were protected from the irratation with the help of his outlying chakra. A thin film of chakra that resided just on the top of the epidermis would eat away at any of the toxins trying to touch his skin. He was consealed by the smoke and silence came naturally to him. He was virtually invisible to the average human. Silently, he removed a kunai from his thigh hollster and moved around in the smoke in still odd patterns. He would make no sound.**

**The mask that covered Dante's entire face, including 90% chin, would seem to be the key defensive factor in this attack. Dante's eyes were not that of human descent. He could produce images at a much faster rate than the norm. So, as Arian began to move, he would notice immediately. Yes, reaction time was limited, but he would not be as surprised as the man would have thought.

He tilted his head ever so slightly to the left and held it in place to keep it from having any chances of snapping his neck. In changing the position a bit he could stop the straight strike from moving him along with the aid of a backed up leg to help resistance. The hard matieral of the mask that hugged his skin as though it had been there at birth protected him from any form of damage. For Arian it would be a tad bit different. If the open palmed attack had enough power in it to knock Dante into the air then it would obviously have enough force to break his wrist upon hitting something with high density and resistance.

He would have dropped the orbs about half way through Arian's stride, letting them explode around him. About the time that the attack would be finished the gas would be rasing into the air quickly. He wasted no time with this. He held the element of surpise as he had to take no pain caused draw backs. The numbness of his body allowed him to spring forth from the strike that would merely turn his head a bit to come back around with a left armed strike. He wasn't the only man here with a large amount of speed. His arm motion was said to be similar to that of a snake's. It was very sudden and so swift that it caught most off guard. With Arian caught of guard from being swung at only an instant after hittting him, Dante had a strong chance of success. It was a rather straight strike of an open palm towards the man's right upper abdominals. His hand had a confligration like red aura from a high concentration of chakra. This would add force and extreme heat to the open palm strike. It had enough force to break some ribs and enough heat to burn his clothing as well as his skin.**

She stood in the shadows of the Gym, awaiting the man who had pleasantly accepted her invitation for a duel. As he entered in his casual manner, her lips curved into an eager smile.

She stood at 5'8, built with a petite figure that looked rather harmless. Her hair was jet black, and parted in the front. It was chin-length. Her eyes were a light blue colour, almost grey-ish and very wide. She was very, very pale. She wasn't dressed in combat clothing at all, but instead it was casual clothing. She wore a cottony turtle-neck sweater, and regular baggy black pants with a lot of pockets. Her hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of her pants at the moment. Everything about her had an air of nobility.

The few other things she had with her, were two Wakizashis that were crisscrossed on her lower back. Her main weapon didn't seem to be currently with her, since it'd be a little too hard to swing a 5'4 blade in close quarters.

She walked towards the man, nodding towards him as she approached. She simply blinked.

"You are the one I am to fight, I presume? Any special rules you would like to set for this battle?"

She shook her head slowly, not being able to think of any rules. Free for all was the way she liked it, and she didn't want to die much either. It had only been two days since her last battle, but her injuries weren't serious enough that they needed much healing. She felt like she was in good condition.

"Free for all will do just fine. Abilities, weaponry, or Hand-to-Hand are all things I have trained in. Though, my most advanced style seems to be Hand-to-Hand.

Well, let's begin, shall we?

Although....I don't believe you've told me your name yet? I'm Raine, and I'm sure it'll be a pleasure fighting you."

She gave a deep bow to the man in front of her, showing respect towards him. She normally was polite to anyone, unless they angered her or she was having a bad day. Also, she could be a little mean in battle as well...but she was getting better at keeping it in check.

She simply waited for a reply from the man, hoping that after a proper introduction they could begin whacking each other around the Gym.

Her hands dangled at her side loosely, her entire being seemed completely relaxed. She watched him closely, analyzing his entire stance. It seemed she would have to advance first.

She was cautious, since she never underestimated an opponent.

Her right foot slid back against the floor behind her left foot, turning 90 degrees to the right. Her left foot was still facing him. She slowly brought her right hand up in front of her face in a loose manner, so as it wasn't quite in a fist and it wasn't completely open. Her left hand remained at her side in a fist, 'cept it was raised slightly.

She took a deep breath.

Suddenly, she moved, pressing her right foot against the floor and launching herself towards him. She obviously was using a speed that wasn't normal. Her speed was greatly advanced, though it wasn't so fast that the human eye could not comprehend it.

It wasn't very far to run, so it wasn't long before she reached him. As she did so, she abrubtly crouched low, twisting around slightly and bracing both of her hands against the floor. She pivoted to her right so that her stomach was now facing the floor. Kind of like a push-up stance. Except, instead of doing push-ups (cause that might be weird in battle), her left leg shot high into the air in an almost backwards kick towards his chin, with the help of her arms boosting her body up.

She fought with weird styles that required a lot of flexibility, so she was used to these sort of moves.

This all happened within just a couple of seconds, so he wouldn't have a lot of time to react. If this kick should make contact, it might knock him backwards a bit or stun him, but nothing too serious. She hadn't really thrown much power into it, since she was merely testing him so that she could see what sort of power he had.

(( Sh -- I need to go for a while. >> I'll respond to the fight when I get back. ^^;; Gomene~ >_<; ))

Shitty entrance time.

Out from the shadows a siloutte formed. However,the shadows seemed to not be natural, but were actually radiating from him. This "shadow aura" left a few strands of shadows when it moved too far off, which dispersed to nothingness.

The figure is a man of average height, around 6 feet tall. The aura hid any features, except for a pair of red, glowing eyes, although the glow was pretty dim.

The man was leaning against a wall on the corner with his arms crossed, apparently waiting for someone, or something.

He calmly glanced over to Fas after his...very noisy entrance. He glanced back to empty space, waiting for the next thing to occur.

"..."

At first, Syker Luyez didn't comply at all, as if his senses had died out on him. Like he was daydreaming... Or something.

Not even when a deadly spear was thrown just above his head did he comply. He seemed to just be minding his own business... until Fas came too close.

Luyez then jumped when Fas hanged upside down like a freak, and he swiftly smacked Fas with the back of his hand in reaction. Paranoid much?

The hit sent a very loud smacking sound through the silent building. He mumbled something under his breath, in a unpleasant tone.

The shadow aura became considerably less dense, becoming slightly transparent, but not enough to see him well.

Luyez then sighed and shook his head. He spoke in a low tone, as if speaking to himself. "Idiot..."

Fasumbra Langardo Wrote:

> "See? Told you she'd be here Syker." Fas said, looking at Raine with his eyes, studying every movement she made, his Mana-Sense picking up each molecular movement she made, even the blood flowing in her veins, muscle movement, hormone release, and countless other things.

((>_>;; Why do I seem so popular all of a sudden..? o.o; ))

Her charcoal eyes lit up as he grabbed at her ankle, successfully wrapping his fingers around it and yanking it. As he tapped on it and released it, she simply somersaulted foward and landed on her feet oddly. Balancing there, she pushed against the floor and raised her upper body up with a straightening of the knees. She realized that he knew she wasn't taking him seriously, which was why he was holding back. She turned, though ready in case he had decided to come forth and attack while she was still somersaulting or standing.

Instead of looking angry or annoyed like most immature fighters had a tendency to do, she smiled instead. It was a more of a smirk, but it did have a happy attribute to it. After all, she'd fought some really dumb people in the past, excluding the few people that had earned her respect.

It was always nice to fight someone who knew what they were doing.

"Interesting.. This'll be a fine fight."

She lived to fight, and for nothing more. Fighting was the only thing that could bring someone like her happiness. This was all she cared about.

Death and cuts were a small price to pay for a bit of fun.

As quickly as her smirk had come upon her face, it disappeared and she was ready to go again. She didn't mind using weaponry if he wanted to, so it didn't matter to her if he wanted to get a bit more serious and fight with those. Until he drew his weapon though, she would continue to advance in the manner she had chosen.

So, she did.

She was still standing pretty close to him, and if he hadn't made a movement by then, she would. She suddenly took a step forward with her right leg, shifting most of her weight to her left leg, she hastily pulled her left fist back, raising it by her shoulder. Like a spring-action toy, she let if fly, aiming a simple, yet effective punch towards his right eye. More power had been placed into this, so that if it should make contact it would have a relatively good effect. Stunning was a possibility, or knocking him off his feet. The strength she had placed into this wasn't all of her strength, but it was enough to take her a little more seriously. Especially because! She wasn't done attacking.

As this would happen, her right hand had already pulled back, palm facing outwards and the hand preparing to strike. In less than a second, it shot out as well in a powerful palm thrust to the left side of his chest, though it was enough away from the heart to not cause any serious damage. It'd probably have enough power to knock him backwards though.

Not only that, but her right leg shot up high into the air, her balance focused on her left leg, but her weight had shifted forward for more of an effect in her attacks. Her right knee would most likely make contact with his abdomen at the time her fist would would be hitting the chest. So, essentially, she'd be using three of her limbs to attack, though all of them weren't very hard to counter. But, all of them coming at the same time might be a little overwhelming, but overall she expected a good reaction from him. She could feel that he would be a good opponent.

Unless he drew his sword while she was attacking, that might suck for her then.

Fas noticed the kiss.

And his face went from serious buisness to a massive sweatdrop, and a look of shock/disgust.

"Well....I think he's succeded in pissing her off...I think I'll just..."

Fas trailed off, and a wall of multicolored light came up in front of him, like a bubble. A barrier of mana. For indeed, Raine had one hell of a temper, and a kiss, accidental or not, would definately make her lose it.

Especially since when she last went into "rage mode" on him, she proved that her temper pushed away all logical reasoning for being pissed off.

He knew she had a tendancy to explode, and it was also nearly guarenteed that she would...get lethal in her anger. Therefore, a barrier around himself would be smart, to avoid a flurry of her dark energy.

((>_>))

Well, Fas was certainly right in what he had said. Whether it was meant accidentally or not, she didn't care.

She was angry.

Despite him hitting her in the torso, she acted as though it didn't bother her a bit. That's what happens when she gets angry. Pain becomes nothing. Also, as he shoved her backwards she placed her right foot down abruptly behind her, which would ensure that she wouldn't tip over.

She glared at him with a look of hatred, her kind manner now turning to something fierce. She no longer cared if this was Hand-to-Hand. To her, he needed to be hurt seriously or die for what he had done.

"... That...was a mistake. I'm going to make sure you regret it."

Her common sense was gone. Nothing was left but a desire to hurt him. That's why, some people called her insane. Fas knew all too well what she was capable of.

Almost as soon as she had stepped away, both of her hands suddenly reached behind her, wrapping around the hilt of her Wakizashis and unsheathing them from their silver scabbards. As she pulled them out, her body began to glow with an odd grey aura that made her seem more powerful. Her eyes even began to glow a faint red colour, though it wasn't very noticeable.

In the unsheathing of her swords, she carried the unsheathing through and performed an unsheath-slash towards him with both of the Wakizashis in a criss-crossed manner. This would most likely slash him across the chest, though judging from the distance, they would be shallow cuts.

The whole room began to give a faint grey glow as she did this, her aura growing around her. In he were able to sense energy, he might understand -just- how angry she was.

She was charging her energy for something.

As she did this, the dark aura around her began to pour off of her like water, falling to the ground in a big grey puddle. Except, instead of acting like water, it began to move towards him, puddling under his feet. Suddenly, the dark energy would shoot into the air, taking on the form of dark spikes. She wasn't playing around anymore. She didn't care if it killed him.

If he didn't move, he'd be impaled numerous times.

She was pissed enough to do that.

Plus, he'd have to worry about the Wakizashis, since if he moved forward at all he'd just get killed by those. At least, that would ensure that another dumb "mistake" wouldn't be made that would anger her more.

((<_<;.....))

It is definately a mistake that Snow did not intend. Not seeing how a simple mistake on his part can lead to such change on Raine, he quickly went on the defensive, leaning his weight backwards to increase the range her Wakizashi needs to cover, and reducing the amount of damage he would take. Not even wanting to know what those big black ooze are, or why they're falling to the ground like puddles, Snow realized with despair that his reaction might not be fast enough to fully dodge the unsheath-slash.

In an effort to at least reduce the strike, he raised his left scabbard in front of him, the battojutsu striking hard at the sheath covering the blade, reducing the immediate impact.

A loud ringing tone echoed the Gym as Snow used the force to throw himself backwards a few feet, jumping back just as the spikes portruded out of the the ground, missing him by just a second or two.

"Holy --"

Well, on the bright side, she's fighting seriously now. Now to survive this onslaught before he meets the grim reaper himself. Again.

The temperature within the room began to turn cold when Snow landed. Eyeing his blade briefly, he could see that the battojutsu strike has chipped off a portion of his scabbard, revealing the unharmed weapon he carried around. The silver katana seems unphased by the strike. Good.

He threw the injured scabbard slightly into the air, watching it fall before grabbing the hilt by then, and slamming part of the scabbard right into the ground. As soon as it happened, Snow dashed towards Raine in a left arc, the tip of the scabbard skidding across the ground while the intention seems obvious;

A diagonal slash up from his left katana when he got close, towards Raine's right pelvis.

However, judging that there was the other katana on his right hip, and the fact that soft, glittery substances of ice were left in his wake, the attack doesn't seem to be as simple as it seems.

No matter. Since the girl is in a pissed off mood, he'll just have to defeat her if he plans on surviving this round.

"See something you like, Sy?" Fas said, grinning. He knew Sy well enough. He was just as bloodthirsty and brutal as Raine...perhaps more so.

He grinned.

"Well-" He was cut off, as the gym doors busted open, and who was it but...

"POLICE! FREEZE OR WE'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

And "Gangsta Gangsta" by Lil' Scrappy began playing in the background.

Fas was still for a second, then in a single motion fell to the ground and landed on his feet, then took off.

Several gunshots went off as Fas ran, hitting the walls and floor around Fas, who almost tripped as he ran, before running out a seperate exit, knocking an ashtray over behind him before getting out.

One of the po-pos took off after Fas, the other opening fire on Syker with his .45 pistol.

Outside, Fas was running like a crackhead, the po-po running behind him. Fas knocked aside a civilian, continueing his escape.

Meanwhile, Fas was still running. Rather quickly at that.

He turned a corner, and found himself looking at three more po-pos. His face looked shocked for a second, and he froze.

The cops noticed him, leik instantly.

"SHIT, THAT'S HIM! GET HIM!"

And Fas turned the other direction, taking off again, now with four po-pos chasing him. He came to a fence and jumped, grabbing it's top, then lifting himself up and over it, landing on the other side and then taking off.

The police were hot on his trail, climbing the fence almost as fast as Fas had, who was still ahead of them.

Fas ran down a sidewalk, knocking another person out of the way, and continueing his escape from the "long arm of the law".

Back at the gym, the cop who had shot at Syker was unafraid apparently, but before that, he lifted his mouth to his walkie-talkie.

"SUSPECT HAS FIRED SHOTS! OFFICER DOWN!"

And after that, he charged at Syker, attempting to tackle him to the ground.

And then the door busted open again and this time...

"SWAT TEAM! ON THE GROUND, SPIC MOTHERFUCKER!"

The SWAT team opened fire anyway, firing shotguns and AKs at Syker, while some threw tear gas in the windows.

Back with Fas, he was running down the road now, a helicopter hovering in the air as well as two cop cars chasing him.

A car pulled up ahead, a black Lamborghini, and it stopped. At the wheel was a rather short person, white/grey dreadlocks handing off his head and stunna shades on his face, loose clothes on his body, black jeans and a white-T with wings that looked like Fas' airbrushed on it.

Fas grinned, jumping over the door of the car and into the seat.

"GO GENIS! FUCKIN' GO!"

Genis hit the gas, the supiriour Lamborghini shooting forward and away from the cops.

Fas panted heavily, looking behind him. He reached down and grabbed a cloth and whiped his forehead with it, then looking down and realizing it was a black and blue bandana. He quickly tied it around his head backwards, turning around in the car and giving the purusing Cop cars a one-fingered salute.

(( No prob. :3 Take as much time as you need. ^_^ ))

The gaze lowered. His left shoulder seems to slump further downwards a bit as the blade - instead of skidding across the ground, appears to be actually digging deepinto the ground during the slash - accumulated some debris on its tips, in which he swung it up at Raine's pelvis.

Adding collateral damage to the expected slash, chips of broken wood and splinters flung out towards Raine's torso. So when his blade didn't connect to the opponent's sides, the splinters were launched out of the ground at a speed decent enough to impale her exposed skin or make her flinch. Just a tad bit.

Using his swung momentum to his advantage as he saw her skip back by then, Snow flipped his unsheathed katana around his left palm, holding it in a dagger-like hold to defend his left side. A loud clang of blade striking against each other can be heard when he then angled his blade to the left, forcing her Wakizashi - the weapon that was trying to impale his left side - to divert from the initial course, skidding on his left blade in a relatively safe margin away from his body.

Which left him to fend off her left Wakizashi, and/or her legs if she decides to kick by then.

To take up on his first strike, Snow had his right hand placed on the side, grabbing hold of his other katana - still sheathed and kept within the confinements of the scabbard.

Depending on how she reacts, he might have to change tactics during combat.

His footing is now again on a side stance, but more with the weight placed on his left foot in front, his right leg slightly hoisted to kick, or....

The correct answer to expectancy, is to expect the expected. One cannot expect anything unexpected, once they think about it carefully. Unexpected countermeasures mean that it is not first thought of for the opponent before they realize it...

And that is the flaw within the quote of expectancy; Expected the unexpected? How?

Snow had no need to think of it further, his mind elsewhere, already within the depths of battle.

There is no mistake about it; Raine was planning something with that dark energy of hers. Having seen the black ooze in action, Snow could factor out three variables that compose the substance. One. It's fatal to the touch for the opponent, as it can form spikes and impale exposed flesh within the instant. Second. Her energy is composed of darkness, which hints that using the opposite element, light, it is possible to distabilize her powers momentarily.

Unfortunately, Snow isn't a light caster, and his only superior skill is the ability to manipulate water and air in the surrounding environment, using it to his own advantage. However, if he revealed the fact that he too is a shadow user....

....No. There's no need to reveal that side of his abilities now.

And Third? The dark energy is possibly composed in a form of liquid, which means it's easy to manipulate the body with relative ease. He had seen it drip off like a puddle...but perhaps the energy itself can be used independently, like he can with his abilities on malleable substances?

"......Hm..."

Still having his left weapon held defensively, Snow flipped his grasp back into a sword hold, relinquishing the previous style of holding the katana in a dagger hold. Holding it towards Raine's position - pointing the tip of the blade at her - he raised his right leg a little, giving a soft tap with his heel to the ground.

Very subtle, very indiscrete...

The ground around Snow seems to darken a bit, glistening only where the light comes in contact with. Onwards the subtle form continued to expand around Snow's perimeter, encompassing one feet in radius....two feet...three feet....

To a decent area of four and a half feet, did the subtle affect revealed itself for the opponent to realize;

Ice.

Snow froze the ground around him, making the ground slippery and wet to the point that it's hard to stand on it without tripping or slipping. He has seen her move before, her flexible stretches, kicks, and especially that last rush on the battojutsu slash;

If he can't limit her mobility to some extent, then he will eventually fall into a difficult struggle against the agile opponent, sooner or later.

So it didn't really surprise him when he saw her move, this time, almost unseen by the naked eye. Taking focus on where she might pass by, his best guess would be an indirect approach, as his weapons have longer range than hers. But not able to react fast enough to counter her unmatchable speed, Snow quickly pushed off with his left leg on the frozen ground, using the slippery ice to slide him away from harms path, in a right arc back.

Sudden tears on his left torso would appear, followed by a shallow cut near his left stomache. Narrowing his eyes, he attempts to slash with his left blade on on where he felt the cut, attempting to land a blow on Raine's limbs or left torso as well as she passed by.

But depending if the ice did make her slip or trip, he will only counter with that for now, as his legs would be pushing on the slippery ice with ease, using that to retreat from her black energy....

Nonchantly, his right hand clutched at the wound near his left stomache. Trickles of blood dripped onto the floor, but Snow paid no heed to his own injuries.

Just Raine, and her snobbish smile.

He tilted his head to a side, still with that casual look expressed on his face. He's not in a position to show her who is strong and who is not, but if she insists on him attacking her... So be it.

His hand continued to linger on his wound for a few seconds. Taking his hand off by then, it is faintly noticeable that something has covered the wounds already. Something shiny. Summing it along with his abilities to use ice, it is obvious that Snow literally froze the wound up, using a bit of moisture to create a temporary bandage to stop his injury from bleeding.

It doesn't mean it didn't hurt, but it's just a means for temporary healing.

Unfortunately, any heavy wounds like a sliced limb, a huge gash, or even a punctured organ is out of the question for Snow's ability.

Which means that he'll have to land a bit of damage back at her now, before that happens.

"I didn't expect for you to go easy in the beginning." He muttered back, throwing his left katana into the air slightly before it impaled the ground for the time being. Unsheathing his right blade this time, he then reached back to pull his other weapon out of the ground, brandishing two katanas in direct opposition to Raine's two Wakizashis.

With only one minor difference in his hold.

Oddly, he was holding two palms further up on the tsuba guard, where instead of the blades' dull edge - the least lethal part of the blade - there was an extended hilt guard, allowing him to shift between long range and speed by just changing the grab itself. Holding his left sword on the extended hilt, he lowered his stance a bit, his position unwavered by the slippery ground surrounding the two fighters.

Raising his left katana into the air, the dull end of the blade rested itself against his right shoulder as he leaned forward a bit, letting gravity pull him towards the ground before...

A sudden dash of speed erupted behind his wake. The affected ground that was frozen over began to rupture and break apart, pillars of ice bursting out of the ground, its cold, solid surfaces reflecting brightly in contrast against the light within the Gym. Using the solid ice as the catalyst, Snow dashed to and fro with surprising agility over the slippery surface, using it to literally, skate towards the opponent.

It was only about two feet away from Raine when Snow suddenly, literally, stopped on the ice itself, using the left leg as the brake to convert the speed into momentum on his upcoming strike. Instead of the common sense of a person skidding to a halt on ice, as one would usually expect, it was as if Snow halted immediately without overshooting his position, using that accumulative potential build up to give a strong swing with his left blade at Raine's left neck - a diagonal slash down towards her lower right pelvis. This wouldn't be easy to fend off at all, as Snow had added much more force behind the slash just from the momentum itself. At best, it is enough to knock her left Wakizashi away if it connects.

And even if she blocks it or dodges it, Snow has his right blade ready to fend off her counters....and besides.....

Well, the other latter choice for him would depend whether she dodges or strikes back on his attack.

As for Raine who probably would wonder how he can just "slide" or "run" without any problems on ice... It wasn't that Snow had balance over his abilities. He can use the abilities however he wants, allowing him to run on it as if on normal ground, or skate on it like an ice skater regardless of the situation.

Since ice is relatively weak against fire users in power, and primarily one of the most uncommon elements to use in a fight, Snow had to completely integrate other means of combat with the ability of the freezing cold.

(( It's all right. 3nodding Take your time. ))

The attack doesn't stop here. No, to be more precise, Snow probably had expected that Raine would go on the defensive, as the environment is currently to her disadvantage. However, even Snow gave a sly smile in amusement when his initial slash was cancelled by such subtle means.

That's why he'd kept the right blade in check.

But to make things more interesting for Raine and himself, he did not use it for now. Instead, as his left assault sailed across the empty space where Raine had intentionally diverted the course to, he merely let the sword slip out a palm or two out of his grasp as he angled it, suddenly holding it in a dagger hold.

The intent is obvious. Will Snow again use his left side as the defensive position, or will he devise another slash right towards Raine's body when she got close?

Nay.

He impaled the left katana into the ground, using the sword as a fulcrum as he pulled himself into a sharp left turn around the blade itself. More like how people who ski use the poles to make turns, Snow mimicked the samed method with his left side --

Which then brought him suddenly closer than Raine would've expected. Now his right side is exposed, and finally using that right hand of his, Snow delivered a crushing slash right at Raine's left arm, if not with the intent to slice her horizontally in half.

And using the same principal of momentum, Snow transferred his slide right from his body moving centrifugally, to the swing, and to the blade itself, adding the same crushing depth he had initially when he swung the left blade.

Since Raine is already sliding towards him, she wouldn't be able to dodge the upcoming strike to her hearts content. Well, if her heart is still there, once Snow slice right into her lower chest.... No matter the Wakizashi intending to impale him -- his katana reach is much longer than hers, so he has the advantage in long range combat. Besides - switching two palms down and two palms up on the hilt can change the katana into a Kodachi in an instant -- a medium sword with more mobility, because of the extra hilt guard on the dull end of the blade, allowing him to grab it safely without injuring his hands.

There was a reason why Snow intentionally aimed low, and especially not for Raine's head. Because she doesn't have her left Wakizashi anymore...and primarily, because she will not expect another slash using his left blade as a tool to increase his speed again.

Not to mention, that even if she ducked, the blade would be relatively close enough to her neck, destroying her chance to escape if she tried that option.

And sliding on the ice?

Remember -- You can't stop immediately on ice once you moved. And since it's the Gym....there's some water on the ice due to the temperature, making it much more slippery to move around at all, much less stand on...

(( Yes desu....o.o; You should've made it more clear. o.o; Gomene for misinterpreting it. ^.^; ))

That's why he had his left blade impaled in the first place. He couldn't have swung his entire body around sharply at a moment's whim without some difficulty, so he had his left blade used as the tool instead to do that. Since there is no reason for Snow to just leave the tool behind, he simply yanked it out of the ground, still holding it in a dagger hold before countering the impaling strike by Raine - with some struggle.

It certainly surprised him that Raine plans to use mana, or arcane methods in the next few moves when his blade came in contact against that thick, oozy barrier of hers.

"Ugh..."

But not one to retreat without leaving something for the opponent, his katana for the time being had left a small substance of water on her wound, perhaps because of the moisture clinging onto his blade. Or, perhaps something more than just moisture. Since it won't provide anything that will alert the opponent anytime soon, there was nothing much to talk about it until the next two assaults - or moves, if you wish to say it that way....which something will happen to the wound on Raine's left arm.

But for now, Snow allowed Raine to retreat for the time being, analyzing and observing the crumpled barrier of her dark energy, an uneasy feeling spreading within the back of his mind.

Before he knew it, all hell broke loose just as Snow felt the rumble.

His eyes widened. Watching the sudden outpour of dark energy flowing out of the ruptured ice, a thick sour smell pervaded the air when it began to disintegrate the i--

Acid!....Beware the man with the turtle shell on his back!

Without a second thought, Snow - instead of retreating nor maneuvering himself away from this thick ooze, decided to take the most illogical step that would give him some leverage in this round.

The Gym itself.

Throwing his right katana high into the air, he immediately jumped after it as the katana impaled the ceiling with an audible thud. Ice formed out of nowhere from the moisture within the gym, allowing Snow to use the small icy blocks as stepping stones to his desired designation. Grabbing hold of the hilt when he got close to it, Snow reversed his body upside down to plant his feet firmly against the ceiling's top, an obvious glistening of ice holding his legs in place above the acidic ground.

As for the spikes --

How high can it go, now that Snow's standing upside down on the ceiling, looking down at the opponent like a bat?

His left katana dangled near his grip as he looked from that uncomfortable position, giving an abrupt sigh. If not for the battle in the Gym, he wouldn't have found some method to escape that acidic liquid....

With the possibility of... ...Nah.

"Having fun?" He would question, giving a sheepish smile back at the opponent's situation. Meanwhile, the air within the Gym began to feel rather cool....then a little cold....and colder....and colder....and freezing. But at a rather slow pace, so Raine wouldn't really feel it until a post later.

(( To tell the truth.......

_> Very bad. crying ))

"Not bad, not bad...." He commented, still having that casual look on his face. "But since we're now tapping our powers....how about we amp it up a notch?" He questioned.

A sudden chilly wind blew within the enclosed gym.

His eyes had a deathly look on it, especially with his crimson red pupils shining a bit under the lighting.

"Now then," He said cheerfully, yanking out his right katana from the ceiling while the area surrounding Snow began to crack and freeze. "Try and dodge this attack, if you can." He stated, lowering both his weapons so both had their hilts pointed down to the ground...

Before he stabbed both blades into the ceiling with a ringing sound.

A blanket of ice suddenly formed on where the blade made contact, turning everything on the roof into a frozen block of ice that reflected brilliantly the light around the entire Gym. Almost blinding to the point that it hurts just to stare at the ceiling, cracks bean to form on the ice..... Followed by a thunderous crumble that did not sound good to Raine at all. More cracks formed on the whim around Snow's position as the attack finally revealed itself --

To be the entire rooftop caving in right towards Raine.

Debris from the ceiling hailed down like huge bullets as it crashed right towards Raine's position and her dark puddle, piling up on each other to form another landmass above the acidic ocean. The ice previously formed on the ceiling acted like lethal shards, cutting through anything that is exposed.

And Snow was keeping himself afloat for a short moment, using the same method of using the moisture as stepping stones as he hopped from one debris to the next, keeping himself in the air for a small moment.

Depending on how the opponent reacts, Snow might have to use a different mean to attack, but with the air inside the Gym getting ever so colder, it allowed Snow the necessary moisture to hop and jump from one point to the next without touching the ground....

Besides, even if he has to land, the accumulation of debris on the ground is sufficient enough for him to stand on it, allowing him free motion well away from the acidic ocean beneath.

This is getting troublesome.

Snow hadn't intended to keep the fight going that long, and hoping that at least there was a successful attack at her body, his victory unfortunately proves to be shorter than he would've liked.

Though the large puddle on the floor can eat the debris without problem, it would still take some time for the energy to fully consume the objects before leaving the ground as barren as the opponent had given. As he pondered, his eyes narrowed itself to some extent when he saw Raine's counter.

More or less a hidden equipment which - for her perhaps - can create a probable defense at the instant. Which means that if Snow can't find suitable ground to recover and evaluate, then there is a slim chance of actually defeating her in her own petty game of deception.

Eyes blinking again in surprise, Snow's vision was blinded as his own personal defense went up without warning, a sudden sphere of ice encompassing his entire perimeter when the marbles were shot right at him at high speeds. Immediately the spherical ice spun at a counter-clockwise rotation like a twirl, using the rounded edges of its sides to deflect the projectiles far away from his current position when it came in contact with him.

Same principle of sloped armor.

The only downfall of that defense is that it's weak against fire, and it does not allow Snow the ability to know what the hell's going on outside.

Unlike a manual command which he can summon at will, the defense is only activated when there's a clear and present danger coming towards his body. With the icy air in the Gym as the main "sensors", Snow can sense things which past through the moisture regardless of the position and speed.... But usually he keeps that level of concentration down to a minimum, as it takes a hefty amount of energy for him to expand his detection skills to encompass the entire Gym if need be.

But now, with no peripheral vision of knowing what Raine might be planning, Snow decides to take the initiative of surprising her one more time, with a subtle trick to make her life more troublesome than it already is.

Three factors have been enforced in a subtle maneuver ever since he'd made the wound on her left arm. One - he had slowly cooled the temperature down to a chilly extent inside the Gym for about two-three posts now. Two - he had left a small trickle of seemingly plain water on her wound, which she had done some emergency healing without some thought on it. Third - he had frozen most of the surface on the ceiling before it collapsed, so most of the remaining debris which lay on the dark goop glistened with shards of ice covering it.

The spherical ice continued to float for a few moments or so in midair before it began its descent rather slowly to the ground, the icy concentrations in the gym allowing Snow to leech off some bit of energy in the environment to keep the sphere around him suspended for just those few extra seconds.

Because this is where it gets tougher for the acidic girl.

It was then that the debris littering the ground near Raine's barrier suddenly ruptured, firing shards of ice everywhere like landmines. Not certain if Raine can just summon her barrier up immediately, it was worth a shot to first distract her --

Then came the second response quickly after that distraction. The chilly air in the Gym got colder to the point that breathing became a problem. Water began to form into ice within the atmosphere, following the entry of respiration for any human nearby. And here's the interesting part - as people need oxygen to breathe normally, if one changes the temperature within the air to be extremely cold, it actually suffocates the person because ice is flowing down into their lungs, unable to be warmed quickly enough by the body itself. Symptoms of Hypothermia and Suffocations are the primary causes from extreme colds.

One post later, something better will happen to replace that, as Raine has been exposed to the cold chilly air for a bit now...

As for the third --

No. Not yet, since there is a time lapse to how Raine might react. Making sure to keep the third factor hidden for now, if Raine by any chance isn't wounded nor injured by then....

He might have to improvise on the spot, as the sphere continued to rotate around itself again like a top on one of the nearby debris now, just to be sure that Raine won't send another wave of dark marbles at him if he disposes the defense....

Since he'd made sure to make things hellish for the opponent.

((Blarg. >> I think I got carried away with my posts. <<; ))

(( :O Oh? Happy birthday Raine! ^^ And no worries - take your time, like I said a while ago. ^^;; ))

Even if Snow can't see with his eyes on what's going on around him, he can definately sense a heavy concentration of dark energy being gathered to one distinct point, as if enveloping the opponent's body. With no clue nor any information that might tell him of what Raine is thinking, Snow had to rely on the possible factors he can think of right now.

One. Raine will probably attempt to create a small barrier around herself, unaffected by the droplets of ice in the air and allow herself some normal breathing - like those with oxygen tanks, per se.

Two. She's planning to create a concussion wave, trying to push away the cold air with the blast of dark energy surrounding her.

Three. Utilizing the extent of her dark energy, she might either meld with the acidic energy surrounding her, or use that to her advantage - throwing whip-like tentacles against him while he's effectively trapped behind his momentary defense.

Four. It has to do with the freezing cold in the Gym.

Five. None of the above.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Snow gave a discrete sigh in response as he had the sphere twirl its way to a nearby debris that is still aloft the acidic puddle for the time being. Shattering the sphere quickly, Snow had one of his blades sheathed, while his right blade is held parallel to the ground, aimed right towards Raine's chest.

Taking a risky gamble, Snow decides to take the initiative -- As a sudden blast of light was released from his blade, the beam aimed right towards where Raine is....

Cutting everything it touches in half, while also leaving shards of explosive ice in its wake.

(( My apologies if it's short -- I caught a cold, and am currently sick. crying sniffles ))

In Raine's mind, the voice of a familiar voice would ring, almost subliminally. The voice of an old "freind" of hers, if Raine even liked him beyond respect.

"Yes Raine...Destroy him...Kill him..."

It was of course, Fasumbra Langardo, egging on his old spar partner, excited by how violent this promised to be. Plus, he loved her style of...well, emotional involvement in fighting.

And he watched, from some undetermined point in existance.

(( >>;....Blarg. I went overboard with posting again. +.+ Gomen if it's too long. I got carried away. <<; ))

(( o.o;.......All right. And like I said again - take your time desu. ^_^;; ))

(( Think of having a blood clot inside your body, slowly spreading like an infection throughout your blood vessels. Using the blood as a medium to carry itself around, it acts like a virus - infecting everything around it with symptoms of numbness and a slower reaction state, as the nerve tendrils are being frozen bit by bit, not letting the brain recieve the feeling that something is wrong.

The affected motor skills will begin to show signs of an increasing lack of response, and only when it reaches into the main blood pump does the pain really begin to settle in. Imagine having your insides being poked and stabbed with increasing pace....

And anything liquid will begin to eventually freeze and expand, rupturing internal organs and blood veins, drowning your insides with blood. It's a special type of attack that takes time to manifest, like a delay strike, per se. >.>; The first few posts had no affect on your body because it has yet to really spread throughout your blood. But once it does....after four posts and beyond....

Well, I've explained the symptoms. ninja ))

There is indeed something that eminated off of the dark clone which gave Snow unease. Why is it that as all the other energy was being converted back to its normal state, this....entity, this being, is remaining there unaffected?

He must be cautious against it. However, a brief thought flashed through his mind in regards to this unknown clone. What if, by any chance, that the clone is with-holding an explosive, requiring the need to be in the immediate proximity of his own position? It would explain somewhat why the figure is advancing in such a slow pace...and it would also explain why it wasn't affected by the purified enchantment just a few seconds ago...

Is it...?

Kneeling down as if readying a dash, Snow reached with his right hand and cupped a small amount of water, drinking the purified contents down his throat. Having spent so much energy just to eliminate the immediate darkness away, he restocked a bit of extra energy just in case, feeling more water being absorbed into his hand as he reached back down to the ground.

Freezing the surface again won't surprise Raine this time, so moving in with the slippery ground would give Raine the advantage of hindsight.... Which means that he would have to use....

He punched the ground once. Water surrounding his vicinity quickly turned into a pale - white light as the weapon - the tool which is constantly purifying the ground - channeled the holy property of light within the dexturous liquid. Rippling a bit, it was then that the water erupted right out of the ground, giving a firm splash against the sudden tentacles that veered right towards Snow's neck and chest.

Had it been normal water, nothing would've happened. But having the water purified, and then enchanted with the environmental light, it quickly eroded the tentacles initial force to a far lesser degree, allowing Snow the necessary time to dash to Raine's right, keeping a decent distance away from her clone and her body.

He gave a brief slash as he halted by then, a decent beam of light blasting out of his blade and travelling towards Raine with the intent on freezing parts of her body. Not keeping still, Snow then dashed again elsewhere, before performing the same slash again, and again, and again, knowing that close range combat against Raine would be suicidal.

Therefore, he'll attack with long range ballistics...and distract her while the 'gift' he'd given to her arm a few posts back would begin to tear through her muscles and inner organs with glee....

If she didn't realize it by now.

(( You're gonna lose? o.o ))

Obviously, the infection should be affecting more and more of her body, but Snow had no time to judge whether it is proceeding smoothly as planned, or being hindered by her.....odd response. Taking arms, he stomped his feet on one side of the wall he's gripping on, ice forming and keeping him in place for the time being. Lowering his hold on the sword, it aligned itself parallel to the ground, as if in a readied horizontal slash, but too far to land an effective blow on Raine's body and/or clone.

But that's not what he was planning in the first place.

Cracks began to form on the wall where he knelt on, widening more and more while he held his place, his blade now humming with a violent start. If Raine planned to deliver a final blow with speed....

Then Snow too shall deliver the final blow with speed as well.

He watched Raine run right after him, the sword ready to deliver a diagonal right slash upwards - from her perspective. Flicking a finger on his blade's metallic shaft, the ringing echoed off of his weapon...

Before he vanished, charging at Raine at his highest speed. A massive explosion of ice and debris boomed out behind his wake as his body whirled in the air, spinning around himself to increase the lethal force behind his upcoming slash.

When he got close to Raine....

The duel of fates. Raine's slash against his amplified smash...aiming to cleave a large wound right at her chest - the biggest target of all.

No matter about the clone -- he'll attack both Raine and the clone at the same time when he crosses by.

It is then that the wound on her left arm finally bursted out, frozen shards of ice forming within her blood and killing her left part of the body.

If all goes as planned.

(( <_<...... Correct - Just think of the ice expanding rapidly inside the affected regions. And tearing the muscle joints/nerves/blood vessels apart due to its solid expansion. ))

"Tch."

As expected, he didn't feel any crushing blow in his hands when he slashed at the dark clone. There was not a single trace of a recoil nor resistance - which one should find when they slash through solid objects. But this, composing of an entity that is close to a liquid state....

He whirled about after the brief detour against Raine's blow. Narrowing his eyes once more when he saw her flex her left side normally, he got the impression that his deceptive strike didn't work out successfully.

In wonderment, Snow took on the worst case scenario and made the assumption that she could still move normally as before. Fiery white ambers of frost expelled itself out of his bracers, and the air around him began to chill once more as he began to circle again, this time in a clockwise motion to intentionally put her strongest side facing him...

It didn't occur to him that his deceptive attack worked, and as she tried to disintegrate the ice within her body, most of her muscles would've been torn asunder, rendered useless even if she eliminated the infectious property. Heavy loss of blood and a rasping breath should have occured after the exposure, but not seeing those two traits on her, Snow couldn't put his guard down and forced himself to assume that the delay strike was useless for now.

However, what mattered to him now is two things;

Raine's calm composure.. And the Clone.

Having been once a dark user before, he could see how the clone is composed of such state of property. If all he could deduct is from his previous slash, and the ineffective ability to fully attack the 'thing', he would have to say that Raine's playing a lot on the use of high level magic manipulation. But since one needs a hefty amount of stamina and energy just to perform such tricks...

If that's the cas-

His thought process stopped when he saw a brief flicker of light on her fingers. Taking an extra boost in speed, he halted his advances before seeing a brief blast of light that skid past him, narrowly piercing his body by just a feet or so in front of him. (( Using Bleach? xd ))

What the-

His legs quickly restarted the dash, this time pushing him right towards Raine with all haste. If Raine is planning a counter with all these scenarios set up, then he must take the preemptive strike before she could fully utilize her energy to the max.

Spikes shot out of the clone, and Snow had a split second of regret...mostly because of walking right into a suicidal path. Then again, Raine wouldn't expect his opponent to be THAT suicidal, choosing the hardest path to hit her..

But.

"Ha!" he cursed, stomping the debris-filled floor once with his leg on the third dash step towards Raine. Water erupted upwards from his nearby surroundings as they suddenly cluttered the air around him - most of them entering the dark energy spikes like a spray of pellets.

"If I can't purify nor slash it apart --"

Taking examples from how his purification didn't work on the clone, and the lack of resistance felt during his slash on the clone --

"Then I'll break it from within!"

The water which littered the air blasted itself apart into frozen sheets of ice, expanding and taking up room within the spikes to disrupt the flow from within. It won't permamently destroy the flow of dark energy in the spikes --

But it'll bide himself enough time for him to deliver a roar of white ambers right at Raine's right side when he gets close...

Using his blade as the purifying catalyst to pierce through her barrier, and unleash that roaring ambers of permament cold right at her entire body.

If he can kill the head, then the body shall follow. Even if Raine's clone is unable to be purified nor neutralized by him...

He'll target Raine instead.

True - Snow is an ice user, hence his name which hinted his ability with the manipulation of the water around him. Having a hidden agenda which befell upon this nomadic youth, he had crossed blades with many fighters, fought in many terrains, and lost in many battles.

He knew his weakness, and it is his inability to control the hidden thing within his blood. Unable to live beyond an age which is far too young for him...

He will die at a young age. And within that knowledge of his death, he has sparred against many in hopes of finding a cure for his inevitable death. Perhaps out of desperation, the refusal to accept his fate...

Snow has....

Seeing something extracted out of Raine's left pocket, Snow merely increased his speed, his white fiery ambers of frost blasting behind him in a thunderous roar. It was only when he found himself tumbling by his feet being bounded, did he halted his advance, seeing a sudden expansion of fire surrounding Raine's body, and the fatal situation --

Fire!

Though not really surprised at Raine's desperate measures, Snow wasn't a person that is unable to improvise on the spot, considering how many times he'd faced a similar situation.

The last time he fought against a fire user, he had been scorched on his chest, a nasty gash of flesh exposed in the result. He had also suffered from a severed arm, multiple stabs to his chest and eventually a torturous affair with being wounded beyond any medical conditions, forcing him to be in the infirmary for quite some weeks due to the injuries itself. Though the scars are gone, the experience was not.

And considering that Snow had intentionally chose opponents that are malleable with fire abilities...he has strengthened his weakness to eliminate his problem against his rival - Fire.

Acid began to bite into his cloth and boots, but Snow quickly forced his body to produce ice, expanding around his own heels rapidly - breaking hold of the tentacles locking him down. His bracers began to hum, and upon Raine's view - something jettisoned off of Snow's bracers, revolving rapidly in a circle around his tsuba guard - his main blade.

If Raine had noticed, Snow had left his other blade on the ground a few meters away from the ruckus -- not because it's sole mean is to purify the ground around itself.

The water around the entire Gym rippled...

And as Snow raised his blade, the humming increased to a defeaning roar, finally being to the sound of a jet engine as he slashed twice towards Raine - fiery white ambers of frost following a massive expulsion of wind at her.

Though he is unable to completely destroy the fire...

The fire around Snow suddenly extinguished itself, the lack of oxygen created by his expulsive wind causing the nearby surroundings to have temporary pockets of - turbulence.

And without air to fuel the fire, the first slash cut through the fire with swift lethality... As the second slash - with the fiery white ambers that were composed of his abilities of ice - roared towards Raine's position, using the momentary vacuumless state as a catalyst to ram at full speed at her entire body.

And effectively freezing everything nearby to a solidified state.

Yanking his foot out of the dark binding energy, Snow grimaced as a bit of the energy managed to seep through his cloth, biting and eating deep into his flesh... In which his body - in an effort to repel against the infection, produced ice as a means to repulse the energy out before more harm is done to him.

If all goes well, Snow would then retreat a few meters back, judging the situation to either attack, or take on a defensive role.

Even though he had expended much energy in this fight, because of the presence of water nearby - he can still go as he could re-acquire his strength somewhat...as long as the water is, again, nearby of course.

(( o.o; I dunno, it looks fine to me. >.>; ))