Train Cart

TRAIN CART

An empty train cart has been reserved for combatants to fight in the small space as it speeds down the tracks.

Terrain

General - Reduced balance due to quick moving cart over bumpy tracks, Tight environment creates linear fighting atmosphere, Spectators and civilians in other carts

Weapons - None

Natural Element Resource - None

Bonus Effects - Throwing an opponent off of the cart as it speeds away counts as an automatic KO

"All Aboard!"

The conductor shouted from one of the lead train cars, as spectators and civilians alike started into the train. The only car that wasn't crowded with people by this stage was the one where the Wanderers and Project: Swords! would be doing battle in. Athan, unlike last time, was at the head of the line for his team. He was still carrying around that damn roll of athletic tape, and as of yet, no one really knew what it was for.

"So...this is it, huh? Not much to look at it."

Athan's voice reverberated rather soundly through the narrow train car. It was obvious that he wasn't too excited about the conditions that had been placed upon him, but he'd been in worse conditions.

Right?

And then he turned his attention to the other side of the car, where his competitors would reside. This time, Athan was intent on fighting...narrow fighting space or not.

There were no camera crews in the train, but in order to get the viewers at home a good feed of the fight, there were some cameras attached to the ceiling of the car, controlled by remote and fed back to the announcer's booth back at the stadium. Currently, Maria Cruz, Chuck Liddlestone and Joe "Sixpack" McClevy had been assigned to cover this fight.

"Madre de Dios! Look at the size of that man's sword!"

"Hey hey! Ten bucks says I know what team that guy's on!"

"Well, it won't be of much use in that narrow train cart, Maria. Hopefully he's got some more tricks up his sleeve than that big weapon, or he'll be in trouble. Now where's my beer? Everyone knows I need about ten in me 'fore I'm any good at announcin'."

"Ay...Yes, this is true. Personally, I'd prefer it if your brother Mark were here. At least he doesn't find it necessary to belch commentary for the third round."

"Tough luck, my latino lovely. Ya got me and Chucky boy here."

"Yo, f'real. And we jus' about ready to get started with this in a little while yo. You'd best check yo'self befo' you switch that channel or Chucky L be findin' where you live and wreckin' yo face!"

"What he said."

Back in the car, Athan tilted his head to the side, the faint popping of the joints in his neck being heard by those nearby. Then, he finally settled his attention on Ryu.

"You must be one of the other guys."

"So, do I. It'll be fun messing with their heads." Remembering the rules, and hearing the commotion in the background. His hands go towards each other clasping together as knuckles crack in a intricate form of power.

Yamir stood not far behind Ryu, "So, you want to go first this time around?" He asks, while a smirk reveals from his face.

A audience member suddenly flashes a camera.

Ryu took a quick pose.

"Wow, that guy looks awesome. I wonder who he is." Another reads the pamphlet.

"Well, it says here, that he's Ryu Versher. Team Captain on the Wanderers. And I guess that pale fellow is one of his teammates, I presume that's Yamir Mordecai..."

Ryu looks back to Yamir then over towards the other opposing force that's within his way towards the semis, "Yes, I am."

"Well, what else would you like me to call you?"

Athan didn't seem to catch the insult in his words, and even so, he wasn't about to apologize for something he hadn't done intentionally.

Except for hurling Owle at the ground. That he had apologized for, numerous times. He wasn't even sure if she had completely forgiven him for that incident.

"As much as I wanna start this fight, we can't get things started until everyone's here. I'd hate for the train to leave all my teammates behind. Just as you're short one extra guy."

He pointed behind Yamir, as if the two didn't realize that they were minus one teammate.

"So let's just kick back and relax. Don't wanna get too nervous when it could be awhile, y'know."

As if to demonstrate his own advice, Athan crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the recently-closed doorway to the other cars.

A black cat, the size of a tiger but built like a domestic house cat, strode up to the train car, where two attendants were waiting by the entrance. She stopped before them, waiting for them to move aside and let her pass.

"Hey hey...do we allow animals on board?"

"Um, gee, I don't think so...just, um, get rid of it, okay?"

"Me, man, why do I have to do everything?" The nervous attendant stepped forward, holding up his hands like he was trying to surrender to the large black cat that stood before him, rolling her green eyes at this display. "Here, kitty...nice, kitty...go away, now, kitty, this train is for people..."

"I'm one of the contestants."

"GYAH!" the attendant exclaimed as the voice of an irate young woman sounded in his head. He jumped back, hiding behind his buddy.

"Dude, what's the matter with you?" the friend asked, trying to pull the cowering attendant out from behind him.

"She's messing with my head, man! She says she's one of the contestants!"

"Dude, are you high again?"

"No, no he's not. I'm one of the contestants. Please let me on board, my teammate Athan's standing right there, huge sword, you can't miss him. He knows I'm his teammate, just ask him."

"Lookit, man, she did it again! ...hey, man, you okay?"

His companion was unresponsive, eyes staring blankly at the cat. Then the guy bolted, grabbing the attendant's arm and dragging him along as he ran for his life. "Dude, it's an alien psychic cat! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!"

The large, black cat sighed, and padded onto the train. Her tail swished from side to side in annoyance, and she managed to position herself just so on every swish it hit Athan in the leg. Green eyes regarded the two men across from him, wondering which would be her opponent...if she even had to fight this round. Something in her was actually looking forward to it, even, the thrill of winning chasing away the pain of her wounds.

"Well, that's a question I'm not really authorized to answer."

Athan uncrossed his arms, running a hand through the length of his short-cropped brown hair. He paused for a moment, looked at the hand, then tossed the roll of athletic tape from his previously-closed left hand to the open palm. He continued back and forth like this for awhile, just sort of keeping his hands occupied as he thought over the question.

"I'm not in charge of this team, I'm just here for the fighting."

He turned to look at Yamir. He didn't really go through the trouble of analyzing the man, but he did nod his head out of respect in his direction.

"As for your friend there, I'll take him on if nobody else will. I'm not picky."

And then Owle pawed her way into the train cart. He looked down as her tail brushed up against his leg, and he smiled. Since she was about the size of a tiger, he didn't have to bend down very far to scratch her behind the ears a little bit.

"Hey, Owle. Glad to see you're ready again."

So, four of the required six players had assembled. All it would take was a few more arrivals and things would really begin to heat up. Probably more figuratively than literally, but one never really could be sure.

"Hey, Athan."

She closed her eyes in enjoyment as he scratched her behind the ears, and the tail slowed down in its swishes behind her. She could feel the aggravation melt away as she just relaxed.

"So those guys are the other team, huh? Is there another one or is it just these two?"

Her voice was mental rather than verbal, a form of communication Yamir and Ryu might be used to from their swords. She felt it rude to 'whisper', so everyone in the train cart could hear her words for the moment.

Yamir looked up, err forwards, towards the other two that had just shown, straining to hear them speak he'd catch the offer for this man, this Athan, to fight him. Chuckling quietly to himself as he sat up and took the bud from his right ear he'd look his way as he spoke to his capitan.

"He's not the capitan? Heh, shows what I get for assuming."

Taking the other out now as he rolled the headphone cables around and around the mp3 player idly he'd give devilish grin.

"Yes, i'll take him on as soon as Trei shows himself."

"No, Owle, you left the captain part blank. I trusted you to fill out the forms, remember?" Flare sighed, her crimson eyes staring at the cat.

"Anyway...let's get this over with. What are we waiting for?" Running a hand through her spiky silver hair, she stomped impatiently on the floor. "Is this train going to start moving or what?" She paced over to one of the windows, and began fiddling violently with the curtains as if they had somehow offended her.

He turned to look towards Flare, then smiled a little. Probably the first smile that he had given since stepping on the train.

"Hey, relax Flare. We're waiting on their last teammate...and probably Kalis. Besides..."

He stepped forward, no longer tossing that roll of athletic tape back and forth like a bored child. He simply position his thumb next to the tear in the tape, and started pushing it up a little bit. Making the tape easier to grip for when the time came.

"I'm going first."

He didn't seem to be too carefree once he had stepped into the aisleway. With his right hand he painstakingly drew the large, 70 inch sword from his back before propping it up against a nearby wall. There really wasn't any advantage to drawing that thing in the middle of a fight, and it probably wouldn't get much use, anyway. The short sword at his waist, however, stayed put. He let Ryu and Flare have their conversation. His attention had focused mainly on Yamir at that point.

"Let's try to avoid any flags, huh? I'd rather not have to get the judges involved in this."

Staring at the floor idly as he waited for his other teammate to show he'd simply listen to the other four speak. His pale blue eyes gazing upon the carpeted floor of the train through the mess of jet black hair that hung about his contrasting pale face.

Hearing the introduction of himself and his capitan Yamir would look towards them and flash the peace sign. An ironic statement that was misinterpreted as a pose by the adoring fans in the other cabin. They figured he was posing, forgetting his earlier warning about pictures they let loose a barrage of camera flashes as the fangirls screamed and fainted as they watches over the television screens.

Turning his head back towards the cabin doors he'd glare at then, muttering something awful under his breath.

Then turning his head about towards Athan he'd give a simple nod of concurrence.

"When in human form, the accent is always horrible, you should know that by now." He smirks, a slight wave of his hand towards her. Hopefully, the fights that'll go on will end shortly, so he could get his hands on...

Moving on from the thought, Ryu's hand lowers towards the cat lightly rubbing the back of the ears. The fingers dancing along the soft delicate fur then he notices something, his left hand goes to go directly under the arms to lift her up slightly. He gives the cat a firm hug, almost like a little child adoring a new pet.

He then returns her to her spot in front of him, "It's going to be sad to face against you. Maybe we could get to know each other elsewhere... after the battles, don't you think?" He gives a subtle wink then looks towards Flare.

"Ah, don't be so impatient, if he was here, this place wouldn't survive after much talk. Let's get to know each other, first. Make love, not war." The tone of Ryu is more of that of a lowly individual, but analyzing each particular stance they shared with one another. Flame seemed to be more of the Captain type anyway, thus... a probable opponent to Ryu.

"Love?" She stood up suddenly, cloth abandoned, striding the three paces necessary to stand nose to nose with the man...stepping over Owle and shoving Athan out of the way as necessary.

"No, making love..."

She ran her fingers lightly over his chest, lovingly, careful not to scratch him...

"...is what they gave us hotel rooms for."

And she sank back, sitting down in one of the many seats lining the walls. "I'm bored with love. Let's make war and blow up this entire train."

"You know, while we're at it," she added, as if she needed to justify the casual sentiment.

Owle cringed away from Ryu, but soon there was no need as Flare stepped over her body, placing the demoness between Owle and the...neko? He had to be...no one else could give the kitty face like that!

"No! I'm taken! Omikron would beat...well, if he wouldn't, Flare will. Right, Flare?"

She looked hopefully up at her sister. Surely she would dish out the beating that the shade lord would not?

Even if Omikron hadn't even been told Owle liked him...

"Buh-be-de-da, buh-be-de-da, buh-be-de-da-da~"

The crowd around either end of the cart hardly parted for another man wandering in, humming to himself. No, no one looked back, or moved aside. He paused, fingers running uselessly through dark locks while the people pressed in through the carts.

"Hey... 'scuse me..."

Nothing. Shoving in, he stuck his arm between the pressed crowds, and forced his way through. People whom got a good look at the back of him suddenly considered moving out of his way, but it was a bit late. There were only eight- or maybe seven? they dug out their packets to check- people who might have been carrying a sheathed sword into such a packed train.

The fingers on one hand dug into his pockets, playing with the thing connected to the white wires running up to his ears.

MP3 Playlist Wrote:

"Crossing the Flame"- Coheed and Cambria -:--/3:26

"Over the Hills and Far Away"- Nightwish 0:03/5:00

"The Kinslayer"- Nightwish -:--/4:01

Humming to himself, he kept wedging his way between crowd and media, apologizing all the way, deaf to the people's responses. He got stuck twice- once bad luck, and once some kids grabbing onto his sword, the thing was a bit bulky to keep on his back for such small quarters- but he was through before.... well, before more than a few minutes.

So, at present, that was his entrance.

A young man, with dark brown hair haphazardly strewn about his head stepped up behind the member's of swords. Noticably, his coat was torn off roughly level with the bottom of the ribs, the worn green thing covering a much fresher looking longsleeve white shirt. His jeans were beat up, but not ruined like the coat which seemed worth keeping only by virtue of the full sleeves and thick, hich neck buckled shut. With a light clang, heavy boots came step by step up behind Flare and Athan. The swordsman reached up, grabbing the buckle over his torso from the long blade sheathed on his back, and undid it, letting the heavy sheath bang noisily on the floor beside him, before leaning it against a seat, not really paying attention.

With a single sweep, he took across the room and the two people sticking out across from him, with the one thing that would give him away as different than any of the people in the crowd around him, blade removed. Strong, crimson eyes.

"Hey." he said, tossing a hand in a casual wave, as he paused the MP3 and popped out one of the earpeices absently. "Kalis Acineres. 's a pleasure."

"Haven't missed anything yet, have I?"

The sound of his hands cracking from the joints as his hands clench together. He nods directly towards Flare, "It'll be possible."

But someone has made themselves known, "?" He didn't know who this guy was, but apparently he has to be a part of their team as well. With a slight wave of his left hand, Ryu acknowledges the new guy. But yet, Trei's not here...

Ryu sighs in wondering what's going on with Trei.

"GODDAMMIIIIIIT!"

Here he comes, barrelling through the crowds at the platform... His FIGHTER had gone off while he was still buck-sass nekkid after his little soak, and he'd had to get dressed and find all of his gear (which, as we all know, becomes a hundred times harder when you're in a hurry.)

So now Trei's late.

Luckily, he can see the platform ahead of him... And, if he's not mistaken, he can make Yamir's Jacko glove out through the crowds. So, onward he runs, forcing his way past commuters, beggars, and even bowling over a Jehovah's Witness a la "Airplane." Unfortunately, the poor zealot's robe tangles up Trei's foot...

and the young man is sent careening into a faceplant, just three feet short of his teammates (which in turn sends his bundle o' four swords [all luckily sheathed] clattering across the ground amidst his teammates and foes alike.) Not bothering to really move, he raises his right hand in a weary "V" symbol...

"Ugh... Yo..."

With a groan, Trei pushes up to his feet, wiping a small tendril of blood from his upper lip and flicking it with faux nonchalance to the side as his eyes roam over the opponents. He can hear a hint of indignation and possibly sarcasm in Ryu's words... Probably just for Trei's tardyness. No matter... the other people (and animals, from the look of it) are more important.

That and the arena itself. Ignoring Ryu's question entirely, Trei walks into the Train and looks it up and down, spreading his arms out as far as he can on either side of him as his one good eye takes as much in as possible. Only after this little ritual is done does he actually say anything.

"Whatever floats your boat..." Absently, he pulls one of the blades, a straight-edged Tachi (still sheathed) from the bundle o' sword and gently moves it through the air. After this ritual, too, has been satisfactorily completed, he blows a lock of messy blue-black hair from his eyes, letting his mind wander. No way to fight with these guys here... maybe I should just let Gemini play?

The thought is a troublesome one, and he feels almost like adrenaline is flooding his body... to occupy his hands, he smooths out the collar and sleeves of his white silk shirt, cracks his knuckles, brushes dirt off the knees of his black denim pants... anything and everything that keeps them moving, rather than still.

Ryu's voice yanks Trei from his reverie, and the young man walks to Wanderers' end of the car. This situation sucks... his coming late has cost him the chance to meet any of his opponents, or pick one that he wanted to fight (or, luckily, miss Ryu's back-to-back come-ons,) or any of the pre-fight banter. So all the young man can do is play it blind... though the black cat looks interesting...

With a sigh, he drops down against the back door of the car, leaning his head against the smooth steel of the door. His eyes, like twins of life and death, look forward; the Right eye with a gaze of stone that looks beyond the material world, and into the realm of death, and it's twin to the left, that sees the here and now. Both take in the train, while Trei awaits his turn...

There was a soft crack of steel, as something made it's presence, and weight, known.

Stepping forth with a regal gait, and mantle that covered a towering form, the Judge took his position to the side.

The HoH Judges are the supreme enforcers of tournament law for the duration of each match. Each Judge wields extraordinary legal power in his or her own stage over fighters. In addition to functioning as "legal administrators", they are also charged with the task of guarding the spectators who may be around the stage.

Every Judge has archives on every participant on file, and can simulate the powers of a variety of them in order to target its opponent's weaknesses. This was due to the data collected via fighters, in which DNA samples, skin samples, tissue, blood, etc-- were all analyzed and broken down once a FIGHTER came into contact with the actual wearer.

With the appearance of the Judge, the match was slated to begin.

"Well, that's our cue." He grins, maliciously, suddenly an alternative eerie sense of being was coming from his aura.

It slowly manifested itself to being a base off of chi and chakra, but apparently, the energies subside softly when the grin becomes nothing more than a mere smile. The black tendrils flow like a river through the valley of his head. The tightening of his blue headband shows that he's truly ready for this match to begin.

Ryu, you do know if you do what you're thinking, you'll be deducted points.

"I know about that, but seriously, look at that girl over there. Something's about her, and I must find out what."

Do you even remember the last time you got like this? The voice says in a calm tone, but also in a worried state.

"Yeah... yeah..." A subtle, but truthful sounding of his depression shows through the thoughts, "She meant a lot to me..."

Let's not make the same mistake again.

"Let's not." Agrees Ryu with Blaze.

Ryu's hands clap together as he pats Yamir's shoulder. "You're up, my friend."

The observation made by Owle has been correct but only to an extent. The 'invisible minds' aren't really minds at all, more like spirits or even possibly the fighting spirits of the combatants. For Ryu though, she wouldn't be able to hear the conversations from hear on out, as Ryu begins to talk with Blaze more.

"It seems someone is trying to gain onto our frequency. Let's change things up, so, she wouldn't be able to interpret our plans."

Bold decision, Ryu. I'll do so.

"So, is it done?"

ZZZzxxxxxx Dxxxx

"Let's hope it works then."

Ryu looks directly towards Owle as if to talk with her in a subtle manner, "You know, it's rude to barge in on other's conversations without their consent." He smiles to her then gives a wave while looking outside noticing the train is moving faster than before.

Owle hadn't been able to hear their conversation in the first place, unless they had been 'shouting' their thoughts to one another before, in which case she'd probably tuned them out. Those who could see spirits, though, might glimpse a few dim golden tendrils lazily waving around Owle. Those who were experienced in psionics as well, or those whose spirit sight was particularly keen, would be able to tell that these tendrils were actually living serpents, writhing sluggishly through the air.

They were peering about, their black voids of eyes searching this way and that, tongues tasting the air. Simply looking.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

The black cat lifted her head off her paws, staring across at him with luminous green eyes. "I'm not barging in on anything. Your teammate came in, and I waited till you stopped talking to him and said hello. It's only polite to greet people when they enter."

Go!

With a wild grin Yamir took in the situation, the narrow hallway-esque room, the short ceiling. With this shoulder bash it would be hard from Athan to slice or stab him with that massive sword. And therefore there would be no attack that he could see coming from this shoulder bash that involved the sword if he just...

Stepping from his position he'd make a quick dash forward. Fast and furious he ran head on towards the swordsman, except he did not put a shoulder forwards. As he began his short course for collision he'd raise his right gloved fist, drawing it back as if to throw a massive punch. At the front of the purple glove a blade was emerging, a fat blade about a foot in length would grow from the purple glove, a matching color the blade would resemble that of a katar, revealing the nature of his suicidal punch.

Planting his feet to draw a solid base for the attack Yamir would throw the punch, aiming it straight for the man's bicep. The blade, as described, being fat and long, would cut far into the bicep as he was crushed by the charge. The bones of the bicep hopefully becoming severed and broken as well.

[ 1 ]

"OOMPH!"

Smashing into the steel doors Yamir would fight his hardest to stay on his feet. His chest hurting like a b***h, sure to have a broken rib or two. He'd begin to cough, his let hand rubbing his chest as the blood already began to well up under his skin to from a bruise.

st Yamir, don't be so **** stupid. That could have run you through the ****** door.

No time to cry Mal...

Getting himself a step from the door he'd stand firm, blue eyes looking at the man with newfound knowledge.

"A ******** Juggernaut?"

Chuckling now he'd slide his feet into a more ready stance, staying behind and letting the man make the next move. He had already made a horrid move by a rushing at this freight train of a man. Staying with his katar for a weapon he'dlook onto the man with bright and shining eyes. Unusual for a man that had just been hit with that body. And with a toothy grin the

air about the train would begin to change, swirling about his arms and clustering about his fists.

"Ready?"

[ 2 ]

Move!

Yamir was stupid, he'd be the first to admit it, but not that stupid. Seeing the man heft his weapon back he'd expect a lunging attack, and knew it would be his end if he stood there and let him charge again.

Left!

Dashing out of the blades way Yamir would avoid the forward flying blade by inches. He was surprised to see it fly from his hand at him, he did not expect the man to let go of his blade, albeit it did not seem he would need a weapon with a body like that. He'd probably just choke Yamir out after breasting through a stab.

Forward!

With the even narrower passage Yamir's lean structure came in handy as he dashed forwards along the blade that was now stuck into the door's steel frame and make way towards the monster of a man once again. This time he was hell bent on playing the smarter man.

s**t!

Planning to gut the man as he neared him with the katar he was appalled to notice he was still beside the ******** sword! How big was that thing! Now that he did not have the room to maneuver his arm safe enough to gut him he'd keep moving forwards, on the left side of the trains cabin.

[ 3/17 ]

s**t!

Seeing Athan grasp the railings upon the ceiling of the train cabin Yamir would hardly have time to stop, or alter his direction. He feared something horrid was coming, he felt it down in the bottom of his stomache. Seeing the man swing his legs forward at Yamir's chest, he knew he had to do something.

Remember the whole winds gathering at his fist? Yeah, that wasn't the entire trick, fully capable of managing this wind control and discharge Yamir would do something a little rash...stupid even.

The wind swirled and raged about the floor of the train as Yamir made his final steps, seeing Athan's boots now making their way, almost to the point of cutting it too close Yamir discharged the winds about his feet. Pushing them downwards he propelled himself upwards, along with the planting of his feet and a jumping motion. So, just like a man bullet he'd propel himself over the boots and at Athan's chest, his arms wide open to give a nice gentle hug.

Errr...tackle.

[ 4/17 ]

Again, another surprise. After the fight, it would be a pleasure for Athan to shake this man's hand and share a drink with him.

Right now, however, he was more concerned with breaking Yamir's hold on consciousness.

"Umph!"

Athan, however thick he was, was simply caught unaware. He didn't fly backwards as originally intended, due to the sheer size of the man, his grip on the poles, and his other foot being planted on the ground, the impact only caused him to fall backwards a foot or two.

Yamir had his arms wide open, as did Athan. But even as he fell back to the ground shoulder-first, Athan's size and strength would come into play. One could only hope that the press wouldn't take this the wrong way.

Arms would come down from their previous positions at his front and to his sides, only to close around Yamir's back. Hands would lock with wrists, and he would squeeze Yamir against his own chest with just about all the strength he could muster right on impact against the ground. If all worked as planned, Yamir's arms would be pinned at his sides. If not, well, the fact that his back and recently broken ribs were under tremendous strain and pressure would work against him.

And yet...the internet was already swarming with pictures.

[5/17]

Trei holds up his hands, palms facing towards the cat, at her irate response.

Never said anything about being evil. I said... thought... that fighting a Telepath would be a problem. Case in point; you heard that thought.

He shoots her a bemused grin, doing his best to keep any mental images of the humanoid Neko that slaughtered his family (and gave him his oh-so-useful right eye) from popping out... only to realize that trying to stop the memories is worse than just focusing on something different. So, he begins "talking," or what amounts to it in this circumstance, about anything and everything that he can possibly shift his mind to...

The first thing that comes to mind? So, did Ryu hit on you yet? From what I've gathered, he's kinda feline himself... oi... not a good subject change... Ummm.........

I got nothing.

"Huh?" got sent back to Trei at first then. "Oh, oh! Sorry, I was talking to Ryu there...he seemed to think I was reading his thoughts or something, accused me on barging in on his conversation."

She nodded over to Ryu, then decided it would be wiser to switch to private channels with the two of them, considering they could hear her responses but not each other's.

She could link all of them together, but that would make a real big mess that she didn't want to untangle. So the next thoughts would be sent only to Trei.

"Does he talk to himself a lot or something? And I didn't hear that thought...I try not to listen to the ones people don't choose to broadcast to me.

"...bloody cat ears?"

She shook her head in confusion, trying to look away from the images Trei was bringing to the fore of his mind.

"Sorry...anyway, I won't be using my psionic powers in the fight...unless you try to kill me." And then the cat was grinning at him. "But I don't think you'll do that, you seem nice."

"Yeah, Ryu hit on me...does he do that to everyone?" It made her feel better to think he was just a womanizer, one more man having a crush on her was something she didn't need. "Well, I guess we can just sit back and watch the fight...unless you want to tell me your name. I'm Owle Isohos."

She switched channels, and the next thoughts were broadcast only to Ryu.

"Don't worry about it...right. Sorry. I've known people who hate psionicists before."

Unbidden, an image would leap to Ryu's mind, a mere flash of crimson steel eyes and blue hair framing a hard face. It was unintentional on Owle's part, but there it was.

"Sorry." She snatched the image back, then retreated away, into her own head. "I'll leave you in peace."

She was still, for the moment, open to communication though.

Trying to broadcast in a multi-channel of having everyone to hear each other's thoughts would seriously drive someone mad. And he notices Owle's infliction directly upon the image that shown.

She apologies to him, "No, I don't hate anyone. It's just that, I don't like people to barge in on where they don't belong, that's all. Trust me on that." He yawns softly, then looks directly towards Flare, the trick of being the womanizer of the group is being sufficient... but yet Flare still intrigued him in the slightest to what she has stated about blowing up the train.

Suddenly, an image, distant in thought but visible to Ryu's eyes, "?!" He wondered what that was, but then suddenly as the image was about to subdue itself, an image of its own creation formulated from Blaze.

A blue dragon with aqua orbs, and a dangling crimson tongue drenched with blood. But the image was but a mere second of sight then vanishes on its own, "It's alright... we all have our darker sides." A grin reveals itself from his mouth while he looks off out of the window for a moment.

At first it seemed like Flare didn't notice Ryu's gaze. She let him look, one, two...

And then her head snapped towards him, crimson eyes meeting his own, mouth widened into a manic grin, revealing small, perfect fangs...

She waved at him, then went back to intently watching Athan struggle.

The cat grinned, mouth opening wide in a sharp, pointy smile. Owle hadn't meant it to look half as threatening as it did, but the effect was there.

"Alright!" The answering 'voice' sounded just as determined as Trei's own. She understood. Without fear, there was no courage...without challenge, no strength, and without blood, no honor. Just as she had thrown herself headfirst against her worst fears, against the thing that had taken so much from her...just as she had done then, he needed to do now, here. And you know...

...her blood was already boiling to see what he could accomplish. This wasn't life or death or even simple pride at stake...it was a fight to prove who he was, to prove that he could still be in the face of the worst. She wouldn't hold back.

A roar echoed across the cart, one she hadn't been able to summon in her fight with Soiree. When the other two were done, she would face him...

The cat was on her feet now, balancing on the seats she had been stretched across. Her green eyes no longer stared unaffected ahead of her, but met Trei's gaze, mettle for mettle.

...for his sake, she wouldn't hold back.

[[ Striker 1. ]]

Suddenly, Ryu had the great sensation of doing something about this match between Yamir and Athan. His eyes leer around the entire Train Cart, noticing the small place. He's irritated to be seeing this, and thinks that it's better off the roof was taken off.

Seriously, the roof is about to be on fire.

Ryu turns towards the side of the train cart as the train continues to speed its way upon the railings. Bending down fairly quickly, since in knowing 10 seconds he has left. He looks directly towards Athan, who is suddenly going down upon the ground and dashes forward.

His quick pace has for him to arrive directly beside Athan, crouching in position. He smirks towards Athan, knowing that with Yamir on top of him, that he won't be able to dodge this. 3 seconds from one point to another, then suddenly, Ryu's eyes flare in an oceanic hue as the air begin to ripple his clothing and around his body. With his left fist, he sends a strike directly towards Athan's temple to knock the man unconscious but then that fist was followed up by a right fist. Which suddenly sends both Athan up and Yamir to their feet due to the elevating nature of the air being like a vacuum. Spiraling like a tornado, the air ripples around Ryu's fist. This uppercut shows power from the element of air, thus the maneuver is rightly named.

CYCLONE UPPERCUT!

As Ryu completes the uppercut strike, Athan's body will lift up into the air directly towards the roof and in fact... destroy the roof entirely from the great penetrating force that has been created from Ryu's strike to Athan. The instance of the strike happens 5 seconds after, then he looks to Yamir with a grin.

He had to separate them someway, and apparently, this seems to be the best way to get the battle going again.

WTF!

As he felt himself falling backwards in the not so loving arms of Athan, he would feel his body get thrown in a completely new direction...up.

Tearing through the obviously not so strong ceiling of the train Yamir and Athan would just be tossed up, through the ceiling and through the air. It was awkward, Athan still gripping him, on the verge of crushing his spinal column, and his own arms tucked under his opponents. Still, he had the power to get away.

Wincing in utter an devastating pain Yamir took hold of consciousness as they made their way up up up. Opening his bright purple eyes he'd flash a devious grin, he had a plan of action now. Free of tight quarters now as the spun about in the air, above the train...he would be able to work with this if they landed on the roof. Although...he'd need to be more weary of Athan's attacks.

With only biceps tucked under the man's arms, his left arm wrapped on to Athan, his legs as well doing the best they could to wrap around his waist and hold on tightly as he would attempt to take down this beast of a man. The katar blade that grew from the knuckles of the purple glove would retract quickly, instantly one would say, camera crews were baffled as they say the blade just....vanish.

In its place a new weapon grew, his hand still clenched tightly into a fist. the bottom of his hand would bubble out and form a spike. This was the pre-made phase of this new weapon he would wield on their quick descent to the roof of the train. For the rounded spike would flatten now, and form an actual blade. A wavy dagger length blade. A kriss blade, his hand now a dagger, the purple substance making the fist into an indestructible hilt, and the blade into a blade that was nearly flawless in form.

Why would he want a kriss instead of a regular K-Bar or knife? Who knew...he probably just liked the wavy blade.

Holding it behind Athan's back now, the bottom of his fist holding the blade to face the flesh of the man he would drive it into the man. Trying to cut into his back, trying his best to get it center enough to nick or sever the spinal column.

[ 5/17! ]

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

No fear was in her face as she looked upon him, despite the grotesque nature of his true features. And though she still shuddered from the horrors he had immersed her in, she could not bring herself to fear this man's appearance. She knew what it was like to live in the darkness of one's own mind, and her own powers looked little better.

The doors shut, and Owle walked away...glancing behind her but once. Then she turned, and returned to her own sanctuary.

Athan went up and down in an eye blink, and Owle did just that...stared at him and blinked. Confused, she settled back down on her seat cushions, wondering what else she had missed while she'd been drowning in Trei's memories.

((The PM I sent you, Trei, contains a more detailed reaction. Technically this post is a continuation of it.))

"And Yamir makes it back inside! I don't know if we have footage of that or not, but by some miracle these two men are still standing! And from the looks of it, they traded some serious blows with one another while they were gone!"

"Dizzamn, Maria. These two fools is gonna kill demselves fo' they give up to the other."

"Chuck's right. We couldn't see it before but Athan looks like he's got a deep wound in his right side to go along with that cut on his left arm. And Yamir, well, that boy's gotta still be feelin' the effects of that brutal shoulder check. I'm surprised they're both still standin'!"

It would have been a miracle if this were any other moment. It would have been a miracle if these two men were able to stand, able to even breathe, for that matter. But this wasn't a miracle.

This was Heaven or Hell.

To say that Athan was standing would be an overstatement. He wasn't fully erect. Halfway hunched over, one hand cupping that nasty wound on his side. Instead of taking the offer from Yamir, Athan set his jaw, pulled the newly-stained palm away, and started forward.

It only hurt once. The sting of defeat, the blow to not only his pride, but the knowledge of letting his teammates, his country, and his ancestors, down, was something he wouldn't...couldn't live with.

"No rest..."

Athan was slick with sweat from the short amount of time he had been battling. He had done his best to break this man so far, devoted so much of his strength to cutting off his wind supply and ending the fight quickly. That wasn't going to be the case, Yamir had far too much fight in him.

The right hand came up as he walked forward, beckoning Yamir to come meet him in the center of the train even as Athan continued forward.

"Let's go."

[7/17]

"Only action..."

Pushing himself up from his kneeling position Yamir would attempt to stand up. Only a moment of full erection until...hell. His chest burned, burned like no other, his body pushing near its limits as his face cracked. His attempts at keeping a hard visage shattered like a mirror falling to the ground.

There was no question...Yamir felt it...every hit, every motion.

Darkness welled up in his vision...his hearing...encasing him.

Stumbling from his erect posture he'd slam his hand on the hilt of Athan's unnecessarily long sword, supporting himself as he felt it grip him, this feeling of pain infinite, it pulled his consciousness down, down, and even further down as he held on to life dearly. He couldn't lose...wouldn't...

YAMIR STAND UP! QUIT BEIN' A p***y AND FIGHT! THEY'RE WATCHING...THE WORLD IS WATCHING...SHOW THEM WHO YOU ARE!

Startling from his slipping trance he would raise his head, eyes fluttering open at the giant of a man. His purple irises rolling out from the back of his head to take in the scene, and a grin crossing his face as he felt energy surging through his arm. The purple glove, now simply that, no dagger, no katar, let go of the hilt and raised up to his chin. The glove pulsed brightly, the light emitting from the pulses shone with an intensity unchallenged.

Now as he came from he resting spot he would shuffle forward with the speed of a common zombie, his right hand held up at his chin, his left held lower about his abdomen. Looking ready to fight, crushed ribcage aside...he stepped forwards...ready to take on the challenge ahead.

"Come."

[ 7/17 ]

The toe of the raised foot twitched once, twice. It lifted off the other leg, and slowly set that foot on the ground as well, stretching slowly forward under the belly of the cat sitting nearby him, and rubbed back and forth along it. Hard metal toe was surely cold, but the layer of fur would probably take care of most of that issue.

One hand gripping the torn off drape, holding it up. From under the part of the length of cloth, one crimson eye peered out intently at the two contestants reentering the train.

Hmmmm...

Not a psychic and not included on the call list, Kalis hadn't even known about the silent conversations going on the whole time. And he'd been paying attention to the fight just by sound, and with Athan's type of hits about all of it had overridden the headphones. But you didn't ignore a sound like a hole being blown in the roof, nor the wind suddenly blowing into the compartment.

"Hope he's careful." Kalis slowly lofted the drape, letting it flop on the seat next to him. One eye still shut, the eye focused harshly on the two contestants drawing themselves up to clash again.

Kalis didn't know Athan as well as he'd have liked, but he knew a little bit about the man. And, unless he was mistaken, knew a bit about what was going on right then from his own soldier's experience in combat.

"If more blades come out, he might fight himself right to death."

His toe stroked along the cat's belly, arm's flopped by his side as he soaked in the music and watched the motion start again. It might end now... or it might drag on into a beat down while Athan dried out and the other guy got smashed to peices slowly.

"But if he can keep having too much blood sapped out..."

He doubted Athan was going to drop anytime soon.

Yamir had gone out of his way to avoid the uppercut, which was only a problem for him in that it cost him a split second. And, in a split second, a lot of things could go wrong. Like, for instance, that arm never was able to wrap around Athan's neck. The second mistake, or unfortunate circumstnace, was that he telegraphed the clothesline. Athan's left hand came up, since he was actually expecting a clothesline. he was hoping to snag Yamir's arm and wail on him with his right hand, but things didn't work out as planned.

Yamir was still able to snake his way around to Athan's back, with the left arm wrapping around him. The only problem was, he didn't have the chokehold that he had initially wanted, as Athan held the appendage at bay.

Things were still in Yamir's favor. He had the positioning advantage, that much was for sure, but Athan was about to resort to the old standby for 'guy on your back' syndrome. He used his newly-recovered right hand to clutch tight to the arm that had wrapped around his waist.

Afterwards, he'd bend forward, hoisting Yamir up onto his back, before taking three steps backwards and straightening out to slam Yamir back first against the wall of the cabin.

Then he'd step forward, and do it again.

((Not...quite sure if that's the way you had wanted to act that out. If my post is wrong about your positioning, feel free to tell me.))

[9/17]

And so Athan would start moving backwards, ready to slam Yamir into the wall.

And then he felt a little p***k in his chest. His gaze drifted downwards, and he saw that spike beginning to make its way through his chest. Athan set his jaw, pushed against both of Yamir's arms, held them forward, ahead of his own body, and then stepped forward, only releasing Yamir once he had started moving. He didn't have a whole lot of room to go to, so it would be one step, drop arms, followed by a pivot, then back to face Yamir.

There was no friendly banter this time around. The moment Athan had squared up with Yamir, he stepped forward and lashed out with another brutal straight kick to Yamir's stomach, hoping to double him over, knock what little wind there was left in his sails.

It was extremely similar to the kick from earlier, except Athan didn't have any poles to hold onto, and he actually stepped, and turned his body, into the kick.

This fight needed to end.

[10/17]

Athan didn't know how to perform an enziguri, or an exorcism for that matter, but there was one thing he wanted to do, and that was try to get that knife away from his achilles. The evil grin was enough to spur a reaction.

Athan hopped off his left foot, and lashed out with a half-assed drop kick to Yamir's chest. He may not have been able to feel pain, but that impact would probably be what Athan needed to at least free his foot, and keep his ability to walk for the duration of the tournament.

'Cause that s**t didn't heal quick.

Now, while Athan may not have had the ability to ignore pain completely, he could set it aside, make it an afterthought of the moment. And even as he landed roughly on that wounded side, he would be back up again. And since pointy objects seemed to be fair game, Athan's left hand curled around the hilt of the sword at his side.

The chaotic blade, a 'gift' from a crazed, desperate man intent on destroying the world. It also became an instrument of that same man's downfall. It was a shortsword by design, but even as Athan stepped backwards, it was obvious that there was something strange about it.

Almost as if it were feeding off the pain that Athan was trying so desperately to ignore. Stranger yet, was that Athan wasn't pouncing atop his opponent like he was so accustomed to.

His eyes locked with those of Yamir's, yet held no real feeling.

It was as if his concentration was focused on the sword in his hand. Already, it was starting to take on a crimson hue.

Feeding off the damage that Yamir had inflicted on Athan, this weapon, this 'gift', was a whole lot more comforting to have in his hands than air.

Somewhere, the owner of the train wept for the stains that would probably never leave this cart.

[11/17]

If Owle actually had seen the tears, she would have pretended she hadn't. Fortunately she was too busy watching Athan and Yamir crawl their way back into the train cart to notice, and there was no need for the subterfuge.

Her green eyes gazed gently at Trei...then hardened quickly at the sight of his smile. He wasn't looking for sympathy here, or perhaps the best way to show her gratitude was not to give it.

He didn't need a friend right now, he needed a way to prove himself.

"You're welcome. Someday I will return the favor."

With those enigmatic words, she closed her eyes, simply enjoying the comfort of Kalis's touch. Despite the horror of what Trei had shown her, he had left her in a debt she might take a long time to repay fully. Right now, though, a belly rub couldn't hurt.

"Athan? Careful?" The cat gave Kalis a look that told him he was clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, insane. "Never. I just hope he doesn't kill himself..." She still remembered his words on their battlefield, how he had joked about being one of the guys who would bleed to death before giving up. Hopefully...maybe he really was only joking.

She had left Kalis out of the mental loop because he'd been trying to nap, as indicated by the curtain over his eyes. If he'd been awake she might have included him, or at least told him what was happening. But what Trei had shown her had been in strictest confidence...she could tell no other what she had seen within his mind. Much as she longed to unburden herself to Kalis, the cat held her tongue.

Stepping off the wall he'd turn down the train car to face Athan as he drew his crimson red sword. The devilish grin still plastered to his face Yamir would shrug his shoulders as he let out another high pitched cackle.

"Now now Athan my boy!"

He said as he dropped his right hand in front, the left hand, gripping what used to be a razor sharp dagger blade, now a simple hilt to what was to be a carbon copy of the sword that Athan drew against Yamir. Purple in it; entirety Yamir held the blade in front, with both hands, slightly higher tha his waist.

Looking at the blade for a moment as give a short snort of a laugh as hereturned his purple gaze to Athan. The wide toothy grin bearing itself against the pain that the body that this entity controlled.

"Let's finish this...finish it here and now...now and here...whatever you wish my hulking musclebound buddy. Let me cut you some more...drain you of your precious lifeblood 'till you go unconsious."

A shrill laughter would set place behind the crazed grin...he was free, Yamir's persona fell behind...and now it was his turn to step up to the plate. He was going to win...for he was not governed by the laws of honor.

[ 12/17 ]

Trei watches as the berserk muscleman charges at Yamir, who now seems to be posessed by a completely different personality (almost like Hollow Ichigo...). Both had received second winds, and their fight is ascending towards its Climax...

If it were another team, Trei would end the fight here and now with a Striker... but as a fellow ronin, he would be spitting in Yamir's face. Same as if Ryu or Yamir were to interfere in his match. It would be a slap to the unspoken code that he had learned over the years.

Rely on no one's strength but your own...

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

Trying to broadcast in a multi-channel of having everyone to hear each other's thoughts would seriously drive someone mad. And he notices Owle's infliction directly upon the image that shown.

She apologies to him, "No, I don't hate anyone. It's just that, I don't like people to barge in on where they don't belong, that's all. Trust me on that." He yawns softly, then looks directly towards Flare, the trick of being the womanizer of the group is being sufficient... but yet Flare still intrigued him in the slightest to what she has stated about blowing up the train.

Suddenly, an image, distant in thought but visible to Ryu's eyes, "?!" He wondered what that was, but then suddenly as the image was about to subdue itself, an image of its own creation formulated from Blaze.

A blue dragon with aqua orbs, and a dangling crimson tongue drenched with blood. But the image was but a mere second of sight then vanishes on its own, "It's alright... we all have our darker sides." A grin reveals itself from his mouth while he looks off out of the window for a moment.

Before Blaze had broadcast his image, Trei had spoken. In switching channels to reply, Owle had set the thoughts sent by Ryu and Blaze aside to be perused after she spoke to Trei. But she had been so captivated by his spirit, drawn into his very soul to witness the moments that brought him such horror, that she had forgotten completely about the two.

Now, Athan's roar cleared her murky mind, sweeping away the shadows. It inspired fear in enemies, but faith and clarity in allies...or so it did for Owle. She reopened the mental channel, receiving suddenly the image of a blood-stained dragon, and the remark that we all had dark sides of our own...something Owle knew well.

"True enough," she responded at last. "Are you a dragon, then, as well as part cat?"

Her eyes never left the battle as she spoke, green eyes watching Athan's every move, eager to see him conquer the foe before him.

Flare caught Ryu's wave, and turned towards him again. Enough time had passed between her wave and his that they seemed seperate instances, not causally related at all. So she gave him a wink, simply because there seemed nothing better to do. Passing notes down a train car was irreverent during a fight.

Not that tearing down curtains and throwing them on people's heads wasn't, but, hey, at least the demoness had some standards.

So Ryu was a shapeshifter...interesting. Little did he know, and nohow he could detect that Flare heard everything sent to Owle. The two's souls were linked; they could see through each other's eyes, hear each others thoughts, without using burdensome telepathy. It was their natural state of being, and there was no way for an outsider to tell when Flare was listening and when she was not...though it was possible to see they were connected.

Owle had, oddly, blocked her out the moment things started heating up with Trei, and would say nothing more about it than she had to fight him. It was good that the girl was finally showing some gumption, but Flare was curious as to the mental wall she'd built around those memories...whatever Trei had said to her, she didn't want even her "sister" knowing it.

Owle seemed to be back to normal, now, though, and had let Flare in again...even if thoughts of Trei were still beyond Flare's reach. So the half demon was watching closely, making sure all was well.

His eyes captures a glimpse of Flare winking at him. Hmm... So, she winked, and that must've meant something or she wouldn't have done that. Maybe she's interested in destroying the train like she said... part 1 of that has been done. Responding to the wink, he looks up to the ceiling then returns his gaze to Flare giving back the wink as acknowledgment.

Owle's sudden disdain with Flare intrigued Ryu, but he figures from the beginning with how Owle was acting before that Flare has an interchanging like with Owle. Sounds almost like how Ryu has an interchanging link with Lenne, but yet, Ryu has a part of his soul living inside her because of it. Just so, whenever she feels any pain or anything no matter where she is, he'll be there to find her.

"A Javanite?" He replies, "A Javanite is someone who's born in the realm of Javanesia. A realm where most of us there are Shapeshifters. Some of us, however, have mastered the skill, then taken the Royal Shapeshifter class in order to choose at least 3 main stages of shifting. We don't constantly change from one thing to another, even though we could do such things, just to perfect and strengthen ourselves." His stare though, staying upon Flare, has for him to gaze at her entire being. He wondered something, and maybe that question will be answered when the battle between him and her begin.

"Heh, no way to get stronger? Actually, I used to think upon that as well, but then found out that some of us have completed the trials and have grown far wiser and stronger in circumstances beyond measure. Like some of our transformations evolve." He chuckles slightly then holds up True Blaze handling the blade then using a cloth to shine it some.

Ryu... don't do that.. it... hehe-eh-heh-heh-hehehehee Tickles!

He continues to polish the blade of True Blaze, then suddenly gives his attention towards the fight as he sheathes the blade into its hilt. He smirks a bit while noticing the battle, and hopes for the outcome to be the best for both combatants.

Ryu gives a lingering stare towards Flare as she glances to him then he returns the stare to the fight. His fighting spirit seems to be growing, since he knows this match is going to end shortly. And hopefully, Trei's won't be as long waited as well.

He looks towards the ceiling then to the sides of the cart then back to the floor. "Yes... there'll be something really interesting when my match begins." He couldn't help but broadcast that to Flare while staring at the match.

"Ah...doesn't sound at all like us. Can you guys breed with anything, too?"

...if she weren't a cat, the color would have come to her face at what she had just asked.

"I mean, um..." she tried to recover, embarrassed. "Well, see, the species of shifters I'm familiar with can become anything, mate with anything...if you're a fullblood. And, with so many other options out there, its rare that a shapeshifter mates with another shapeshifter...

"...mine is a dying race, killing itself out by not keeping the bloodlines pure. Not that I'd want them to...I've probably got 1/256 of shapeshifter blood in me, so I'd never have existed if they did. Just...sad to think that some day the blood will be so watered down no one related to me will even remember how to shift anymore."

It was a conversation piece, no more, and Owle got no more emotional over it than over the fate of any random hamster in a pet store. It was just something interesting, and a little sad to think of.

"Forms evolve? Like..." What was the word? That little kid's game? "Pokemon? Or like...growing horns or a tail or something when you hadn't got one before? Or a monkey form becoming a human one?"

How strange.

"It's true, and yes, we can breed with anything. Creating something else, and it's the job of the parents or parent to teach the child how to keep the traditions of shape shifting alive."

He looks to her then tilts his head as his eyes shift to an oceanic hue, "Hmm... but believe me, my second son is lucky. His mother and I are both shape shifters. But he wants to kill me now... after all these years. Heh, he still bares the trait of being a Javanite as well as a Darkmoon."

He continues to listen to her, then notices the battle while Blaze continues giving Ryu the play by play.

Yamir's truly using a great tactic in stabbing the opponent. But that opponent's will is strong. He's going to slam Yamir into the door!

Ryu's eyes widen a moment, but he kept conversation with Owle.

"Our forms evolve such like, if we turn into a tiger a lot, it'll become a part of us and slightly noticeable." He points to his tiger ears and his tiger like tail. "I don't use the other forms a lot, but I love being a tiger because well... it's rather rare seeing a tiger with blue stripes." He grins slightly.

He's nothing like a Pokemon... He can't be captured in a ball... then summoned forth.

And Athan wasn't going to stop now.

Athan's body leaned only slightly. Just a hair, so the thrown (?) sword would pierce through that same right side that had been wounded so brutally earlier. Athan winced, bit his lip. Blood welled up in his throat. He tasted copper.

The sword was still inside him when Athan stepped forward, his left hand moving to place itself on Yamir's shoulder, right hand thrusting up, moving the sword into Yamir's gut. While he was going to get slammed into the door, it wasn't going to be by Athan's hand.

The Viceroy of Chaos was a strange person. It was almost as if he knew exactly what kind of person Athan was. During a struggle in Barton central square, Athan with the aid of other heroes, temporarily thwarted the crazed madman. As a result, they were each given a gift.

Athan, had been given the sword that was now an inch deep in Yamir's stomach.

And perhaps, at first glance, it wouldn't appear to be anything extremely special. Yet that yellow glow, that energy that had no true 'essence' to call its own, was like a parasite. With every blow, with every ounce of blood, with every bruise, broken bone, gash, wound, the Chaotic Sword fed off of it. Athan joked when he first learned of its abilities. He called it a 'masochist sword'.

In actuality, it was more similar to a sadist. Drawing in Athan's suffering, harnessing it, compacting it into that small blade.

And then, releasing all of that pent up suffering into the tip of the sword.

Chaos Factor Wrote:

(Req: Chaotic Blade, Focus Energy (1-2)):

The Chaotic Blade, a strange weapon in its own right, has adapted the Kel’Drin’s energy charging aspect to its own structure. The action to Chaos Factor is two fold, the first requirement being that Athan is within striking range of his opponent. With the Chaotic Blade, a quick stabbing motion is performed, impaling the target on the weapon’s point (note: the length of the blade is irrelevant for this ability). The moment that Athan’s blade sinks into flesh (or anything, for that matter) the second portion of the attack begins automatically. At the point of the weapon the charged energy suddenly releases itself by way of pure concussive force. The amount of force is relative to the number of charges placed in the weapon. (The bare minimum would shoot an average person (180lbs) about fifteen yards away from the weapon, while two charges would punt them with enough force to travel a good sixty yards unobstructed.)

Whether or not the spirit of Yamir's weapon could feel pain while in charge of it's owners body was going to be irrelevant. A broken body could not fight, and he was going to go through at least two solid doors before stopping.

[15/17]

If Athan were capable of talking at that particular moment, it'd probably sound like something along the lines of

"Ohshi-"

Before he was blasted back, away from Yamir. The cameras would have a hard time deciding who to follow. Both of the men shot off like two rockets, and it was particularly strange to see one such as Athan do the flying for once.

"Madre de Dios!"

Joe was caught looking at an empty can of Sam Adam's Heavy, then back at the feed.

"Holy censor beep! That was the censor beep censor beep censor beep illest censor beep I've ever censor beep seen!"

Athan's sword clattered to the ground, his arms extended out away from his flying body.

He hit the ground first, rapidly pulled down by his own weight, he rolled backwards once, twice, and then

BAM!

Right into the door, leaving a large imprint of his body. Were Athan any closer to that end of the cart, he probably would have went through it.

He sat there, legs bent and resting on the ground, hands in between the legs. There was a blank stare, as if he had just entered shock. A second later, he was out of it, and instantly bending forward at the waist, coughing violently.

It was a wet cough, and as he gathered his breath, he maneuvered a thick substance around in his mouth before spitting out a disgusting wad of blood. What didn't make it out far enough to reach the ground clung to his chin.

A quick look to his teammates, since he had basically ended up on that end of the car.

"How's the other guy?"

There wasn't anyway to describe what happened, from their view. It was hard to see all of the action from that end, Athan's large body blocking the view.

But they saw enough to catch the blades meeting the bodies. To notice the force slamming into each.

To get the ******** out of the way.

Kalis slowly stretched his leg back out, gripping the edge of the seat, he came to his feet. He could have caught Athan and tried to stop him hitting the door so hard, but the initial instinct had been not to get hit by an object that large and moving quickly. Looking at Athan, he noted the injuries and fingered the pouch around his waist with the bandages in it, though what the guy needed was more a medical team, one or more of which no doubt sitting among the Heaven or Hell crew somewhere on the train. But he figured there was something Athan needed first.

Coming down to a knee, he wrapped one arm behind the significantly bulkier swordsman, turning his back to the door, and paused. He's big... and he's a lot heavier than he looks...

Kalis dug in his heels, pulling Athan's arm around his shoulder and holding it in place while his other went around his waist, grabbing Athan's belt.

"UUUNNGH-"

Kalis hauled him half way up, and paused, shaking in place with the train shivering under him, feeling the skin on his side stretching.

Ah...

...screw it.

"-RRGH! -and up!"

Kalis winced, holding Athan near upright, supporting the full of the man's weight but tottering visibly, trying to get used to holding him up in the bouncing train.

The left side of his shirt was growing dark quickly, deep crimson running down the shirt the jacket was torn off too high to conceal, darkening the pocket of his jeans too.

...one step...

He put his foot forward, stopped, and stood.

...one more...

And they were moving, down the length of the cart and out into the adjoining ones, Kalis hauling Athan along, with more effort if the big lug or anyone else didn't give some help, but still going, one eye squinted shut and the other focused ahead.

"...let's go see."

Athan winced, but did his best to help Kalis in the picking up. While Athan would have opted to get up and walk himself, it was nice to not have to worry about being able to hold himself upright anymore.

"Heh, that got a little out of hand, didn't it?"

Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, Athan was in a lot of pain. He wasn't planning on showing it to anyone, but he was moving slow, even with Kalis helping him along.

The fight was over, and as far as he knew, he was the victor.

He returned Ryu's hard stare with a little, bloodstained smile.

"Relax, buddy. It's a fighting tournament. What'd you want me to do, tickle him all match?"

Then, forward. One step at a time.

He looked down to Yamir, and frowned. The poor man had been pushed to the limit and beyond. It was a shame that one of them had to lose, yet Athan was glad it wasn't himself. So he spoke to the unconscious body, probably out of respect, or because he was just a little delirious at that stage.

"Whenever you're up for it, I'm gonna buy you a drink."

He shifted his weight slightly, winced, then looked back to Ryu. Maybe the captain was just upset that they had lost the round, or he deeply cared for his friend. Regardless, Athan wasn't sure if he should apologize or just shrug off the matter entirely.

So he simply looked at him.

"I'm not saying anything bad about your friend here. He took his licks, and impressed the hell outta me."

He looked down to Yamir, then turned back to Ryu, who had his hand extended for a shake. He stared at it for a moment, then slipped his arm away from Kalis. He looked shoddy at best, standing like that, but he was able to keep his back straight for the time being.

"Yeah..."

He extended his hand, and met Ryu with the handshake. It wasn't a firm, hearty handshake, but it was the best he could afford at the time. He returned his eyes to the hand that he was shaking.

That hand had left an impression on Athan for a few days to come, both literally and figuratively.

"...Were you the guy that punched me?"

Owle was about to respond to Ryu, when it happened right before her eyes.

The clash you always hear about in anime, the one you always read about in comic books. A no holds barred charge, two swords drawn, steel against steel and power against power, meeting at long last and then...

...in the comics, there's only one man left standing, without a scratch, while the other merely crumples to the floor.

But in this...and Owle's widened to see...no one was left standing. Yamir's strength was incredible, and despite Athan's onslaught, he had, he had...

...wow.

He may be lying broken on the floor, but wow. Children across the globe would have been cheering in that moment, and not only for the victor.

"I'm sorry I'll get back to you!" Owle sent hurriedly to Ryu, leaping down from her seat to lick Athan's face. "You won, you won! I can't believe you won, Athan you were amazing how did you do it how did you - you WON!"

The large cat could barely contain herself, and it took all of her willpower not to follow when Kalis lifted Athan up and took him to the other end of the cart. She wanted to dance in circles around him, she wanted to sing...

Quote: "Now, it's your turn."

But this was not the place for that.

Owle regained her composure, shooting one last message to Ryu before her fight would commence.

"When he wakes, tell him he fought well."

With a low snarl, the black cat paced to the center of the cart, green eyes never leaving Trei's face. She would be what he needed her to be; the cat, giving her all in battle. There would be no holding back, no hesitation, no quarter given.

And he would meet her with the same.

"Come."

The first round is over, leaving fighters from both sides battered and bloodied, but it is only the beginning; Trei now has to open the doors to the darkness for the second time in a matter of moments, and face down a fear that has defined his nightmares for nigh onto twenty years. In a strange way, Owle is being kind... she's being kind enough to push Trei to the threshold, to force him to stare his nightmares in the face... Unlike the rabbit girl Madison, Owle seems to understand the bonds of battle. It wouldn't do for Trei to do any less than to show this girl the whole of his soul...

Normally, Trei would approach in silence, or bearing a roguish grin. He would jest and joke, taunt and jeer; but now, if his fellows should turn their ears towards him, a new tone seeps from Trei's almost unparted lips... the sound of reverence and faith, and of the utmost respect that forms between linked souls. At first, his words are murmurs... however, his words become stronger as his faith in his impromptu prayer rises, and his words reverbrate throughout the car...

"As I stand at the edge of Death's vale, I pray to no god.

I seek not divine forgiveness, nor evil's curse.

I pray to my blade, and to my opponent.

I pray that you bare your soul,

and I shall bare mine to you.

I pray that, where speech fails,

my fists will tell a thousand tales.

I pray that my blood will sing of my honor

I pray that your blood will sing of glory earned..."

At this point, Trei has risen and strode forward, shrugging off his silken shirt to reveal a lean, but well built, torso wrapped about in sporadic bursts of gauze. As his voice grows in strength, the wisps that form his aura begin to circle faster, until he is surrounded by a gentle maelstrom of wisps that light his face with an almost benevolent glow. Ten steps forward, and he shifts, his right leg and side forward, his left side back, and his right arm raised so that his palm faces his opponent... yet, his face doesn't turn.

"In battle, we cross blades with cruel Fate

as we attempt to become masters of our own Destiny.

We ascend past the gods... we conquer even bittersweet Death.

And so, I pray to you, my opponent..."

At these words, Trei turns his head, looking his opponent directly in the eyes, and his emerald iris is literally dancing with flickers of the same iridescent light that dances around his form.

"Accept the only thing that is mine to give;

My soul, as can only be seen on the edge of my blade.

Give me the only thing that is yours to give;

your heart, as can only be seen in your clenched fist.

Drive me through the Vale...

and into Destiny..."

With his final word, the wisps of his aura sworl down his outstretched arm, where they condense and blend together to form a pulsating ball of iridescent energy that glows with the promise of battle to come...

For this moment, this fleeting instant caught in the winds of time...

Trei will hold nothing back.

Trei's eye flares, and the ball in his hand spins and warps. Unfortunately for Owle, her estimations were both wrong... Trei is neither going to move nor fire the ball of energy. He faces her charge without shrinking, though every fiber of his being is begging to collapse, to roll up and scream and cry and release ten year old emotions that had, and will, never gotten the chance to be released.

She closes the distance surprisingly fast... however, her progress would stop once she came in line with his palm. The warping ball of energy would flare out almost instantly just before she reaches him, becoming the core of what looks to be a giant warp in the air, with a diameter stretching from Trei's head to his feet (so roughly six feet. probably squished in on the sides). This "warp" is no transport, though... it is a wall, formed from the energy of the wisps, capable of taking substantial amounts of damage before breaking. Should she collide with it... well, that would probably hurt.

Unlike Madison, though, this girl will not get the chance to recover... Should she fall prey to the simple tactic, Trei will immediately shuffle forward and lash out with a powerful stamping side-kick (right foot), all the while drawing in more power from the wisps...

I will win this...

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

"You're lucky we're inside this cart. That punch would have been different if we were outside." "Yeah, and you're lucky that I wasn't fighting you at the time."

Obviously Athan was still a little irritated at the man, and with good reason. Who wouldn't be a tad bit upset when they were suckerpunched, then later, told that they were 'lucky'?

But he was too tired to be angry. He had lost too much blood to lash out with anything other than a few words. So he'd let that stand before turning to Kalis. In the other cart, Owle's fight had already begun.

"Take care of her, alright?"

He jerked his head in the direction they had just arrived from.

"I'll be able to make it to the next car from here. The guys down there should be able to hold me together 'til this train reaches Durem."

And he was off. Carefully making his way past Yamir, and through the crowd of spectators. Some patted him on the shoulder, others cheered his name, but a lot of them just stared.

Back home, all across the countryside, people were cheering like mad. While Gramps wasn't in the greatest of moods.

Hey! You gonna get me down from here any time soon? Athan? ATHAN! Kids these days, no respect. If I still had hands, I'd tan your hide for leavin' me here!

2

As Owle expected, Trei has recovered his balance completely, mostly thanks to the knockback from his kick. Now, the young man is in a loose Horse-stance, his legs separated but parallel, his upper body turned so that he may face her. His left arm is held about chest height, while his right is held out (towards her) at a downward angle, the sworling wisps of his aura culminating in a stormy apex around his fist.

~~~~~~~

In his mental vault, the first tendrils of the Dark Psyche reach out, drawn by the most primal of all emotions: Fear. Trei's shadow is anxious, it awaits it's chance to spill the blood of another, to gain its strength from life's most primordial of essences.

It fills Trei's minds with whispers; whispers driven by madness and bloodlust, whispers that fill his ears like the buzzing of locusts. The whispers are those of the usurper king... the force that drives sanity from it's abode, and reigns over the chaotic darkness with sadistic might.

And so begins Trei's twofold battle; an all out war, against both the ethereal and the material manifestations of his darkest dreams. It will be as his prayer begged... This fight will determine whether or not he can remain sane, or if his mind will be lost forever to the demons that haunt men's minds...

~~~~~~~~

She is on her feet again... she had shaken off the young man's kick, and seems to be mostly undaunted. That's good... he needs her to push harder, to drive him THROUGH the wall that defines his limits, both mental and physical.

As the girl charges across the posh cushions, Trei follows, his stance tightening, sacrificing stability for the ability to move quickly and effectively. Just like when he fought Madison, he has the advantage as he follows the girl; she has to run the length of the couches, he merely has to turn his body around a single axis. So, as she springs from the couch, Trei is ready... he meets her forward motion with a powerful right-handed haymaker, using all the torque and power his body can muster to launch his fist directly at her face, adding just enough downward tilt to the strike so that if it hits, it will spike the shapeshifter head first to the ground... So much power and torque goes into the strike that, in following through, his body will actually pivot; his right side will swing around in front of the left, so that his stance becomes a mirror of the original Horse Stance he adopted after his kick.

And yet, the energy around his hand never releases... perhaps the young man has something else planned?

[Total Vit: 28]

3

The young man winces at the sound of what he's doing to his opponent, but he can't back down now... she signed up for this, so to speak. And like he had said earlier, it would be an insult to hold back now....

So, he continues with his offensive... her claws dig in, and the first trickles of blood begin to stain his bandages red, but he doesn't let up. Actually, her extended body is a boon... her chest is wide open, and she's now close enough that he can throw attacks from his more powerful lower body at her, without having to expend any form of mystical energy...

So, he follows through... with a grunt of effort, he launches his left leg forward in a very muay-thai -esque Knee strike. This requires him to pull his body back and around, and since she is clenched onto his body, his motions will only force her body to extend more. To aid in his offensive, his right hand (now over her back, due to the deflection of his punch's impact.) clasps down, attempting to grab her by the skin/fur/scruff... whatever he can get a hand on so that he may push forward...

"'course." Kalis stood, watching Athan go quitly, left hand gently testing the reopened wound. When the other man passed out of the cart though, he caught himself, and shoved both hands back into his pockets, turning away from everyone instead of pulling a hand up to cover a large yawn.

"Cameras aren't on us yet, they're on Owlie and y'er buddy. No need to start getting showey yet." Kalis noted, in a converastional rather than critical tone, to the man left by him before sauntering to the busted-open door between their cart and the one the fight was in. Leaving the hands in his pockets, he flopped against the doorframe, right beside where the massive sword stuck out, letting it support his weight.

And he kicked back to relax and see what their girl could do.

Ryu looks directly to the battle, merely taking into consideration that Trei wants to do this by himself. Ryu couldn't help but look at the blade next to him, it wasn't his, but it was Trei's. Trei has entrusted the safety of this blade. Ryu lifts it up just to look at it.

The name of the blade.... Kybalion, it was the blade for the Light Psyche of Trei. So, in safe keeping this blade will be held... and possibly, hopefully it won't succumb to this: A stab with the blade to keep Trei's sanity leveled.

5

Her claws may be digging in, but if she is moving up his torso (now seated), she's between his arms. So, after removing said blade, the maddened Trei swings both of his arms in, both clubbing down at her back and attempting to lock her in a less-than-loving hug...

Should she be caught, she may feel a shifting, may smell the metallic tang of blood... From the underside of his right arm, needles of superhardened blood begin to emerge, and more of the same begin to nudge their way out of his chest and torso. Which, unfortunately for Owle, she's pressed up against. Like any good bear hug, all of the force from the grapple will be applied directly to her spine, and his own body will arc back, moving his head away from hers. If she doesn't get away, Owle is about to redefine the "pins and needles" feeling...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shriek pierces the darkness... A cat's yowl, brimming with bittersweet pain. To the vindictive child-mind, the sound is a boon... someone, somewhere, is exacting revenge for his parents. Someone is making that damned beast suffer, just like he had to...

A flash... a benevolent form, a kind voice... then all is darkness again, and the child-mind is left there, left to be swathed in it's own malice and hate. The wisps are fainter now... It is my sincere hope that they do not flicker out. For there is nothing more malicious than a child's soul that has lost all sight of the light...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6

((Oy... sorry. I meant for this to last the full 17... this feels entirely too rushed... ))

~~~~~~~~~

The words reach the child-mind, opening a new flood-gate... sorrow, embittered tears, and pain borne of too many deaths for one soul to bear. In the world outside of his mind, the bestial fighter has hit himself with his own spines... but any possible worries about this are shattered, and without warning the beast's hands come up to cradle its head. Another shriek escapes through lips now painted red with blood, and bloody tears stream down his cheeks.

NO YOU'RE NOT!! The child mind screams with a strange, pathetic fury... YOU DID THIS!! WHY....why... and then it breaks down, the flickers and whisps floating close by as if trying to comfort the small (at least mentally) form.

I couldn't stop you... I couldn't stop them... I couldn't stop him. It's only because I'm weak... At that, the young man's body unleashes a might retch, unleashing a pool of blood onto the floor beneath its feet. The anger is there, and it's rising... but for now, the child-mind is slowly reverting.

The reversion isn't happening quickly enough, though... with another feral scream, the Dark Psyche-controlled body shakes and lunges, aiming to catch the small cat before she can become something else...

7

~~~~~~~~~~~

Blue... blue?

That couldn't be right... the cat-demon had had red hair, not blue. Scales... his hands, though they have no feeling, can tell by the way that he's gripping that something's not right. Since when did the demon have scales?

The wisps within the vault are swarming now, coming in more and more. In the material world, too, they're beginning to come back... That voice... that hair...

The eye that stares into his. The eye is a portal to more recent memories, to an exchange that feels like an eternity ago even though, in reality, it was only a short while. His hand, stained with blood, grasping the girl's leg... my blood or hers?

He can't think, can't think... the rage of his blood is boiling, but he can't let it take him over again. He'd done so against Jans, and he'd fallen prey to himself again here...

I will...

With another cry, he arcs his body back, his right foot coming up in a kick to the girl's abdomen. Something about it, though... if it makes contact, the force of the kick will come after the impact, so that it forces her to slide across the car's floor.

I will....

A vortex of bad memories, a comforting voice. Trei's mind is descending into madness, and the hands that cradle his head are growing talons of blood, causing small trickles of his life's essence to stream down his cheeks and chin.

I have to....

"Ah!"

A strangled cry of pain came from Owle as the kick sent her flying back, through Flare's fireball, where she screamed wordlessly once more. Blood cooked and boiled, the wounds baking and sealing up. Thanks. Flare had done what she asked, she had stopped the bleeding, now Owle only needed to get up, to keep going...

On your feet.

Shakily she rose, unsteadily, the dagger still in her hand.

"Face me!"

She couldn't cry out verbally; he had seen to that. So she shouted at him mentally, egging him to get up as she strode slowly toward him. What was he doing, cradling his head like that? He had come to fight her, he had to fight her, wasn't that what she was here for?

He had to stand up and fight...or it would all be for nothing.

((8 ))

8

Why did I push her? I should've k-ki...

No... not kill... I...

Kill her...

pray to her...

Soak the ground, claim her life's essence as your own...

No...

In one moment of searing brightness, where the smell of searing flesh and burning gauze fill the air, time seems to freeze for just a moment... The child-mind looks up, only to find himself staring into a nightmarish face far worse than any feline. Around him, the whisps dart to and fro frantically, as if anxious to protect from this shadowy doppelganger...

Blood...

no...

Demand her life's blood...

won't...

You will have it!

I...

In the real world, Trei lurches unsteadily to his feet, thin drops of blood still streaming from his eyes; it is the only liquid his body has left to give. Tears have long since been stolen from him. Sensation has been stolen from him. In a very morbid way, the words... or more precisely, urges... of his darker half are appealing. To step away from the emotions, to never have to worry about losing control, to be free from watching others have everything he never will...

I...

His eye looks up to Owle, and the emerald iris flickering with faint glimmers of the same light it held at the beginning of the match. The bloody knife... she shed his blood. But look to look at her is much worse... to see the damage that he had willingly caused.

I...

I am not...

Wobblingly, he moves towards her, smoldering gauze falling away from his body with every step. His right hand pulls down from his head, drawing back into a fist as he nears her... the skin of the knuckles bubbles, as if something is trying to force its way out, but is being held back.

I am not my shadow...

9

Inside Trei's mind, the war has reached its climax... the young man's shadow and child-mind, versus the Psyche that he has chosen to associate with Light, the Psyche of ration and reason (mostly.) It is for this reason his body hesitates, swerves, sometimes making as if to attack, sometimes making as if to draw out more of the Dark Psyche's power. His eye is reminiscent of a dieing flourescent light... it just kinda flickers intermittently, usually when he looks as if he's going to attack hand to hand.

His voice, gurgling over the blood that has not yet left his throat, seeps through red-black stained lips, and he steps forward once more.

"I.... am not...."

With a groan, he pulls his left hand away, revealing several light puncture wounds where blood-talons had actually pierced into the skin of his temple, from which blood runs in small rivulets. This hand, too, clenches in a fist and pulls back, though it seems as if he isn't having as much issue with containing the blood now.

"I will not..."

Deep within his mental vault, the Psyche of Light struggles to ascend to the platform amidst the dark lake, fighting against the tendrils of darkness that seek to pull him back into his pain... He has a promise to keep, and he intends to make sure that he does so. She has kept her end of the deal...

Now I have to keep mine.

With a cry that penetrates through to his real body, the Light psyche grips the edge of the pedestal, just as the real body weaves and steps one more step forward, its left arm rising while its right arm pulls further back.

"I will not lose..."

With that, the young man lurches forward, driving his left forearm straight for her chest in a motion that, should it hit, will send her sprawling down the aisle. Despite the force of the attack, it can be seen that the first of the wisps start returning, and begin orbiting his body with benevolent grace...

10

"G...get up..."

As the rational mind gains more control over its body, Trei stops weaving so much, his body shifting to accomodate for the movement of the train. Her dagger has left a nasty little gash along his left arm, but he can still flex it, and that's all that matters.

Sun Tzu once said that to conquer a foe, you have to first conquer yourself... Atop the mental pedestal, the Light Psyche struggles to assume the proper role. The vault has to be closed... all the pieces have to fit. If Trei attempts to push on with his mind shattered as it is, he will self-destruct, and become something that he fears more than any cat.

"I will pass through the vale...."

To establish dominion...

To defeat any opponent...

To defeat his shadow...

The wisps are back now... a sworling cloud of celestial lights that, even in the darkest situation, sing of hope and balance. In the vault, they spin as well, lighting the darkness and demolishing the pedestal. The triad faces each other once more... the crimson Death's head of the dark psyche, the bloodied face of the child mind, the determined eyes of the light psyche. As the wisps sworl around and actually through Trei's mental body, his shattered mind faces off, enmeshed in light that flares out through his material eye.

And then, with a sudden burst, all of the wisps fly into Trei's material body, the shining energy streaming in through his eyes, mouth, chest, arms... In the face of this blinding light, the Light and Dark psyche's charge each other, their strikes colliding above the cringing child-mind...

And Trei is literally rocked, staggering back several steps and coming within inches of falling onto his a**, as his shattered mind, his broken emotions, clash and meld, sworling within his head. The sanctum is gone, the morbid comfort of the dark voice...

Gone.

((all of this occurs in a few seconds... it feels so much longer, though, ya?))

If Owle has risen, she'll see Trei standing, his spider-webbed right arm grasping a support pole, his face turned to the ground. He's battered and bloodied, as is she... but something has changed...

There Ryu stands with his hands crossed, still holding onto the Kybalion blade. Trei truly entrusted Ryu with this blade, why? Just in case something like this happens. But Ryu still had to wait...

Wait for the right time...

There's only going to be a window of opportunity...

A window that'll tell Ryu to just jump in and save his partner from his dark side, but surely enough this match seems to become more intense by the second.

Ryu looks to Yamir as the EMT's finally arrive to carry him off. Ryu sighs a bit then notices the battle getting more of a blow for blow type ordeal.

"Come on... Trei." The only words to sputter out of Ryu's mouth. His hand grips tighter around the blade. His eyes still that pure crimson... for some odd... reason.

He moved towards her, laughing, and Owle raised the seat cushion like a shield before her. She was short, and it was large, big enough to cover her neck to groin. She was ready to drive forward with it, using it to cushion his blows while preparing to kick out at him.

"Boo."

Boo?

He was close enough. Owle stepped forward, seat cushion rising higher to allow the motion, then aimed a front kick with her scaled and clawed foot at the wound she'd left in his stomach.

((12. Just threw up. Laying down now.))

"There you go, Mr. Cole. Now remember, take it easy for awhile until the bleeding stops. We might not have enough gauze left when we get done taking care of everyone else on this train to even redress your wound, so take care of the one you've got."

"Yeah, yeah."

Athan started out of the train cart, catching a brief glimpse of the crew carting Yamir into the room. Athan didn't say anything, but instead stepped to the side and watched as they passed. Then, back to the matter at hand.

He started to edge his way through the crowd, being as gentle as one he could really ask for. A lot of people moved out of the way when they turned to notice the source of the disruption, either because they didn't want to get blood on their new jacket or out of the fear that they might get elbowed right out of the train.

All the while, his eyes were fixated on one of the many television screens fielding footage of the fight.

"C'mon...hang in there."

He whispered lightly as he made his way between carts. There was no door anymore, so it was fairly easy for him to slip into the battlefield without disrupting the fight. He would take up a position behind a chair, somewhat out of the way, and lean forward in earnest anticipation of the fight taking place.

It was already late in the battle by the time he had arrived. Both of the fighters had taken their fair share of damage, and it was just turning out to see who had the most guts.

Who was willing to go that extra step, to be willing to perhaps die for the glory of their team. For a moment, Athan questioned his teammate's willingness to go that distance.

But then came the realization that she out of the group assembled, had been engaged in more battles in this tournament than anyone else on their team.

You can do this, Owle.

13

Her charge comes just as the train enters a tunnel, and all light is swallowed... well, that is, all the light except for which is given off by Trei's aura. He, too, charges forward, left side and arm leading the way, the light casting a strangely serene glow on the grin that spreads across his features, 'specially given the chaotic battle they'd just been through...

I bare my soul with a blade, and show you my heart through my fist...

The pillow comes and is caught on his forearm, driven forward so that it will hit her before anything else... like before, he will drive her back, using his forearm as a post as he attempts to lower his body's center of gravity, to get beneath her, to lift her off the ground and drive her against the door.

Should he manage, his right fist will come hurtling forward once more, though his intent is to stop short of a knockout blow. If she can't block, the fist will stop with the gauntleted knuckle pressed against the very tip of her nose, illumnating the pair in the a storm of shifting colours, and he will say one last thing.

"I owe you..."

14

There is split second where the look on Trei's face must've been priceless... girl, then no girl. However, he catches on and looks down, trying to catch the cat before it can become something that would force him to do more damage than he already has... however, when you're the only thing lighting the tunnel (Thanks Ryu...), finding a black cat is a wee bit difficult...

First his eyes and hands dart downward, to where she would've landed if she was in fact that little black puff that had toppled from the cushion... If he can catch her, he can constrain her. Should he catch her, he'll probably grab her by the scruff of the neck and lift her safely up, so that he can be on guard for another shift.

However, if she's not there, he'll spin around so that his back is pressed against the door, covering his back so that he only has to worry about a 180 degree field of vision, rather than a 360 degree one. His arms will spread out, so that the wisps light up a larger area, and his eye will watch, ready to throw up a shield against another charge...

15

As soon as she begins changing, Trei reacts... his left hand comes up, and as the girl has finally emerged back into a humanoid form, she'll find herself back at Start... that is to say, staring at ball of iridescent energy identical to the one that Trei opened the match with. She's seen him use a shield like this, but she'd also been hit by a concussive strike... does she really want to test it?

In the strange half-light, Trei will shoot the messy haired girl a good natured, albeit exhausted looking grin... he had put her through hell, he knows, but he hopes that at the very least, his prayer holds true; she had travelled through the vale of death with him, even if it had been unkowingly, and he owes her a world of thanks. However, that will have to wait for the fight to end.

So, chuckling a bit, he tilts his head towards the ball o' boom. "Checkmate?"

16

See, the prospect of him holding her up by one scale with an injured hand relies on him having picked up the cat delicately. He might be trying to play nice, but he's not an idiot... his grip should still be pretty stable, especially since she hadn't fought out of it in human form.

Plus, it's a simple thing... just twist his hand so that it rests under the ball o' scales, rather than above. What do we have now? A twenty pound volleyball. And what do we do with volleyballs?

~SPIKE~

That's right, Trei goes to spike the poor girl... he swings his hand around and down, slamming her towards the ground with all the momentum her weight and his remaining strength can muster. Just in case, he keeps the ball o' boom in his off-hand, so that he may finish this pretty much as needed.

17

The timer is running out on their match, and Trei has a knife through his hand yet again. His options here? Blast her through the floor, or simply walk away and nurse his wounds. Or, option C....

Using the knife that is coming out of her as a lever, Trei pries the girl up out of the ground and swings his arm around, lurching towards one of the windows that, if memory serves, Ryu was responsible for shattering with his uppercut. He's not gonna drop her (he hopes...), but in this form and in this manner, he has the definite advantage in maneuvering her as he wants to...

But the bell rings just as his hand nears the window, stopping the fight just as Owle comes to hang out the window... so, with a grunt, the young man pulls her back in so that they may go their separate ways...

"HA HA HA HA HA"

Outrageously, Ryu's laughter occurs. "Saved by the bell..." He begins applauding Trei upon his performance in the battle. Surely, Ryu watches him as he welcomes Trei back to the other end of the cart.

"Well... that was surely a fun time, I think I have something that belongs to you." Ryu then turns the blade Kybalion back to Trei. "You did well. Seems like my match is up next."

He takes both blades of True Blaze and True Flare, then has for their X sheathes to lay directly upon his back as he walks towards the center of the cart. He waits the arrival of his opponent, not wasting any time at all.

Owle got her feet underneath her, and finally released Trei from her clingy grip of death. Or maybe it was just panic, whatever.

"Yeah..." Owle put her fingers to the corners of her mouth, and lifted the skin up into a funny looking smile.

She wasn't sure how to react as he thanked her, feeling embarrassed. What had she done? Beaten him to a bloody pulp, yelled at him a couple times, but somehow...something had changed in him during the fight.

"Um, well...anytime." She bobbed her head back to him. "Well...anytime I'm not broken and bleeding already. That could be bad. I just hope I didn't disappoint you."

She turned, noticing Ryu entering the cart and awaiting his own match. "I'm going to stumble towards wherever the medics are...care to join me?"

Stumble may have been too grand a word for the motion when she actually started heading that way, but, weak as her body was she was moving.

Gingerly, Owle allowed herself to lean on him, putting an arm carefully about him once more. Four legs were more stable than two, she supposed, and with the way the train was going they needed all the stability they could get.

The sun shone through the windows, but the pretty lights went away. A mixed blessing.

"What for?"

Flare seemed interested in wasting even less time than her opponent did. She stretched out in her seat, stood up, drew her rapier, ducked by Owle and Trei on their way out of the battlefield...squeezing Owle's unoccupied shoulder as she did so.

You did well.

The moment they were past her, the demoness chucked a fireball at Ryu. No words, no preamble, no asking if he were ready or not. A ball of flame was zooming towards his chest straight down the aisle, and the demoness was running after it, legs long and lean.

((1))

[[ 1 ]]

Ryu merely looks directly at the fireball. What was it? A fireball? The Eternal Flames didn't want any of this.

A mere strike of his right fist towards the fireball, has for the fireball to suddenly engulf Ryu's hand. The air around it flares in a discretion in knowing that the Wind Dance manipulation is occurring.

Ryu smirks as the flames flare upon his arm, then suddenly extinguish when the air vacuum the oxygen around his arm briefly killing off the flames.

His eyes stay upon Flare, just wanting her to hit him. For some reason... he felt like taking on pain.

"You could'a chomped down on his hand." he chuckled, picturing just that. "You could have grabbed his hand and flew, drag 'im out with you. Double K.O.!" he joked, elbowing Trei high enough to keep away from poking that arm into some fresh injury.

She'd seemed set on the match, dragged through, and she was happy when it was over. Didn't get much better than that, and he was happy for her.

"You and Athan 've been making good work. Make sure you rest up." he said, letting go when they came to the medical staff. He stood and watched them make the succeeding steps on their own.

"I'm gonna go back and see how Flare's holding up." he grinned.

Eager. But serious.

And turned back to march himself to the cart where the latest spectacle was taking place.

((Alright. Backtrack.

You let me get right up close to you, just waiting for me to hit you. And then you're going to tell me you're fast enough to sidestep - in a narrow aisle - a rapier coming from only about a foot away without a scratch?))

Ryu would sidestep, presumably to his left to avoid the rapier wielded in Flare's left hand. Since the aisle was only wide enough for one person, he must have stepped in between two of the couches that were meant to provide comfortable seating.

Of course, Ryu had overlooked something.

She had two hands, and the right one was back and ready to have some fun, cause some carnage, throw a party in the train car. Before he could even touch the hilt of his sword that right hand shot forward towards his throat, and the knee heading to his groin turned into a step forwards. There was nowhere for him to dodge to, couches in front of and behind him, a wall to his left and Flare blocking entry to the aisle to his right.

She would grasp her target as his body started convulsing, pushing him forwards, over the arm of the couch behind him. He could hit her metal stick with his fist all he wanted; he would throw it off course, but not throw her off balance. Considering it had missed its target anyway she wasn't about to waste time keeping it still.

((3))

Fist? Flare's palm was open, to grasp and push his throat. There were no fists involved in this manuever, unless you count the one still around the hilt of her rapier.

So she caught his chin instead of his throat. It wouldn't give him that warm, constricting feeling, but she could still grab it and shove it back hard. Which, considering they were on a moving train, would probably upset his balance just a tad.

Speaking of the fist around her rapier's hilt...the arm it was attached to relaxed, moving back with the motion of Ryu's blow so that it didn't throw off the rest of her body. Behind and out it swung, then stopped, little worse for wear.

The punch to her face should, by all rights, have been thrown off by her pushing some part of his body above his shoulders backwards. It's very hard to send such a punch when someone is shoving against you like Flare was. If by some miracle he managed to throw it despite her interrupt, there was still time to move her head to one side. She wasn't lightning fast, mind you; his fist grazed her cheek, leaving a nasty bruise that would have been far worse if this weren't just a "wake up call."

((4))

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

[[ 4 ]]

He kept advancing -directly- towards her.

Ryu must have looked really funny, then, since Flare hadn't let go of his chin, nor stopped pushing back on it. So his feet would take the two steps he needed to become toe to toe to her as she stood ahead of him and to his right, while his head stayed where it was, eyes angled up toward the lack of a ceiling as Flare continued to hold and push him.

He could try to crouch down, but Flare was still holding his chin up in the air.

So. No crouching, no rising, no uberpunch for Ryu.

By now Flare had figured out that this guy wasn't going to fall down, even though she was holding his head at least two feet behind where his feet were. Oh well. She brought her rapier back around and jabbed it into his right side a couple of times; that was bound to annoy the hell out of him.

((5

Edited for directional dyslexia. The side toward her is his right, not his left.))

-psh.

Kalis had been enjoying the matches. They'd been good, Athan's and Owle's. But there was one thing he'd noted in each one, that seemed only to come to a head in this match.

Too much magic bull s**t.

He was draped against the side of the doorway again, one hand held up, fingers spread out. He pulled the gauntlet down and over, pulling the covering down to his elbow, and tugging tight onto his forearm. He pulled the straps tight, securing the armor onto his left fist, and moved on to the right. The thick leather, metal backplating, and the duster attatched to the outside over the knuckle? It felt great. Real, simple, clean, effective.

Where do they all go to wizard school to learn this junk...? Most of them don't even look old enough to have taken classes on this stuff. Unless they completely neglected traditional education...

That made him pause, and consider. "Huh." And went back to pulling the gauntlets tight.

Have we... been fighting morons...?

[[ 6 ]]

And so, his punch didn't work, but Flare did forget about the wind resistance that the air has given to him. His face didn't take much damage as he grins mercilessly directly towards her.

He notices that her rapier went to his side, but the body wouldn't take damage due to the wind protection that has completed itself from the beginning of the match. But it did leave a scar upon his body, the wind protection isn't as defined as it used to be.

She feels her body going upon his punch, and his punch is going directly towards her chest, so when her face goes downward, his punch hits more directly to her face. The sheer will power of the punch will have for his fist to go directly through her face, this time... this wasn't a wake up call, this is a reality check. The strength of five tigers came into effect to throw her off of him.

Her body would have to completely bend over him, since he's maneuvering to crouch, and the first punch occurs. It has for the second punch to hit its mark on her face and not her chest since he's crouching, and it wouldn't go over her head as she expected.

Then Ryu will suddenly feel the powers inside him swell, while he grins grabbing his sides as his body begins spinning, the air maneuvering like a hurricane the air begins ripping up the furniture.

Hurricane Kick! The maneuvering of his body with one leg outwards has for a hurricane like feel movement around his body abruptly to send Flare in circles around him.

"..."

-beep-

[STRIKER: OFFENSIVE]

[[ 7 ]]

Flare would leave some prints of cuts upon Ryu's face. Now, the eyes avert to their golden brown hue as Ryu realizes the blood that slowly drain from his face. But the taste of the blood purely delighted him in a sensation that his hurricane maneuver has been doing well.

But then...

"LEEEEEEEEEEEEROOY~!!!!!"

"The hell?" His body completing rotation from the spinning, then his eyes grew large like a deer seeing headlights of a car.

WHAM! He was hit by Kalis going directly towards a window. But Ryu's not going to fly out of the window, due to the fact that his arms are still free. So, the next thing he knows to do is fairly simple...

GRAB THE NEAREST DAMN THING, AND GET BACK IN!

Ryu's left hand, because an arm was free, goes directly towards his hilt holding directly upon it then suddenly he slams the blade within the confine of the wall, rather what's left of it to hold on tight. The blade, True Flare, in its Ethereal Form gets slammed into the wall halting Ryu's momentum. But Ryu's face continued to bleed, but with the Wind Dance, it suddenly aids him pushing him directly back away from the window to tumble his entire body back into the cart. Aided by the pull of the blade directly on the dangling metal, he brings Kalis back into the cart tumbling to the other side of the cart hitting directly upon the wall.

"Ouch..." He rubs the back of his head as he looks up directly towards Flare then back at Kalis and back at Flare, "Can't fight..." He drops down to a knee feeling strain upon his right side then slowly gets back up to his feet, "Your own battles?" He says as he spits out blood from the wounds given to his face.

Eastern style swords, light and usually curved, drew quick, but not that quick.

And even if they did, or was already unsheathed, there was the issue of Kalis natural reaction as soon as the flew out the window, and halted motion stopped them flying further.

With a tug, it'd slam them into the side of the train, HARD due to their speed, and Ryu would take the brunt due to being the one stopping their motion, thus putting him closer to the train wall.

This was just natural law taking it's course.

Kalis reaction was more along the lines of holding on for dear life.

Which mean holding tight as he could. And all things considered...

Kalis Acineres: Abilities Wrote:

...that was going to be really damn hard.

One arm wrapped over the man's leg, and the other under his arm and around the neck, was going to make for a realy nasty situation. Ribs might or might not have been cracked. But the shoulder of the restricted arm was going to be painfully dislocated.

Yes, Ryu was going to be slowed more then enough going back in, that Kalis could collect his mind at least as much as the other man was.

No way, wizard boy.

And that meant Ryu would have about a second to feel that arm go pop and do his super-hero thing gritting through the pain and tugging them back anyway, when Kalis hauled his legs up, wrapping them around the arm holding the sword, and twisted, hard, charged muscles compacting.

Ryu was going to lose his grip for sure, but even if wind powers saved him, he was gonig to be fighting with one broken and one dislocated arm even if miracle of miracles brought him back in.

((You might want to explain why your arm doesn't get dislocated, instead of simply saying it doesn't. Just a thought, you know, so you aren't simply spewing words and have reasons behind saying things.))

Except that Flare didn't push the couch until he got back inside and spoke to her, as stated. Since he didn't get back inside and speak to her for some time thanks to Kalis's interference, the couch wasn't there when he went to grab it.

Nor was it there to be knocked out the window in some unspecified manner that was likely contrary to the laws of physics and ignorant of the respective sizes of the couch and the window. It was there, however, to keep Flare hidden behind it when Ryu re-entered the train.

Now, Flare wasn't psychic. That was Owle. So she didn't hear his mental scream. She did, however, hear the long string of curses he began shouting. While he stood there yelling at her, she scrunched her body up and pushed the couch at him, as she had planned to do before but hadn't gotten around to yet since he had only just at this moment gotten back inside and started yelling.

Her hands were still glowing, and Ryu had a couch coming at him. Unless, of course, Kalis had managed to pull something interesting to keep Ryu off the train in the few seconds left to him.

((9))

"Alright, I'll rest..."

Owle answered Kalis, waving feebly as he ran off.

And then she was being descended on by medics, nurses, and the like, fussing over her injuries and saying something worrisome about sewing her jaw shut.

"I do NOT want my mouth sewn shut!" she shouted at them, but they weren't listening, and soon Owle was distracted, staring wide eyed at the TV as Kalis just went and tackled Ryu out of the train car.

"Um...yeah," the impression of a feeble smile got sent to Trei as Owle was more or less attacked by medics. "I understand, you gotta go help your buddy. Just be careful, alright? ...that knife in your gut can't be good for you, you know?"

She didn't think she'd persuade him otherwise, but she just wanted him to watch out for himself. So few people did these days.

Flare Sithfallin Wrote:

Except that Flare didn't push the couch until he got back inside and spoke to her, as stated. Since he didn't get back inside and speak to her for some time thanks to Kalis's interference, the couch wasn't there when he went to grab it.

Nor was it there to be knocked out the window in some unspecified manner that was likely contrary to the laws of physics and ignorant of the respective sizes of the couch and the window. It was there, however, to keep Flare hidden behind it when Ryu re-entered the train.

Now, Flare wasn't psychic. That was Owle. So she didn't hear his mental scream. She did, however, hear the long string of curses he began shouting. While he stood there yelling at her, she scrunched her body up and pushed the couch at him, as she had planned to do before but hadn't gotten around to yet since he had only just at this moment gotten back inside and started yelling.

Her hands were still glowing, and Ryu had a couch coming at him. Unless, of course, Kalis had managed to pull something interesting to keep Ryu off the train in the few seconds left to him.

((9))

[[ 9 ]]

Ryu's body staying in tact the entire time since his body was in constant motion from Kalis' interruption. But the strain upon the left arm almost makes it unable to be used, but Ryu wasn't going to let that stop him, not at all. His strength and determination of going through pains like this before isn't really new to him at all.

Blaze Wrote:

"So, are you ready? I'm going to help give the element of flames directly towards your left arm to give it back some momentum, but you best use it wisely, for I won't be able to keep control of it for long. The pain will return, and it'll be 10 times as worse before."

Suddenly, Ryu's body begins erupting into flames of an oceanic aura. These were the Eternal Flames, and with these flames burning from his entire body, the outside of the cart begins feeling the sensation of melting from his presence. Surely, this doesn't mean that the flames were hot, it just gave the illusion that they were melting. These flames weren't that of this material plane. It's Ryu's own aura and power source.

He didn't suspect on using this until later, but this time, the Honor has been thrown out of the window. And Ryu is now, going to use a technique that hasn't been used by him before, with just one hand. The train still being in the tunnel, the hint of the glowing from Flare's hands told Ryu where she is.

And now is the time to react. The couch moving ahead directly towards him, facing him from the north end of the train. Ryu's right hand goes directly towards the side as the Eternal Flames suddenly swirl energies within the confine of the palm of his hand.

In formulating the energies, Ryu's body becomes rather relax and prepared for the couch to come directly towards him. Right when the couch reaches 3 feet in front of him, Ryu reacts sending out a blast directly from his hand, but before his hand erects to be straight pointing to the north end of the train, he shouts.

"SHINKUU... HADOUKEN!"

The chi blast sent from Ryu's hand envelopes the train cart leveling the walls as it spirals directly towards Flare. Powerful as the sensation is, the drawback is the fact that Ryu's attack will be taking its toll upon his body, but due to the help of Blaze activating the element of Fire from within Ryu, Ryu wouldn't notice the pain until after the said blast occurs.

Ryu would then drop down to the ground grabbing directly at his left arm with is right.

"Ah... damn it..." He begins breathing deeply to have the air circulate within his body so that he can regain his composure.

[[ Edited for Clarification. Chi Blast. ]]

One of two things would happen.. yes... one of them.

And that was the entire explosion. It would put both opponents out, the explosion was like a nuclear bomb erupting at the middle of the train.

The force of the explosion knocks the entire roof of the cart off, sending Ryu back directly towards the spectators cart. He was flying through the air with the greatest of ease, but he's not a Flying Trapeze... His body suddenly ends up hitting directly upon the spectator cart.

Ryu feels more of the pain in his left arm. "Oh, ****"

CCTV Wrote:

We apologize for the inconvenience of interrupting the program again. But it seems that Ryu Versher is apparently a verbal user when it comes to pain. Again, we apologize for our interruption and hopefully, with this next synopsis of the event that Ryu blared words from the pain, that you'll understand what he's saying.

And for the younger viewers, we apologize.

In short: Ryu has stated that his arm hurts him terribly bad, and that he wishes for some form of gratification, but says that Flare is absolutely fine the way she is, and hopes to talk with her after the match. But this time, it means war between the beauty and the horrible beast.

We thank you for your patience, and hope this won't happen again.

Ryu walks back in, limping slightly onto the train cart which now has no roof. "So, let's make a wager on this. And this time, let's not have anyone else interfere. We can do a lot more damage that way." He grins slightly from a sadistic persuasive viewpoint.

"How about if we both survive this match, we go out? What would you say?" He feels his arm pop into socket as he begins rotating the left arm some, feeling strain but only able to raise it to chest height.

Ryu looks rather funny with ripped up clothing, and a pair of blue hearted black boxers in plain view.

Athan just stood there the entire time. His right hand held firmly to a standing pole in order to keep his balance, while his left rested on the back of a plush chair. He hated magic and any sort of trickery, and he was about to reinforce that hate oh so much more.

First, there was the heat. It wasn't so bad, but the fact that the bandages on his chest were beginning to turn black, well, the standing temperature in the cart had rocketed up to an impressive temperature.

It wasn't until the explosion occured did Athan even consider ducking. As bits of red-hot metal flew past, couches and chairs flared up, and the roof was quite literally blown off the train, Athan simply stood, watching as chaos erupted throughout the battlefield.

The television stations lost their cameras, and they were scrambling to somehow get feed via helicopter, which was currently behind the train since they hadn't expected to be dodging train cart roofs any time soon. They would finally show up over the arena, their whirling blades only serving to add to the vast amount of wind already present in the cart.

Athan furrowed his brow at the destruction in front of him, and removed his left hand from the chair, which had a visible indentation on it from the pressure the strong man's grip had placed upon it.

Gramps? Well, he was lucky that he was still attached to the wall.

REJECTED!

[[ 11 ]]

And rightfully so, Ryu takes his right arm over and rips half of his pants, revealing more of the blue hearted black boxers. He takes the fabric then tightens it around his strained shoulder then rotates the arm towards shoulder height then begins stretching it.

Pain was felt, but with the adrenaline pumping, it didn't feel like it was there. He unsheathes True Blaze then stabs it into the floor. Looking at both of the walls, he felt like he was enclosed in a tight space, and really didn't like it. So... he turns to the west wall and pushes it over, looking directly towards the north end, that must mean the left hand side. It gives out from support and falls over off of the bridge they were surpassing.

"Well... that's lovely." He walks over to the other side and does the same, noticing the hinges of the east wall, the right wall, was slightly more loose, and it fell over more easily than the other side.

Returning to the middle of the cart, both of his blades not on him anymore. He begins unhitching the gauntlets upon his hands placing them on the floor as well. "Let's fight... without our weapons... and we'll know who is the better fighter."

Quote: What is Ryu doing?

Apparently, he seems to have made a challenge towards the opponent.

But the fight is almost over, why the sudden change of heart?

Maybe because he's been rejected about all the time in this match?

That is true.

Ryu's left arm lowers slightly in front of him, crossing over the boundaries that separate the waist from the groin. The right hand cocks back in a high fashion slightly above the left arm, while his left foot points directly towards his opponent and the right rests upon the ball of the foot pointing perpendicular towards the east wall.

[[ 12 ]]

His ears twitch, listening to her words. He pushes over the wall, he was feeling her hands upon his back.

Mmm... soft hands... WAIT! As the wall falls over, she suddenly pushes him, and the only reaction he had was to have his tail extend from around his waist to grab directly upon her waist as well. He begins falling, but at the same time, pulling her with him.

The force would have him capable of bringing her with him and right when they're both over the edge, Ryu's body turns as when a body falls, the right arm goes to grab for the edge of the cart clasping on. Suddenly, the air around his hand becomes like claws digging into the cart keeping on, but due to the force of the train maneuvering down the tracks. He just tries to hold on. And his tail lets loose simultaneously of Flare to have her fall.

She would either: A) Fall off the train due to Ryu pulling her off.

B) Fall with Ryu, but grab upon Ryu's pants, rather what's left of it on the other side.

or

C) Grab onto Ryu's tail, to give him a wake up call.

A vicious grin crosses Trei's features, and he pushes the button.

OFFENSIVE STRIKER!!!

[[ 13 ]]

Indirectly, Flare was helping him back up. Maybe she wasn't really trying to push him off. Maybe she really wanted to have this match go towards the finish.

Ryu feels his body holding onto the train cart, but then with the help of Flare, he was lifted to get back onto the cart. Thusly, Ryu's now returned to the cart, but suddenly out of nowhere, Trei decides to become a STRIKER this time.

Trei's body collides with Flare's body, but Ryu was just helped by this woman. As a form of thanks...

Ryu's hand goes directly towards both of Flare's shoulders pulling her close to him, the momentum of Trei suddenly becoming a problem. But with his tail around Flare's waist, he'd suddenly use the force of his left foot hitting the ground to become an anchor.

But then... as Flare and Trei seems to be going off, Ryu's hands lift from Flare's shoulders as he leans over his face gazing deeply into hers, "You have some beautiful eyes..."

As her hands clench more onto his tail, he looks to her lips, licking his own then leans over and says...

"I'm Sorry!"

With the words, his left hand suddenly grabs upon his tail cutting it in half, due to the fact that the Wind Dance maneuver is still around having his tail to be completely cut off. Blood spewing from the tip as he goes to watch Flare fall. Simultaneously with the movement of cutting his tail off of him, he uses his boot to kick directly towards Trei's body to send both Trei and Flare off into the south end of the cart. As a respectful maneuver, and...

Almost a form of an unspoken thanks.

[[ 14 ]]

Ryu's hands drop towards her sides, right around the upper torso region. She's close to him, as he's close to her, then it comes to pass that Ryu's hands cup directly onto her shoulders. And with the aid of the wind dance preparations being like claws. They become like a latch to cling directly towards her shoulders to dig into her.

But simultaneously with that maneuver, her headbutt hits its mark directly upon his face, but his head lowers just in time to take it head on. Like a tiger, headbutts doesn't really effect him as much as if he was human.

He smirks to her, "You know... if this were different circumstances... I'd consider you my wife."

Rather than colliding with the ground, Trei finds himself caught up in some kind of perverse three way hug...

And Ryu was making with the comeons again...

"Ugh.."

With a disgusted groan, Trei forces himself out of the grapple, balls up his "gauntleted" right fist, raising it high above his head as if to club the girl then and there...

But then his author said "******** it," so the young man just tosses his hands up and walks away, tottering dangerously on the edge for a split second before making his way back to more solid ground.

These people are strange.

It seems that Trei was getting out just at the right time, seeing as the meat-tank that Yamir had fought against seems to have decided that a couch is just what this already ******** up fight needs.

Which mean Trei has to dodge heavy artillery for the second time in a matter of thirty seconds.

With a grunt, the young man dives forward... but can't avoid getting clipped, which causes him to spin about midair (thanks to there being no more wall,) and almost topple from the Train yet again. Luckily, he manages to grab onto one of the support bars that holds his side of the train's couches to the ground, and hangs there for a moment. Unluckily, the strain causes just about every wound above his gauntlet to open up (and jagged metal from the ruined wall adds to the fun...)

Muttering under his breath about chaos and win mongers, Trei struggles to climb back into the cart, smearing lots of crimson joy everywhere as he does so.

Maybe a medic visit wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...

[[ 15 ]]

She saw a couch over Ryu's shoulders. And for some reason, Ryu felt heat directly upon his tail, which hasn't been cut in half as previously stated in some other post.

Oh, no.

Ryu didn't have anytime to avoid this one though, even though Flare begins shifting. Ryu resists enough just to look directly towards the couch coming at him, his back towards the -no wall- area. His hands are directly onto Flare's arms. The digging sensation continues, having his grip to become supreme.

WHAM... DAMN FECKING COUCH

A couch, of all things to occur. But with the usage of the air swirling around his body, Ryu and Flare does separate, but Ryu doesn't go empty handed. With the explosion sensation of Flare pushing Ryu off of her, his claws will go deeper, and deeper.

It's known that whenever claws go deeper, and deeper into an object, it gives a rip. But Ryu's hands were at Flare's shoulders, pulling her close, thusly, it'll be behind her shoulders almost near the shoulder blades, and with that intense force. Something's got to give, and that's not going to be Ryu's right arm at this point... possibly Flare's.

And if that does occur, Ryu's body would suddenly decent towards the bridge, but the spectator cart was surely behind the fighting cart. Ryu with the help of...

Air Manipulation: Helps him to fly, and to use the incredible double jump if needed.

He uses his claws to capture the spectator cart. He wasn't going to go down that easily. But, with the last bit of his strength, he just holds onto the cart itself as it rails down the trail. Trying to climb back to the fighting cart, he notices something....

Ryu... Ryu... Ryu Versher...

Friend to you and me...

Aaalalalalalalalala...

Watch out for debri...

Watch out for...

Debri

Due to the train being faster than the couch, Ryu is sent directly into the couch and it hits him directly creating more pain to him as he holds his entire body falling towards the river below. But slowly descending in a glide and not a plummeting fall. He could fly to the train, but in respects to his opponent, he does not. As he lays on the blanketed air, he looks up to the sky noticing the brightness of the sun and sighs...

"I've failed... my team..."

Crimson eyes suddenly appeared before Ryu's, staring down into his as Flare hovered over him, as if she were laying on a surface above the one on which he lounged.

"You can fly?"

And that was that, before she righted herself and shrugged. "Damn. I wouldn't have pushed you off the cart if I'd known that...not without hitting you over the head a couple times first."

She offered one clawed hand down to him. "Come on. We can catch up to it at the next station if we take the direct route."

...

After an awkward paused, she sighed heavily. "The battle's over, so no more tricks. It'll look bad for my team if I return without you."

"You, my friend, don't know me very well..." As the young man speaks, the "gauntlet" on his right hand liquifies and begins worming its way back INTO his skin... "In all honesty, I was just kinda relying on her wings to keep us both from going Squishy..."

And the medics are upon him, checking him for broken bones and serious wounds. So, of course, his stomach and his right hand become the priorities of the day; by the time they're done, he feels they've placed a board on his front, and bending over looks like it'll become a pain in the a**.

"What's with that meat-tank guy? That ******** threw a couch! A COUCH! Is that even legal?" As usual (for good-mood Trei, anyway,) the words are accompanied by wild gesticulations, and medics either duck or attempt to restrain the young man as the cuts on his arms begin to leak red through the bandages...

Owle watched his gauntlet crawl back into his skin, curious but not seeming overly surprised or grossed out. After all, when the medics handed her the knife they'd fished out of Trei's stomach, the exact same thing happened...it melted into black goo, which seeped steadily inot her flesh.

"Hehe...you're honestly lucky she's my sister, then. She probably would have dropped you if it came right down to it...if she weren't, I mean."

She actually admired that he didn't look too far ahead; reminded her of her brother, who, if it were possible, was even less related to her than the demon she claimed as a sister. Rage never thought before just charging in head first.

"Eh..." And Owle just started laughing. "I don't know what's up with Athan. He could have killed them both!"

She seemed to find this hilarious, though. The look in Flare's eyes when she saw that couch coming at her...priceless.

Speaking of Athan...

"Thanks!" she sent to him.

...not obligated huh?

"Heh...I'm not even going to ASK what she did to you." Owle was sure whatever made Athan push a flaming couch at her, Flare deserved it for doing something to him. Probably whatever it was also involved fire.

"Yeah, well, that's what I get for not carrying shields around with me...does it still look legible?"

She seemed so honestly concerned about the little scraps of paper. Whatever was on them, it seemed to hold some value for her.

Flare Sithfallin Wrote:

Crimson eyes suddenly appeared before Ryu's, staring down into his as Flare hovered over him, as if she were laying on a surface above the one on which he lounged.

"You can fly?"

And that was that, before she righted herself and shrugged. "Damn. I wouldn't have pushed you off the cart if I'd known that...not without hitting you over the head a couple times first."

She offered one clawed hand down to him. "Come on. We can catch up to it at the next station if we take the direct route."

...

After an awkward paused, she sighed heavily. "The battle's over, so no more tricks. It'll look bad for my team if I return without you."

He looks to her, then towards the river, floating in the air this time as he sighs some. Extending his hand, as the air begins wrapping around his hand then it wraps around his feet as he stands up. "The air around here is very lovely. It listens."

Her shrug made him laugh slightly, "Yeah, but that's the thing with fighting. Always have an ace up your sleeve."

Seeing her hand, he extends it to take it the Wind Dance, begins dancing around his feet like rockets propelling him forward, "Let's go."

He noticed a pause after he begin going directly towards the train, "Don't worry, I won't show any more... but... is there something wrong?" He feels his face some with his free hand noticing the scars still there from when she had him by a firm hold.

Kalis had been lucky enough to have partial cover as well, from the fiery explosion- namely, he'd yanked what remained of the door Yamir had smashed through up as a shield between the fiery explosion and himself along with a chunk of the crowd. No one was hurt, save for some nasty singes along the outsides of his sleeves and temporary hot-feet from what had leaked through. The door wasn't great anti-doom shield, but bracing himself against it had helped enough to keep the pain off them all.

Now, the cart was abandoned, empty. Roof gone, most of the insides were badly scorched, the windows were smashed out, and Athan had cleaned up the remains. The crowd had teetered away with the fights done and finished, and the announcers even turned their attention on a distanced watching of the inter-team relations now that it was over.

Kalis wasn't trying to be rude. He wouldn't have minded talking with the fellows or perhaps hanging out after, but being clear of crowd and the situations he felt like he'd be stepping on someone's toes in was a relief. Standing in the scorched walkway of the cart designated as the combat area, he walked to one of those windows, and peered way and out. Out, out and into the horizon, the sky, forever. He wasn't really looking though. He just needed somewhere for his eyes to go.

The fights were intense. Everyone did well, and they tried hard.

Thick leather gloves wrapped around the empty window frames as he leaned partway out, catching even more violent flickers of wind to whip his hair around his face. They creaked lightly under a tight grip.

It's not that we can't take more. I'm sure we've got what we need, but... we're fighting, it's not domination of the enemy. They're going to be getting worn out, and...

He turned his head slowly around, watching the sun in it's curve through the heavens. Catching in his crimson eyes, the light shone back at the orb as red sisters to the burning body of light. His lips parted, slowly opening without resolving to words, and after a moment he lifted his canteen to them, wetting his throat in a single long drag.

...it's not like to get any easier.

He screwed the top back on, and simply let it fall to his side.

It'd be a lot of pressure to leave the three of them with, if it's going to be like this for them over and over. They're good people, and reliable. They could handle it, but...

Turning slowly, he folded his arms against his torso and leaned beside the empty window frame. Letting the rhythmic bouncing of the train over tracks soothe him, he waited. Watching for a familiar set of wings in the sky.

...they're not the only ones staking a dream on it.

His fists clenched tight, jaw and shoulders tensing up.

You're all setting the bar high for me.

And Kalis grinned.

Trei shrugs, his eye still flicking about casually. Interestingly enough, all the medics are staring... Probably because he's vocally replying to a voice in his head. Maybe he should mess with 'em...

Still, his conversation takes precedence to freaking out bystanders. So, with a shrug, he plops down on a couch facing Owle, leaning casually (Well, as casually as one can when one's body is wrapped up in what feels like an inch-thick wrapping of gauze,) against the back-rest. Rather than deal with the unpleasant topic of falling to his demise, and completely oblivious to Owle's own thoughts on the matter, Trei chooses to focus more on her last question than her replies.

"Well, think about it... Each team has what seems to be one victory, and then we have a double-KO. Sooooo... it'll probably come down to either scores or a tie-breaker." With a roguish grin, Trei tilts his head back towards the remains of the fight's cart. "And really... after round one, how crazy do you think round two would get?"

Owle followed his gaze out to the destroyed train cart, then shuddered convulsively, exaggerating her feelings on the matter. "If there's a tie breaker, I do NOT want to even be on this train for it! Between Flare and Ryu, the whole damn thing might blow up!"

Mental chuckles followed the statement, though...it was true she wouldn't want to be on the train if that happened, but that didn't mean she wouldn't stay for the sake of her team. After all, Kalis would probably be fighting.

"There weren't any tie breakers last round, though, even though we got through only two fights. Both of them ended by time out, and in one the other team even seemed to have the upper hand...but the judges scored us higher, for some reason. Couldn't tell you why."

It was really weird, considering how much Soiree had beat her up, that the Swords! had advanced regardless. Maybe the judges were serious when they said showmanship was just as important, if not more so, than the amount of damage you inflict on your opponent...though Soiree had turned her into a pincushion with icicles, he hadn't done it in style.

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

Turning on his side, observing her, he notices the nod then closes his eyes as he lets the air just take him where they're needed. Back towards the train.

But he was in thought the entire time, apparently, it seems that some of the instances that she showed to him. The flirtation, the sensual massage, even though the massage was a fake... it felt so real to him. Maybe he should ask her something, but apparently, she began speaking again.

So in replying, "Yeah... your teammate thought of sending me off, but we both gone off in the process. Heh... what luck." He grins slightly then looks directly towards the trail that the train has went upon the railway.

Man... this feels weird.

Flare shook her head and sighed. One would think Athan would have better sense...

"You seem upset."

They were the only words she had for him. If he was upset for what had happened upon the field of battle, he'd best get over it...all was fair in love and war, and if Flare intermixed the two who could fault her? The demoness felt no guilt for her deception, though it was a pity that he didn't seem as animated as before. Gullible, perhaps, but entertaining.

Flare Sithfallin Wrote:

One would think Athan would have better sense... Somewhere, up on high, the gods started laughing at that notion.

Back on the train, however, Athan was weaving his way through the spectators, careful not to accidently slice one open with his sword as he did so. That weapon was tricky to carry in a crowded area, particularly when he had to hold it over his shoulder as he was currently doing. There were a few apologies, but for the most part, everyone got out of the way without incident. And who could really ask for more?

Hey, Owle.

Athan wasn't good at reaching out and talking, so he was hoping that Owle could at least catch up on his thoughts as he left the spectator cart and entered the EMT area. He paused, setting his sword down on the floor and propping it up against a wall.

"Got your book here."

He was much more content speaking aloud. But even as he did so, he didn't bother to look up at his teammate. No, instead he was idly flipping through the pages, wondering what was so important about it. Surely she could have just purchased another one for $2.99 at the gift shop.

Unless she had secrets hidden within the pages. Which Athan would be all too glad to read unless she snatched that thing away from him.

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

Looking at the picture of his first wife and kids...

Flare, too, seemed completely different off the field of battle. Within the train cart she had worn one mask...now that one had been taken away, only to reveal the mask beneath the mask.

"Cute kids. They look like you."

Flare Sithfallin Wrote:

Ryu Versher 777 Wrote:

Looking at the picture of his first wife and kids...

Flare, too, seemed completely different off the field of battle. Within the train cart she had worn one mask...now that one had been taken away, only to reveal the mask beneath the mask.

"Cute kids. They look like you."

He puts away the wallet then nods some, "Yeah... twin girls and my oldest son..."

He sighs some then looks off to the destination while changing the subject, "We're almost there."