Toyotas Bathhouse

A. Toyota's Bathhouse

Thin rice paper walls separate a series of traditional wooden rooms. Steam pours off the relaxing water contained in the large communal tubs creating a sauna like atmosphere.

Terrain

General - Fighters have run of the bathouse, able to fight into other rooms as well as within the tubs.

Weapons - Towels.

Bonus Effects - None.

Hmmm, no.

No flashy entrance this time. With a quick swing by the hotel The Devil would show up with his head held low with his sword under arm. His dark red dress shirt hugged against his figure and generic black dress pants accompanied the more professional look.

"KAIN! DRAGOSANI KAIN! How do you feel about Bloodfire's win?"

"People have been talking that you've been drinking a lot, any comment?"

"What of that concert you held a while ago, will you revive it?"

"What's your opinion on the outcome of this round?"

His head leaned toward the nearest microphone, his hair falling forward covering all discernible features.

"Yeah."

And his left arm came around and stashed an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the crook of female reporter's arm that was holding the mic.

"Ubb--buhh.....w-well, could you--!"

But he had already entered the bathhouse and gave a little sitdown beside Deitric.

"How goes, my friend?"

"Mm, no."

Kain rested his arm on his sword hilt and scratched at his neck.

"Oh, I did see him earlier this morning, he was out at the pier with me. Just chattin', don't know where he's gone since then though."

He brushed at the back of his head and rattled that black hair of his.

"Probably messin' around with that girl of his."

He patteed at his pockets in search of some cigarettes to pass the time but he was out and pretty broke, so, all that was left to was chuckle at his misfortune .

"And, your guess is as good as mine as to where our guys are at."

Instead of relaxing with a soothing cig he was left to rubbing his palms together. Mmm, addiction.

"I.. don't know them. I just hope they show more desire than Flashing Elements did," Deitric admitted, offering a shrug while he spoke. He'd seen some clips of Pwn't's matches, but only their first round highlight-reels offered anything useful - their other rounds had been against no-shows, or a team like Sanghelios, who simply weren't strong enough to bring out the drive in a team.

"With any luck, they'll show up soon," he added, almost as an after though. He got up and moved around, pacing around the room, peering through the various doors and hallways to get a feel for the building. He could see a large pool outside of the building, and several of the rooms had both heated and cooled baths, ranging from personal saunas to the Roman-styled large, public baths. Pretty fancy, the warrior decided. It was a shame it would get tore up in their fights.

Flash-Flash

The shudders of camera's were so annoying, even though Kuroha's arrival would iminently bring about them. He had picked up on his way, a straw ronins hat, to prepare for such an inevitable fate.

Flash-Flash

The camera's lights blinked to the point of blindness for someone, but the hat blocked it out, and all that would be visible was the ronins chin from their point of views. He had no comment for the media, and even though some questions bothered him, such as...

"Kuroha! When will you start entertaining the fans at home?"

or...

"Kuroha, sir! Did you know that you are one of the lowest rated fighters right now?"

OR...

"Sir! Do you believe Pwn't will be knocked from the standings this time around?"

Sure, they got him hot and bothered in mind, but he showed no physical care at all. He would walk into the bathouse, and wrapped around his right arm, in place of his crude spear, was a rented Manriki Chain, which would hopefully prove to be much more useful than the spear itself.

He'd take a seat next to Jose, not a word uttered from his mouth yet. It was going to be a long road ahead.

"Prob'ly gettin' his d**k wet."

He shrugged, waving it off.

"So I was thinkin' of makin' tha matches a bit more interesante. Two things 's what I ask. One, a mano a mano fight holdin' onto a towel with one hand, an' nothin between los cabrones till a timer - then anythin' goes as long as they don let go. Second, a submission fight - first ta tap out loses."

Jose-Luis would pause for a few seconds, then go again.

"No guts, no glory, homes."

"So we can get to fighting, then?" Deitric stated more than asked, standing up slowly. He made his way to the outside area by the pool, a wide patio of tiled floor with a sparse amount of tables and chairs. For the most part, there was a decently large, open fighting area, with the exception of the pool. The pool was filled to the brim with water, and had a sparse few flotation devices in it for people to use. He decided he'd rather fight outside, than inside.

Deitric rolled his shoulders and neck, eliciting a few pops and cracks from the motions. He was standing at the edge of the pool, his spear in his left hand with his shield strapped to his right hand. He turned his head to the right to look at the pool - it wasn't very deep. Must've been some sort of lay-about lounging pool. Or maybe it was deep on the other end; he couldn't quite tell.

"Mm. Good luck," Deitric offered Kuroha a faint nod. He bounced in place for a moment on the balls of his feet before starting forward at a long-strided, loping pace. He was moving fast, but not sprinting - he had complete control over his movements and footwork. He closed the distance towards his opponent, keeping himself lined up with the pool as the distance between the two was eaten up by the long strides of the Khasminic warrior.

Swish--

Deitric jabbed his arm forward hard, aiming a quick, hard stab for his opponent's lead leg, around the upper-thigh. It wasn't particularly clean, but it was a fast, biting attack. Nothing more than a lure, something to draw his opponent into the fight.

[1/17]

Deitric let his fingers uncurl from around the spear, swinging his arm back as he turned to face his opponent. He spun about quickly, whirling in in place, his feet shifting quickly beneath him. His left arm smashed into the chain as he bent his legs at the knees to avoid the weight at the end of the chain, if he had to. The chain would wrap around his arm as he flung his forearm against the length of links, his hand gripping the chain tightly as the weight smashed into his forearm at the end of the chain's looping around his arm, leaving a throbbing bruise beneath. Some where in the whirl of motion, his shield had gone flying, since his right hand no longer gripped it.

"Hu-rah!"

Deitric pulled hard on the chain when he found his grip on the weapon, aiming to pull his opponent forward with his greater weight and strength. Deitric weighed in at a sturdy two-hundred and twenty-five pounds of muscle, and when he torqued his upper body and pulled hard, whatever was on the other end was probably going to come forward. The warrior ducked his body low as he pulled, twisting his upper-body to put his right arm forward. He was going to try and catch his opponent around or between the legs with his right arm before coming up again to hold the lighter samurai in an impromptu fireman's carry, before simply throwing himself back to smash Kuroha headfirst into the shallow end of the pool - two feet of water wasn't going to slow them down much.

[2/17]

[With permission given by our team captains, TIMEPARADOXED, getting ready to battle with Chance]

James grinned as he watched the man swim about.

"Hey Chance! Hows it going?" he shouted out cheerfully, recognizing the other fighter from the Battle Arena.

"Where's Dani? She at HoH cheering you on?" he added. Dani Divine was a friend to Akimee, and therefore was a friend to James. The young warrior ernestly cracked his joints and stretched out in anticipation of a good fight. He tossed away his white jacket though, revealing the black, lined muscle shirt underneath, he was getting humid in the bathhouse.

[ Afloat ]

Chance rose to the surface, breathing deep the clean air and clearing his lungs. With wet hands swept back his hair, allowing hazel hues to set on James for the first time.

"James." He said to himself, immediately placing the familiar character among the better fighters on his list.

His right hand delved into the all but still water and reached to a pocket. A silver half-dollar was retrieved, placed between the index and middle finger. With a flick of the wrist, the minted coin was hurtled at breakneck speed to meet with James' forehead.

The following preceded the silver based altercation.

"Get your a** in here!"

Chance soon followed suit with James' removal of unneeded clothing. His own black leather jacket was removed, flung just outside the bath, no doubt to be ripped to shreds by a diehard fan.

[ 1 ]

[ Half-Dollar - Discarded ]

James flinched away, the coin whiffed his bangs, resulting in the young reaching up and tidying them again for a second, also adjusting i sunglasses a bit.

"Sorry Chance, I ain't going for a swim with you, I don't swing that way!" he taunted.

"You get out of the water, lets do this mano-a-mano, pure body and no weapons" he added, emphasizing his rather, meager Spanish. Chance was somebody he always wanted to battle, it looked like he'd have to hold back his powers again, no use in proving oneself unfairly.

To that end, he unstrapped his knife from its holster at his waist and discarded it. He really didn't use the thing much at all during HoH so far, just never had a good opportunity. James motioned toward the other man in the universal "come here" sign. He'd discard his guantlet when Chance stripped himself.

[ Pool Edge ]

"Pfffft. p***y."

Chance waded through the waist high water, gingerly making his way to the steps leading out of the pool.

Now he stood, dripping wet at more than two hundred pounds. Surely the weight of his jeans would hamper his fighting ability.

But then, in a surprise move, Chance stripped. His jeans landed with a squish on the concrete, his shirt did the same.

Black and red striped boxers were all that was left.

"C'mon then."

It seemed as if Deitric had panicked almost, but a warrior like him was probably just kicked into instinct mode. That meant the fight was going to be interesting...

Kuroha would feel a quick jerk on both his right arm, and then an exposed area at his yukata around the chest. Deitric had grabbed him, and was lifting him into the air it appeared. Though this foiled his initial aim for a crippling strike, the samurai had instincts of his own. As he was lifted into the air, he would right himslef as best as he could for balance. His left leg, had gone past the intended target, which left his right leg open for use. His right arm would also aid in this.

At the peak of the lift, Kuroha's right leg would collide with Deitrics upper body, particularly the chest. Kuroha was now also resisting the pull against the chain once again, which helped him stay in the air. Finally, within half a second or so from teh impact of his knee, his free left arm would come up with a bent elbow, and quickly come back down with force and momentum for the top of Deitrics head as he began to spin around. The hit would surely disorient the tribesman, but the intended slam couldn't be avoided unless he were to fall the other way.

CLACK!

The sound of thin steel armor and bamboo would echo through the bathouse for a silent second, with Kuroha being the victim of a brutal slam to the concrete ground beside the pool. He'd find out later that a massive bruise was to form around his left side.

3/17

[ Pool Side ]

The thrown pants unfurled and caught air, falling to the cold concrete in front of Chance. As for the shirt, well, Chance happened to be paying attention during the whole ordeal. He expressly noted where the man's gauntlet had gone to after it was removed and since it was not on the ground, it had to have been in the shirt.

The giant bulge did not help to conceal the product either.

Chance's right foot floated above the dampened concrete as he rotated to his right, turning in his midsection and shoulders as well. The heap of armor and cloth sailed past and splashed harmlessly into the water. He rotated counter-clockwise to his previous position.

The intended victim remarked upon the low blow. "That was just mean-spirited." He flipped James the bird. "a*****e." He added.

A quick three step shuffle closed the distance with his left foot leading. Rotating his hips forward, Chance raised his powerful right knee with high hopes of reaching James' lower abdomen. "Hra!" He exhaled, raising his hands to block. His stomach tightened and braced for impact, awaiting the coming counter.

[ 1 ]

[ Pool Side ]

Chance's hands were up to guard against James' palm strike. The awkward angle of Chance's protective forearms and his opponent's attack forced the palm to slide up the blocking arm, rather than slam into it. The fact that Chance's forearms were wet only helped.

With the danger of a palm strike now passed, Chance rolled his right shoulder forward and let loose a vicious right elbow to the side of James' head. Without added thought, the elbow would retract and come back for a second run, this time with a clenched fist. The hook would complete what the elbow had started; a downward motion of James' body and disruption of coordination.

By the time the elbow had retracted, Chance started with more footwork. He leaned into his second strike, placing more force than usual into the punch. His leading left foot found it's mark, just behind his opponent's right leg. He pulled back his foot with a violent motion, hooking young James just behind the Achilles tendon. With wet ground and a beating taking place from above, chances were good that the man would take a nasty spill.

All the while Chance had his left arm up, guarding against James free hand.

[ 2 ]

[ Pool Side ]

Unfortunately for James, Chance was leaned forward with his leg already behind James. With Chance's forearm about an inch away from his opponent's arm and even farther from his own body, Chance had the luxury of allowing only his forearm to be pressed back, with no additional force against his body.

In a word, the push had failed and the show would go on.

[ 3 ]

Bzzt-bzzt

It didn't take a genius to know what that sound was. Electrcity was soon on its way. Slowly, Kuroha would feel the pulses of electrcity pass through teh water, as well as his body. His own instincts would kick in, and the first thought that popped into his head was to keep his head above the water. We wouldn't want anyone drowning here, now would we? His right arm would shoot down, and hsi elbow would lock at the joint. Amazingly enough, the electricity was in a reduced form, thanks to the build of his armor, but it was very slight, almost unnoticable. Either way, his muscles began to spasm more and more with every increasing pulse of electricity, and it was obvious that he had to do something to stop it.

Well, he was lucky on one occasion, because with his right arm locked, Deitrics left arm would be below the water, restrained by the Manriki chain around his, as well as how it created a complete circuit that would flow back into him. That meant the possibility of being shocked by his own attack. Hopefully that'd work...

Now, as Deitric attempted to mount Kuroha, he'd notice an intense bulging of Kuroha's outer extremities, the chain especially beginning to tighten around both of their arms from the pull and muscle expansion.

FWAAP-SPLASH!

A punch from Deitric sailed in and slamsed Kuroha off the top of the forehead. He was lucky enough for that, but his muscle spasm's became more intense. A very small gash formed atop of his head from the strike as well, which gave a very slight crimson tinge to a small area of water. At that point, however, Kuroha's muscles had expanded to their maximum point, and his adrenaline kicked into a hyperdrive mode. A second punch came sailing in, and clocked him in the right side of the face, and a third would make an attempt.

Before the third could make a landing, the new samurai would attempt a roll to his right, even with the spasm's, to gain an edge on his Deitric and turn the tables. His pain receptors were reduced, so teh pain would slowly subside, but he knew even in his altered state that he could not last much longer with this electricity.

In a huge effort, involving the newfound stamina of the Glorious Soul feat of his, he would dismount and quickly turn about to his right, bringing his right arm up and around in a heavy heaving pull. The majorly increased strength would cause a reversed role on Deitric, being that the heavy tribesman would now be the ragdoll in the situation, being swung from a chain over and into the concrete side of the tub, with most of his body impacting it. This was the slight extent of the Glorious Soul feat, but with a price however. Even though he would cause the electric current in teh water to stop, the chain would still cause it to flow into him. His resistance would not be able to hold up much longer either. So either Deitric's power flow would be disrupted by the impact, or Kuroha would have to release the manriki chain immediately after the impact, whether there was one or not.

Feat: Glorious Soul -Active-

4/17

For a change, Jose-Luis was not behind his opponent. Instead, he had been PIMETARADOXED into the future, and had wound up outside the paper walls when he heard a sudden cue of an perfect Striker timing.

Quote: "s**t!"

Through the wall he went as James went down, crowbar in his upraised right hand and with his left hand... holding another crowbar? Tossing one at Chance, he'd start going for the win.

Spacing? He was on James's left when he entered, and would remain there.

Assuming it'd take three seconds to get in, and at a rate of one strike per second, this would give him seven seconds, and with Chance armed and ready to whale, James would be in a LOT of pain (barring some miracle dodge or pain immunity.)

Regardless of motion, he'd go for a strike to the collarbone, then a quick pronged headshot before a quick bootstomp to the nose.

With three or four seconds left, he'd turn the crowbar to the pronged end and go for a double-handed overhead strike to the mouth, wanting nothing more than blood.

He'd then go through the hole in the wall and back in time to the other fight, ready to interfere should the need occur.

Chnk-chnk.

Deitric was going all-out - he had been trying to punch with his left arm in a rush of adrenaline and battle-thirst, and the attempts at that movement would force the chain to slide off, slick as his coat was with water. It'd save the warrior in the long run, but at the time all he'd been intending to do was pummel Kuroha in the face, and the chain around his arm had been keeping him from doing that -- and struggling loosened it and sent it slumping to the pool floor by Kuroha's arm, whichever had the chain wrapped about it to keep it near him.

However, with as bound as it had been, there'd be a price - the chain had been tight enough so that when it unbound at the attempts to punch, it let deep treads in his flesh, as if the chain had been imprinted and pushed into the flesh, which would begin to darken beneath his jacket's sleeve as more bruises. The skin was tinged a bright red beneath the jacket, and the leather of his jacket was smoking from the heated chain. The chain had both bruised and burned his left forearm, almost burning through the jacket to his flesh as it'd been heated from the circuit between the two, but now that was broken in the span of when Deitric's second punch slammed home into his opponent's face.

Deitric had barely noticed the bulging of his opponent's muscles, but it had been noticed enough to set alarms off in his brain. He rolled forward and to the his left with the movement of the sudden buck as best he could, splashing through the water in a tumble over the man's head as he bucked himself forward with the roll, keeping himself in the water. It wasn't the cleanest move, but only a fool would expect their opponent to let them keep such a good attack position, so the tribesman knew that his opponent would do something to try and force him off. His head clacked painfully against the side of the pull, but he ignored it.

He came up swiftly, water sizzling and dripping off his person, black locks soaked and swamped about his head. A trail of ruddy pink ran down the side of his head; the elbow must've did some damage, and combined with the clip with the side of the pool, it must've split his scalp open somewhere. Turquoise eyes burned with a new intensity - whatever had been holding the warrior in check in his previous matches was long since gone.

His opponent was much stronger than before, Deitric could tell that much - the man's muscles had actually gotten larger, so it wasn't as though the tribesman had no clue as to what was going on. However, they were both still in the water, and Deitric hoped that would be enough to force his opponent down. He wasn't planning on giving the man a chance to get a second wind, either.

In his first match, Deitric had been able to channel some of his cackling power to launch a barrage of spear-stabs. Without a weapon, Deitric had little choice but to improvise--

Quote: Storm of Spears Fists! --

As soon as the tribesman was standing, Deitric would throw himself forward at Kuroha (if he'd risen), the electricity still cackling around his body, but notably centered around his arms as he charged. Both fists were flying, now, and one fist became ten, and those ten became ten, and it seemed that those ten became another ten each -- it was like he'd suddenly grown a thousand furious fists with which to attack his opponent!

"Ruah!"

How many of the punches were real, and how many were illusions (if any..) from the heat and electrical output were hard to tell, but getting in the way of that barrage was going to hurt, one way or another. They were all aimed for the upper-body, with no attention to the lower body, just chest, arms and head. For once, Deitric's face was twisted in the flow of battle, contorted with strain and the concentrated fury and outpour of effort and pain it took to keep himself going. He was going to throw himself at his opponent with everything he had, and push the man back - back until he gave in, or until he fell back into the water. No retreat, no ground or quarter given.

[5/17]

I'm rollin' thunder, pourin' rain!

Deitric roared as the onslaught of his attack rolled over his opponent, leaving a mess of chipped and shattered stone, a cloud of steam rolling off the pool as he rose out of it. He'd sent his opponent flying-- apparently, he didn't know his own strength. He'd aimed to just back the man into a corner and beat him, but he'd gone far beyond that - beyond what he thought he could even accomplish. His jacket and gloves were torn away from the wear and tear he'd put on them from the attack, and singed cloth fell away from his person as he rose from the pool, pulling himself out to stand on the edge. Cameras clicked and flashed at the glimpse of the warrior's physique, revealed by the fact that all that remained of his shirt were a few tatters around his waist.

I'm comin' on like a hurricane!

The tempest of power around his person had died down to a low, simmering, buzzing level, a few jumps of bright blue sparks from here to there around him the only indication that the human generator was still revving and ready to go. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out deeply - not needy enough to breathe through his mouth, but his chest heaved at a steady speed as he regained some small measure of his composure as he moved to follow the path of ripped and torn paper-walls and doors that his opponent had been sent through. He didn't know if it was a ring out, but he didn't care - the judge would stop him if it was, and if it wasn't, he'd continue outside. The Khasmin warrior almost hoped it wasn't a ring-out - he wanted to keep fighting.

White lightnin's flashing across the sky--

Steam rose from the taut, clay-red skin of the fighter as he moved from room to room, the droplets of water still on his person burning away as steam, leaving a cloudy trail behind him, reporters and camera-men eagerly following. The quiet, composed tribesman had suddenly become a raging tempest, a fighting phenom whose potential suddenly shined when it had been hidden before. For whatever reason, the fight with Kuroha had triggered something in the man, or released something in him, and it was obvious by the way he carried himself - his walk was steady, firm, the tilt and shift of his broad shoulders confident and swaying. He carried himself like a man possessed - he wasn't going to stop until he won.

You're only young but you're gonna die!

The warrior stepped out onto the porch of the bath-house, gazing down evenly at Kuroha. His turquoise eyes were shining bright still, even though he'd expended energy like almost nothing before. But even so, he was finding more - he wasn't limitless, but he was most certainly feeling better in this fight than he had in any of the others he'd been in since he'd come to Gaia. Something had changed; he was closer to the level that they stood at than he had been before.

"I don't know how you're still standing, and I don't care. This is going to end, and I intend to be the one to walk away," Deitric declared while motioning to the man with his right hand, his voice as hard and stony as his grim visage. He might look back on the fight and see it as the time of his life, but right now, he was nothing but serious. He wasn't just in his typical stoic mood and antics, the lines of his face were creased with concentration. He kept his right hand held out for a moment before bringing it down, the fingers curling up near his belt-buckle as he waited for Kuroha to make his move.

"And I want no interferences - not from either team. This is between us, and no one else."

[6/17]

James looked up just in time to see Chance catch a crowbar.

Wonder where he got th-WHOA s**t A CROWBAR?! DO NOT WANT GORDON FREEMAN!

Out of the corner of his eyes, James detected movement.

"GAH! NOT COOL" Emergency barrel rolls! James got himself together just in time to dodge the first set of strikes.

Somewhere in hell, some guy was singing Train Kept a Rollin\' in time to the beats of the strikes as they swung again, and missed, James barely keeping ahead of the swings when he gave one last push off to dodge a strike that would've almost certainly hit.

His thoughts were invaded by a extremely wet and floaty sensation. Yeah, he had pushed himself off and straight into the pool, granting him a short reprieve from the bloodthirsty crowbar armed men. James emerged in the middle of the pool, a good distance away, having kicked his way.

So Team Pwnt wanted to play hardball. Fine, well that changed things.

It was also then that sensations of pain lanced through his legs. The sudden rush of adrenaline had blocked the few sharp gashes that were cut into his lower legs and kneecaps, but the warm water of the pool opened it all up, openly into the pool.

James hissed and gritted his teeth, glaring at Chance.

Hell, there was even a small bruise on his shoulder were Chance's teammate landed a lucky strike. ********.

5/17

EDIT: Put in some damage I meant to put in the next post anyway due to RPC awareness.

Deitric merely shook his head. His opponent wasn't doing himself any favors by standing out in the snow, but it wasn't his place to say anything. He took one step forward, slipping off the porch with a crunch of snow beneath his booted feet. He was bare from the waist up, revealing the long, twining lines of black ink etched into his left arm. They looked like vines, spreading down the entire length of his arm, arcs of electricity dancing along the black lines.

One foot in front of the other, the warrior strode forward, his long, even gait keeping him moving along well. He wasn't covering ground at a rate that was by any means swift, but he wasn't moving slowly. He just didn't seem entirely too intent to charge his opponent. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for the other man to attack.

He continued to walk, leaving a trail of steam from melted snow behind him, and it didn't look as though he was going to change his pace - some onlookers thought he was just going to walk right up and bump chests with the man, but it wasn't likely he'd even get that close. He just wanted to force the other man to attack. Dietric didn't even remove his hand from his waist, leaving only his left hand to block and attack with, should he need to.

[7/17]

Where oh where in time was Dragosani Kain and Jose?

Doc Brown was too busy laying on the floor after his bout with a sink to right this mess of time.

Now, Kain was settled into one of the larger 'ponds' in the bath house, but, with him in it was more like a jacuzzi.

Mmm...relaxing.

James massaged some parts of his body that had been struck. Damn, that hurt, Hell, hurt was an understatement as he managed to get his breathing under control.

"Nothing personal man. I saw a chance to end it. I'd expect you to do the same."

"Fine, but this means war" he spat, and brought up own arms to chest level, palms open and held loosely.

Water...

There was no telling what it'd do to the remainder of this fight. The gashes in his body were starting to slow in bleeding, tinting the immediate water around James crimson.

In water, agility was greatly reduced for the most part, as was balance. Disadvantages to both sides of course. James cracked his neck as Chance entered the water.

"Polo?" he answered halfheartedly, wading through the water to enter cqc-range, cautious for any openings or attacks.

When at the very edge of range, James'll throw a testing jab with his right hand at Chance's defences, notably his face.

6/17

Jose-Luis would be ready for a fight, and after the dude made his way outside, he'd give a friendly smile before backing off to at least ten feet away. That was a hueg sword and he wanted no part of being stabbed by it.

So, in the meantime, he'd wait for an attack, leading with his crowbar-bearing left side, and with the sword in his right pointed a bit low, inviting an attack.

[1]

Zebra Chicken Cheese! Now only 10% guano! Kids love it!

Jose-Luis would duck his head a bit to let his M1 take the impact of the sheath-

THUNK!

-and laugh a bit, his eyes up to watch the man's face/shoulders warily. He wasn't really a swordy type and it seemed this guy knew his s**t, judging by the space between the sword's path and his leg.

At the same time, he'd lift up his right leg and bring it forward and down as fast as he could, intending to push the huegblade down into the snow with the balls of his feet.

[3]

Perfect.

Jose-Luis's bent left arm would snap straight forward, the crowbar going for what'd look like a strike to the face at first - instead of going for the face, though, he'd parry, pushing from the close edge of the blade out and down, prongs facing outward to aid in his defense as he redirected the momentum down away from his arm.

It'd leave a nice nick in his crowbar, and for the drama of it, sparks would fly from the meeting of steel against steel.

At the same time, his right foot would hit the ground and he'd capitalize on it, using the advance as a springboard for a rapid advance, the gladius in his right hand suddenly making its way up and forward in a hurry to be coated in blood.

Specifically, it'd be hurdling up to go slightly to the side of his hip in the midsection, blurred in the motion of crowbar and Mexican charge.

Rapier and gauche?

****** that. Gladius and mother ****** crowbar.

[5]

Pain, without love

THUD!

He'd take the blow full-on and relish his mouthguard even as his lip split open, blood starting to pool and flow down his face and in his mouth. He wasn't sure about his teeth, but ******** all if it'd matter now.

However, his strike over Jose's arm would have a minor side effect: leaving his side open.

Pain, I can't get enough

And the Latino fighter still had a crowbar. He'd swing his crowbar from the downswing up and to the side as his feet touched the ground, aiming for a high strike to shatter some ribs with five and a half pounds of solid metal.

Pain, I like it rough

His right arm would continue with the cut and go past, and to capitalize on this, he'd turn his wrist to his left and pull his elbow in, going for a dramatic backstab. If it worked, he'd be bleeding himself, too, but oh well.

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all!

Four feet between 'em?

Nope, this fight was now up close and personal with very little space between the two - a matter of inches.

[8th total post]

Jose would let go of the crowbar, pleased to be jerked forward even as he winced in pain.

That made his job so much easier, 'specially with...

SMACK!

...his head lowering to give the headbutt a new target: the steel helmet on his head.

That'd have to suck, and Jose'd just feel a jolt through the padding underneath, not too rattled by the shock of someone introducing their face to his helmet. Damage estimates? No idea.

His right arm, meanwhile, would go straight up to avoid/break the grab attempt, and then down to the left to find a tasty meat target: the trapezoids.

Left arm?

He'd drop it and go towards his belt line, grip the handle of his combat knife, and with a simple twisting push, he'd cut through the fabric holder and send said piece of steel to his right and forward, aimed for the gut.

At this close range, dodging would be hard, as would noticing everything that he was doing... presumably.

10

This could be a problem.

Surprised that he'd actually LOLSWORD'D his opponent, instead of doing the obvious move of raising the sword and politely suggesting that further combat would result in probable jugular severance, he'd just push the blade forward in surprise, the blood causing his fingers to slip off the blade's handle.

His next reaction was pure instinct: a one-handed chokehold just below the Adam's apple.

The FINGERSTAB would meet a form of resistance: namely, a layer of thin cotton fabric, and then about a quarter-inch of thick impact padding. Nonetheless, this'd end up going right through the cotton and through the material at a slightly slower speed, but it'd still hurt.

Like a b***h.

In the meantime, his left hand would withdraw the knife, then thrust it again, and again, and again, intending to make as many stab wounds as possible in a short time - being a male, he was particularly skilled at moving a hand wrapped around something long and hard just below his belt back and forth rapidly. Calculating the average fapping rate at two and a half faps per second at rapid speed, this'd cause a stabbing rate of about one stab per second fueled by anger and adrenaline, focused in a general 1' area around the initial zone of penetration.

STABSTURBATION! THE NEW BDSM PHENOMENON THAT'S SWEEPING THE NATION!

12

The heat was starting to cause his skin to turn red by the time he noticed it. It was steaming hot inside, and he could begin to feel his skin getting quite uncomfortable. Logic suggested heat lead to fire, and so...

Shield!

He'd pull his arm back, and hiss in pain as wrist tore open from the claws, heart pounding faster and faster. A deep breath, and the flames started, focusing his mind one one thing and one thing only as his left hand released the knife and touched against the guy's chest, next to where his bloody right hand was.

Shield!

Without any fanfare, Jose's body was enveloped in flames, burning his hair off - and then, suddenly, it wasn't. All around him, a light pink glow shimmered to life, growing thick around the intersections between the two men.

If Kain had the sensibility left to notice that Jose was not on fire, he'd also suddenly notice the shove up against his collarbone. Oh, and also, that Jose-Luis was very, very slippery and dropping his knees.

This'd mean he'd quickly slide free of the hold and land firmly on his a** with a loud THUD, and he'd start scrabbling backwards to try to get the HELL AWAY FROM THE FLAMES.

It would be sheer attrition - with that many holes, his opponent would bleed out before Jose did.

One torn shoulder, two broken teeth, a wrist and right hand ******** up all to hell, and burns all over his now hairless and patchy-clothed body, but he was free. Aside from part of his hand.

14

"Damn, esse..."

He'd take the time to get in between the bigass sword and his opponent, and struggle to his feet using the crowbar as an aid to get himself up, staggering a bit. As he shook his head, he'd shiver a little and cough, seemingly with a bit of smoker's lung from that battle.

Pain, adrenaline, and cold would be keeping him awake, vision still a bit blurry from the tailbone impact.

"Still ain't down?"

Dropping the crowbar, he'd draw one of his few remaining weapons from a thigh holster: the machete. His handwrap was absorbing the blood from his right hand pretty well, but without his thumb, it was kinda pointless to bother. Another cough, and he'd notice the red stain on his shirt - that stomach wound hadn't helped all that much.

"Dunno how long 's gonna go on for, but... bring it if ya can."

16

With a bit of an idea in his mind, Jose-Luis watched the man get up and protect himself. With no such protection, he had to come up with a plan. At the moment? He'd lower himself down and match the charge with one of his own, keeping his right arm up to block. His hand was already ******** up, but he could still use his arm.

Jose's intent?

Much like the tackle starting at 1:42, he wanted to clock the guy. And since he was of similar weight without the wings....

...that would hurt.

18

Sensing a trap of some sort from the motion, Jose would lean back and-

BOOM!

• flip backwards in total surprise, going for a full backwards rotations before hitting a slightly snowy patch on his back and sliding backwards a few feet, in pain.

"...ow."

He'd just lay back in the snow for a bit, trying to figure out what the hell'd just happened. His body was a mass of pain, and he wasn't quite sure what'd been damaged yet, although the chest pain indicated a few broken ribs. His right hand wasn't responding at all, and goddamn was he sore and bleeding from some pieces of rock and whatnot embedding themselves into his skin.

Shivering a bit as the cold bit at him, he tried to get to his feet and fell again, trying to ignore the throbbing headache and the crick in his neck. A few seconds later, he'd grit his teeth and get to one knee, looking for his opponent.

20

Didn't that guy EVER run out of blood? The sudden introduction of a large man flying in a leap towards him would result in dull surprise, and then Mr. Sword would say hello. Woozy, but not stupid, Jose-Luis would be in motion from the first sight.

Mr. Machete would be saying "hello" at about the same time: when he saw the sword flashing down, he'd instictively swing his left arm up and hold the blade at about his chest level, just waiting for gravity to do the trick. Yeah, he'd have MORE broken bones, but his opponent would have dove on top of a machete to the chest, making a chokehold rather hard.

Given his choices at the moment, it probably would have been smarter to have just moved, but pain tended to make a b***h out of things.

22

Bearing up his strength for a punch, he brought up his right hand and took a swing -

• and watched the stump of what was his right hand and a good deal of his forearm fly towards Kain's face.

"Sh-"

THOCK!

"-iiii-

THOCK!

'-iit."

THOCK!

He wouldn't see if his attack actually worked or not - Kain's last punch, combined with the shock of losing the greater part of his right arm and blood loss resulted in one thing:

Passing out.

A brutal, but good ending for his HoH run for this round, and unless he was lucky, this year.

23 24

signed, the medical staff

Medical staff would run back in time and break the fourth wall to rapidly scribble "24" where the "23" was.

And then they'd go take care of the disarmed Mexican guy. ********' racists.

Deitric let the man charge, knowing some sort of punch was coming - it all came down as to what sort. Later on, when the fight was aired, the cameras would go into sloooow motion for the next few moments to catch exactly what happened between the two warriors, as the action-reaction movements of the two were hard to make out to those watching from the sidelines.

The chained fist could have smashed Deitric's cheek, if he'd stayed in place - instead, one of the outwardly twisted links of steel gouged a long, bloody streak along the top of his head - he was ducking, and he'd cut it very, very close. Some of his hair would have pulled away, if it wasn't sopping wet (not to mention after the fireball in round two, there wasn't a lot there). He was going to get low - not too low, as he didn't have the time to prepare, but low enough for what he wanted to do.

He'd bent at his knees and bent forward at the small of his back ever so slightly before exploding into motion, his entire body ramming forward like a rocket, aiming to slam his left shoulder right into the opponent's gut. Cutting it so close - close enough to take an injury - combined with the knee-jerk action of his movements mean he'd push forward when his opponent had reached for his sword hilt. Meaning the gut-check suddenly became something different - probably a lot worse.

Crrack!

Deitric's shoulder collided hard - or would, one would think - with Kuroha's arm, around the elbow, if not a bit higher. Depending on how he'd gripped the sword, the impact might be lessened, but either way, getting your arm between an offending shoulder tackle and your body only meant one thing -- that arm was probably going to be broke, unless the man getting tackled was a real lucky sort of fella.

But the Khasmin wasn't done just yet. When he collided, the simmering, just-beneath-the-surface electricity came to life around him again as the upward motion of his tackle brought the samurai up off his feet and into the air, with Deitric's arms wrapped up and gripping the back of his thighs in a perfect example of one of the most hard-line forms of tackling seen in any sport.

His hands had found their grips just as he's shoulder would have smashed the arm between it and Kuroha's armor, as the tackling technique called for a good "wrap-up" on the opponent. For a split second, they'd seem to freeze as the built up energy and momentum carried the two upwards as Deitric's legs straightened until he was at the zenith, his legs as straight as they could be--

Thwump

Deitric slammed Kuroha back down to earth, hard. He was using the grip on the back of his opponents legs, and his own body. His back had been straight, almost bent back a little as he came upwards from the tackle, then he threw his upper body forward and down when he slammed the samurai, adding much-needed momentum to the downward slam. The whip-like motion of his body would put his opponent down against the ground head and shoulders first, the electricity pulsing and dancing in bright blue arcs around his body as his arms stayed wrapped around his opponent's legs. Except now they were around his knees, as his grip had slid down with the motion of Kuroha's body. The slow motion would be able to stop here, as there wasn't so much bodily movement as to muddle up what people were able to see.

Woooooo--

Hoping his electrical burst would keep the man in check, Deitric threw his weight back and began to stutter-step, taking quick, tight steps. The Khasmin warrior was beginning to spin, aiming to bring his opponent with him as he began to pick up momentum and speed. His opponent would be dragged for the first few feet before becoming airborne, and that was all Deitric needed.

--Haaa!

Deitric's arms went lax, sending Kuroha flying towards the nearby bath-house. Notably, he'd managed to launch the samurai towards one of the pillars, headfirst. The sudden disconnection between the two sent Deitric back, landing hard on his rump. He'd sit there for a moment, reaching up to try and rub away the blood on his face. He gripped a handful of snow and slapped it onto the top of his head as he rose. Screw it, the cold would just have to keep his blood-flow on the cut slow and sluggish.

The warrior stood in the snow, breathing out puffs of chilled, steamy air. He let his electrical output die down again - keeping his engine running, but not revving it, so to speak. He had to conserve his energy, if the other man was still running after the tackle-slam-toss.

[8/17]

Awww piss....

This was a bit excessive, now wasn't it? Not really, it was more entertaining than that.

Kuroha felt foolish to have used such tactics. Truly foolish. His punch made its mark still, ever so slightly, and thats what counted right now. He wondered how a man, even as strong and as great as this warrior had been, could take so many blows to the head, bleed from it, and still keep a steady balance. It was phenomenol really.

The run had been controlled, yes, which meant that his momentum was not great enough for any forward use. However, that was not the case at all. Deitric had instead attempted to use a shoulder-gut slam thing against the warrior. Kuroha's arm got in the way of that, but his weight did not aid in Deitrics move. The shoulder slam would impact the forearm, which was also covered by the thin steel and bamboo backed armor bracers. The steel would dent in like an aluminum can, and though the bamboo would absorb most of the impact, it'd crack from the heavy shot, and shoot the force into his arm in a highly reduced form. Deitric probably would have broken Kuroha's arm, if it was not for that armor, and still even, he probably cracked something, even if it was slight. The pain was immense, but bearable, and the impact ate away at what endurance was left within Kuroha, leaving very little to spare, and the tackle did not help the situation either.

His right arm quickly diverted away from the hilt just after the impact, as Deitrics arms began to wrap around Kuroha's legs. He had free'd his right arm in a very dire instance. He had pulled the arm free from the mangled bracer, and since his clothes and skin were wet from the pool before, it slid out with like a waxed hand through a set of bars, and it would prove useful, for he began to feel his legs lift off of the ground. Not only that, but electricity, the oh-so-familiar feeling, began to flow into his muscles now. That left him no choice anymore. He had to do it...

The spasms would begin once more, and his endurance dwindled in this final instance. Deitric would start to stand tall, and keep going until he was at a totally upright position with the bulked ronin in his grasp. During that time, both of Kuroha's arms would lift into the air, his hands would clasp, and when Deitric would reach the peak of his lift, the unthinkable would come down onto the back of his neck like a two ton block of stone. Both of Kuroha's elbows would launch down in a final, heaving and extremely heavy blow to the top of Deitrics neck. The blows he had sustained, plus the bleeding he had suffered from before were enough damage to probably cause this to be the final blow that The Khasmin warrior would feel if it were to hit, with two elbows slamming into the back of his neck like that. After such a strike, it would literally be all downhill from there, with both of the heaving warriors sent straight for the ground.

If Deitric were to stay upright, and continue his actions, then everything he planned after that would go unhindered, and either way, Kuroha would have this next set of lines as the outcome!

Kuroha's sight began to blur immensly, and he would begin to fade in and out of conciousness, but he fought against it with all of his might. He was determined to make it, determined to go on, determined to see it through. However, even in his state of mind now, he knew he could not hold on for much longer. There was only a matter of time now before it all ended...

8/17

((Edited for clarity and logical reaosning + By agreement between Darth and myself))

FWAAMM!!!!

The ronins attack slammed into the back of Deitrics neck...

SLAAAMMM!!!

And then, The bulked up samurai would be slammed against the ground, his front teeth, or what was left of them, clanking together. His left side of the collarbone would be damage and slightly cracked, to the point of incapacitating pain almost.

However, Kuroha wasn't out for the count, not yet. He showed this by moving various parts of his body, very slowly, but enough to show he was still alive and kicking, sort of. He sputtered off a cough, which spit up some left-voer blood from the knocked out teeth earlier. Drip started to go into the snow behind his head, and made a very small area look like a crimson blanket. Kuroha knew, as well as Deitric most likely, that they had kicked the s**t out of each other to extents neither had met, well at least Kuroha anyways. He sputtered off a laugh a few seconds later, his blurred vision slowly blacking out...

He'd hear Deitrics words echo in his head, and he'd reply as best as he could...

"We're... not done yet... Heh..."

After that, what seemed like an eternal darkness came over Kuroha, and yet, only a mere four seconds passed. When he came back to his senses, he'd see no blur in his sight, however, his movements would be hindered by major pain and stiffness, and yet they would be enough to show he was up and kind of at it again. He would very, very slowly lift himself, curling his legs inwards as best as he could, and his arms would act as supports in lifting his upper body some.

"A few... seconds..."

He'd take in deep breath, his muscular form slowly returning to a stable state. It would be a little bit before he could get up, but eventually, one of them would be able to get up...

9/17

Too bad, James would be damned if he allowed himself to be taken down by such a familar maneuver. Seig had used it often on him and others during his bouts, and the fire-starter had learned to recognize the warning signs of a leg takedown attempt.

Well, it was only waist deep water, but Chance submerging himself meant that he would probably be slowed slightly, as James countered it by sprawling, best as he could. A light jab was withdrawn just as fast as it was thrown.

The young man shifted his body to the left slightly, to hook his left arm under Chance's right elbow, and his right arm went for a headlock to help hold his opponent under the water.

"Hrrgh!"

Chance wouldn't be able to see well, due to the amount of red tinting his vision. He might also feel the action starting up warm up. Quite literally as James started using his powers to heat up the water immediately around him, excluding a large amount of his fiery ki straight into the water.

7/17

Gasp!

The sprawl attempt had made James dunk his own head underwater for a while. Spectators could see where this was going, two hot guys going at it half-naked in a pool. More yaoi fanfictions posted up by the moment.

James brought his own face above water first. It'd take a little longer for Chance to break free of the headlock attempt, but it'd get there. James planned to use as much of that time as he could to simply lay into the unprotected part's of man's head repeatedly with his left fist.

When Chance broke free, James took a step back, to pull away his own right arm, before he attempted to bodyslam forth into Chance, water surging apart in his path.

If his foe didn't notice it before, he should notice it now, the water was definately getting much warmer by the second, especially being so close to the source of heat. Hell, James's arms would be hot to the touch.

8/17

There was a great hustle and bustle of Spectators wanting to see the action up close and personal but, thanks to security standing in the doorway no such self-endangering things would be happening.

It was peculiar, it seemed all of the security was focused around the pool and their uniform was a little unorthodox, what with the huge fros and the undeniable likeness of being complete duplicates. In complete unison they folded their arms and with a charming grin announced,

[ Pool Side ]

"Son of a biiiiiiitch!" Chance called out, prejudice in his eyes.

The second his foot was captured, Chance unleashed round two. His left. Repeat assaults, over and over. Every shot was to the face. Wild kicks with both legs aimed to ravish and dismantle James' face. Even his right foot jerked back and forth, pressing his opponent's hands to and fro, no doubt impacting his face. Chance's massively overbuilt legs kicked and kicked while James' comparatively weak arms could only attempt to contain him.

His fingers reached for the crooks and uneven spaces in the cement, trying desperately to hold onto something. There were a few things he could do to ensure that he was stationary, and did not fall into the water.

Chance's butt was seated comfortably in the curve of the edge of the cement. This was yet another tool which kept him out of the soon to be boiling waters.

[ 8 ]

[ Pool Side ]

Chance continued to yell obscenities, loud as possible. Not from pain, but sheer frustration. How much punishment could a man's arm and hand take? The heel of his left foot no longer aimed for the head, no, it went for the individual digits of James' holding hand. The first good shot should have broken a few fingers.

Immediately after the repeated kicks to the hand Chance placed the palms of his hand into the curve of the concrete.

HEAVE!

With James' hand all mashed up, combined with the fact that he didn't seem to be pulling anymore, Chance should have rolled back onto the concrete a free man. Funny thing was that if James somehow didn't lose his grip, He'd slam right into the pool wall as the leg retracted.

[ 9 ]

"Heh..."

Kuroha would mutter. He wasn't out, no, not yet. He was awake, live and moving. He wanted to finish this the right way. Besides, he regained some composure, his breath, and even a bit of energy, which is what kept him going right now. He was going to finish this the right way, whether his body permitted it or not.

He kept moving until he could get onto one knee, which meant that he was neither incapacitated, nor down at this point, all within the extra six seconds he was permitted with from his slight blackout. He'd barely made the line it seemed. His left arm draped off over his left knee, his fist still tight with the chain wrapped around it and his forearm. His breathing was a bit heavy, and his stamina dwindled at this point as well, but his willpower was too great, at least for now.

"You're not gonna take me out so easily, you know that right?"

He spoke, his senses very keen to the environment, especially towards Deitric. This man was a loose cannon now, and even with the blow he had sustained before, it was only a matter of time. The viewers at home have probably had a good view of the fight so far, and this epic pause would only end to the suspense of what was to0 happen next. It was Deitrics call, what was he to do?

10/17

s**t, he wasn't going to wait...

Kuroha would just get his balance upon his knee when Deitric broke out into his dash. The Khasmin warrior was scarily running at a quick pace as it appeared, though only a few steps would be needed to reach within his striking distance. Now, from a glance, it appeared that Deitrics hands would be placed somewhat close together, within six inches or so. There was also about another foot behind his hand, which would provide enough grip on the thing for a proper swing. That meant there was about five and a half feet left of the spear to come down atop the Samurai.

Having not known this information, and taking his next plan of action into a gamble, his left arm would shoot up from its draped position, and cross up above his head. His right arm would come over to the hilt of his blade once more, the pain in it having not subsided in the least from before. The spear would clash against the chain links with an amazingly heavy force, splitting three sets in the line, and bashing in the other bracer below it. The only thing that saved Kuroha's forearm was the bamboo behind it, taking whatever shock was left over. Yet another bruise for the collection, eh?

Well, with all of this, just after the spear impacted, The samurai would fling his arm out, over and to the left in an archm while his upper body would lean forward. His right arm would grip the hilt of his Yosimoto with all of the might in it, and slash outwards after his upper body reached teh peak of its lean. The blade would come out, over and across, totally even with that of Deitric's Shin(s). If this was like any other slam with a staff or spear, there would probably be a leading leg in it. That was where his strike would be aimed, in a final, mighty and very speedy, agile slash, probably one of his fastest to date.

"RAAAHHH!!!!"

Kuroha would yell as he did so...

Now for the statistics on it!!!!

The Yosimoto is a Four and a half foot Uchigatana, from hilt to edge. by the looks of the spear, it ahd been about, oh, seven feet or so. The placement of his hands left a foot of space behind them, and six inches between them. Subtract those numbers, and you're left with a distance of about 5 1/2 feet, give or take. The 4.5 foot blade, combined with teh reach of Kuroha's arm, and the lean he had taken would give a cut-throat range of a little less than six feet into the slash. That left 5-6 inches of cold, hard, sharp japanese steel to cut through flesh, bone and tendon alike. Even if the blade did not cut away the foot, it would indefinitely render it useless because of how deep the wound would be.

This was it...

11/17

This is it...

Kuroha's intended strike missed, but it opened up something that could end the match. Yes, yes, YE-

Nope, not yet...

Before he could celebrate in his mind, he noticed Deitric's arm pull back. If anything was more familiar dammit. A stab was iminent, and its rapid succession closed the time-window nearly all the way, but a split second, adrenaline filled movement would allow something to narrowly happen, but not without a massive loss.

When Deitric cocked his arm back, and alarm bell in Kuroha's head beeped, and with no hesitation, his left leg would tense up as he leaned against it. His weight would shift to the right, and he would lift his body off in teh same direction because of it...

RIIIPPP!!!!

Right in between the upper arms armor and the bracer, the broadhead would hit at the far left edge of the tendons, and would go straight through them with the force of a shot arrow. Kuroha's movements caused the edge to cut straight through the left side of his arm. He had just lost the entire mobility of his left arm within the span of less than two seconds, and yet he still would not stop.

His right leg would come up quickly from the kneel, and stopped his momentum from traveling any more to the right. And then, his right leg would mimic the movements of the left, with his upper body almost horizontal, and his head pointed forward. The adrenaline had shut off his pain receptors for the moment, but after all of this, it'd be a wonder if he could still stand.

After his right leg completed its movements, Kuroha had finished a complete zig-zag movment, that sent him three feet ahead and off to Deitrics right. The pole of the spear bounced off of Kuroha's left shoulder as he leaned towards the right. His upper body shot up, and his right hand came up and across in a low, controlled slash, aimed to cut into the side of Deitrics left knee. He'd have enough power, speed and momentum to cut straight through it this time if it were to land, and the odds were finally against The Khasmin warrior.

This crippling blow had the potential to end the match, but at the cost of his arm, his blood, his sweat, and an immense load of pain. After this entire bout, he would have to be carried away on a stretcher anyways at this point. This. Was. It.

12/17

OH SHI-

That was NOT GOOD! The Samurai was seriously caught of guard by such a massive attack, and it was to the point where he had about half a second to react. Thats all he thought he needed, but even that wouldn't be enough.

In the last ditch efforts, Kuroha would lean his weight back towards the left, and though the fist brushed against his cheek, the entire right side of his face below the eye socket, and stopping at an inch into the meat of his shoulder. The power, the heat, and the wave of that punch was enough to break and burn through that entire area. His armor, his Yukata, most of his skin and even some of his bone would be blown and burned away. The last ditch effort would be seen with Kuroha's left leg being launched forward as he did with himself, having leaned slightly forward for it. There was no way he was going to win this now, but perhaps, just maybe, Deitrics momentum would work against him with this aimed knee to the face.

Whether it knocked The warrior out or not was totally unknown right now, because the sheer pain that was inflicted on Kuroha's body had knocked him out. His body would probably be knocked down with the oncoming heavy body of Deitric, right to the ground in a burned, maimed, electricuted bloody heap. It'd be a miracle if he survived this, and if this match were to be won by him in some amazing bout, how the hell was he going to heal. Massive surgery would have to be done, blah blah blah.

Kuroha had been incapacitated, but Deitric?

13/17

The area around Deitric's offending fist exploded in a cackling tempest of Olympian fury with the blow, a surprising amount of force from the pulse of the attack. The skin on his knuckles shredded, flaring out flecks of blood along the length of his arm. His opponent had been able to move, but not enough, and when the samurai moved Deitric's body would pitch forward after his blow caught Kuroha on the cheek.

Thump

Deitric let out a wheeze of air. When his leg gave out, his body had gone and pitched forward in an almost comical manner directly after the punch, and the knee for his face came up full-force right into his solar plexus instead; he sped up when he lost control, since he had all the momentum of his final attack and none of the control to keep it in check. Not to mention, he probably tripped over whichever of the samurai's feet wasn't firmly set on the ground. The knee forcefully drove the air from his lungs, and he continued forward into the tumble, coming to a snow-plowed stop several feet from Kuroha.

One second passed.

Two seconds.

Three.

Neither fighter was rising.

The crowd was hushed; it seemed that both were out for the count. Kuroha was a sure-shot, but the fans Bloodfire had gained in their bloody performances throughout the tournament were hoping the Khasmin warrior would rise again - even if he fell while trying. He'd never shown the inclination to fail them in any other fight, and he'd never given up, never even been this close to defeat.

He didn't intend to disappoint, even if it killed him.

A bit of snow stirred on Deitric's half-naked form as he shivered. His left arm was limp, fingers twitching in the crimson snow. His right arm, however, moved of his accord, and not just the failed impulses that were trying to travel through the torn muscle of his other arm. He pressed his workable hand into the snow and against the firm ground palm first, his fingers digging hard against the rough, snow-drowned soil, scraping up the tips, leaving a little more of his blood where he lay.

Another second.

He pushed up, bringing his bloodied face from the snow, flakes of snow sticking to his hair, blood, and eyebrows. But he didn't care - his skin was long since numb to the cold. He continued to push himself up, his legs working to get under his weight as he tried to rise up. His bad leg was lagging behind, but eventually he got himself steady in a seated position. The bad leg was a little ways out, but the other was well tucked under him. Eventually, both flopped out, and he grunted as he hit rump-first in the snow. But he had clearly risen, where as the other man didn't seem to be.

"Digatisdi," Deitric growled weakly. The spear responded, but he wasn't fast enough - the haft whapped into his chest. It wasn't powerful, but it was enough to force the proud man to issue another grunt of pain. He grabbed ahold of it and jammed the blade into the ground as deep as he could manage to wedge it. He was seated now, so his countdown had stopped at about five seconds till the double KO was called.

But that didn't mean he had to disappoint his fans, now did it?

Deitric stretched his right arm up as high as he could and grabbed ahold of the spear's haft, his numb hand locking firmly on the leather-wrapped wooden pole. He hauled himself up as best he could, wobbling with fatigue as he tried to pull his weight up with just a single arm. He almost lost his balance, but he managed to get into an awkward crouch, his bad leg straightened to avoid any pain.

He reached higher this time, and finally pulled himself up, his hand moving to rest on the counter-weight. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, almost asthmatic. He balanced himself with the spear, his left eye closed in pain. Deitric kept himself propped up on the spear as best he could, wobbling slightly. He didn't want to move too much; if he fell, it was likely he wouldn't get back up.

"Unohelei nihi ayv yadaidisi nigayedohv anidonav.."

Told you I would remain standing..

[14/17] -- Fight finished.

Well, James had tried his best to keep the leg straight and reduce Chance into a gibbering wreck of pain. It really was too hard to hold the man's overmuscled legs in his grip for too long.

The kick by the left leg was still, blocked by James's right arm. He dad have his head tucked behind it after all, the latest maneuvers didn't mean he had his open vulnerable for any length of time.

It was at the cost of Chance escaping however.

The unannounced and short lull in battle came as James climbed out after Chance, slowly though while the other sought the comfort of his pants. Man, it was cold outside of the water.

"Your the one running away... didn't like your hot sauna?" James taunted in return.

James flexed his body, stretching himself out for a moment, preparing to renew the battle, resuming his original battle stance and advanced forward toward Chance at a walking pace.

No rush. He was conserving energy now, all of that blood-loss and hose hits took their toll on him, it was going to be all expolsive now.

11/17

[ Concrete ]

Zip

Up went the cold metal zipper. "Ahh..." Chance sighed with relief.

He hopped up and down gingerly without watching James. That was until he heard the man speak, followed by the drip of water on concrete.

He shook his head. "All I saw was a half naked guy...Trying to pull me into a hot tub." His head tilted to the side. "f*****t."

Leaving no time for James to respond, he rushed forward. The cold denim rubbing against his sores was very forgiving. His hands went up, right hand leading. At a distance of four feet, Chance's right leg skyrocketed. Up it went, until the limb was straight up. A technique not often seen was about to be executed.

The Axe Kick.

"HRUH!"

With the distance now reduced to three and a half feet, Chance's rock hard heel screamed downward to impact itself upon the top of James' skull.

God have pity on the man who even touched that heel. The force with which it fell was enough to crack concrete. That meant that any hand, shoulder, or skull that attempted to block would be crushed without mercy.

This was Chance Kristopher's signature move.

[ 11 ]

Ah, the infamous axe-kick. James's eyes seemed glazed over, almost as if he was tired, or his reflexes had slowed due to exhaustion.

Very, very, wrong. James still had his eyes active, the pupilless balls was an unnerving sight to most.

James saw the leg go up. Perfect. It was all in the approach, the execution, and his own, iron...

WILL!

It''d suck for Chance that a major part of James's martial training, as many opponents could attest over the years, was the use of body-checks, tackles, and stuff of that nature. Combined with his fiery nature and powers, it orientated many of James's techniques toward short, expolsive movements.

Where James had been standing just a millisecond before was now practically just air, the heir plowing into Chance with his entire body, chin-tucked down and arms up in front in the way to further reduce damage.

A brillant crimson wave of flame expanded off his body in a violent flash-fire technique instantly after his tackle connected. He had been building it up for quite sometime now, ever since the pool, when Chance obtained his first warning signs by the heatting up of the water. James had been preparing something. And this was it.

"Crowbar this!"

12/17

Medics were opening the back ambulance doors as the two fighter's approached, readying themselves for their wounds.

Glossy eyed men, women and children looked to the two warriors with the utmost of admiration. The honour between these two, helping each other after a fierce battle, a pure example that they were here for the enjoyment of competition while maintaining the respect between fighters.

The people began to back up, parting to make way for them and nodding their heads in approval.

The medics ran out to the combatants and took the other available arms, assisting them to the rear bumper of the ambulance so that they could rest while the healing could be done.

Time for true warriors to rest.

"Yeah.. Owe me one..," Deitric mumbled as the medics gloved hands grabbed ahold of him and Kuroha, bringing them to the ambulance post-haste. Which was most likely for the best; even with Kuroha's help, neither of them were going to be going too much further at the rate they were moving.