Money Vault

Deitric tilted his head back, a handful of chocolate covered coffee beans disappearing into his mouth, chewing away as he weaved through the casino's main floor. Off to his right was a spotlight studded ring, no doubt for another one of the rounds. All around him were blackjack tables, poker tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines bigger than he was. He'd been in the casino before between last year's matches to take a look around, but he'd never had a match here.

An invisible net seemed to coat the area he moved in, people trailing behind him to watch the Heaven or Hell participant make his way to his fighting area for the second round. It didn't surprise them that they had won - and he didn't really care who they had to face.

He would drag to Hell anyone who came to stand in front of him.

Two men worked the vault door's mechanisms as Deitric came to a stop in front of it, the clinking of gears and other contraptions echoing over the crowd as the door yawned open, revealing a room full of gold bars, coins, gilt items, not to mention more jewelry and paper money than one would ever need. The warrior blinked a few times and stepped in, the first fighter to arrive. He was probably a little early, all in all.

..Why a vault?

Away from the flash of the media's cameras, the warrior tucked his shades back into his pocket and took his hat off, setting it down on a small pile of gold coins near the entrance before heading further inside to take in the vault. If it hadn't been chock full of riches, the place could serve as a pretty nice house. No windows, but plenty of space.

Time to wait.., he let out a grunt, taking a swig from his bottle of water lazily.

Duc had made his way to the Vault; it didn't matter the path he took, the people he passed, the cameras flashed, the filmed rolled and speculators talked. All of them didn't matter when compared to the fight, to the struggle.

As he entered he began to pipe into the room a single song. Money.

Seeing Deitric already in the Vault Duc nodded to him; he had not gotten the chance to know his team mates too well but he had a respect of sorts for this one. He was able to handle himself in combat which was a badge of honour to one such as Duc.

"Mind if I borrow your club?"

Regardless of what Deitric would do with the request Duc looked around the platform he stood on and the endless sea of gold bars, stacks of bills, rolls of quarters and all other items of value.

Items of value like many, many bags of uncut diamonds of which Duc hefted one and by weight alone estimated the worth to be somewhere around thirty thousand worth. That was worth a few Raise Dead if your friends liked you.

The bag was like a purse and Duc pulled its cord tight so it bunched up tightly and gave him a small length of just a few inches by which he could swing it about.

Looking at the other team as they showed up he raised his head and stepped forward.

"Whom so ever you send to fight me will be first amongst the fallen and shall know no succour of aid for this is a solitary battle."

Somewhere nearby

Duc caught the club with his right hand has he spoke; not even bothering to look at the weapon he casually swung it around with a roll of his wrist, testing its weight and speed.

His left still held the bag of diamonds by the four inch cord, if he was going to whip anyone with it he was going to be real close to them.

Then his call was answered.

"Fall then."

As he spoke he closed the distance between them, which was not much, in a lunging step. Swinging the club Duc aimed for her head with the low end of the stock, away from the knife blade.

The fight had begun.

-1-

"Against the law?"

((I))

Standing at five feet and two inches, Duc was no doubt rather taller than Arian. His arm would be down for the swing-or coming down with the club, either way-she threw her weight on her back, non leading left leg, body and head moving back in a near lean to miss the strike to her head, cloak more froward than her body as the club moved down either vertically or diagonally, didn't matter. She missed it.

Barely. But missed it. The swing ought to go through, due to his own momentum with the club and the fact she had jerked back quick enough-and Arian didn't stand about waiting for him to recover. Kicking off the bent left leg, her right retook her weight and also thrust her forward into him, a spike dagger in her right hand, which was held low and at ready for his left hand-though she doubted he could possibly make a head shot with the diamond bag, since he would have to lift and swing around his right arm, that shoulder assumed to be more forward than his left.

The left hand was what shot forward and up with yet another spike dagger, moving upwards beneath his right arm to attempt stabbing it into the underside of his bicep.

She didn't entirely like the first moves-but was going with them.

Actions:

--Dodged club strike by throwing weight to back foot.

--Threw weight back onto leading right foot in order to stab upwards into his right arm with a spike dagger

Damage Taken:

None.

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

After a little while Rachel was able to draw her gaze away from the embodiment of perfection from above to the sea of other valuables below. It was at this time that she finally realized that other people accompanied her in this vault. A man of a red tone sat to himself on top a heap of gold. Over her shoulder he looked to see that her mysterious teammate, the mercenary of the bunch had shown up. The glance was a brief one as the many sparklies caught her attention again. She hadn't even noticed that her fight was already beginning. Like a glistening rainbow precious stones lined the walls between the many gold bars. It was like a metal sandwich with green notes of linen and cotton to blanket it all.

If this wasn't heaven then it was only safe to assume that this was the prize room. Fighting in all of this money, that would be insane. Rewarding the group for a job well done though, that made sense, and what better reward than the promised money to the winners? It seemed as only two teams were represented here, so a third should be expected to claim their prize. It sucks for them to show up late, there probably wouldn't be much left for them to pick from.

Rachel approached one of the walls of golden bars, much taller than her she could barely see the top of the stack. It had to all be here for her to take. She removed the top hat from her head and turned it upside down at her chest level with one hand, using the other to reach back behind the bars and rack with them her arms to pull them into the her hat. There's no way she could get her fill with just the hat by the bars themselves, they were big heavy and clunky. Reaching over to several gems she scooped those to cover over the few bars in her hat. Pearls, diamonds, ruby. It may not be that diamond katana in the sky but it was surely enough to satisfy most.

Kamiha Sayuri Wrote:

After a little while Rachel was able to draw her gaze away from the embodiment of perfection from above to the sea of other valuables below. It was at this time that she finally realized that other people accompanied her in this vault. A man of a red tone sat to himself on top a heap of gold. Over her shoulder he looked to see that her mysterious teammate, the mercenary of the bunch had shown up. The glance was a brief one as the many sparklies caught her attention again. She hadn't even noticed that her fight was already beginning. Like a glistening rainbow precious stones lined the walls between the many gold bars. It was like a metal sandwich with green notes of linen and cotton to blanket it all.

If this wasn't heaven then it was only safe to assume that this was the prize room. Fighting in all of this money, that would be insane. Rewarding the group for a job well done though, that made sense, and what better reward than the promised money to the winners? It seemed as only two teams were represented here, so a third should be expected to claim their prize. It sucks for them to show up late, there probably wouldn't be much left for them to pick from.

Rachel approached one of the walls of golden bars, much taller than her she could barely see the top of the stack. It had to all be here for her to take. She removed the top hat from her head and turned it upside down at her chest level with one hand, using the other to reach back behind the bars and rack with them her arms to pull them into the her hat. There's no way she could get her fill with just the hat by the bars themselves, they were big heavy and clunky. Reaching over to several gems she scooped those to cover over the few bars in her hat. Pearls, diamonds, ruby. It may not be that diamond katana in the sky but it was surely enough to satisfy most. And a hand would come out of nowhere to knock the valuables out of the hold of the woman and then just turned and pointed at the cameras. The JUDGE had said no.

Duc twisted his hips and turned with the swing of his club, this imparted more force behind the blow and kept him facing Arian as she fell. As she fell he bent his knees and turned to bring his lower body in alignment with her own.

The blade of her left hand would do little damage, scraping flesh and drawing blood but doing no lasting damage due to the little force behind the blow and the quick release of it. Duc's tailor on the other hand wouldn't be so happy.

Arian's kicking though had a little more effect. The bending of his leg prevented her from landing a clear hit as it landed against both his thigh and lower leg; but it did send a jolt through a still healing bone of his ankle. That though was something for Duc to deal with at a later time.

Now was for fighting.

He followed her down and she had kept her right arm in close to her body the whole time and only now as she felled sought to use it. Duc though had other plans. As she twirled her knife his left hand shot out like a viper and his gloved fingers gripped her wrist and with the full weight of his body pushed it down.

Falling was the worse thing Arian could have done.

It gave Duc the opportunity to dominate the fight and her and Duc was always an opportunist.

His knee would land on one of her legs, or perhaps between them if she spread them in the fall, but Duc forced her onto her back. The club he had brought her down with had flattened against her neck and with a jerk of his hand Duc yanked the club across her throat and brought the stock slamming into her jaw.

Arian had felled.

-3-

What a way to completely ruin a mood. What was the point of being in this massive safe if it wasn't to collect money? Rachel wasn't happy about this at all. In fact, she had quickly become irritated at knowing that she wasn't going to be able to take any of the many riches with her. Her face twisted to form a pout, her hands curled into small tight fists. Angrily she turned and sat herself on the ground leaning her back against the racked gold. She wasn't happy at all and she was going to take it out on someone eventually. Just there wasn't anything she could do right now besides give the man chewing on jerky the stink eye between occasionally glancing off to watch her teammate in her own fight. It'd all feel better soon though when she can show the man just how big of a tantrum she could throw over this.

"Against the law?"

((III))

((Sorry for taking so long!))

Arian liked a fight she could learn from. This guy was good. Much better than she was, in her self taught methods.

Hm.

He had a hold of her wrist in an instant, what felt like the entire weight of him pushing it down into the floor. Couldn't resist that. Arian was strong for a woman of her size-but not that damn strong, she's only human. And a smaller one, at that.

Then a knee came heavily down on her right leg, Arian jerking slightly at the bolt of pain that went tearing up her spine. Her right knee was her bad knee. Few years ago, it had been shattered with a mace from none other than her a*****e brother. She had been a cripple for several months, then got a bad healing job done on it. Never felt the same. And now-with a good portion of his weight on his knee grinding into her leg just below the knee, it was all but killing her.

******** HELL man!

A hissing inhale as he forced her onto her back, her legs and hips still forward, body being twisted, freeing her left arm from being pinned beneath her body-think Arian think, it's only pain-high pain tolerance or not, that had ******** hurt-

But the woman takes too long recovering, the club flattened against her throat-collar kept her from being strangled, remember-and just as she forces concentration-the stock slammed into her jaw with such a force that the back of her head slammed BACK into the floor. And she had thought the knee had hurt.

The woman was rather beautiful-not that she cared, but she was. The darker toned skin, the vibrantly colored eyes, glossy black hair-all combined with the fiery, determined demeanor and her exotic accent made her very much attractive. Not going to be the case anymore, least not for a little while. Duc would no doubt feel the bone of her jaw giving way to the club even before Arian realized what had happened.

Though the pain flared to life pretty quickly. Club had shattered the outlaw's jaw on that side-and badly fractured it on the other, cracks extending like ice, if that made any sense. She was smaller-and her bones were not exactly the strongest. More on the delicate side than anything. Mouth filled with blood, vision blurring with uncontrollable tears-and for a horrible moment, Arian didn't think at all.

Then her mind slammed into overdrive as the hot blood gathered at the back of her throat. She'd drown. But this son of a b***h had just broken-no, shattered her jaw-she was drowning!

Coughed on blood, left hand suddenly in possession of a dagger-another spike one, which slammed into his exposed armpit, stabbing him to the hilt of it. As she did that, her left leg jerked up, trying to knock him off her right leg-twisting her hips in order to realign her body, looking to get out from under him, away-right hand was still being held, after all, but he had just taken a knife being thrust into his armpit...so who knew?

Not Arian. Arian had sort of been driven over the edge by pain and survival instinct, a hard won, long worked for state of mind that had saved her a countless times in her life. Love of Christ, she was actually growling curses at him, though they'd be ****** up sounding due to blood. With the knife in his armpit, he shouldn't have the tight hold of the club against her collared throat, anymore-and while his hand still gripped her right hand, Arian would be fighting like a psycho to get out from under him, left hand having abandoned the dagger now lodged in his body to slip between him and her, slamming the butt of her hand up into the underside of his chin to try knocking him back or force him off balance to get away.

Actions:

--Thrust spike dagger into his armpit upwards-driving a spike through his shoulder, possibly.

--After stabbing, will go for a hit to the underside of his chin with the butt of her palm to knock him back or at least give him further cause for distraction/lessoning his grip on her

--Attempting to knock him off her right leg with the suddenly upward motion of her left leg, twisting hips to realign her body

Damage Taken:

--Bad knee further weakoned, taking damage from the strain put on it when he landed on her right leg

--Reopened Stab wounds still bleeding somewhat, beneath the armor

--HER JAW WAS JUST SHATTERED! ******** ow, man~ She'll be spitting blood the whole fight, no doubt-and talking is pretty much not an option, anymore...no chewable foods for a while, eh?

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

The blow was a brutal one, she cried, she coughed blood. It was all the grisly mess Duc had hoped for; but his work wasn't done.

Her left hand was without a weapon when he clubbed her and kneeling down on her leg with his left knee as he pulled the club free of her jaw he saw motion. Arian was going for a knife.

To grab it she would have to bend her arm and reach for it on the back of her belt, which meant she was laying on it. That was all the time Duc needed.

As she pulled the blade to thrust upwards he kicked out his right foot, sliding the heel along the platform to press the soul of his sandal against the underside of her arm and force it up so that the arm was in line with her shoulders, effectively shortening her range to just what was in reach of her forearm.

Which meant she could do a little damage to his legs if she thought about it.

But then she was crying and choking on blood.

His knee did slide off of her leg though and his left hand still pressed down on her right wrist as a point of leverage.

Maddened by the attempt to stab him though Duc brought the gun stock club up high into the air. Straightening himself up as he poised himself on one outstretched leg and a knee and with as much rotation as he could gain from his wrist to his hips swung the club down to strike Arian in the temple.

Maybe she would cry more.

-4-

"Against the law?"

((IV)) Smart b*****d-her attack was interrupted, but Arian-surprisingly-didn't fight it. She did spit on him though. Spiteful, angry little thing she is, she no doubt looks disgusting with a half shattered jaw, and was doing her damnedest to make him at least FEEL disgusted.

Blood. Spat blood on him, a damned good amount, and it was hard because her lips and muscles were half ******** up without the structure of half of her jaw and the other side cracked-but she managed it. Duc got a face full of blood, and she had been aiming for his eyes too, so we'll see how that goes.

Hell, if he's really unlucky, he got a tooth or two in the eye. Anyway. Other than spitting blood on him, she flowed with his stopping of her attack, the time frame of it all in sync, flowing together.

Actually-his foot hit the underside of her arm, pushing it up-and she let it happen, lifting her arm up and then-cutting it close to her body, slightly over her body as her shoulder scrunched in-his foot sliding past on it's own momentum, as he no doubt had EXPECTED resistance-though with her bloodied up state, maybe not-the foot either sliding past or possibly coming to a stop just at her shoulder-too late. It was in the same time frame that he was straightening up his torso, knee sliding off her leg that she avoided having her arm trapped sticking straight up-his body straightened, hardly a second after the kick to the arm deal-and Arian was already moving.

Her evasion and attack would happen at the SAME TIME he was straightening up, hardly nanoseconds after he slid his foot up into her arm-thumb and index finger flipped the knife slightly, hand turning-and she would drive that spike dagger straight into his pelvic region. Not going for a groin shot, really-castration was SO desired, but overdone-but just the pelvic area, where lots of blood was flowing, and let's face it-no man wants to see a hit go towards or get taken ANYWHERE near his 'jewels.'

Even worse? Her hand was fisted, and the side of her thumb joint was pressed against the top of the spike dagger. The metal rod that formed the blade. Carried the light current of electricity, which would not shock his entire body-but certainly add some damage to his stab wound.

...the little b***h was EVIL! Or something. Spitting blood and stabbing men uncomfortably close to their genitals-freaking demon woman, something.

If the knife didn't actually make his mark-it was because had blocked with his other thigh, something-because with his hand holding down her right wrist and the other arm straightened out and behind his shoulder-no way was it otherwise block-able, having happened at the same time. If he was on guard, she might be able to slip away. At least use her now free legs to drag herself down enough to avoid that hit to the temple. However- if she was successful at the stabbing-no doubt that attack would be ended anyway, or at least much, much weaker.

Actions:

--She SPAT blood on him! Hell yeah, that's my crazy outlaw!

--Moved her arm in the direction he was forcing it-and past that, pulling in her shoulder to avoid having her arm trapped there

--And THEN made the stabbing attack for the man's pelvic area. Not his groin, but in that area...

--Electrified gloves add damage to the stab wound if it is successful

--Arian will attempt to drag herself down to avoid the Temple strike if it's still going on with her now freed legs

Damage taken:

--Still nearly choking on her own blood, swallowing and spitting at him certainly has helped, however.

--Still suffering SHATTERED JAW! ...I still think that's awesome, cause I'm sick like that.

--Stab wounds from previous fight still bleeding somewhat

--Back of head hurts from having it slammed into floor from earlier shattering of jaw

--Still suffering mild pain from freshly weakened right knee, which is her bad one.

Basically, Arian's ******** up~ Beams

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

"Against the law?"

((V))

Arian also had a sick sense of satisfaction as the knife ripped into his jeans and then his flesh. Take THA-except that seemed to do little more than make him bleed on her.

...she's already a mess, and as she spit blood again-half at him, half just trying not to die-she realized this ******** was still going to go for the hit. Her right hand was numb, by now.

Arian's head took the hit-and stars literally flashed over her eyes. Though-perhaps unfortunately, the strike didn't knock the woman out. Made her confused as hell, but didn't knock her out.

Drew the knife out of his body, vision blurry as she blinked more tears, forcing them out and back and STOPPING the flow of them-she was a WARRIOR, God Blast it-spat more blood, and then thrust the spike dagger back in in another spot, ******** him, she wants to make him bleed more, just as much as she was-if she wasn't unsure about it being legal or not, she would have castrated him then and there.

Her pain fogged mind thought of an idea...and maybe...she let go of the dagger, leaving five inches of steel in his body-having not stabbed through all the way this time due to pain and a fogged mind-left arm lying down nearly next to her body, shoulder pressing against his foot as her hand found the floor and pushed a little, slipping along nearly behind her at her side.

Then she decided, and moved quickly in her half insane actions.

His legs were on the left side of her body, one close to her shoulder and the other further down, stretched out-he was leaning over her to pin her right wrist, but maybe she could do it, maybe-Arian's knees bent-right one hurt-as her feet slid closer to her butt, pushing on the floor to lift her hips and body up-right arm tensing as she jerked her body into a bridge, painfully putting weight on that wrist, which was twisted wrong for this, and the rest of it on her left hand, which was on the floor beneath her, body coming right up into either his body or his underarm, hoping to keep him from hitting her with the Club again-God DAMN she wished she hadn't decided against a striker, she wanted this b*****d off of her, good as he was at this-and would do something rather...desperate-ish.

Blood was literally slipping past her lips and along her face in her brief upside down position on her head and shoulders. The heat of it stung her face, nearly. Courtelli natives had higher body temperatures. Not much-but enough to make their blood seem warmer than others.

Anyway-elbow of her left arm bent and then she pushed off that arm, right wrist screaming in protest as she brought her bent elbow flying up, left fist close to her collared throat, the spiked band strapped just above her elbow attempting to come into contact with the underside of his chin.

If it connected, he'd soon have a mouth full of blood, as the spikes would possibly pierce through the underside of his chin, through his mouth and tounge. ...Gross.

Immediately after connecting, if it did-Arian would collapse back on her back, though furious-spitting more blood out of her mouth, breathing through her nose still-she'd palm his elbow to his left arm forcefully, which ought to be straight in holding her right wrist down.

Wanted away. Now.

Actions:

--Performed a bridge, then shoved off her left hand briefly rocket her body up and twist slightly, attempting to ram her spiked band into and through the underside of his mouth/chin.

--Collapsed back down on the floor, will attempt an open palmed strike to his elbow to weaken grip/make him collapse.

--Bled. Quite a bit actually...

Damage taken:

--Bad hit to the head, muddled thought processes now. Might be cut from the blunt hit.

--Right wrist strained from weight and all that

--Still swallowing/spitting lot of blood. I'm hearing the sounds of a soon to be trip to the E.R. due to blood loss.

--All other previous mentioned injuries...(/laziness)

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

"Against the law?"

((VI))

Yeah, fail.

((Laughs Girl can hope, right?))

He'd been leaning down too close, after all. What a retarded move for her to try-head hurt...Stupid head. Stupid Jaw-stupid heavy men, stupid half working ********!

No time to do anything but widen her eyes-the club smashed into Arian's once beautiful face without protest, adding a broken nose to the long list of other injuries-and more bothersome, ending any breathing through it.

Blood pooling in her throat as she was lying on her back, no longer conscious to spit it out. Nose broken, more blood into her nasal cavity.

...Arian was knocked out, and no longer able to breathe.

KO! Striker probably went off, or something-but Duc had definitely won the fight. Fiery eyes were closed and the woman had just slumped into the floor, right hand-which had been fisted-slackening.

Actions:

--Mental cursing count?

Damage taken:

--Smashed nose added to long list of previous injuries! Ta da!

((End of fight! Had fun~))

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

That went by quick enough.

Loitering on his impromptu seat like a king, the tribesman rose up to his full height and stepped away from the pile of coins, taking one step at a time until he reached the bottom of the pile, standing near where the other fight had taken place, with Duc's opponent (hopefully) evac'd for medical care. Using his one booted foot, he nudged it under the club and hucked the gory thing up into the air, catching it before setting it back across his shoulders where it belonged. Blood dripped from the handle and ran down the rest of the club.

Back to his pile of gold, Deitric bent his arms slightly at the elbows to raise them and splayed his fingers out.

"Who's next? Duc's rules are my own - there will be no strikers for my opponent and I," he offered coolly. With only the other woman in the room, Deitric knew that he was most likely going to fight her - despite his reservations for such an event. With no one else present, it seemed that he would have to bite the bullet for once.

((Semi-busy tonight so sorry if I'm not posting very fast. ))

The conclusion of the fight helped Rachel realize something that hadn't actually occurred to her at all during the course of the tournament. This was all very real. Unlike many other tournaments shown where the winners and losers were often fixed and the blood was hardly real, her mysterious teammate and her opponent had just went at each other seemingly with the intent to kill. That would be something she'd have to keep in the back of her mind, that any reservations about actually harming the person across from you will most likely end up in you yourself getting beaten to near death. Winning meant surviving, and it was in her utmost interest to win. No use in being a scrub and creating a bunch of rules for her to abide by in an environment like this, she's going to have to follow the rules of the streets she wandered.

With this in the back of her mind and her attention drifting off of the poor young lady as she was carted away from the fighting area to watch over the man who she would be facing, she knew that this would be a real fight. This man was even bigger than the joker she dunked in the previous round, and this guy didn't seem seem to be a case who managed to get into here with some luck. No, the way this man dressed, the tone of his skin, she could take a fair guess at what he was or was meant to represent. Rachel's studies didn't include much of those from the Americas, but having a general grasp of the history of war that plagued those lands and the ferocity depicted by the many diverse tribes, this man was definitely not going to be another push over.

His mannerisms seemed like he was rather apathetic to the whole situation. Did he maybe assume that he would take this with out much of a fight? He didn't even seem bothered that his own club was soaked in the same blood that formed a slick pool on the platform. He was probably planning on using it on her. This man could really put on a good act if he were really as nervous about the situation as she was. But that nervousness would only keep her alert, she already began sizing him up and the distance between the two, and she had already decided that maybe she should wait to see how he reacted first, that seemed to have worked best for her in the past.

With already being irritated about the whole not being able to take money from the vault thing and knowing that it would be a matter of time before he would probably simply just approach her, she would summon up the courage to ready herself and stand with her back just inches away from the racks of gold bars. As she stood her hands slipped into the pockets of her long coat, the right hand moving around as if it were toying with something while being concealed inside the pocket. She didn't speak,she knew that he'd eventually notice her standing and would probably infer that as her accepting his terms for the challenge. She didn't speak, she didn't want to accidentally stutter to ruin the confident air that she attempted to form around her. She simply stared at the man, watching, waiting, with a mean mug. Calm and cool, she waited, being across from him in this vast safe helped to keep her at ease.

Something irked Rachel as the man turned his eyes to her. Behind the cold face she returned him she desperately tried to figure out just what was bothering him so much.

I can't read him...

That was it, she was unable to make predictions on the most subtle gestures a person created, those from the face. What exactly was he planning in that head of is? Being unable to even half way figure out a person before they approached you meant that one was entering into dangerous territory. A fight would a real gamble out of your favor. It was funny that Rachel would have to take such a gamble in a casino of all places, the writers of the script must have had some sick jokes in their heads for our young heroine. But suddenly something happened that was entirely unexpected.

Her heart skipped, the sound of the thud echoed off of the reinforced walls and the many valuables with in, the thud of the club piercing the statue prolonged in her mind. It was as if she saw a bright flash of light, was she hit and dying? No, that wasn't the case. Her eyes moved quickly to see the club and darted back to the man as he approached. It hadn't shown physically, but it felt as if Rachel's ghost had jumped from her body. If he was able to catch her totally off guard with that, even while she thought she was alert, she was in for some trouble. Under no circumstance should anything had come as such a surprise from this man she watched, but she simply couldn't get a grasp on him. She'd have to play it completely by ear, very cautiously, and the more she had to think about guessing what he was going to do instead of just naturally moving meant the more likely an attack was going to hurt her.

Rachel remained silent and she forced herself to appear cool still. The man began to take large strides like a giant for her, apparently in no rush, but that was probably because of his confidence. Inside her pockets a small cap fell to the bottom and her thumb covered the opening, pulling the item up and concealing it with her right fist. Both hands lifted from the pockets and settled at about her face level in a loose guarding position. Ready or not, he was coming, she could only hope she could quickly take control of this before over thinking would get her into a world of hurt.

1

At this point it didn't seem like her opponent was trying to conceal his intentions. Throwing the golden brick at here was read almost immediately as he decided to pick it up. Really there wasn't that much distance between the two to sit there and think, but dodging such a straight forward attack flowed naturally. Her right leg moved out to the right and with her rhythm her body dipped low to the right, quickly dragging the left foot along.

Is he toying with me...?

The idea that he could possibly be mocking her by making such a deliberate attack only added fuel to her already irritated attitude. Upon shifting herself to her right it became easy to see that he was finally coming for her quickly to follow up the tossing of the bar. What he wanted to do was up in the air, but was a seasoned fighter would probably do with this follow up would be to open up with something speedy instead of overly powerful. Whatever it would be was most likely going to come from his left side though.

The only obvious solution to avoiding contact at this point and then probably getting smashed against the golden racks would be to get her back away from the wall. Temporarily pressing her weight onto the ball of her left foot she pivoted her body so that was her opponent. In the same movement she pushed that weight from off her left foot to let her body move back, she was safely on the outside of his left jab looking to him. She kept the minimal amount of distance she could at this moment, keeping his guards and her posture. She wouldn't try to close in on an attack yet, she didn't want to risk going for his body in this position as she didn't see the opening she wanted yet.

2

"I hope he doesn't maul the poor girl...she's kinda pretty." Ray sighed aloud, leaning back in the most uncomfortable chair ever in man made history. She'd be stay out of the carpentering business. With a huff, the kappa watched as her team mate and the woman went at it, a curled fist holding her head up.

She looked like a bored goddess...

While leaning back, something hard hit her backside and she blinked. "Oh.." She grinned, pulling out her cellphone. She really wasn't doing anything, and the man had said no strikers. So Ray wasn't needed. So! The kappa fixed her boredom with a text to Ura'.

It was pretty simple.

Quote: Unnyuu.~

Hi hi, hope your not getting pummeled as I write this.

Good luck.~

Chu.

She'd send it off, smile, and stuff the cellphone back into her pocket while she scooted forward and watched s'more.

"I wonder where the big guy's been...."

He was overdue for a visit.

What's tha--

Deitric saw her arm move and brought his right up to guard, but instead of a fist he got a blast of spice. His first instinct was to clench his eyes shut, but it was a bit too late for that. Luckily, the powder didn't travel with quite the same speed as something like true pepper spray, and wasn't quite as heavy as a handful of sand. But it did its job well enough. The warrior's eyes watered to try and wash away the burn, pain running though the nerves of his eyes and nostrils like liquid fire.

That had been the last thing he had been expecting, but it really did the job when it came to getting his blood boiling. Moreso even than when his last opponent continued to try and keep a distance away from him. However, it wasn't anger that drove his next actions - only instinct.

In the same way that one might swat away an attacking animal, or try to throw away something that had gotten attached to one's person, Deitric's fighting and self-preservation instinct told him to either get away from Rachel, or get her away from him, otherwise she could do some sort of damage to him beyond more than just momentarily blinding him.

At the same time he shifted his weight back a bit in recoil to the burning cloud of spices that were better off used for cooking, Deitric automatically took the best course of action he could to get distance between them. It wasn't even an attack, or fighting technique - it was just his reaction to the pain and need to create distance. Nothing planned, nothing except an action borne of instinct and survival.

He threw her. Hard.

Abilities Wrote:

►Hawk's Flight - This attack is usually aerial, used while jumping, or to move off the ground and into the air. The energy is centered around Deitric's attacking arm and back, manifesting in the shape of a hawk's beak and head, flying outward from the fist. However, it does more than that - it carries the warrior forward, either into the air or back down to earth, should he be aiming up or down. The attack is one of Deitric's only ''piercing'' attacks, as the beak of the hawk generates a great deal of force in a considerably small area, allowing Deitric to sometimes deal damage through armor, even though he might not penetrate it. Against unarmored flesh, he can sometime leave cuts and gashes.

Normally, the same "driving" force that powered this attack was used to move the tribesman's body. This time, with his hand gripping his collar, he unconsciously used the sudden outpour of cackling electricity and power to sling his arm up at the same time he threw his weight back, all the energy of the attack being focused into throwing her by the collar of her jacket. With his strength alone, it wasn't had for him to manhandle someone who weighed nearly one hundred and fifty pounds less than he did - but combined with the force of one of his attacks, albeit adapted to the situation at hand - he was going to throw her pretty high. At least ten feet up, possibly more.

Beyond the initial electrocution, it wasn't much of an attack, unless she was accidentally flung into a pile of gold bars, or landed badly. It was his fighter's sense (a little twisted, given the current burn in his eyes) setting off alarms in his head to get her the hell away from him, and it had to be done by any means necessary. With pain came the reaction of his personal brand of lightning, and it had been released in the form of throwing power. Where she landed, he wouldn't know - he didn't aim. He wasn't even conscious of what he'd done beyond the whole "get some distance" alarm that had screamed for him to react.

With her hopefully far out of reach, the warrior's recoil became a backwards stumble as he reached up with both hands and grabbed the bandanna that acted as a headband and began to press it against his eyes and wipe it across them. Combined with his tears (and a bit of saliva he'd surreptitiously spit into his hands), he'd hopefully get the stuff out. Some of it had gotten on his arm when he'd raised it, thinking to block, but most had gotten on or around his face.

The Khasmin tribesman stood hunched over slightly, rubbing frantically at his eyes to try and clear them. He could see blurs, but little else - it would take a few seconds for him to be able to see properly again, and even then his eyes would be watering and stinging enough the rest of the match. That stuff burned like a sonuvabitch.

Being able to see blurs was a plus - his opponent stood out around all the CA$H MONEY gold, but getting some more distinct shapes would be nice. Hopefully, while she was busy getting air-time or landing/smacking into some pile of ill-begotten fortune, he'd be able to get some Visine or something. For now, spit, tears, and a headband would have to do.

As to the use of his powers, he was only vaguely aware he had done so - his attempt to throw her had only been out of instinct, as had the sudden use of his powers, which normally manifested when the brave was caught in off guard. Right now though, he just kept his back to some gold bars and tried to clear his eyes - he'd look at some highlight video to see what he'd done.

Right now, Deitric was just very, very pissed off. As soon as he could see again to his satisfaction, he was going to beat someone like a homeless cur. Until then, he was stuck grunting and growling while trying to get his eyes to work with some semblance of sight beyond hazy blurs.

Coward.

The thought of his opponent ran through his mind in one single word. He was pissed off, alright.

[4]

By himself for the time being, the warrior continued unabated at cleaning his eyes. He had a belt full of herbs and roots for medicine, but nothing that could clean his eyes. What he did have, as already mentioned, was plenty of saliva, especially given the physical activity. Not one to be grossed out by the necessities of battle, he simply spat into his hands once more and then palmed his eyesockets hard, using the fabric of his gloves and the liquid of his tears and spit to clean his eyes as best he could.

This time, when he opened them, he could see. His eyes watered and stung, and his right was blinking more than his left to try and clear out a bit of needling grains that wouldn't go away, but he could see the environment more distinctly. Shapes, colors, and depth were pretty clear. A little fuzzy, especially on his right side, but that was why he was blinking so much - the human body's natural response to dirt or other deritus in the eyes was to blink it out or secrete more tears to flush it away.

But damn if it didn't still hurt. And his nose still burned like he'd crammed a red-hot piece of coal up each nostril and tried to breathe in as deep as possible. That wasn't going to go away unless he started blowing his nose on all the precious gold, or something. As it was, he could just man up and deal with it. As for his throw, the assistance of his power had done most of the work - but he could feel a bit of strain trailing from his posterior delt, down the tricep and through his forearm. He wouldn't of been able to throw her without the odd, metaphysical power he could manifest.

Where is she..

Eyes stinging and open, the Khasmin brave looked to and fro for his opponent. She couldn't be behind him, he didn't figure, but she could've been high or low. In the time he'd been cleaning his eyes, she'd hidden herself somewhere. Not that he knew that, except for the initial realization that she wasn't in front of him, or immediately attacking.

Unfortunately, squinting his eyes and peering around wasn't the best idea. So he wasn't exactly going to be staring down every nook and cranny looking for her. Instead, he was going to do the smart thing - stand back and take in the environment so that he could watch for movement and continue to let his eyes clear.

No one in the media or on the field would mistake the glare of his watering eyes now though - the tribesman was furious. Unlike others, it manifested more like a fell northern wind - cold, and intensely focused. His turquoise eyes seemed several shades lighter, burning out from his eye-sockets with anger and raw power.

If she wanted to hide though, that was fine. Reaching over to a pile of gold, the warrior deftly pilfered a few coins and began to clack them together loudly as he slowly backed away to the nearest wall and began to circle slowly, fading off and on out of the woman's potential sight as he slipped through shadows and around, circling the vault along the walls to try and catch a glimpse of her.

Click-clack

Click-clack

At this point, it became obvious she wasn't going to fight him - and with his back towards the wall as he circled, she had to be in front of him at one point or another. He could see a body-shaped form atop one of the piles of gold coins and bars, and now she was shouting at him.

"Come get me you piss-head apple!"

Now that he could see her and she wasn't trying to hide quite as much anymore, Deitric had no reason to stay away. Sure, she could throw something at him, or try to push her pile on him if he got close, but he wasn't worried. He'd dealt with worse.

With the same pace as before, the warrior began walking towards her slowly, his face twisted into a grim mask of determination, twin lines of tears barely drying on his face where his eyes had continued to try and flush what was left of the powder. More important than clearing his eyes, he'd cleared his head - he wasn't heady with rage, but still angry. But now he could focus intently on her.

"I expected a fighter, not a coward who could only throw cooking spices and run away like a gihli," he spat, slipping for a moment into his native tongue. He kept his eyes on her during his approach - if she did nothing to attack or stop him, he'd make it right up to her particular pile.

But that was assuming she didn't do something.

[6]

Deitric looked up at her, his features hollow - beyond calm. If the way he looked could spread, frost would be crawling along the gold all around him. If she didn't want to come down, he'd bring her down.

This was probably going to hurt her a lot.

He knew it was going to hurt him.

On the walk forward, he'd been focusing the metaphysical power he generally manifested as power. It'd been pooling up, expended a little for his throw, but otherwise he'd just been generating and charging like a battery. At this point, he could deliver a charge that could possibly stop a heart, if he fully transferred it to a person.

But that wasn't what he was planning on doing. Instead, he flooded his entire body with the energy. Veins thickened and dilated as blood his heart pumped like a freight train, his muscles beneath the denim and leather growing thick as he finally came to stand beneath the stack of gold bars. She hadn't done anything to halt him, so he was free to focus as he pleased on forcing his body to its limits.

With his long hair and thick clothing though, there was little skin uncovered, and she likely wouldn't realize what had changed - most people tensed, and bloodflow increased with adrenaline. But this was a great deal more - this was forced, and powered by something more than just human. When she taunted him, he only stared up at her coolly. She'd have no idea just what was in store for her.

Without a word, the warrior took one more step forward and shot both hands out, his iridescent eyes squinted in concentration. He'd only gone so far once in forcing his body to withstand the energy in one go - against Ebris. Hopefully, with his control greatly increased from last year, he wouldn't burn himself out again.

Deitric threw all his power, physical and otherwise, into slamming both his palms into the towering pile of gold with all his weight and pushing power behind it. She was in for a real big surprise. The tribesman hoped she liked it.

WHAM---CRRRACK

The tower of gold tipped back, and like a monolith dragged down by time, it tilted slowly at first - further, and further - and suddenly all the weight added into the momentum and the entire thing came crashing down. If the woman was just that unlucky, she'd get her legs caught under it.

The resulting crash was going to be awe inspiring to say the least.

The tribesman stood in front of the toppled tower of gold bars, hulking with his strained brawn, the stitching of his leather jacket ripped to accommodate his musculature. Blood flowed freely from his nostrils and his lip where he'd bitten down out of the pain. Smoke rose from his arms and jeans, but he was considerably less harmed than one might think from afar. Moreso, he hadn't burnt himself nearly to exhaustion like last year. Oh, it hurt - but it was well worth it. And he could keep fighting. Maybe not popping off lightning too often or right off the bat, but that would come back in time.

But right now, he merely stood in front of the felled monstrosity of gold and his opponent, where-ever she might be, a triumphant, feral grin splitting his lips.

She hadn't want to come down - so he'd just made her. The ball was in her court.

[7]

Deitric watched the towering rack of gold plummet with a resounding crash that shook the entire vault and knocked other, lesser piles of gold and silver down with it. He also knew she wasn't under it - he'd watched her escape. But she'd leapt right out of the skillet and into the fire.

Even with the sort of metaphysical expenditure he'd just put out, he could still fight - albeit more than a little sore and burnt under the clothing, and without the use of his powers for a while. Using his powers didn't exactly tire him out - the long haired warrior expended it and after a certain amount he had to 'recharge' for a time, but it was as natural as breathing or having his heart beat.

It was only when he expended a great amount - such as just now - that it got to him. And it had gotten to him, that much was obvious; the lower half of his face was awash in a mask of blood, and a bit of smoke still rose from his jacket. If she thought he was doing these feats of brawn through sheer physical prowess, that was more than fine. If he knew what she thought, he'd be happy to encourage that line of thinking. But he was no mind reader.

As soon as she came sailed down, Deitric turned all his attention on her. He wasn't one to gloat over an achievement anyways - winning this fight would bring him a lot more satisfaction than the single action he'd just achieved. With half his face painted for war in his own blood, he must've looked a little manic. Especially with the heavy breathing through his nose, which sent a spraying mist of blood out with each exhalation.

Especially because he held a tomahawk in his left hand, and a wickedly edged knife in the other. When she turned to fight, that's exactly what she got. The bloodied - and crazed looking - brave swiped his tomahawk out in a flash of glinting still, aiming to catch her above the elbow of her right arm. The tomahawk's striking head was sharp, and like any axe it could punch a hole in armor - what would cloth do to stand up to it?

The squint of his eyes also said something - he was ready for another trick, if she had one. Even with his other hand holding the knife, it was clear he was ready to cover his face or turn away if he had to. But hopefully, she'd finally engage him - no more running.

[8]

First blood went to the tribesman.

Not counting the amount he was already bleeding - but she hadn't done that, it was a side-effect of using his power too much, too fast. Unlike many Gaians, Deitric's body had a limit to his own power use: too much, and he began to hurt himself. Bloody noses, split lips, burns, and worse if he pushed it. But right now, it was all physical - more his style, anyways.

Keeping light on his feet to keep them face to face when she moved, the warrior noted her choice of weapon. It was interesting to say the least - he hadn't seen such a decorative thing used in combat before. His knife slipped forward and towards the arm holding the fan a bit. It was really just a feint, though - but hopefully, with his face a mask of stony calmness and half of it covered in blood, he would be a hard person to read.

The real attack came from below.

At he flashed the knife forward a bit to try and draw her to it, his tomahawk shot upwards after it carved a bloody gash on her arm, stopping the swing of left-to-right abruptly, instead of returning to a guard position. The tomahawk didn't weigh nearly as much as larger axes, so he wasn't confined to tiny actions or large, off-setting swings - the hand-axe allowed for quick, hard movements with every bit as much control as a swordsman might have.

With any luck, the counterweight on the tomahawk opposite the cutting edged - a small chunk of steel carved to resemble a place where one might put tobacco in a pipe - would smash flush against the underside of her chin and give her brain a good rattle, or crack a few teeth. Best case scenario for the tribesman, it put her off balance and took her eyes off of Deitric, allowing him to continue his assault.

[9]

The brave showed little in the ways of disgruntlement or annoyance in the fact that his feint didn't work. His heavy lidded eyes regarded his opponent calmly as the tomahawk swooped back in front of him, held low around his waist, while the knife stayed high. His movements were smooth and light, almost serpentine. Even though he could display some brutish brawn, it was clear that it wasn't what his usual fare.

No, this was where he was in his element, with the knife and 'hawk. Like the swordsman who was one with his weapon, so too was Deitric. The weapons were extensions of his body, having practically grown up with a tomahawk in his hand and a knife in his sash. He thrived in close quarters, where he could take scalps and count coup.

For whatever reason, his movements remained simple - his tomahawk raised a little higher just in case she had something in store for him as he followed after her, jabbing out with the knife again - this time in a full on attack, aiming to plunge the blade into her left shoulder at first before it shifted a little lower, to the bicep. It was hard to say why he was attacking her obvious guard with his weaker weapon - but he kept in melee range when she moved, and she'd have to engage him if she hoped to come out on top.

[10]

An attack similar to the one he just threw, and she would avoid it in a similar way. She pulled her upper body back to avoid the stab and then brought the rest of herself back with a hop to create further distance between the two. She had little choice but to try and dance around him, moving to her right somewhat align her left shoulder with his. She figured it'd be a bit easier if she tried remaining on his outside along with out of his range. If it weren't for the tomahawk he was wielding she could have probably taken the risk and gone in for an attack, but she couldn't afford to screw up with that now. Patience is all she needed, she felt that it would soon get to him, this game of chase. If only she could figure out a way to disarm him of at least the tomahawk if not entirely. She would continue to watch him, but playing this evasion game was going to have her in a solid rhythm sooner or later, she just needed to feel comfortable to take a risk against a weapon she wasn't too familiar with.

10

Her opportunity finally came. It was somewhat similar to the decision she made in her preliminary fight. Different weapons but the same concept. Her opponent began to move forward with out initiating a thrust, that could only mean one thing, he had to be planning an attack with the tomahawk. Because of the nature of the weapon it was a lot easier to negate its attack range by moving in than it was a dagger. Like the katana she had dealt with before, the slashing was only effective if the person remained in the range of the blade. Moving back to avoid that range just meant you kept yourself from being able to strike and they could easily charge at you again, the brave had shown this. Even with a knife, getting close to limit mobility of the opponent's weapon could be effective, it was a much more versatile weapon though and could pierce and slash which required more caution.

But her opponent had seemingly let the pokes with the knife go in favor to quickly close the distance for what was going to be a power attack. Rachel would act when she saw him move, stepping out with her right foot, darting towards her right and close to her opponent in the single step. It was as if she was going to charge right into his left shoulder. Her right arm she pushed out to block the path of his left arm to prevent him from making the swing with the axe. The impact felt like the inside of her arm and up along her shoulder was on fire, the pain was intense, but it would be something she'd have to bear to not miss this chance. He would probably over power her if she tried to actually fight him if he were to press on, but all she needed was the block to attack in those split seconds.

Rachel wasn't going to let him get away, no not when he was this close. By moving in close she was able to avoid having him step on her toes. Her left side already cocked back by having her right arm blocking his left, there was no need for any extra movement, it'd let her deliver this strike that much swifter. It's not as if the strike she was planning needed much force, a soft blow to this area could be extremely lethal.

Her opponent had retracted his right arm holding the knife for his attack, and that was the moment she waited for him, that fraction of a second where his guard would be lowered . In a fluid motion the left side of her body moved forward, thrusting out the end of her closed iron tessen, snapping like a snake. It's target? Her opponent's open throat. Such close range, such speed, and the position she set herself in by moving inside and blocking his arm should be enough force to bring very pleasing results. Being armed in both hands and in the middle of a power attack, she didn't have much to worry about from her opponent she thought. It was unlikely that he would have been able to grapple her, being so close to his body minimized the effectiveness of his weapons, and pulling back his knife arm in favor of a strike form his tomahawk was the hole she desperately waited for.

11

She couldn't simply stop moving her arm, the snapping attack wasn't supposed to be interrupted until she made contact with his throat to drive the fan inside. Him being able to attack her with his knife was completely unexpected, there wasn't much defense she could form to avoid it. But her arm was still moving and that was probably the best thing that would save her from serious injury. As the hand angled the whole arm inwards to guide to its target the tip of the knife blade would pierce the fabric of her sleeve. Though it would not impale her flesh and muscle to pierce through the bone, the edge of the blade would cut into the outside of her lower forearm and out through the top of her sleeve. That hurt a lot, more than the cut form the tomahawk actually. It was enough to catch and stop the force from her arm before it could damage his larynx.

The initial shock from the quick cut that created a new bleeding gash to her body sent Rachel's head down, tucking her chin in. Her eyes watered, her lower lip slipped between her teeth momentarily again to prevent her from screaming. When one wasn't expecting something that element of surprise made it hurt that much more She couldn't maintain the grip around the tessen and it fell from her hand to the ground. He just made another cut to her coat, and she was angry about that. But there wasn't much she could do now, she was trapped and needed a little bit of time to recover from the shock.

It didn't take long for her to reflect on what had just happened and to accept it, it wasn't that serious of a wound, but it was a wound nonetheless. Being able to bear with the burning in her left arm now near the cut, she began to lift her head. Before her eyes could even level to his she would be hit with another attack. He had headbutted her while she was lifting herself up, his head meeting with her own forehead. The collision momentarily caused her to become dizzy and her balance went as she stumbled back. Just after that brief moment things stopped spinning, she wasn't exactly sure what was happening besides that she was now starting to fall back. His leg was purposely planted behind her own to force her to trip, and there was nothing she could do.

Falling back he pulled the knife away from her flesh creating a larger tear to her sleeve and she would fall freely. As she fell though she would take a chance to try and sneak in a shot, it wouldn't take much power for it to be effective under most circumstance. As her right foot left the ground while she fell back after being swept by him, she kicked out from the knee down. Jeans were nice as they were accentuated the crotch region better than most other pants she thought, and this gave her a clear target to aim for. The steel toed right right foot would snap out to kick at his groin while she fell. Upon landing on on the ground she would quickly try to push herself away, even if it was painful in her bleeding arms, and to force herself to stand. As she stood quickly she tried to take herself out of his striking range. She stumbled forward and away from him before standing erect and turning, the sudden movements temporarily making her feel dizzy again as she resumed her original stance and bringing her arms up to guard again. Both sleeves stained red around where they tore, she paced her breathing to help control the stinging and burning.

12

(( Really sorry, was dealing with some thing. ))

This is exactly what she didn't want to happen, this was exactly where she didn't want to be. There wasn't anything she could do though, his weigh had pinned her down to the ground. Mounted on top of her like this she knew that he would try to capitalize immediately and take control of the direction of this fight, much like the way the fight earlier hand ended. Like her own teammate, Rachel was going to do everything in her power to prolong being knocked out if not completely turn the tide of the fight. Time was running out and all she had to do was survive. That was all that was in her mind, to survive this, but just how could she do it? Every time she tried to act, or every time she had thought he was open, he had revealed he was just setting a trap.

Damn, damn, damn!!

Falling she landed primarily on her left side first as she was able to kick out her right leg. Him landing on top of her like this straightened her a little, but the force of the knife puncturing her sent her left side down to the ground. Twisting like that wasn't going to allow the knife to enter in completely easily if at all, but it still hurt, very much so. The pain though was something she was becoming accustomed to. Her face grimaced as she was stabbed, but that wouldn't stop her. As her left shoulder went to the ground the right lifted up, and as the right moved her right arm flew out quickly. Her index and middle fingers separated into like a V. The two fingers would be guided in the direction of the sensitive organs she attacked once already, his eyes. With survival on her mind, she wasn't concerned about holding back and trying to prevent serious injury, she was going to have her fingers dig in and and keep going, she needed to keep herself alive. Her right arm shooting up like this would turn out to work as a defense as well against his arm axe holding arm. It worked much like the previous attack, blocking the path of his arm as he swung it to attack her.

13

Compared to everything else, the biting of her finger was a relatively minor issue. At this point it was difficult to tell where the pain was coming from it hurt all over. Both arms, her hands, it all was lumped together. It was an inconvenience for sure that her finger was locked into her mouth, but there was more that she could try to do to get him off of her. Just now that he had her finger locked, she had to do that much more to get him off of her. Working in steps, she didn't have much time, she'd have to hope that this was going to be effective.

She was able to twist her wrist a bit to guide her other fingers. She wasn't going to scratch at his jawline, that wouldn't be too effective. Her middle and ring fingers would travel to try and enter through his nostrils. With a little more effort she probably could have reached his eyes from this position, but that would have most likely caused more pressure to be applied to her index finger. Her nails weren't long, but they were filed at a level where they could dig into flesh and break skin. Her fingers didn't have to move far to find something to scratch on to. From personal personal experience with issues blowing her nose, she's accidentally scratched the inside and caused a little bleeding. That always hurt too, not quite as much as this, but it still hurt. Her nails would dig into the cartilage and lift up. Hopefully this could cause enough pain while pulling up on his face to form him to let go of her finger, and she could go from there.

But all of a sudden he was starting to pound on her hide much like her teammate was having her head pounded in. It felt as if she could feel her brains rattle inside, and she could see stars. Rachel had a hard head, but with each continuing blow, she could only take so much. Hopefully he would let up so she could try and turn this to her favor before her body would simply give. The will to not lose could only take one so far.

14

Ray sat there, watching, it seemed like only two fights would get done...again. And she was itching to throw her own punches. Why, oh why did she stay on the back burner? Sighing, the kappa stood, stretched, and walked away from her golden chair.

"Unnn..." Another text, she blinked.

"A date huh?" A brow lifted and a small smile would tug at the end of her lips.

Her finger would dance across the keys, sending a quick reply.

S'long as it doesn't involve the pool again. What do you have in mind? And please be careful, the last time I treated your wounds, you hurt my ears..

She then hit send and closed the cell phone, her eyes on her teammates.

"STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR FOOD!" That oughta get 'em movin'.

Once it became apparent the woman was pretty.. well, unconscious, Deitric stood up, slipping both of his weapons into their respective places on his myriad of belts. Afterward, the warrior bent over and hauled his downed opponent up without too much trouble and carried her off to the exit of the vault, handing her off to the medical staff.

He wasn't mean by nature, after all. Just when it came to fighting. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, in any case. He felt a little bad for pummeling her even worse than he had his first round opponent, but he had to respect the sheer tenacity she had when it came to hanging on despite the odds she was dealing with near the end. And - of course - he didn't respond to her taunt. Not like she would of heard him anyways, right?

Retrieving his gunstock club, the warrior stepped out of the fighting area. Just like Duc's, his own match had ended in Redemption's favor - a TKO that came forth bloodily and forcefully. He looked winded and had more of his own blood on him than his opponent's, but most of his wounds seemed largely superficial, though his eyes had yet to stop watering - he'd probably have to let the medical staff flush them a few times. Beyond that, he just needed a band-aid, and maybe an ice-pack for the crotch.

"Guess we'll wait to see if anyone else shows?"

[16][Fight completed.]