Wine Cellar

Stage9: Brown Estate

Wine Cellar

More all purpose than just for wine, but hey, whatevers easiest to explain. Here, let me show this great 1996... Or we could just go with the efficiency section. Up to you.

The cellar is filled with wine racks, some built into the walls, others free standing in the middle of the room. The rarest items seem to have been removed, but there is quite a selection of wine and liquors available. One rack is filled with unlabelled bottles of various sizes with the words "assorted moonshines" written on the rack. There is also one rack that contains four casks of wine. Stairs lead up to the interior, and there is what appears to be a fireman's pole in the centre of the room. The lights are turned down to prevent damage to the collection

Terrain

General - Solid ground, low light conditions, enclosed area attached to the interior.

Weapons - Bottles, bottles full of stinging liquid. Only one rack is truly flammable though.

Bonus Effects - Ring out rules have been suspended, free travel is allowed between the four brown estate threads. However, if you do not link your exit and entrance posts together (that is a link in each), you will be red carded.

White cards will be let free for intentional interference with other fights.

Glamorous leader was still in the God Caliber hotel room, lying on the sofa.

He seemed to be sleeping.

He was late.

This was certainly interesting.. a fight, and the entire Estate was the arena. What's more, his selected starting ground was about the most utilitarian; though perhaps the interior would have suited him better.

Samuel Visconti de Medici, bio-mechanics expert and self-proclaimed Doctor of Vice and Virtue, stopped at the base of the stairs and idly admired the selection of basic liquors. It was obvious the quality beverages had been removed and this made the good Doctor slightly disappointed. Despite his stiff appearance, he was not above indulgence after all.

Sleek black boots, finely pressed brown Denims, a tight-fit white muscle shirt showing off a well toned body, an immaculate white labcoat unbuttoned and waving casually from unspent momentum, smoothly shaven face, slick, shinning brown hair, and a pair of sharp emerald eyes. The Doctor was an anomaly that stood in stark contrast to what anyone would consider a "man of science". In fact, were it not for the labcoat, he could easily pass as a particularly well-off bodybuilder... or some affluent, if not slightly odd, politician.

So there he would stand, hands in pockets, as he observed the one present player. His eyes on both the indulgent fighter and the stairwell.

Cheap... pssh. There would be nothing of interest here.

]=[

Griff looked into the glass of the bottle as The Doctor walked in, and he would just turn it up real quick, drinking deep. Song would follow shortly, offering a polite wave. Morivan, in his infinite inability-to-deny-polite-social-gestures-especially-while-drinkingtitude, would waggle the stump of his right arm.

A long, deep sigh.

"Now." He said calmly, the maroon of the wine staining his lips. "I'm not interested in waiting around all day for these boys of ours to show. So... who's up?" He said straight, brandishing the now empty long neck. "Cause I'm ready."

His thumb hooked his mask, and he just smiled as he tucked it down into his neck.

]=[

Fortunately, the swordsman uses his FIGHTER codec to get a basic idea on where they are supposed to be fighting here. Being the second from his team to arrive to the wine cellar...

...

It only brought up bad memories, since the swordsman's alcohol tolerance could be mentioned as...

Horrible. Downright, ridiculously horrible beyond proportions. But - if he doesn't get any in his mouth or ingest any large gulps, the swordsman should be fine.

Should be, being more of the emphasis here.

And having brought in his own supply of fresh water - ergo, another moment of a drenched cloak and some heavy showering in the Hotel some hours back before his FIGHTER notified him of where the new location is...

He waltzed around a few steps close to where Griff, his teammate is, raising his head to check the height of the ceiling.

Then at the racks around them, checking the room for how far he has for distance and range.

Finally, the swordsman concentrated at the general 'feel' of this area...

...

There was a cold breeze blowing from somewhere, providing this place with a mild bit of humidity and extra cold for some...external methods of use, if need be.

"Hm..."

He eyed Griff, chugging down at some wine.

Then at the girl who he vaguely remembered from the FEAST OF NO TOMORROW a few days back, which Griff seems to have an interest for.

From the swordsman's innocent perspective, after all.

The good Doctor cracked his neck before stepping forward off the stairwell.

"Well, I suppose a bit of haste can't hurt too much. Mr. Morivan, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I trust we can meet expectations." he said with a nod.

It was go time, and what was the point in wasting more time? Covering the distance between them without expecting the man to chuck his growing assortment of bottles was very unrealistic, so with that in mind the Doctor's gloved left hand moved behind his coat at his side as the material of the glove began to shimmer and move. Not even one step would bring him within range of his own bottle of red wine, to which he would humbly, and most important, preemptively throw at Griff's face as his pace picked up to cover the gap.

[01/17]

"Auhhha"

Loud yawn. James entered the cellar, nearly clipping his head on a wooden bar.

Only now did he take off his sunglasses, and gazed over the people already present.

Nirvana. Nirvana. Griff. Snow. His eyes lingered for a moment on the good Doctor. Practically everybody might've been able to feel the intense feeling of KILL that emanated from his form for just a moment before he controlled himself.

"Not the time, not the place", James reminded himself softly, and slipped his glasses into his dark jacket. Griff'll take care of the man. The young Captain gave Song a customary two-fingered salute as way of saying hi, and then promptly took a spot near Snow, and watched his friend fight. He knew who he wanted to tear apart though, and that man wasn't here yet.

After all, James always prefered dates with a devil.

]=[

What would really bake his noodle later...

Griff wasn't even close to drunk.

<optional reading>

Griff stands at just a hair below six foot, probably 5' 11.5". His body is covered head to toe in black material, specifically referred to as the FOG suit. The FOG Suit has three layers on it. The first, form fitting layer, is a black aramid bodysuit covers him to insulate the body's warmth and, more interestingly, prevent external heat from scolding him. The next layer is a kind of armor called Dragonskin. While far from as impervious as the namesake, the armor boasts extraordinary strength and defensive capabilities. To make it so that Griff was more capable of movement, the discs have been made .5 standard scale. Over this is a redundant layer of Aramid His face was mostly covered, with the exception of his eyes, with the same fire resistant material as his third layer. His weapons include two hip bags that contain a gPhone, as well as fifteen three inch knives (two inch blade, one inch grip) on either hip that can be used at a moment's notice if things get sticky. Considering certain situations, both of these packs have been relocated to Griff's left hip. On his right is his sword, the DeuxMascus. It seems unassuming, other than being remarkably thick for a sword it's length, though it is otherwise entirely normal upon cursory glance. Also. Griff only has his left arm.

<Back to business>

And what this 'doctor' didn't realize is that Griff is the only man in the building.

Having rolled to the side, Griff would come to a halt on his knee and had plenty of time during the SHIELD ATTACK! against the wine shelves Griff had been leaned to. Cause those sort of things are never bolted to the wall. Nah.

But this was no time for NO U!

This was a time for Griff's left arm to shoot across his body, grab onto the DeuxMascus as the shelf began to collapse upon him. His move was a fluent arc across the ground. A simple move, really. While the shelf was coming down, Morivan kicked forward and would get just out of range, attempting a wide arc cut on the back of the Doc's knee.

[2/17]

[Griff rolls forward out from under the wine case and goes to chop that b*****d's leg off at the knee.]

]=[

Mr. Morivan was very astute to notice that the shelving was not only bolted, but built into the very wall itself; after all, no one wanted to risk their liquor storage units coupling under its own weight. However, those same practitioners generally didn't expect some 200lbs of force to be applied to the side of the free-standing racks that usually littered the center floor of these types of places. There wasn't much wall-bolting that could occur to racks that weren't actually touching the wall.

CRASH!!

The sound of glass shattering across shelving and floor as bottles slid off the falling rack, clinking against other bottles and just generally causing a big heaping mess. The actual losses weren't terrible, but he still made sure to leave a mental note to repay Mr. Brown. He was kind enough to open his estate to doubtless destruction; have to keep public face, after all.

All that had very little bearing, however, when the nimble little man stopped on a dime and switched directions entirely, rolled under the falling shelf whilst (drawing?) a sword and chopping at presumably the Doctor's right leg, seeing as there was shelving to his left. Oh, he was good. Unfortunately for him, the Doctor was no pushover either, and as his sword came around Sam quickly dropped to his knees. This would leave the sword to come smashing into his side.

Tink

Came the resounding clang of metal upon metal. The downward motion would keep the sword from digging in the hidden breastplate as it skidded along his side. A painful impact? Sure, but what was a fight without a bit of pain?

Without missing a beat the Doctor's right hand would clasp around a seasoned bottle of brandy on the shelf to his left and his left hand, still crossing his body from the effort of knocking over a rack, would dislodge the shield from the wood and send the sharp, foot-long blade that was now extending from the bottom of the shield smashing into the side of Griff's head. If he didn't cut an ear in half or gouge through a cheek because of whatever armor the man was wearing, he would at least have the pleasure of following through with the swing and slamming Griff's head into shelving and the bottles thereon.

[03/17]

Ben just wasn't getting any fights lately, James and Griff had been stealing all of the spotlight lately. I mean why was here if not to fight, to beat and get beaten. So far none of that had been happening which probably had to do with his image, he just was too damn intimidating. His presence and fashion sense was just too much for them to handle. Therefore this time around, he was gonna spice things up by drastically changing his appearance from past fights. This time he kept it simply, dressed in a bulky sleeveless tee, slacks, and boots all black as night. No jacket, no shades but he still had his pearl studs. His blonde hair was cut a little bit lower, only extending several inches above his head instead of almost a foot in as it had been in past rounds. And to top it all off, he decided to to actually bring his weapons because obviously his manly unarmedness was also a contributor in scaring off challenges. His sword was sheathed and strapped to his left hip, the accompanying buckler handing from a strap on his other hip.

But no matter how he changed his outer appearance, Ben was still the same old cocky b*****d. He sauntered in and before he even acknowledge anybody else in the room, he went for the liquor. He made a bee line for one of the racks that weren't within the fighting area and picked up the first half decent bottle of vodka he could find. It wasn't until he had guzzled half the bottle that he actual turned to see who was around. With one hand on the bottle's neck and the bottom skyward,

he swerved his head from side to side the look in his eye daring anyone to ask what his problem was. And truth be told he did have a problem, he'd been without some good alcohol for quite some time and even though this was s**t it was the best and most abundant supply he had found so far. From the minute he'd received word on his fighter, he'd been itching to get over here and the only thing that had stopped him was oversleeping once again. But that was in the past and he was presently in heaven, so he was going to enjoy his future.

But first things first, he had to greet his teammates now that he had some drink in him. James looked like he was gonna start whistling like a kettle, so he poured some on top of his head to cool him down. It was a pain to see that liquor go to waste but it was a sacrifice for the greater good. Next he moved onto to Snow, but he seemed to already covered in drink so he gave him a pat on the pack as if to say well done. Seeing as Griff was already getting his groove on, Ben would leave him alone and instead just tip his drink to him from the sidelines. And then, as was customary in the country he'd moved to once he turned 10, he let the dregs of his bottle pour out to the carpet with the customary line...

"Один для моих парней" or as they would say in America, "One for my homies".

Song looked at the other team, mainly the interaction between James and the man she couldn't recall if she'd met or not and had to chuckle. Boys will be boys. With a grin, she pulled her gaze away from them and towards the 'good doctor'; her ease vanishing, to see what exactly he was doing. Was it so wrong of her to wish that Griff would solve at least a few of her problems for her?

And where was Kain and Vivi. The naga she half expected to be late, but Kain was mostly punctual. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to give him a little talking to. Now just to decide how everything else would match up.

What, had he been matched up against a ballerina? Slipping, spinning, and bounding across the floor like some drunken circus acrobat. Well, the wine on the floor would begin to cause its own problems for the Doctor as well soon enough, so as Griff performed his little acrobatic maneuver he would stretch out a leg and bring himself back to his feet closer to the center of the room, taking the bottle of liquor with him. This would keep them within the 4ft melee range, while both remained out of the growing puddle of wine on the floor.

It was interesting to note that the man probably had more booze on him than in him now.

"I'll be glad to show you my credentials later.. but I think you might find my research more interesting."

His last word was accented by another extension of the blade as he pointed it forward. It was a demonstration; after all, this device was the pique of his accomplishments as a Doctor. A living metal. The base of the blade that was connected to the shield shimmered as if it was liquid as it grew and extended the short distance between them; however, a good 4 inches at the end was still very solid and dangerous looking.

He was aiming to pierce the man straight in the chest, between lungs and heart where it would hurt like hell but not damage anything important. Armor was expected, but he could still revel in the surprise as he prepared his follow up.

[04/17]

Fierach Wrote:

He looked a little drunk.

If James that Ben was drunk, he was more of an idiot than the blond thought he was. Ben was a Russian and Russians drank vodka like it was water, so it was going to take a lot more than half a handle to get him tipsy. Naww, the reason Ben acted like he did was because he was an a**, plain and simple. Nobody liked asses but they got a few chuckles and boy did they have fun, kinda like the fun Ben was having right now.

So if James wanted to shoot some liquor back his teammate, so be it. Ben would take all the alcohol he could get. And that little bit that he got back in the face would make up for the little bit he spilled when he smacked James upside the head with the bottle. You don't go grabbing people buy their clothing, especially not vain pricks like Ben. His reaction to be grabbed was so fast, that James woulds still be considering his actions when he got hit.

Probably wasn't enough to down his captain, but that wasn't his intention. Nope, he just wanted to rattle his cage further and get him off of him. The knee to the sack that followed was meant to take him down. Ben really didn't like it when bitches messed with his threads.

James automatically rose up his knee after being clipped upside the head with the vodka bottle. After all, Ben was as gay as they came, and gay men always went for nut shots.

Pretty predictable really. It'd take harder hits to the head to take down James however, as most would've figured out already.

Still with the "You just sorta pissed me off and now you going to pay expression" on his face, James headbutted Ben.

And set both faces on fire.

James wouldn't care, he was pretty much unaffected and the flames seemed to just vanish off him instantly. As for Ben, well, hair tended to catch fire pretty easily, and it didn't help that he had vodka all over his face now.

If he quit being an a** James might consider having Snow douse the electric man.

Pssh, another dodge. With reflexes sharp enough to anticipate surprise ranged attacks, it was becoming clear he wouldn't be caught off guard very easily.

Luckily, his metal was a very versatile device, and when the extended range became inconvenient the liquid at the base of the shield would simply fall off, leaving the 4ft expanse of blade to completely liquefy and fall to the floor in a manner similar to the many ounces of wine it would be joining. Only, unlike the alcohol, the metallic liquid would begin creeping across the floor towards the Doctor's foot, seeking to rejoin where it had been so abruptly cut off.

In the meantime the Doctor's newly mobile left hand would shoot down and catch his own falling bottle, dropped as his right hand crossed his body to meet the wrist of Griff's flailing arm. Only a small turn was necessary to compensate for the new angle, and if his overly precise vicegrip held true the Doctor's arm would press firmly against Griff's neck as his fingers tightened with unnatural strength. If the man's wrist had any flexibility to it, the Doctor's cheek bone would meet an uncomfortable smack, but glass was a good bit more durable than the man gave it credit for and the force wouldn't be quite enough for it to shatter.

"Funny you should mention men, oh little ballerina." he said with a laugh. Emerald orbs glimmering with a bloodlust surprisingly uncharacteristic of the man.

Hardly a second after the wrist grab the good Doctor would shove the bottom of his own brandy into the man's gut as a one-two motion. Oh, but he wasn't finished there. The Doctor's use of tactics in battle belied one small factor people seemed to overlook: the man was a tank, pure and simple. A cybernetically enhanced hunk of raw power.

It was this power that pushed forward as arms, shoulders, back, and legs bulged with muscle. Yes, the Doctor was quite literally lifting the man off the ground by his neck and gut and bullrushing forward to the nearest wall. A lowered shoulder would ensure that the one-armed man would feel the full effect of his METALLIC SAMMICH, and the wood and glass behind him would be even less forgiving.

[05/17]

Benjamin Nicolai Wrote:

I SO GAY LOLOLOLOL

Anyway.

Headbutt failed, it was a relatively simple matter to move both hands up from the cuff of Ben's shirt, to his neck, and lift the Russkie up into the air. Was James shorter then Ben? Yes. Was he weaker? Hell no.

Without his feet touching the floor, it'd be Ben who'd be slammed into wine case, instead of James. He was only lucky James wasn't using his flames with this technique, as he normally did.

As it was, James was applying significantly more pressure then most would think necessary between teammates, with every intention of subduing the newbie immediately. It'd be in Ben's best interest to simply give up at this point, given, the multitude of rather, fatal, things that could occur should he push James too far.

Choking ze b***h.

]=[

CLASHATTER!

Okay. The bottle for the shine would not be strong enough to withstand a full blown thrust into Doctor's jaw. So, the bottle broke, and the liquid just covered the man's front. Conversely, so did the bottle against Griff's belly. The glass would tear the aramid when it broke, but the scales were definitely stronger, so that was that.

NOW!

As for the rest of this.

Griff would snarl as the opponent slammed his neck and lifted him, but he would not allow himself to be so easily ruined. No. He would lean his head back, his chin sliding backwards. His mask got caught, tearing the fabric wide open as Morivan went to bite the Doctor right through the tendons and muscle of the wrist.

[5/17]

[Griff slides backward and attempts to bite the Doctor's wrist that is holding his own.]

]=[

"Give me a sec Snow, I'm busy here" James replied conversationally (voice somewhat strained though), as if this was the sort of thing that happened everyday.

Then again, Jame could always beat the ******** out of Ben another day right? The man was looking a bit blue already. He figured he should ease of-

"OOOFFF"

James dropped Ben as he was suddenly launched back. The Ruskie'll land in a crumple and James'll be stumbling back a bit, holding his gut in pain.

"I'll finish this later Benjamin" James whispered dangerously and left the two to their own devices, retaking his spectator spot.

]=[

He couldn't move. He was pissed as hell, but he couldn't do much. His eyes caught the magical silver gunk, and he would pull his neck back up. And just in the nick of time, too, considering the resounding SMASH on either side of the Soldier. He scowled, and didn't waste any time. His wrist twisted and he would wrench it free. At this point, he would curl his body in and grab a cluster of his knives. Three of them.

He would punch the Doctor, or try to, right in the ****** eye. The two inch blades wouldn't come close to puncturing the brain, unless the Doctor had a remarkably small head AND a poorly designed metal skull that would allow his brain to just be destroyed. "******!"

[6/17]

[Griff pulls himself up, gets slammed in the chest/back of the neck, wrenches his wrist free and attempts to stab/punch Doctor in the right eye.]

]=[

Ben didn't crumple, he wasn't made out of paper after all. But he did hit the ground on his knees, breathing strained as he massaged his swore neck. Damn b*h and his metal gauntlets had let some bruises or his poor old wind pipe and speaking was gonna be a b*h for some time. But, for the moment at least, he turn his attentions away from his idiot captain and back towards their opponents who he'd been ignoring for quite some time.

Surprisingly enough, on the other side stood Frenchy with some random pirate chick. He took one hand away from his throat to give his old opponent a wave and gave the pirate woman an eyebrow raise and a now. There was something that said she was somehow involved in some possible misfortune to his well being, he couldn't put his finger on and thus he'd keep on moving to Griff's opponent. This dude seemed be some sorta hulking demon, taking a bottle to the chin in stride as well as easily manhandling Griff like a swaddling babe.

Ben would love to help but at the moment he was more concerned with his own problems, maybe in a sec he'd get off his a** and doing some more entertaining.

"Damnit" James sighed as he did a rough analysis of the situation. It came up as "Griff is getting Owned".

Time to rectify that.

James hit the all mighty striker button on his FIGHTER and went in to do his job.

The Doctor would have no indication of the striker coming, none whatsoever, until he felt James's fingertips nudging lightly into his lower back.

Deep breathe, body posed with both feet planted parallel to each other, both hands held loosely in knifehand formation with the tips poking into Griff's opponent.

And with perfect, synchronized motion, James applied the pinnacle of his martial arts knowledge with a single devastating blow.

Several things happened at once. Both hands moved as one, as if attached by a pulley system, one punching forward and the other went back. His right leg slid forward as James twisted his body and threw his weight into the blow, behind his armored striking (right) hand. A mighty roar erupted from his throat, as muscles throughout his body contracted and tensed for the hit; the legs rooted, his ribs expanded and last, but not least, James struck as if he was punching through his target.

Shin Style Technique: Mubyoshi: Stage 1 of 2

James wouldn't go to Stage 2 however, no need. Especially if he wasn't trying to kill the good Doctor, yet.

1/2

]=[

Griff snarled loudly as he back was slammed into the wall once more. The scales along his chest and across the shoulder blades shattered. A short roar of pain, but not enough to ruin the soldier. Far from it. In ten seconds, the suspended mother ******** would do three simple motions, each with possibly profound results.

The first was merely a repeat of the previous attack. For no apparent reason, the attack failed before. Just... didn't. So, Griff snarled and did it again. This time, he centered his fist and just slammed down. The knives were poised differently. They were poised to gouge both eyes out at once, and then Griff would, connect or glance, tear out to his left.

The left foot would curl upward and Griff would let the knee and hip go as dead weight as possible, his foot just pressed to Doc's chest. And the right foot, in an unceremonious and truly unethical maneuver, would attempt to bean wassisface right in the twig'n'berries.

[7/17]

[Griff is slammed and can not move his torso. His arm goes to punch Doc in the eyes again, and then tear outward. The left foot is placed against Doc's chest. The right foot is inserted at great speed toward Doc's meat locker.]

]=[

The swordsman wouldn't be amused at his Captain's striker, remembering some bits and pieces that happened back in the first round of the tournament fight. When the swordsman was up for his fight - someone tried to stab the ******** out of him from behind the spine followed by a taser moment.

And seeing James take a similar striker for use didn't bode well for the swordsman's opinion.

"Hmph."

He folded his arms, watching how this current fight would fare, now that James is pulling some...more damaging moves for this fight at hand.

Press X again, to stand up.

Fox would peek in. But he just "wtf'd" upon seeing a room full of Wine bottles, and some more dudes fighting... Only guy he recognized was James.

''Damn, not it.''

He'd turn around and leave the door slightly open. Fox would search for the master bedroom.

]=[

--I want to apologize for my abrasive behavior. I'm quite ill, and very irate right now. Pardon.--

Ah, Griff would be flung through the iar with the greatest of ease. Not entirely unlike... a flying... trapeze...

But all the while, he knew what had to be done. He would not take this laying down. Or... falling down.

He would careen toward James, regardless of what the slayer would do. It would be AT that point that Griff would bounce just once and spin to a slow halt. This halt, of course, was not comfortable. There was purple stuff dripping from his forehead. It was glowing, and it kinda let off a sort of irradiated hum. More importantly, the wine seemed to be doing the same thing.

"Alright, superman." He muttered, stomping the floor with a thunderous roar. "...let's see you fly." He rose from his right foot, his left stepping forward slightly. His hand hovered aimlessly over his sword's handle. The pose was not perfect. It was actually... pretty flawed. But it offered a good offense against the raging, apparently retarded doctor who was...

...

wait a minute...

"Is your last name Dhifi, by any chance?"

[8(?)/17]

[Griff hits the floor, but gets back up and issues not one, but TWO taunts.]

]=[

grunt

Sure, it wasn't very lady like...but seriously. Did Mr Morivan have to climb up a fireman's pole to get away from an opponent. Come to think of it, he only had one hand didn't he? How'd he climb up the fireman's pole?

Oh well. Song wasn't about to say anything. After all, she'd see far more ridiculous things. So she grabbed a bottle of moonshine, and then followed James up into the next area to watch the fight. Just in case, she did need to save Vice's bacon. Though she did remain on the side.

Well, she started to head up, and then changed her mind. No, this wouldn't do. Not at all. They still had other fights to take care of. Tapping the bottle in one hand while holding the neck of it with the other, turned back and made her way down the few steps she had gone up.

Glancing at the blond who seemed familiar as if from a dream, and at the other fellow who'd acted like he was starving the other night. Hmm, which to choose...

To test a theory, she hefted the nice stock bottle, and threw it at the blond's chest, fully expecting for him to either catch it or to somehow block it. As he was dealing with the bottle, she would follow through on her own attack, grabbing her sword's hilt and stepping forward, even while she watched him for reactions.

If she saw him move to catch the bottle, his hand would be lower on his body. And the sword hilt as the blade was drawn would remain at a sharp angle and hopefully slam the balled pommel at the end would slam into his jaw. It was going to get close, and nasty, quickly.

"Жаль, Nickolai, но пришло время начинать эту сторону." In other words, Sorry, Nickolai, it's time to get the party started. She didn't know his name from Adam, she just called most Russians Nickolai, because that seemed to be what a huge amount of them were named. Or so it seemed to her every time she met with one. Yeah, she was being a bit nasty, but at the same time, she was stressed. Apparently, her thought processes weren't very nice when she was stressed.

[1/17]

Yes, the move was telegraphed. On purpose. It was a way to test him out to see how he'd respond to things. Wasn't that how all fights started? But he was quick on his feet, she had to give him that. Even before her arm had gone all the way over his head, his head was slamming into her upper torso. Which yes, was protected by the nice armor she wore under the black and blue bodysuit; but that didn't mean it wasn't going to do something.

In fact, it did what was usually intended in those situations, push the opponent away. Song was pushed backwards, away from Ben. But she wasn't quite ready to go just yet, and so did what any self respecting female would do, her hands tightening as if to grip on something; a something which she already had in her hands, her sword, as she went in a diagonally downward direction, the hand which hadn't completely made it over Ben's bent head slammed down into the back of his skull with her full 165 pound weight giving it momentum in a very short distance. That was going to be a ringer of a headache.

But she'd continue down, only to catch her weight and take another step backwards, grinning at him. So far, he was meeting expectations. Even if she was a tad winded from the headbutt to her chest.

((Because of his height, and her lack of it, I think it'd be a bit harder to hit her actual stomach with her that close, but I'll give you the chest area.))

{2/17}

Well, she had nice boobs, but her fate was not such that she had EPIC boobs. So as he collided with her boobs, and then wrapped his arms around her legs for that double take down, she wrapped her left arm around his neck as if clinging to him, even while her pommel would pound repeatedly into the back of his skull as hard as she could. (Which for her weight, was actually more than decent.)

But she'd only get four or five hits before they slammed to the ground, her own head hitting the wood floor once before she had the sense to lift it. Well, now if this wasn't an embarrassing situation.

"Милочка, я нет того вида девушки…" Darling, I'm not that type of girl, she laughed, and her left hand reached up and grabbed the hair that was so close to the scalp; what people didn't realize was that shorter hair actually hurt more when pulled than longer hair, and so gripped the back of hand tight against his scalp and yanked his head away from her breasts so she could see into his eyes...

...Right before kissing his forehead.

"Если вы хотите получить содружественными, то вам нужно спросить сперва." in other words, 'If you want to get friendly, you need to ask first'She was still having fun at this point.

{3/17}

It only goes to figure that the pyromancer would already be backing away even as he went for the stab. Emotions had very strange effects on people; fear would cause one to flee, anger would cause them to push forward. Even pain had its own special effect.

For the good Doctor, pain was beginning to have a very sobering effect. Oh, that fire still burned in his eyes; however, even as he stood back to watch his work unfold, placing the majority of his weight on his left, non-injured side, he was able to asses the damages his body had sustained and the general prognosis was: CALM THE F*** DOWN! It was true, they were all going to die, but that was no reason to lose his own head. They could all die later, when the company didn't have something to lose.

System Analysis :: Complete

Right Forearm - Shallow Cut

Lower Right Ribs - Light Bruising

Left Face - Deep Gashing ; Mild Abrasions

Right Lower Back - Mild Gash ; Heavy Impact Trauma

Bacteria Culture Mass - 98%

Combat Efficiency - 68%

Initiating Emergency Medical Treatment

Superman... he had been called that before. Admittedly, it sounded a bit more flattering coming from a woman. Still, his opponent's new nuclear tendencies were duly noted, even if his mind was elsewhere.

"You and I have a score to settle, Eredas," he began, completely ignoring Griff's taunts, "I am not so cowardly. These FIGHTERs may have saved you today, but when next we meet one of us will die."

He was not wasting all this time for conversation, however, as during his little statement his metal was moving. A stream of metallic liquid would rise from his collar and cover the injuries on his face. A thin layer that wouldn't offer much more protection than skin, but it would stop the bleeding and dull the pain. The liquid on the floor would also reach him, crawling up his boot and into his pant leg to rejoin the main mass. Finally, the wall would notice the metal of his cuirass reshaping and repairing from behind his torn coat and shirt. It covered his wound in a manner similar to what it had done to his face before layering a new section to the plate that protected his back, the bottom layer tightening and contorting to his midsection so that excessive movements wouldn't cause further pain.

It was a breather round, but in case Morivan had any surprises the Doctor would take a side-stance, left foot forward with shield up.

[09/17]

Strangely enough, she didn't take being electrocuted as bad as most people did, probably due to some natural resistance to the element or backup in her wiring and thus she wasn't completely stunned. But though she still had some degree of control, she didn't seem all that eager to resist him. There was absolutely no trouble on assuming his mount or pinning her down, it was as if she wanted it.

And then she had to go whispering and sweet nothing in his air, albeit she didn't really whisper it. But she might as well have as the veil of foreign language would keep this conversation away from any unwanted ears.

"Но тогда у нас не было бы никакого вина, чтобы ослабить напряженность." Or for the youngins and english speakers, "But then we wouldn't have any wine to ease the tension."

He'd chuckle as he poured a little bit in her mouth, before he took a swig himself. And he'd continue to do so as the men in the audience cheered on from the tubes and woman made those men sandwhiches until she did something interesting.

4/17

"напряжение" She grinned, and pulled her hand down around his neck until it was gripping the front of his shirt lightly. "Какое напряжение?" She never thought her Russian lessons would come in handy. But it seemed so with this fellow. "Я думаю что мы делает как раз отлично на наших " in effect, 'I think we are doing just fine on our own.'

She gripped the front of his shirt tighter and pulled him down, seemingly for a kiss. Although at the moment, her intent was to distract him enough and then push him off her...

...something else entirely happened.

As her lips touched flesh, whether lips or just skin, another one of her abilities would rear it's head.

Raphael‭’‬s Kiss Wrote:

‭ ‬– A healing touch,‭ ‬Song must‭ ‬administer the‭ ‬healing through a kiss.‭ ‬The kiss incapacitates the victim/patient for a period of time that it is in effect.‭ ‬The effectiveness of the ability is to accelerate the healing by a factor of‭ ‬7.‭ ‬So therefore a wound that would normally take‭ ‬7‭ ‬days to heal takes‭ ‬1.‭ ‬She‭ ‬cannot replace lost blood,‭ re attach‬ or create limbs,‭ ‬nor can she cure disease.‭ ‬She can seal wounds,‭ ‬both internal and external,‭ ‬mend broken bones,‭ ‬but not compound fractures unless she first sets the bones.‭

If he hadn't done anything, she'd think that it had worked, and she'd distracted him into being stunned and push against his chest and arms as well as to roll to her side to make sure he was no longer straddling her before getting to her feet as quickly as possible.

Luckily, so far the only wounds he had was boob face and those nasty head bumps. So the period of incapacitation would only last a moment or two while his boo boos were fixed by the 'magic' kiss. So she simply stood there, waiting for...something...

{5/17}

{3/12}

Twitch

Emerald hues finally fell upon the slowly approaching soldier. His head still remained facing James, however, making the side/upward tilt very intentionally haughty. Was he looking down on the man? You bet your a** he was! In the Doctor's opinion, anyone who had to resort to insults as taunts was compensating for a lack of class that only a distracted opponent could make up for. 'Bringing them down to your level', as it were. That wasn't to say Sam didn't have his own flaws; he was evil, after all, but internal commentary doesn't usually include self insults.

Since the opponent was taking his sweet time the good Doctor decided to make some further preparations of his own. A quick mental check, and suddenly his metal was alive again, liquefying at his right hand and running up itself, solidifying on the inside as it went, to form a pole of some sort in his grasp. It would completely solidify at about a foot and a half before the end erupted like a blooming flower to make the shape of a serrated 15th century mace. Unbeknownst to Griff, Sam now had a few nickle-sized holes on the left side of his cuirass and his right glove was reduced to the density of cloth in order to form this new weapon.

"You're welcome to join your captain's fate." he responded coldly, that bloodlust still residual in his eyes.

[10/17]

"Da."

She grinned, even though inside, her mind was rolling. What had happened. She felt odd...like after she used one of her abilities. But if she had, she had no idea what it was, or what it did.

She moved her sword back to her hip, snapping the lock back in place even while she continued to watch him.

"Говорю я, делаю вы люблю оно грубо?" She grinned, and unsnapped her whip, and cracked it more for effect than anything. For the unknowing, it meant 'Tell me, do you like it rough?' Sounds like she wanted to get kinky. With another flick of the whip, she lashed out and wrapped it around his leg before giving the whip a hard tug. Or maybe she just wanted to be on top for a tussle on the ground.

[6/17]

[3/12]

Oooh...on his knees.

Well, not quite, but it was fun to think about. For the moment, nothing existed for Song but this fight, and this man. And if she had a little fun with it along the way, no one could blame her.

She kept a grip on the whip handle, and let him tug her forward, but as the buckler went to slam into her torso, she opened her hand enough that she gripped the buckler and pressed it tighter against her stomach to use it to brace her body as her leg lifted up, and slammed a kick with her knee to his face. Damn, the girl was flexible. Despite her 'weight', she had training in gymnastics, and ballet, and was damned agile.

The only way he'd really be able to avoid it was to either push her away completely or be really creative.

[7/17]

[3/12]

There was only one small hitch to be had. The buckler would push and down they'd go alright, but that left her right leg with a little more freedom as they both went tumbling to the ground. With his arm occupied still with pressing against her torso...no way he could block...

...kneed nutshot. Up went the knee, straight into the groin. If he was lucky, it wouldn't put him out of commission completely. Besides, where's the fun in that. But she did have a fight to win first.

[7/17]

[/3/12]

Oh man, that was going to hurt...and not in a way either of them would like. For you see...the armor had a sort of...built in chastity belt, made of stab proof composite that was rather hard. And an open mouth falling right on it....Ben would probably have a few broken teeth after that.

Not that Song was doing much better, having knocked the back of her head against the floor again as they landed. With her head ringing, she couldn't even appreciate the humor of where his head had landed in relation to the heavy flirting going on during the round.

But she wasn't going for any more dirty shots. Instead, the one leg not under him would come out, and wrap around his neck, with his face right in her groin, it was perfectly positioned. Her muscled thighs pressed his face further into her groin, while placing his neck in a form of a choke hold while her hands reached forward, and intertwined both of her armored hands together, and slammed them downwards into the back of his head, essentially also pounding his face right back into that composite spot with enough force that it even had her moaning...

...although the debate was whether it was pain or enjoyment...

[8/17]

[3/12]

OH NO! His beautiful smile would chipped and ruined by some sorta of stab resistant meld. Everything he got into a compromising situation, some sorta of weird armor got in the way, keeping things clean. Which was really weird about that armor was that it didn't stop her from wrapping her leg around shield's and whatnot. So this thing must kind of flexibility and some sort of off switch, right? Ben would have to test this.

And an opportunity presented itself fairly early on. Being pressed up against some hard plating was making it hard to breath, a pain which was much more urgent than the diminishing pain in his balls. So he lifted his leg up for moment, all to be sandwiched by legs on either side and shove back down by two hands from the back. Realizing that this could only lead to more face smushing and possibly strangulation, Ben tried to resist and even stuck his tongue to cushion the blow. His emphasis here was not on smacking down hard into the same place again, as he already knew how the story ended and it wasn't pleasant. Hopefully his measure would lead to much less pressure being brought down on that sensative spot and thus much more pleasure for both parties.

Meanwhile his nut pain lessening by the second, his hand were free to move around once more. Already on his knees, he'd move his hands to the floor and begin attempts to bring this shindig to a standing position. Going from his knees to his feet and with Frenchy apparently coming along for the ride, he'd have to manuever his hands beneath her to get a good hold so that he wouldn't break his neck. And for a brief moment he'd just stand there in this strange moment that was way to hot for television.

But all those homosexual fight fans need not worry, they were going to get back to the battle of the sexes pretty damn soon.

8/17

Meanwhile...

The swordsman was chillaxing nearby by reading the wine labels near him - unconsciously curious on how it would taste...

But not wanting to repeat the same mistakes he did last time, when he mistakened alcoholic beverages for water.

"Hmmm...."

He rubbed his chin in thought, his eyes peering over at the more expensive-looking wines, due to their more...antique looks, if not their highly decorated bottle that was lacerated with carvings and whatnot.

Are alcoholic beverages REALLY that good..?

He was moving his hands when he felt a little tug as his head as she yanked his face away. This is was cool with him seeing as he was done already, he always felt he shouldn't be the only one working in situation. Seems he had been doing a bad job or something because instead of some sort of loving caress, he got a fist to the face. Which was kinda cool, seeing as it was about time they got back to the actual fighting. What was not cool was her target, his pretty face that had already been damaged by some stab-proof plating thingy. Didn't she understand that he needed to keep his face nice for the ladies? You'd think a woman would understand such things.

But neither whether she understood or not, nor whether it was good for him or not matter much since there wasn't much he could do about it. She had his head stuck her legs tight between her legs, so there really wasn't much wiggly room for a dodge of any sort. All he do was brace for impact, as he hands continued to move into a better position on her thighs as he leaned forward and shoved his forehead into the hand's path. The forehead being the hardest part of the head should ensure that she was feeling a bit of the pain as well as lessen some of what he felt by reducing the distance her fist could travel. It wasn't much but it would take some of the edge off as well as initiate his own maneuver.

His maneuver being a move known through the wrestling world as a powerbomb, his legs dropping out as he let gravity and a little crunching of the abdominals bring them back to the ground hard. The point of impact being Frenchy's shoulder/neck area, leaving them once again. This action by itself would reduce the gap between her legs and his back, making any boot stomping a worthless effort. This move would also bring Ben to his knees once again, opening his mind to startling realization that he was turning into nothing more than a common truck-stop whore.

9/17

Because his brain was busy jumping around in his skull, he didn't have time to ******** with her on the way down. But once they were on the floor and he felt the pressure shoot up from his hands and knees, he was abruptly jolted into the present, which was just in time to hear the tail end of her scream. First moaning, now screaming, it seemed that Benjamin was doing a lot things right this time around.

She might be recovering from the impact for half a second, but he was shaking off the bite of the punch. Chances were he could put his starting headache to the backburner better than she could put her bruised back, but somehow they were both moving at the same time. She was trying that same old kicking the back trick and he was trying that old mount up trick again. Granted he couldn't go into a full mount in this position, but he could move forward up her body in a manner that curling up her body more so helped than hurt him. In fact doing so allowed him to get his shoulders right up into the crease of her knee, putting them once again into another compromising position.

A little something known as "The Folded Deck Chair." Look that one up at home folks, its sure to put some life into your romantic relations. In this position, she really wouldn't be able to move her legs to do any kicking or stomping. All she could really do was move her hips, which would not bode well for her concentration.

"Я уже поел, я на десерт все же," and for them non-Russians, "I already ate, but I'm up for dessert."

10/17

Wanna bet?

Song was now pissed. Talk about compromising positions. He'd get his. As he shoved up the back of her legs, it helped push her back slightly as well. Right into the rack of moonshine. She had no where to go. Her blue eyes glaring at him, her anger was almost palpable...

...no wait...it was palpable....

Uriel‭’‬s Devotion Wrote:

First and foremost is that Song's skin becomes like fire. As if to touch her would literally to be to try and hold onto Fire. This gift carries onto any weapon she holds as well, inflicting an additional Fire damage to anyone touched by her or her weapon. Doubly so to anything of demonic origin. A relation of heat would be approximately that of a low hot forging temperature of 900 Degrees.

Not only that, but both hands went to either side of her and grabbed his wrists, pulling them out from under him, so his face would go right into her boobs once again. Her legs around his face tightened, the entire time feeling like she was burning him by her mere touch. Then using her entire body weight, she twisted her hips, and threw him off to the side.

[11/17]

[7/12]

The Lamia leaned languidly against one of the racks of wine, watching Kain and his progress with the rubix cube. Snickering to herself every once in a while at the back-and-forth banter in Русско. Her gaze finally wandered from the colourful cube which had her team mate so absorbed and those sapphire orbs came to rest upon the figure of James. Viviana's lips twisted into a smirk,

"Excusez-moi" Vivi called out. Her lips split into a grin and she grabbed a heavybased bottle of wine from the rack she was leaning against, her right hand gripping it by its neck. She sauntered toward him as if she didn't have a care in the world, coming to a stop barely 5 feet away.

"I think this 'as your name on it." And with those words, and a bit of a chuckle, Viviana swung the wine bottle out towards James' face. Aiming to clock him in his left temple with the base of it.

[1/17]

Red wine and glass tumbled to the floor. Viviana glanced at the neck of the broken bottle, and then with a hap-hazard shrug tossed it over her shoulder.

The fingers of her right hand wrapped themselves about the hilt of her sabre, and in one fluid motion she drew it from its sheath.

"Ah, but of course I do, James." She replied with a charming smile, "I 'eard the good Doctor screaming it as I arrived." Blade held aloft, Viviana took a half step back and cocked her head to the left,

"The real question is, do you know mine, cherie?" Another husky chuckle parted her crimson lips, and then with the grace and poise one comes to expect from a fencer, the Lamia dropped into a low lunge, thrusting with her sabre's point at the mans lower right abdomen.

[2/17]

LOOK OUT BELOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

With his feeble attempts to grab hold of something before they fell through the floor and the fact that Athan fell faster, they would separate before coming down through the hole. He would land on top of one of the racks of alcohol, his right shoulder hitting the wooden frame with a rather sickening CRUNCH!!! His face distorting with pain as the air was forced from his lungs, he rolled off the rack and landed not to far away from Athan in a painful thump as he groaned his pain out loud.

Standing up slowly and hunching overas his eyes watched Athan struggle to get up, he would glance down at the built in meter on his gauntlets as his arms rested on his knees and saw how much power he had left. Removing the gauntlet from his hand, he would toss it aside knowing that it was no longer of any use to him. His gaze shifting back to Athan again, he would smile as he gave the man time to get to his feet. "Ready?" He would ask as he straighten out his back and balled up his fist as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

-13.5-

Athan flinched, his muscles spasmed again, and he felt that his muscles were on fire. Twice he had been electrocuted, and twice it felt as if his skin was going to be ripped apart from the severe contractions. It was the first time his muscle density had been used against him, and it was impossible to think that he had it in him to get back up. Not after a beating like he had taken. He should just lay down, get it over with.

Athan's left hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, and he hissed through his teeth as he sat up, then pushed himself up to a knee, then tried to stand up. He didn't make it very far, and almost immediately collapsed to a knee. It was only thanks to his sword that he was able to keep himself from falling flat on his face.

"Ready?"

He looked like hell. But he was on his feet, if only because he had a heavy sword acting as a crutch. It wasn't so much the fact that he had the will to stand, that much was to be expected of Athan. But how his body could keep going, that was a mystery. There was one thing certain, though. He wasn't going to be lifting that slab of metal for the rest of the day.

"What? Still time left?"

Athan cast a quick look down to his FIGHTER, and managed to crack a half smile through bloodstained teeth.

"Well I'll be damned."

[14/17]

"Unfortunately yeah." He winced as he flexed the muscle in his right arm, the pain unbearable. But he pushed off covering the distance between them quickly as his legs remained uninjured. Planting with his right foot, his torso would whip around as the muscles in his legs tensed, his face distorting between pain and anger as he aimed a left straight down the pipe. Might as well flatten Athan's nose more if he could.

-14-

As James closed, he twisted his body, turning his left side in. Vivi's saber would cut a deep gash into his gut, through the clothes, even with his left hand aiding by deflecting it slightly. Armored gloves did wonders for James's ability against swords.

Evil grin. She was too close now for her own good, as his left hand quickly clamped down on her sword-hand, too close for Vivi to do anything really, and he'd simply overpower her at this range, pretty easily too, unless Vivi had superhuman strength.

The setup was easy enough, James gritted his teeth as blood trickled down his side, and he just, smoothly slid behind her.

Her grip on his wrist be damned, James brought in his right arm and started to choke her with it.

Muah. He kissed her lightly on her left cheek, and whispered into her ear. "You aren't that good"

The two of them would be in an upright position, with him pressed up behind her, choking her with a single arm and restraining her from any major movement.

3/17

The blast knocked her away, but she couldn't help but think as the body suit that was over the armor was scorched....

Finally!

Only to be shoved into, and right back into the racks of moonshine. Thank the heavens that unlike what most people thought, they weren't instantly combustible. And so her head got knocked around a little more as it banged against the racks and she pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Милочка, если вы полюбили оно грубо, то вы только должны сказать так…" Or for the uninformed 'Darling, if you liked it rough, you only had to say so'. Fumbling around she reached for one of the bottles of moonshine, and brandished it threateningly as she slowly stood, not realizing that the bottle was slightly melting in her grip(some glass melts at 900F which is what her body is currently projecting), although it was by no means immediate.

And then she did something rather unexpected. She threw the bottle at him while he writhed on the floor, the weakened bottle neck making it easy to shatter even if it didn't hit him that hard; thereby soaking him with the flammable liquid.

Deadly Precision Wrote:

Song is an exemplary marksman, with most firearms or projectile weapons or anything else requiring aim. While she does not have any great 'magical' ability; with spears, archery and the like, her skill is on the level of a GrandMaster.

[12/17]

[7/12]

As said before Ben wasn't writhing, he was rolling back and forth on the floor trying to make his burns go away. Though this actually did nothing to aid him get rid of his pain, he had to try something to stop his beautiful face from burning. Thus when the well aimed bottle cracked against his back, and spilled the liquor everywhere, he was already rolling the other way with a soaked shirt that was embedded with shards of glass. Thankfully he wore a stab-resistant vest over his torso and thus the glass wouldn't get down to his skin.

His pain was becoming more manageable so he group his rolling to stop, and stood up against the wall. He took a second to glance at the liquid flowing down into his pants and the puddle of alcohol and broken glass on the floor. Then he turned his gaze back to Frenchy, a fire alight behind his eyes.

"Женщина, Вы только пошли и потратили впустую некоторую хорошую фантазию. Что трахание является неправильным с Вами?" <"Woman, you just went and wasted some good moonshine. What the ******** is wrong with you?">

He didn't give her long to answer seeing as he'd be charging forward at this point, a fit of rage beginning to brew within him.

[12/17]

((Dessi/Heita: Which number fight are you in your respective match? Because I believe we'd all like to know which fight are yall crashing into.))

A hiss sounded at the back of Viviana's throat as James pushed her away and his fist made contact with her derriere. How rude, the Lamia wasn't about to just stand around and watch his little fireworks display though. As soon as he brought his finger to the open wound on his stomach, she made her move.

Quote: Swift strike; Viviana can close a distance of between 5 and 20 feet with amazing speed. Like the lunge of a snake. She usually uses this short distance charge attack in conjunction with her bite attack or her Gorgon’s grasp

Like lightning, she charged at him, taking that precious moment where he was preoccupied and using it against him. As he looked up to give Viviana that smug and sinister smile, the Lamia was already upon him. Her slender fingers encircling both of his wrists and twisting them so that his palms faced downwards.

Quote:

Gorgon Grasp; When Viviana makes a physical touch attack with more than one limb she can encase the person in stone (Limestone of a thickness of 3 inches) for a short period of time (Length of 1 post). Depending on the fortitude of her opponent, this can either outright immobilize them, or slow them (to something akin to half their usual movement speed. Point is, you're in stone, it's heavy and cumbersome). If she manages to deal severe damage to the stone statue, such as cracking it, or breaking off part of it, this damage is sustained to the persons flesh after the stone casing disappears. (This does not mean that they lose a limb for example, just that the amount of physical damage sustained to the limb would be comparable to the amount of damage inflicted upon the stone. So she breaks a stone arm off, that means that the flesh arm of the individual would have suffered a break)

"Démarreur de feu eh?" She asked, with a wicked grin of her own.

[5/17]

The Lamia frowned, it seemed that for whatever reason, this James fellow had some degree of immunity to her ability, her top lip quivered angrily. He twisted his right wrist out of her grasp, and her fingers simply let go of his left, after all, the effects of her Gorgon grasp were already in play.

His punch to her gut was a little unexpected and, judging by the muffled Umph, it certainly did cause her some discomfort. Still, by the time he followed up with his headbutt, Viviana had already taken a step back, the severity of that foolhardy attack was just his hair tickling at her nose.

"Je ne fais pas tout comme la langue des barbares" She replied in a tone that was nothing short of scathing. Obviously she wasn't bothered about whether or not James could understand her. But it was clearly evident to anyone watching that her opponent's attitude was causing the Lamia's anger to boil over. Especially judging by what she did next.

Quote:

Shedding skin; If Viviana has sustained a fair amount of damage, or has been enraged in anyway, she will regress to her natural hybrid form. In this form Viviana's strength and speed is increased by about 3 fold. (Making her strong as about 3 heavyweight fighters and as fast as an Olympic sprinter on speed (An Olympic sprinter averages 200m in 20 seconds, Viviana could do 200m in 17.5 seconds in this form.)

In this form Vivi’s lower body takes on the same colouring and appearance as an Asp, and her fangs become much more prominent. Her upper body up to her collarbone also becomes covered in the bronze mottled scales of an Asp, however it still retains her humanlike features but with a more serpentine twist. Her irises change to a golden hue, her tongue becomes forked, and her brow and cheek bones become even more prominent. In this form Viviana’s height reaches 6’11” and her weight is increased to about 750 lb

A guttral hiss sounded in the back of the Lamia's throat and she snapped her newly transformed tail out at James' vulnerable left side. Ideally, she wanted to cause the cocky young man to lose his balance and fall prone, but even if she just cracked his stone limbs and caused his body damage that way it was, in her opinion, good enough.

Yes, now Viviana was angry. (She hadn't believed his follow up 'please' was sincere for a second.)

[6/17]

.:.French translation; I do not much like the tongue of barbarians.:.

He thought she was a naga!? Thank goodness he didn't VOICE that! There was nothing the Lamia hated more than being compared with one of her Oriental cousins. (Except maybe uninvited kisses.) She was a bonafide European after all!

She watched with a satisfied smirk as he charged toward her,

"Nihon jin desu ka?" She retorted in his native tongue, "Kyoumibukai." (It was true, the eastern language sounded a little strange leaving the lips of a French speaker.)

Almost lazily she flicked her tail out towards his left foot, the scaly appendage attempting to wrap itself around his ankle. Viviana Merquise was certainly used to being underestimated. It was after all, an almost daily occurence. People just don't take you seriously when you're only Five feet, two inches.

If Vivi's tail managed to get a hold on James' ankle, he'd soon find himself reaching the Lamia a lot quicker. Viviana was eager to give the sombre young man a hug.

[7/17]

Athan didn't bother trying to recover from his current standing, he just leaned forward into the oncoming hook, because he didn't have enough wherewithall to just get out of the way. His eyes widened just before impact, and the only thing he could do was hope that his sheer mass was going to end up keeping him on his feet.

The fist hit Athan square on the jaw, shooting his head back to the left. He heard a crack as one of his false teeth was basically shattered inside of his mouth. His jaw was temporarily unhinged, where the only thing that kept it from remaining unhinged was a reflex-induced groan caused it to snap back into place with an audible POP.

Athan started to topple over, wobbling on one leg as his right crossed over his left. It wasn't until he was leaning halfway over to his side that he suddenly snapped back to reality, stomped down his right foot, and fired right back at Urarha with another left hook.

There wasn't much room for cute stuff, Athan's focus was solely on keeping himself upright. If that meant knocking Urarha's head clean off his shoulders, then he was going to do it.

[16/17]

((Ben, both the fights in our match technically started at the same time...so...whoever's fighting first, I guess?))

And Athan's face went straight into the punch, a knuckle catching him just above the eye and splitting his head open right there. The punches were almost simultaneous, because as Urarha went flying backwards, Athan just flopped over onto his back, desparately grabbing at air as he went down.

He caught nothing, and landed rather roughly in a puddle of his own blood and cheap wine. Athan's breathing was ragged, the ceiling overhead looked like it was in a constant spin, and he felt like he wanted to throw up.

What he didn't want to do, however, was stand up.

Athan did the next best thing in rolling over to his right side and propping himself up with an elbow just so he could get a good look at wherever his opponent had landed. His muscles were still occasionally spasming from the electric shock he had taken, which made the poor guy look like he had a perpetual case of cold spasms.

"Still alive?"

[17/17]

To say that his combat knife wouldn't hold the Lamia for long was very accurate. She snapped her tail upwards, dislodging the knife and sending both it, and James' hand skyward. (The man could try to hold on to it if he wanted, but that was really a bit foolhardy.)

"You are a very brash man, James." Viviana spoke, a sinister chuckle following her words. The Lamia was even faster in her hybrid form than she was on two feet, so she used her swift strike move once more, this time however, she didn't only close the distance between her and the fire wielding fellow, she circled behind him. It was a blink-and-you'd-miss-it sort of movement, the vast majority of her tail still lay in front of James, but her upper torso was now behind him.

"Now then, 'ow about I pay you back for that little kiss from before eh?" She hissed in his ear, grabbing at both of his shoulders with her hands, while simultaneously coiling that serpent tail about his feet, legs and waist.

James wanted to be very fast and very slippery to get away from a snake like Viviana.

[8/17]

.:.For reference to Swift Strike, please see the quote in my previous posts.:.

Athan rolled back over onto his back once he came to the realization that there wasn't a wine cask or bottle flying at his head. He sure as hell didn't expect the guy to get up and walk on over to him and offer a hand up.

Athan just sort of stared at the hand with the one eye of his that wasn't swollen like a peach, and, after a short moment of hesitation, took the hand with his left and did his best to help carry his own weight.

"Thanks."

The resulting headrush from standing up almost floored the big guy again, but he was able to stabilize himself and bend over, tucking his head between his knees.

"I think..."

Both hands on the insides of his knees, Athan held back the urge to vomit.

"...I'm gonna need a doctor."

On the outside he didn't look as bad as he actually felt. Sure, his face was swollen and his mouth was bloodied, but it was the head trauma that was the biggest deal. His color vision was fading, and the constant ringing in his ears was almost deafening.

"The hell was with those arms of yours?"

Vivi Merquise Wrote:

To say that his combat knife wouldn't hold the Lamia for long was very accurate. She snapped her tail upwards, dislodging the knife and sending both it, and James' hand skyward. (The man could try to hold on to it if he wanted, but that was really a bit foolhardy.)

[8/17]

His hand started to fly up, and then, it abruptly came back down again as James brought his other hand back into play by slamming it down into the twitching tail, through the hole that was first created by the knife stab. Stabbing into her in such an action allowed James to muscle down Vivi with both arms, well, atleast that small portion of her body.

And then as both hands dug further into the ragged and gaping wound, causing Vivi considerable pain, it seemed as if...

"Guh! RAAAGGGHHH!"

The demon-slayer would have never used this technique on a normal opponent.

With a mighty, bloodthirsty roar, Vivi's lower body would be nothing short of annihilated as James rent her in two, sheer muscle power fueled by rage and lent additional power by a large blast of his sacred flames, practically blowing her up from within.

Nearly everything around them was painted red. Crimson copiously sprayed out of his own mouth as well, suggesting at the horrific internal damage James dealt to himself to draw out enough power to perform this move. It was the same ability he used in his very first round against Ebris, the Bloody Roar. James, instead of focusing the flame energy about him, he concentrated it inward and vastly empowered himself. It was like a firecracker inside a jar, intense, short bursts of overwhelming power, inflicting heavy damage on himself in the process. His muscles were puce in color, a few capillaries having bursted, and he had bruises all over. The painful soreness in his muscles was now a familiar feeling however, as James got used to being a Dark Knight and harming himself.

Should Vivi try to crush him now, she'd find him easy prey, with very little in the way of actual energy and stamina to resist immediately after performing such an incredibly powerful attack. James wouldn't think she'd have the ability to react after having her lower body torn in two though. There woulud be incredible blood-loss, some of it being stemmed by James's flames cauterizing the flesh. The very nature of her body would likely allow her to survive, it'd be fortunate (or was it planned?) that it'd be her tail end that was so brutally shredded, instead of her midsection or upper body.

At any rate, Vivi would understand the meaning of true pain. Come to think of it, James would probably ponder what she'd look like if she tried to shift back into human form with those extensive injuries.

8/17

EDITTED: To describe the why and the how in greater detail. Actions remain unchanged.

He wondered for a brief second should he be concerned and go find one. Then he realized he didn't know where to look to find a doctor.

"The hell was with those arms of yours?"

"It would take a hella long time to explain and a lot of boring details." He would laugh at the fact that his weakness was turned into a strength in a way. Looking around he would note where the stairs was located to take them back up to the main level. "Think they got a medical team standing by?"

But she wasn't pushing herself to her feet, she was more sliding around and then pushing off on her feet. With the intent of going right back after him. Thinking of how a baseball player will 'almost' slide into a base and then simply round off before heading to the next base.

Not only that, but once you're in the air, it's really, really, hard to change anything about your positioning, unless you have wings, or some type of levitation. She also had time to see exactly what he was doing, what with the nice little speed boost going on, and simply...step out of the way, letting him land awkwardly as all hell into a rack of wine that wasn't too far behind her unless he came up with some miracle way out. Sure, it was cheap, but she had a pretty face to think of after all.

[14/17]

[9/12]

Put some shorts on him and call him Shaq cause our boy Benji was gonna make a rebound (or rather he would rebound) off the wall and be sent careening right back into Frenchy.

Sure, he was gonna crash awkwardly into the wine racks but he had some sturdy boots on and they could handle whatever punishment broken class could dish out. But just to be on the safe side he'd let out a very small chaotic discharge just before the moment of impact to pave the way for his feet and slow him down a itsy witsy bit. A little bending of the knees would serve to store the rest of his momentum as potential energy, energy that would then be converted back into momentum as he pushed off the wall before gravity could get a good hold. He'd be sent careening fists first towards Frenchy to give her a good clock to the chest via right hook.

If it looked like she was just gonna sidestep him again, then he'd just spread his arms and try to clothesline her. All while the rack he'd been resting on/in would be collapsing in the background, wasting even more alcohol. Damn, he was even starting to get mad at himself now.

14/17

The right hook was one and as it was grabbed out of the air his left fist shot out for a left jab in what was supposed to be a 1-2. Ben never really was good at remembering such things so he couldn't be sure if this was how everyone else did their 1-2s but this was how he did his. However when she decided to grab his first arm with her other arm, he had to change his plan up.

For at that point Ben pretty much knew what was coming. He had tusseled with his Captain several times and if anyone knew James style of fighting, he really liked to toss people around. And Benjamin over time grew to hate such types of maneuvers (when they were used on him anyway). So his closed left fist would open up midflight to secure a hold on his opponent. His original trajectory had been a chest shot, but with all this grabbing and turning, he'd end up grabbing her around her left shoulder.

So continuing her throw be be pretty hard at this point with him hanging from her back like a little kid on his mommy. At this point or a second later, his legs would also catch up with the rest of his body and he'd put them to good use by wrapping around her own such that his thighs were over hers. Should she attempt to make this fallacy of throw work, she'd just send them to the ground with Ben on top once again. If she tried to bear his weight, she'd end up stumbling into the pole before them. And if she couldn't make up her mind, he'd pelvic thrust her into the pole himself, pulling back on three limbs while pushing forward with his fifth.

15/17

He was trying to steer this babe around, so of course he was paying attention to where they were going. She may be trying to slam his head into the pole, but he was intent on getting her up against it. With her unable to really bear the weight, his chances of success were diminishing and so he'd use what little control he had to not hit the pole.

Squeezing one hip more than the other to get her body to lean a bit and turning his head to the side would prevent a head on collision, a little clipping but nothing too serious (although anything was still painful in his head condition).

She seemed to release his arm or would have to in any attempts to roll away, and he'd release his grip to get a better one. Resulting in the outcome as she desired, as he managed to roll over onto her back. But ever persistent, Ben would be not that far behind. And he'd roll right on top of her, putting them face to face once more.

16/17

Women were always so indecisive: should I do this or that? should I wear this or that? should we go here or there? They never could make up their minds and that's why they need men in their lives, to make these tough decisions.

And being the man that he was, Benjamin would do just that, right now. But he wouldn't answer her question French, or English, or even Russian. Instead, he'd give his answer in a way that transcended all languages.

Ben would simply stare back into her own blue eyes, lean in and kiss her. A kiss that spoke of both heat and passion greater than that which had bruised his skin.

A kiss that would last long past the sound of the ending buzzer.

17/17

END

TIME PARADOX

OFFENSIVE STRIKER

[Griff versus the "Doctor"]

((Note: Doesn't involve Ben putting himself in harms way and thus does not interfere with future events.))

((Note2: I'm going to assume these fights happen in a sequential manner because no one makes it clear and it may at times seem like these fights overlap but they never interact. So I say its safe to assume that they happen in different time frames and some sort of cleaning may or may not occur in between..))

Fierach Wrote:

His hand started to fly up, and then, it abruptly came back down again as James brought his other hand back into play by slamming it down into the twitching tail, through the hole that was first created by the knife stab. Stabbing into her in such an action allowed James to muscle down Vivi with both arms, well, atleast that small portion of her body.

8/17

Apparently some people are quite foolhardy.

Seeing that her opponent wasn't ready to let go of her of his own volition, Viviana thought he might appreciate a little assistance from her. As James brought his hand back down towards the tip of Viviana's tail, he was not met with any limp, immobile appendage, but rather with the full force of the Lamia's 450 pound, 8 foot long, snake tail. She snapped it out towards him, it was not just her tip toying with him this time, the vast majority of Vivi's tail lifted from the ground and slammed into James' abdomen with enough power to send the 173 lb man flying across the room and crashing into a wall of shelving.

"Oroka na ningen" She taunted, still smirking, and like magic, she pulled a pair of shurikens out from somewhere in her hair (Actually there was no magic involved, just a nifty little band that Vivi wore underneath that mass of silver curls she sported). With a hiss she thew both of them, one aiming for his left eye and the other at his right eye.

"What did you say before, chiisa i nin? Playtime is over ne? 'ow right you were."

[9/17]

Well, there was a fine line between being foolhardy, and being epic. James liked to think he walked that line everyday.

After all, Leeroy Jenkins and his descendents did it, oh s**t, wait, poor example.

Ah well.

Stubborn as hell, James clung on, having anchored himself deeply in her with his left arm. The scene was akin to that of a expert rider on the most unstable bronco there was in a rodeo, which was "riding" the Naga's tail in everywhich way BUT the standard form of "riding".

Hell, all James really needed was his old teammate Deitric to striker out of nowhere and give him his Injun hat.

The martial artist could've swore he felt the bottommost of his ribs crack slightly from the latest tail slam attempt. At this close range, it shouldn't have happened, but it was a price he paid in activating the Bloody Roar, as any damage he actually took was magnified by the havoc he was wrecking to himself. Blood started to trickle out of his mouth, signaling that he was reaching full power already. Vivi's attempt to delay him only meant that he had more energy to draw upon at the critical moment.

But if the critical moment never arrived, James would have caused himself to fall unconcious. It was hard for him to get a grip on the gaping hole in Vivi's body with his other hand admist all the bucking, and that needed to happen in order for him to rip her a new one.

"Oroka na ningen", he glanced up at her taunting, and saw her pull out a pair of shuriken.

"Save your breathe you ugly snake b***h" he thought in response and tilted back his head. His clan had a long history of defeating and killing snake beings, and he didn't intend to lose out now.

Cue the background being another dimension picture again here.

Then as James tossed his head back forward, for a second, it looked as if the martial artist vomited at the wound the snake had.

Quote: Tower to the Burning Sun- Flames are expelled out of the mouth at the foe, or at the ground to create a massive pillar of flames not unlike that of Spiral Dust, but to much, much greater effect. May also be cast after extended charging from the hands. Not used frequently, it is greatly, exponentially, draining for its power, especially when cast from the mouth.

(Something like that)

What better way to unleash all of his pent up energy in one blow anyway? Fire resistance be damned, both the Naga and James would suffer from the blast, the former, being exactly sort of creatures the flames were supposed to target, and was supernaturally effective against as a result, and the latter, not completely immune to a point-blank eruption of one of his most powerful flame techniques. The shurikens would be deflected by the pillar of flames too, or at the very least, scrape the top of his head.

The snake lady would find herself blasted apart in two pieces, or, atleast with a great chunk of her tail area completely melted away. James's left hand, being at ground zero, was scorched, his clothes and gloves nearly melted through, as he got his footing and backed away to recover for a moment.

9/17

Fierach Wrote:

Stubborn as hell, James clung on, having anchored himself deeply in her with his left arm...

But if the critical moment never arrived, James would have caused himself to fall unconcious. It was hard for him to get a grip on the gaping hole in Vivi's body with his other hand admist all the bucking, and that needed to happen in order for him to rip her a new one.

9/17

.:.Obviously, Viviana isn't going to be throwing Shurikens at someone within close range. So the ranged attack can be disregarded if James is so hell bent on hanging on..:.

The Lamia could easily lift 6 of James over her head, so when the silly little man tried to keep a hold of her tail, she did what anyone would do when a fly was walking on them that just wouldn't shoo.

She reached out with her hands and grabbed hold of both of his shoulders again. Once more activating her Gorgon grasp ability. Even though James was somewhat immune to being encased in her stone, it still would provide Viviana with the opportunity needed.

Before James would have a chance to get the grip he needed, limestone would have already started to form around his limbs, originating at his shoulders and traveling down across his torso, everywhere except for where that irritating little gauntlet of his protected.

With a fearsome scowl the Lamia wrenched his stony form from her body, not at all bothered if his limbs were broken in the process of extracting him from her tail. Then she hurled him at the wall, head first.

"Je suis fatigué de vos tentatives petites."

[10/17]

While Darious sampled alcohol, Dash leaned his back against the wall opposite the room, having made his way there following the kick.

Breathing hurt.

Moving hurt.

Even thinking hurt.

Although the pain he felt had since been lost in the amalgam of adrenaline, anger, and determination. He had no idea how the rest of his team were fairing in the other sections of the mansion. To be quite honest, Dash didn’t care. Hoskuo was the only person to really draw concern from the man, and he was sidelined this fight.

What did concern Dash was that his opponent was still standing. Not just literally, but figuratively. He stood in the way of his goal; his objective; his revenge. As much fun as the captain had during his skirmish with a skilled opponent, he had not lost sight of his reasons for being here.

His weight shifted and he dipped his right shoulder, allowing the shield to slide down to his forearm so he could properly grab it. His left arm remained immobile, having been rendered ineffective long ago by the combination of a satanic cross and the explosive punch to the shoulder. He could still move it a little, but anything major caused intense pain, especially if the shoulder itself was involved. The cuts across his chest, face, and side slowly seeped blood. The wounds were superficial, not deep enough to cause damage to any major arteries or result in him bleeding out anytime soon. Several other bruises littered the man’s body as well, but they were hidden for most part beneath the bloodied jumpsuit he wore.

Alright Dash… this is it.

His eyes locked onto the demon before him. He’d put considerable amount of distance between them. Of course it wasn’t too great because of the room’s nature, but it created enough of a buffer to react should Darious have any more tricks up his sleeve. In his peripherals, he caught glimpse of the devastation wrought by fights prior (and perhaps still ongoing elsewhere). Right now, the two were alone, left to complete their waltz in this dimly lit hell.

It was a fitting stage if ever for the grand finale, even if it did reek of alcohol.

Dash’s grip tightened on his shield and the muscles in his right arm grew tense. There was a brief flash.

Then another…

-and another.

His emerald fight-aura sought once more to manifest itself.

“Do… you feel them?”

The man asked, sweat and blood running down his left cheek.

[Tha-Thump 15 Tha-Thump]

Dashboard Wrote:

His weight shifted and he dipped his right shoulder

Being the cruel manipulative b*****d he was, he refused to have him manifest anything involving that troublesome shield. Before he could fully manage to do it, Darious tossed the half empty bottle of liquor towards the skull of Dash. To assume he wasn't watching him like a predator was foolish, consuming that alcohol to help cope with the strain on his scarred form. Irritated at the durability of this opponent, he felt it was finally time to secure a victory for Lu Bu.

The rack of flammable liquor was within the bottles, possibly enveloping his enemy in it. Firmly shaking that bottle, he popped the top open while wandering closer to his adversary. Before he allowed him the opportunity to strike, liquor began to spray from the immense pressure of shaking the bottle with his injured right hand. With Sakari Energy surging into the metallic limb, the superheated limb was going to touch the liquor like napalm and it would be unfortunate that where he was pinpointing would bring anger to him.

When someone ends a massive amount of heat plus the flammable liquor, it resulted in what people would classify as a makeshift flamethrower or the satanic purge known as;

KILL IT WITH FIRE!

Although not in a literal sense, he started to target the crotch region of his adversary. He was playing fire with fire, thus bringing revenge for violating his a** cheek with one of his blades. Feeling drained, the added damage made him ache with tremendous pain throughout his body. If someone heard of the Christmas song ' Chestnuts roasting on an open fire', he was about to be a prime witness to this torture.

" Welcome To Hell! "

~ Sakari Hell: 5,000 SE ~

:35,000 Sakari Energy : [subtracted next turn ]

{ 33 Satanic crosses remaining }

[15/17]

STRIKER

The initial blaze of fire drew the Devil from his Rubik's cube and he saw from his spot that ....

Oh well look at that...

It was James Eredas. Former teammate and formidable opponent. Didn't seem like he was being very nice to the lovely miss Vivi. What the s**t was that all about?

His first ferocious fiery breath was implemented and Kain could see Vivi reel her head around, to which he snapped on his FIGHTER. She was going for a bite and Kain was coming after James from behind (HA!). He couldn't help but inwardly laugh at something a friend of a friend once said...

Comin' in Dry...BALLS AND ALL!

Well, James wouldn't be getting the prison evening special, but would be getting a Devil's clawed fingers and thumbs probing at his jaw. Luckily for the Kainer, this an enclosed area; acoustics and bright light like flames would have a charming effect on those present, he'd use these to his advantage, with Vivi's blood curdling scream, the roar of flames to deafen and the light cast from James' fires to momentarily blind. It was perfect for his STRIKER.

Attack time! Kain's two thumbs, coming up under the Heir's chin to that lovely soft fleshy part and his index to ring fingers on both hands, would lay a special hold in (via nails) and around his gums. He'd push up on James' chin to avert his direction of spraying Vivi again to his left and towards the ceiling. His excess spray would connect with Kain but the fires just wouldn't have the normal desired effect.

"Hey, James! Wuz happenin'?"

Once Kain had his thumbs in that fleshy bit he'd wrench that s**t forward and off of that boy-o's face! Bye bye lower jaw. James was a cool dude, he'd understand. For good measure, a Tyson style EAR BITE! YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH, BOIII!

It would take an idiot to not prepare for the worse and from the distance he utilized that flamethrower. Sighing at the lost opportunity to ****** him sideways, he greeted Dash with a malicious grin after injuring his precious hands at the cost of wielding that retarded shield. Watching the All b***d's Captain go for another shield bash, he rolled his eyes from how typical this was becoming.

Was this opponent becoming senile? He wouldn't have enough time to get his answer, but there was something this b***d forgot. As he emerged from the bright flames, laughter was echoing. It was the psychotic Darious consumed in the excitement of this savage battle between them. Before the b***d could ram him, a deep sidestep was applied with about all the energy remaining within the sadomasochistic abomination. As an offering, his right arm was going to suffer as the heat of the shield literally was causing deep trauma and the heat that engulfed the arm in second degree burns despite the leather covering it.

With fury within the eyes of Darious, with a limb still surrounded in immense heat, a familiar weapon was going to appear before the open Dash. That was right, it was that god forsaken wrist blade with a good amount reach. Close to point blank, he plunged his left for a mighty straight that would puncture the serrated blade towards the right shoulder. With pain coursing through his burning right arm, a sadistic face of determination was depicted to cause misery to his adversary till the very end to Dash's form, Regardless of the outcome, this was draining about everything left in his body.

:30,000 Sakari Energy :

{ 33 Satanic crosses remaining }

[16/17]

((Ah, well that is where I became confused, then, because I never mentioned whipping you with anything but the mace. The left leg, as well as the entire twist did not touch Griff and only served to add power to the punch; hence my fifth appendage rhetoric.))

((As for the floor, since there was no mention of its composure in the description and the reference picture shows carpet, I went off the only information available. Unless it was an elaborate shag or throw rug, carpet would allow enough traction, even while wet, to make something as simple as a quick step forward.))

________________

Goodness, build yourself a fancy metal body and you become superman for a while; get pissed once and you become a raging moron for life. How shallow these mortals be. His controlled charge (aka: "ridiculous rampage"), squishy footfalls and all, brought him in range just in time for his target to jump away. Now, normally his mace would blindly swish through the air, another attack well evaded, because he was a raging moron and hadn't been paying any attention to his opponent's tactics, right?

Wrong!

Those two documents framed on his office wall both said "Doctor Samuel de Medici; PhD", his genius was truly something to be feared, both on and off the battlefield. The beautiful thing about having brains in areas such as cybernetics was that you could give yourself the brawn's you lacked. Sure his movements were a little clumsy; he had spent the majority of his life as a skinny scientist, after all; but everything he did was calculated to its exact measure... except maybe that brief rage session earlier, but everyone has their limits. It just so happened that getting backstabbed by his brother's indirect murderer was his.

Thus, as Griff slapped himself away like the brilliant trapeze artist he was, the Doctor's mace bloomed again, just as last round's spoiler foreshadowed. Only this time, instead of elaborate, armor-piercing frills, the haft extended; chain-like holes formed along the extension so that hardly any additional mass needed to be added, and when all was said and done his fancy 1-foot mace had become a fancy 4-foot flail.

With a flick of the wrist he ripped his arm in the opposite direction, cracking the chain like a whip and sending the sharp, frilled head of the flail smashing into the shoulder blades/side/chest/'whatever angle he was jumping' of his newly airborne foe. If the surprise attack didn't interrupt his little acrobatic maneuver, the fact that the Doctor stopped his charge to launch a ranged attack would require the rack to fall at a very odd angle to actually hit him. Now he just had to-

BZZZT!

"Augh! W-what dirty little..!?"

Benjamin Nicolai. The company observers reported some very interesting phenomena coming from him in the previous round. Along with an assortment of time paradoxes, he had displayed a very common talent; at least for this general crowd of metas. Armor was in wide use at Heaven or Hell, so every electric user and device was rampant on jumping to the forefront. This was something the Doctor didn't even have to prepare for. He had bested it naturally.

Living Metal Wrote:

His half-brother's life's work and greatest creation, a sentient metal that can mold itself to fit the needs of its master. It is an iron oxide compound consisting of a mutated variant of the bacteria that forms rust to create, in essence, a very pure form of rust that has evolved beyond the inherent weakness to moisture.

...and for those deprived of the wonderful world of Science, oxides, including rust, do not conduct electricity. In fact, if rust didn't absorb moisture so easily it would make a great insulator, just like this mutated rust would do now.

Burning. Lots and lots of burning. He may have had protection against the electricity on the inside, but his clothes were still sopping wet and wine did indeed conduct. Added to the fact that he'd likely increase the voltage when he noticed the good Doctor not convulsing on the floor from it. A bit would seep through legs and the holes in his armor, but electricity had a tendency of seeking the path of least resistance, and since it was already on the ground it wouldn't go out of its way to dissipate through it. When all was said and done Sam would fall to his knees, panting heavily with smoke rising from his coat and his pants torn and charred.

With all these strikers causing so much damage, he was going to need to finish things quickly.