Weathers Foundation

Weathers Foundation: Corporate Headquarters

New to the Heaven or Hell scene, the Weathers' Foundation has dedicated its resources to making Gaia a better place. On top of donating to the prize pool, they have offered their corporate headquarters to be the site of the tournament's first round.

Terrain

General - The office is forty stories high, but fighters will find themselves starting in the first floor lobby. Typically floors can be reached by way of elevator, but stairs are also available in case of emergency. The second floor is dedicated to the foundation's employees, housing break rooms, a fitness room, and a cafeteria. Third through thirty-ninth floors are your typical office setting. Cubicles, computers, and a smattering of private offices and water coolers along the perimeter. Despite the foundation's contributions to the tournament, the fighters do not have access to the 40th floor.

The roof, however, is open.

Weapons - Computers, fax machines, telephones, chairs, desks, break room refrigerators, and a number of area-centric equipment depending on where the fighters find themselves.

Bonus Effects - Ringout in effect for those who leave the premises.

Morning of the fight...

Raven slipped behind the reception desk with a coy little smile, sliding into the chair and pulling up her feet so that the chair turned a full revolution before she stopped it and started to go through the few items that had been left on the desk.

A pair of copper rimmed reading glasses were slipped on and let to ride low on her nose so she could look over the rims without worrying over making herself dizzy from the glasses themselves. Next she leafed through what appeared to be flyer's for several local restaurants that delivered, setting those back aside she grabbed a pencil and slipped it behind her left ear and a pen with the company name and logo was threaded into the tight bun of her long hair to go along with the black lacquered chopsticks.

She turned on the computer, frowning as the machine asked for a password and then just signed in as a Guest, opening up a game of free cell so she could sit behind the desk and pretend to be the receptionist... if the receptionist had a thing for skin tight black leather...

Her fans were hanging from a little clip attached to her right hip on the belt of her skirt, and the hilt of at least one dagger was visible on her left thigh where the hem of the skirt had ridden up. Her shoes had sensible (for her) 3 inch wedge heels, and leather laces that wrapped around her ankles. She was wearing her favorite gloves with the little metal plates for a bit of extra protection to her hands and wrists in a knife fight, and the black sleeveless leather bodice top was of the same material as thick leather coats instead of the normal kid leather that most clothes were made of these days... it was as close to body armor as she normally was willing to get. The outfit had seemed just perfect when she had hidden two more knives under her clothes this morning, but now she was kind of wishing she had a lacy white blouse instead, that would have made the game of being a secretary a lot easier to believe at first sight

Now all she had to do was wait, and see what happened!

Raven's eyes sparkled with amusement even as she batted her eyelashes at Desmond in an attempt to look innocent. "How sweat of you to notice dear, I do try my best to be as distracting as is possible!" It was too bad looks couldn't really kill, but Hono'o had already learned to use what she had, and she was very willing to use her natural assets to whatever advantage they could muster for her.

"Can I get you a Coffee, Tea or a Bottled Water?" She didn't have a clue where any of those things were located in the building, but she seemed to recall secretaries always asking silly things like that!

Rave smiled sweetly at Meiun, appreciating the compliment. "The look is fun but the work would bore me to death within the first hour!"

Besides, Hono'o was not good at taking orders, hell she even questioned her dear Nocturne on a regular basis.. she would not do well in a subservient position, especially if she had to be nice and polite to everyone "Mon'Capi'ton has yet to make his entrance... I bet he is holding out for the perfect moment, when the drama factor will be just right!" Oh that thought hadn't crossed her mind, nope, not even once!

It was hard work not to jump as an unknown voice chimed in, in fact it was doubly hard not to jump at the sight of the dark man... Raven knew exactly who he was, if by reputation and a few glimpses on TV from his matches back a few years ago.

"Theres some coffee in the break rooms.", Siegs elderly but friendly voice answered as he walked in on the three members of the opposing team.

Raven's sweet smile managed to stay in place with little work as she swiveled the chair so she was facing Seig, trusting one of the boys to keep an eye on the door for more opponents or the missing Damion. "Ah, Merci..." She couldn't help but to wonder if it was too early to rob the break room he had mentioned... perhaps it would be easier to steal all the snacks once the fighting actually started. The owners of the office would not notice such insignificant losses in comparison with the damage that the two teams were likely to do to their nice workplace

"Hello, I guess your the other team?"

"We are.. if you are!" The red and black haired woman replied with a wink of one orange eye. Seig was a bit of a surprise, and his presence made Raven wish she had brought her kit with her today, even if it was heavy and didn't look great with her outfit

Reporter#1 Wrote:

"And it looks as if... Yes, that is Bellanox Fatalis striding into the "venue" here at The Weathers Foundation. What do we know about this mystery woman Bob?"

Reporter#2 Wrote:

Well Joan... looks down and shuffles the cue cards in his hand Not a lot, really. We know that Her name is Bellanox Gabriella Fatalis, she is a full blood Human, a rarity here on Gaia Prime, she is employed by... Darkened Devil Inc. aaaand she is a member of Team Cannon Fodder. covers mic and looks over his shoulder at the producer to whisper Why don't we have more on this girl?! You just made me look like an idiot! turns back

Producer Wrote:

whispers You don't need any help from anyone else for that!"

Reporter#1 Wrote:

"In any case, here she comes just in time. Oh my... She doesn't look very friendly now does she, Bob?"

Cue the sound of steel shod heels impacting the tiles of the buildings marble lobby...

Reporter#2 Wrote:

"No Joan, she dos...." OOF! stumble flail, fall GAAAAH!

THUD CRASH!

Followed shortly there after by a strangled cry and a loud thumping crash of men and cameras as Bellanox pulled open the doors of the Weathers Foundation building the flashing red lights on her Fighter blinking off for the final time when she pushed her way between the two reporters crowding the buildings front entrance. The crowd, she flatly ignored. Nox was not here for the fame. In fact, she could really do without the cameras. Fame was Roen's gig, not hers. She was here because he'd asked it of her. And he was the boss. Of course she was not the first in her team to arrive. The elder warrior monk was already present as was Edward, the Cyborg that Roen had de-balled in the Dark Tournament. So too, was what appeared to be most of the opposing team. And where was the boss? Fashionably late, as usual. She'd been sure to wake him before hopping into the shower, but there had been no time to check and see if he'd actually dragged his lazy Devil a** out of bed before she left. But that was Mr.J.

Once inside, the leather and denim clad, Gypsy's sense of urgency waned allowing her to slow her pace. That being the case, she took the time to better study her surroundings. Typical office building really. Marble lobby, reception desk uncomfortable looking waiting room and elevators. All accentuated by the low drone of electronics hovering just at the edge of hearing. Nothing very appealing to a child of the open road. But... Whether she liked the chosen arena or not, she had come prepared. With her weapons of choice, twin .45 USP's out od commission for the contest and Nox'd had to fall back upon other more primitive modes of fighting. In her right hand she carried the hook ended Lochaber axe that she preferred for close quarters fighting. Strapped each leather and denim clad thigh she wore a pair of sheathed daggers. Hanging from her belt, at the small of her back hung her precious whip, coiled but ready for quick release and use. And finally at her left hip an old fashioned Cattle Prod dangled from it's loop. Any other weapon she may or may not have been carrying was either well hidden or did not exist.

A walking arsenal, she strode right to the reception desk, lifting and laying her wicked looking axe there on before offering the others, both team mate and opponents alike a greeting nod. But then was immediately forced to stifle a simultaneous laugh and facepalm as Ed, much like Mr. J, tried his cybernetic hand at a come on, aimed at the other teams only female fighter.

(edited for a touch of flair)

Just Naota Wrote:

"Sooooooooooo," Ed finally spoke aloud, giving everyone an exaggerated wave and toothy grin. Then, his eyes fell on Hono..The cyborg paused. "You remind me of one of my ex-girlfriends." Raven arched one brow at that comment, her chaotic orange eyes staring at the fellow over her borrowed glasses as her smile widened to flash dainty little fangs. "Do I really?" Either he had dated someone who was a secretary, or Raven figured he was fishing for small talk... because she normally didn't remind most men of other women

Bellanox entered before Raven could think up something else to say to the human pin cushion, and immediately Raven felt her heart strings tug... Sure the girl could use a better wardrobe, but her choice of weapons made her a girl after the bird-brain's own heart!

Raven smiled sweetly at Bella, careful not to flash fangs this time as she went back to playing secretary. "Can I get you anything dear? Coffee, Tea... a hot bubble bath?" Anything that might require less clothes and hopefully a lot of shenanigans! Raven was an equal opportunity flirt!

Speaking of shenanigans... Roen was another face that she remembered, but the elemental was rather glad that the captain of team Cannon Fodder didn't get off the elevator just yet... Especially since his singing was just slightly off key!

Roen Jaeger Wrote:

"Heaaaaaat of the moment!!"

Edward tried to stifle his laughter, but even the synthetic skin-full of bicep covering his mouth couldn't cover it up. He laughed, and laughed obnoxiously he did, his face turning red from the lack of oxygen. This was ******** rich! The cyborg after a few seconds would try to contain the gut buster, but once he was able to speak, he could only do so in a mocking tone. "Heaaaaaat of the moment!!" Which, obviously, only made the nerdy cyberpunk laugh more. Awesome.

-A few brief moments later-

Edward quieted down as Forgotten Lore's leader showed up and challenged Roen. He wasn't self-centered enough to think they were going to steamroll through this team, so the cyborg stayed quiet through the whole thing. A pause of a few more seconds then he looked at Raven again. He grinned.

"Yeah," He said in a excited manner, as if the mere thought that she reminded him of some other chick elicited memories of happiness. Oh how they were wrong! "You both have this similar fetish, you see."

Ed paused. He enjoyed reactions. Then he added in a perversion of his enthusiastic tone from prior, which made him sound like a condescending p***k.

"Y'know, the one where you dress up as yourself and then proceed to act like a dumb b***h all the time."

Someone had to ignite the rivalry.

Eternal Dirge Wrote:

And now his finger slipped from that of the girl to that of the only person he recognized so far from this other team, his finger directly aimed at Sieg. He knew who the man was, the memories of his first year not lost to the elemental despite numerous headblows and the reconstruction of his own body. No, he remembered the man, and was eager to fight him after losing his eyes to his wife his first year.

After the Vice captain of Cannon Fodder arrived, Sieg had begun to leisurely stand amongst the gathering teams. His wide back lent leisurely against a cubicle and he began to rest his thumbs within the brims of his waist sash. Sieg half listened to someone beginning to talk about starting the festivities and seemed surprised when that individual began pointing at him. Sieg looked at Damion for a while and began to recall a vague memory of the man's identity. Sieg would stand up straight from the cubicle wall, bow, and then say with a grin...

"Sure thing. Lets go..."

He would roll his neck out and then walk away from the gathering teams towards a near but separate and similar workspace area, desk, cubicles, computers, the whole nine yards.

"I don't think my team will mind if I go first."

Sieg said out loud.

Damion followed after the monk until they reached their own personal fighting area, walking afew steps away to give them space to start in. It wouldn't do to have wrist to wrist start after all, not with the way the two of them likely fought. He left the knives in their sheaths, turning back around to face his opponent intent on fighting him with bare hands, fists clenched at his waist.

" Let's begin."

They had no officiate to announce a match start, just the two of them, and with that Damion intend to start. His hands swooped up to a tight boxing guard and he started in, feeling his anger begin to burn. The fight had not even begun proper really, but he would need it to keep to his goal. He would try and close the distance between the two, leading with his left foot and pushing with his right. He wouldn't be taken off guard this fight.

The man had changed much since the first time the elemental had seen him, but he was still Sieg, still the same man he had been before. How much had he changed? Did he still grapple? These thoughts blazed then died as Damion threw his first strike, left fist flashing out in a quick jab. All speed, no power, and easily moved to keep from being grabbed he hoped to find out more about his opponent.

((1/17))

Had he the presence of mind Damion would have chuckled at Siegs statement. Angry, yes, very simply he was angry. But the man had done what He wanted too, moving around, slipping past his punch and swinging. After all, Damion's punch hadn't been thrown to hurt anyone, and a jab is the simplest punch to throw. Sieg was throwing to hurt apparently, and his was fast, but his opponent was prepared. As the punch came barreling in, Damion would step to the outside of Siegs punch, pulling his left back in with the motion so that as he reassumed position he was back to ready, facing the other mans right side with his own left.

The camera's would catch Damion's upper lip beginning to curl, the snarl on his lips no different than a dogs. Each breath was calm and controlled, or as controlled as it could be given the circumstances. The two of them were now in tight corners, no room to move backward what with the tightness of the cubicle pathways. His body fairly quivered in the camera's, a battery with too much energy.

Damion didn't throw another punch when he got to his new spot though, apparently content to wait it out.

((2/17))

2/17

Second Floor - The Cubicle Hall

Sieg had not assumed any side stance and made sure that his chest was squared with the opponent, though more so before the lead straight was performed.

The punch would return to guard and the position of Siegs chest would return to normal. The warrior monks movements would chain together smoothly.

Sieg would switch step then perform the right low muay thai roundhouse to the back of the opponents calf's, with the intentions of sweeping him. Siegs shins were covered in shin guards meant for fighting armed opponents and they would add to the momentum of the attack, making it akin to some blunt weapon taking a chopping swing at the legs.

"WHOOO-"

The opponent would find himself hard pressed to check the kick because he was in a side stance with his left side facing Sieg, while Sieg could throw it quickly due to his squared stance.

The kick would put Sieg into "inside" boxing range.

3/17

Second Floor - The Cubicle Hall

"WAA~"

Sieg completed his own kiai simultaneously as the opponent started his own. The result was both of the warriors shouting with absolute martial power in each others face. It was a cry that served as a testament for the coming of a great battle.

The opponent made an excellent defensive movement against Siegs kick and though Sieg wasn't off set by the defense it had put he and the opponent in equally defensible positions.

The opponents left leg was between his, while Siegs right foot would touch down somewhere behind the opponents right. They were in clinch range and perfect to begin grappling. Sieg was a great wrestler, however he did not intended to engage the opponent in that kind of struggle.

Sieg learned that the judges of the fights did not enjoy wrestling and so rather than risking a decision for the possibility of submitting an opponent who may or may not be armed than a blade, Sieg would instead attempt to disengage.

After the vicious shout that would shake any innocent bystanders, Sieg attempts to place his left fore arm against the opponents left bicep and his left hand against his left shoulder.

At the same time Sieg shift's his weight forward on to his right foot while swinging his left foot around. It was almost as if Sieg were attempting to move behind the opponent, likely an action that would garner a response but rather than an intimate grasp Damion opponent would feel Siegs close proximity slip away.

During Siegs own turning motion he leaped away from the opponent to increase the range, landing in a left lead stance.

Sieg then moves to his left into a cubicle area, taunting the opponent with his lead left hand.

The cyberpunk took Desmond's tie to the face. How rude? Edward blinked, "Umm, I accept your challenge..."

He'd proceed to jog over to the elevator before his future opponent would, jabbing the 'up' button a few hundred times in the process. "After you, my good sir." Ed gestured towards the opening doors and deadpanned.

Hahahaha!

As if Edward would actually allow Desmond to actually get comfortable in the compartment..

When Desmond finally walked through the threshold - if it could be called that - of the the elevator, Ed's eyes glinted mischievously as he tossed his huge glasses Bellanox's way. The cyborg would swiftly turn about, attempting to place both of his hands on Desmond's back in order to push the tonfa-wielding man into the elevator, making Desmond lose his balance.

The nerdy cyberpunk wasn't a complete douche though. He wouldn't go any further than that, and would proceed simply by walking into the cramped elevator after his opponent. Without even looking, the cyberpunk would press the 'close door' button, and the elevator would close ominously.

But before they'd close entirely, the whole lobby would hear Ed bellow. "WELCOME TO HELL, b***h!"

That was just wishful thinking though....

-Uno-

((fight in the elevator?))

"Looks like its me against the devil. Wish me luck Raven" He would reach down with his right hand and grip the hilt to the blade he carried and rip it free from the ground. He would reach his left hand up and cradle it behind his neck,Cracking it to either side. With that done he would walk toward the elevator, His right hand revving the hilt to the blade creating more friction and the friction creating heat. The result would be the built up heat creating the runes on the blade, One more rune. Making two in total. As he made his way to the elevator he would reach out and press the up button, He figured since the guy wasn't on his floor he was on another. He'd simply search for him. So there he would stand, Tapping his foot waiting on his opponent to show up, Or the elevator to take him to him. You know, Which ever comes first.

Nox winced at the sound or Roen warbling from inside the elevator, one eye squeezing shut while the lid of the other twitched. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard! The rest of the participants seemed to take it in stride, even going so far as to continue conversation and the usual chest puffing that was always seemed to be involved in such events as Heaven or Hell.

Please make it stop! She thought as she poked one finger into her ear in order to relieve the disturbing vibrations there in. Hoo vas the bloody idiot that told the Boss he could sing?

Well who ever it was, Nox resolved right then and there to find the little liar and throttle him,or her to within an inch of their lives!

HonoRaven Wrote:

"Can I get you anything dear? Coffee, Tea... a hot bubble bath?"

Nox raised an eyebrow at the girls invitation to a bath. No, such things did not ruffle the tall Carpathian. Quite the contrary, she found it very flattering. Fact was that Nox was too frequently mistaken for being of the lesbian persuasion to take offence. Why? For many reasons. Her choice of hobbies, her attitudes toward what many people referred to as 'casual sex' and relationships in general, her somewhat standoffish manner among other things. And then there were trust issues. Truth was that Nox had never come to trust anyone enough with so precious a gift as her physical purity. As far as she could see, the alien world of Gaia Prime was one big game of musical bedchambers, were the players declared undying love after only a few hours of flirting and then just as quickly cast that love aside. Definitely not a game that Nox wished to play. And so, since she did not play with the boys in that way, she had to be a lesbian, right? Wrong.

That said, she was certainly not above flirting or even teasing in order to come out on top, so to speak, in any given a confrontation.

"Vell it's not my veek for girls, but I vouldn't mind it if you and I dance after the boys are done playingk." She replied with a friendlier smile than she had yet given any other present. "Vhat say you, my dear?"

Not long after that, the first bout between Old man Sieg and the one called Damien got under way.

A miss? ********! There went his surprise tactic. Though truth be told he didn't have much surprise to begin with. Oh well, that straight looping punch wasn't going to be hard to miss, not with Edward's whole body moving with it. So rather than try to block it or anything silly like that, Desmond was going to take a different approach.

That's right... even from a normal man's standpoint that was too much power to try to take head on. He'd have to be crazy to even think of trying to take that sucker! So with a bit of a wince he'd lower himself and duck under the blow, shifting his body to his right ((your left)) while throwing his body a bit forward in the process. This closed the gap a little and by the time Desmond was coming up the arm would've gone full-motion just a touch overhead. And rather than let this bugger go the psion was going to thrust his left hand forward, open palmed, to come pushing in against the pit of Edward's left arm. Not really a strike, per se, just a bit of a shove to start things off.

'Alright Desmond, lets make this count!'

Mmm... Inner monologue...

Oh yeah! With his left now braced to his opponent's pit the psion was going to go in for the blow. With a bit of torque the man would come swinging in with his right in a wide arc, aiming to smash the metal nub of the tonfa into the punk's ribcage or upper-side. Needless to say... that b*****d was going to sting if it landed. But if it didn't well.... there was no way to take it back now. So rather than dwell on it Desmond would begin to build a charge around his right, storing the energy for use later on down the road.

Unless Edward did something to throw him off his game, he was going to be in for some tough love here in the next few seconds. Sure enough he'd have plenty of his own to dish out here in the coming moments. Desmond just had to make sure he was ready for it.

Charge- Right arm: 1

-Dos Two-

" Ow ******** that stings!" And it did! thin trickles of blood ran down the side of Damions face where the staple was stuck in, alittle behind his right eye. The concussive force wasn't all that great infact, it was a stapler and he wasn't about to just push into the damn thing. His knives cut patterns infront of him, defending him as he backed away afew steps. " Goddamn!"

The elemental snarled for real this time, opting to leave the metal staple in his face for the time being. He could get it out later, and he wanted to pay his opponent back for that. " First blood is to you." the Hydra spat the words like a curse before stepping back in, both knives held at with the blades pointing up before he stabbed forward, aiming for Siegs stapler wielding hand with his left and his chest with his right, stepping forward with his right foot.

He had forgotten Siegs speedy reactions, he'd have to catch up or even the field somehow, perhaps stabbing a hand would provide that edge.

5/17

5/17

Second Floor - The Cubicle Hall

The stapler would slam against the opponents head causing it to break, prompting Sieg to drop the broken tool and let it drop to the ground.

Sieg rose his right hand up to guard against the opponents defensive knife slashes that covered his retreat. Sieg received a few defensive wounds to his hand, but the shallow wound seemed to be one of many that had accumulated on the well worn hands of the monk.

"Only by a little, your doing fine good sir.", Sieg spoke with a smile. Sieg would raise the bleeding back of his right hand to the opponent and would then lick the wound before reaching behind him and drawing out his silvery lacquered cane with the left from behind his back.

Sieg would stand up straight with the point of the cane in the carpeted ground and the hook handle in his right hand. Sieg would place his right hand behind his back and suddenly his entire appearance would appear majestic and refined.

"Lets fight...Like gentleman.", Sieg said as the elemental warrior stepped back in. His left knife would go for Siegs left hand which now held a cane and his right hand would go for Siegs chest.

Sieg would respond with only a simple movement.

While sliding his right foot back to create a balanced posture he simultaneously lifts his left hand cane point up and forward to his right to both evade the attack to his left hand, parry the attack to his chest to his right and stop the opponents forward movement by thrusting the point of the cane to the opponents throat.

His chest would turn to the right in a clockwise turn to produce a side stance, which presented the smaller target of Siegs left side rather than his full chest to the volatile daggers.

The Cane being the longer weapon would arrive at its target first and the threat of the length may stop the opponents attack before it even began. During the defensive movement Siegs right hand would raise up on guard from behind his back, making sure to prevent a constant barrier between his chest and the right hand knife that passed in front of it.

If Siegs defense succeeded, he would retreat with a shuffle step deeper into the cubicle and would place his right foot up on a chair behind him.

6/17

Second Floor - The Cubicle Hall

The opponent while armed, fought beautifully to Sieg and if it were not for the threat to his own life Sieg would be enjoying this duel far too much. The grin that now seemed painted upon Siegs ebony face grew more wry with each moment that his life narrowly escaped the quick end wrought by the opponents devilish flurry.

Sieg was pushed back and put completely on the defensive to attempt a counter attack would be foolish. Sieg would steadily back up while parrying with his right hand bracer and his left hand cane. He would let his grip slip on the cane to grab its middle to assist in his ability to help parry the the assault.

CLINK

CLINK

CLANG

CLANG

CLINK

CLANG

Sieg was forced to focus on not getting stabbed and made very quick and economical movements to aid in his defense. However, even so, various grazing defensive wounds would appear all over Siegs body and his white monks regalia would be stained with multiple red spots.

As Sieg intended his right foot would end up on top of a rolling chair office seat and as soon as it did, his time on the defensive would end.

Sieg would step down hard, causing the chair on wheels to flip up into the air and over into his right hand by the spine of the chair.

Coming out smoothly from the catch Sieg utilized the legs to parry and trap the right arm down and block the path of the following left hand knife with the base of the chair. If the attack worked, the left hand knife would be en-lodged in the base of the chair and would briefly render if useless.

After stopping the opponents attack with the chair, Sieg would push the chair forward into the opponents body hard with his right arm to send the legs of the chair crashing into the opponents body and hopefully knock him back off balance. As he performed the push he would spin the chair to hopefully disarm the knife lodged in the seat of the chair from the opponents hand.

Sieg then steps forward while shifting his grip with his left hand cane to hold the end opposite of the hook before throwing a low sweep with the weapon for the opponents lower right leg.

Second Floor - Cubicle Hall

7/17

The opponent fought back and Sieg loved every minute of it.

"RA-HAHAHAHA", Sieg laughed as his body was suddenly pushed back with the top of the chair slamming into his chest. Siegs life was on the line and he was having too much fun. Over the years of being constantly engaged in mortal kombat his fear of death had been slowly worn away. Sieg had no intentions of really harming his opponent, unlike Damions violent resolve towards him but Sieg enjoyed the sport of combat none the less.

Before Siegs back hit the wall Sieg would swing his leg around to the right while he would let himself fall to the ground to his left. Sieg was attempting to kick his left leg around the back of his opponents calf with his right leg blocking the front of the opponents ankles in an attempt to use his forward momentum to trip him. This was the basic scissors sweep technique.

It was a risky move but if it worked, it would not only send the opponent into the wall but through it and into the next cubicle. Needless to say Sieg would then attempt to get up as fast as he could because he couldn't risk grappling with an armed opponent. However, due to the opponents momentum it was likely that his scissors kick would work and if it didn't Damion would still have too much forward momentum to capitalize on it.

Second Floor - Cubicle Hall

Laughter? That was the icing on the cake, like throwing sticks into a fire as Damion's anger burned brighter. He wanted teeth to rend this man with, claws to rip him apart, but he had to be contented with trying to stab him at the moment, trying to get past the chair in front of him and to the man beneath before, quite suddenly, that man disappeared and he found his legs going out from under him. It was like a magic trick, Sieg was there and then he wasn't and Damion flew threw the air and into the flimsy walls, bursting through onto the other side as the chair impacted and stayed in the other room. The walls shuddered around them, their cheap manufacturing making them prone to collapsing when forced around too much.

Thankfully the Hydra had already been in a good position to roll, but it still hurt being thrown like that, his left arm somewhat sore from the rough landing. But the lack of apparent enemy was all it took to make him calm down a little and assess what was around him. Sieg standing was blocked from his view by the walls, the hole in the one only allowing limited window viewing, but he could see the monitor on the desk beside him, and the tower below it as a plan formed in his head.

" I'm not sure old man, is this how you fix a computer?" He called as he ripped the tower free of it's moorings, plugs and wires yanked violently from their sockets as he stepped up and jumped, looking down at Sieg from over the wall before spiking the computer down at him, the clever constuction of his knives not hindering the action at all despite their presence in his hands. It was a hard throw at a good angle, and the weighty plastic and metal and who knew what else machine made a beeline for the monks chest and neck area. Damion was pleased with it and thought that the folks at home watching would be too.

8/17

Woo! That sure sucked for Desmond! Things weren't going to be too pretty if he got that shot off. But lets not get hasty! Though Edward would get a nice little wad of shirt rolled up within his grip that didn't necessarily mean he got a nice pull on the man. For sure enough while Desmond was on the offensive and moving forward, this didn't mean he was going to lose his balance and slip up from a little shirt tug. It did make him slide forward just a hair though before Edward was met with resistance.

THUNK!

Loud and hollow that collision came, right into Edward's ribcage. And at the same time...

THUMP!

Ed's knee snapped against Desmond's ribcage a bit higher than anticipated ((probably around the lower chest)) and it was worth saying there was a great deal less force behind it without the pull. All the same the psion winced a bit as he narrowed his eyes, taking in a sharp inhale of breath as he noted the unusual strength behind the blow.

'The hell? What the ******** is that knee made of!?!?'

Looks like this guy had a few tricks to be wary of. Truth be told... Desmond wouldn't be able to tell if Ed was augmented or just plain strong. Hell... lots of gaians were impossibly tough these days. And if he didn't get a bite or two of that along the way than he might've been just a little disappointed down the road. But no matter... the psion had some tricks of his own which he'd be letting loose soon, as he'd build a second charge up within his right arm. And with that out of the way... He was ready for round two of their little game.

That free hand of his would push up against the pit rather sternly as his left leg shot around in a short sweep towards the back of Edward's right leg, aiming to smack into the back of his right leg to cause it to bow a bit. The movements would work together simultaneously as his right arm cocked back from the last punch, the psychic energies swirling around, invisible to the naked eye. But were Ed to have some sorta fancy psychic energy eye seeing jig he might notice the whirling patterns of kinetic energy swirling about in some lazy, fancy manner. All the same, he'd either see it or not, the results would stay the same.

So would Ed fall? My... he couldn't say. But what he was sure of was that in the next few moments Ed was going to get a face full of one nasty litle surprise.

Charge- Right arm: 2

-Three Tres-

Second Floor - Cubicle Hall

The Hydra peeked through the hole he had made in the little wall, abit startled by the lack of Sieg in the room. Where'd he go? He straightened up in a hurry, seeing Sieg moving again but this time lacking his cane. Where was the fun in that? Damion had enjoyed trying to stab the man through it, but that was ok, He'd keep his out. They were his fangs after all, and with another duck he'd slip back into the hole he had made as Sieg moved in, coming out behind him and moving backwards. He had seen a water cooler...aha!

" I could use a drink."

As the elemental backed up from Sieg, he saw the gloriously thunking water cooler, just around the corner of the cubicles to his right and made a beeline for it, infact charging the construction. The plastic container never stood a chance, smashed from the floor and it's internals sprayed everywhere, drenching the elemental thoroughly and the carpet around him.

The last thing Sieg would likely see is Damion smiling back at him before he vanished from sight with,

Quote: Trick of the Light: Pressed with the issue of hiding in the open spaces of an urban environment, Damion developed this ability. By coating his upper body in a thin layer of water(16oz bottle), the water changes his coloration to match the surrounding environment, making the run from cover to cover much much easier. This disguises him from most mundane forms of sight.

And suddenly Damion was gone, his soft, silent steps leading him away from the wet spot on the floor, his power changing his colors to match the monochrome wall behind him as he endevored to move around the back of the cubicles. He had to flank the man for this to work, and the power wouldn't last long.

9/17

Elevator, Fifteenth floor

Edward didn't expect things to go as well as he intended them to be, so when his clinch was only half successful the cyberpunk wasn't disappointed. He'd roll with the punches and s**t.

When his left arm was knocked away by Desmond's right, the nerdy cyberpunk would ck back his deflected cybernetic just as his opponent would ck back his right. The two would trade another pair of blows.

"Whachaaa!!!!"

His opponent's arm would rocket towards Ed's gut, and Ed would rotate his hips slightly as he sent a powerful hook to the side of Desmond's head. The cyberpunk's arm looping over his opponent's.

The slight rotation would align his flank with Desmond's fist, striking the nerd's rib cage. Instantly, Edward got the air knocked out of him, an extreme amount of pain erupting in his side. He would try to take deep breaths as he let go of his opponent (if allowed) and would proceed to walk backwards and out of the cramped elevator.

Hopefully, his own attack was enough to allow him to do just that.

-Cinque-

DING!

stage right

Owie...

Yeah, Desmond was going to stumble back a tad from a power fist to the face, pitting his back against the wall for a moment as the cyberpunk stumbled the other way. Not very pleasant, he'd have to say. Following this act of tough love left symptoms of grogginess, irritation, massive headache, and the extreme desire to thrash the living ******** out of that anything that came his way. Well...

Not to mention anything moving the other way.

Ed would get a few good feet out when the specs of Desmond's vision started to become clear. But he wasn't going to get too far out without a fight. For as soon as Desmond pushed his way out of the elevator he noticed something...

This place sure as hell had a lot of crap to throw around!

No reason to let good collateral go to waste. The tonfa would quickly get crammed into the back of his belt as he reached over for a nearby paperweight that caught his sight from a nearby cubical. It was a sizable little chunk of some clear heavy crap that Desmond didn't recognize, but it felt heavy enough for a good throw. And on it, sparkled in with some cheap a** hot pink glitter, read '#1 DAD' and on the back 'LOVE FRANNIE' both of which were circled by flower and heart stickers with butterflies and rainbows in the background.

...

Somehow he felt the guy wouldn't miss it.

Alleyoop! UP THE ROCK WENT!!! Desmond would pitch that sucker straight at the torso of the retreating punk. Were he to get hit the man might've found himself snatched with a patch of glitter that read 'LOVE'. If not... well... hopefully they had insurance for that window. And if not that... for the little girl's broken heart.

Charges used: 2

-Cinque Five-

-Edited to specify torso instead of back-

Fifteenth Floor - Office Space

The cyberpunk took deep breaths as he gathered his wits about him, extremely glad that his fist to face had worked as planned, though his ribs still pained him. But that's how fights worked; one trades back and forth until some conclusion is met. Edward would stare at his opponent determinedly, watching the tonfa-wielding ******** look around for something. The cyborg debated attacking him right then and there, but he quickly decided the more time to catch his breath the better. This fight could only get worse from here on out; with both combatants being damage beyond their normal limits. And that wasn't wishful thinking on Ed's part. No sir. The cyborg didn't want to get hurt or tested. He just wanted to win.

Desmond's attack was swift, beaming the coffee at him, causing the cyborg to react accordingly. His right hand lashed out with a reaction time atypical of your normal human and caught the mug easily. It stung a bit as it wasn't the most comfortable thing to be catching, but at least it didn't break on contact.

Ed stared at the pretty little cup and deadpanned.

"Excuse me, sir. Did you just try to destroy some little girl's art on my body? You're a douche bag, sir, a douche bag!"

He paused, "Hold on, sir. It's hot in here."

His cybernetic hand grasped the collar of his hoodie and pulled; the hooded sweater was literally ripped off revealing a red Thing 2 (from The Cat in the Hat) t-shirt which looked awesome. He slid the mug to his right to keep the little girl's heart from breaking and reached into his pocket for a pair of goggles. He adjusted them on his face.

Edward was ready. Both hands near the weapons at his belt.

The cyber brain was on shuffle.

-Sei-

Lobby

HonoRaven Wrote:

"Ah ma cherie my heart waits then for the week that you are into girls!"

"I promise you, my dear. You vill be the first on my list." Nox quipped with an outrageous wink aimed at her at the lovely Hono.

Ah how nice it was to meet another woman who could be aggressive and strong. Both qualities she much admired. Ooo and quick too!. Nox thought with a smirk on her lips as Hono deftly plucked Ed's glasses out of the air before they could reach their intended target. Who knew, perhaps this would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But that did not mean that the girls wouldn't deliver one hell of a fight. And Nox had no doubt that Hono would accept her 'invitation to the ball'.

HonoRaven Wrote:

"I think I would very much enjoy dancing with you dear lady... if the boys don't mind." .... "Yes.. if the boys don't all feel like ripping each other to shreds we should definitely dance..."

Ah yes, her faith in Hono's spirit was well rewarded by the girl's eager acceptance. And whats more, Hono's suggestive flirtations made Nox want to play along, even with the eyes of the fighting world upon them. With such enthusiasm for the fight on both sides, it certainly promised to be an entertaining if bloody bout.

"The boys can tear each other from limb to limb all they like." She said with a nod as she leaned against the desk, left forearm laying casually along the desk in front of her while the other rested loosely upon her hip. "Doesn't mean that ve can't havef a bit of fun." Then she smirked, her eyes following the line of Hono's finger as it traced along the razors edge of her Lochaber. "Who knows... They might even learn somthingk if they are conscious enough to pay attention."

Second Floor - Break Room

11/17

Siegs left hand would reach out to its left and grab on to the stainless steel bowl of the counter sink. He utilized the hold to pull himself to the left and towards the white tiled ground to evade the flying chair who missed and went crash against the wall. Another gleam of happiness shot from Siegs face as he saw the opponent come in for another attack oblivious to the fact that the opponent was still armed with a knife. After Sieg hit the ground he would shift into his boxing stance as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The old monks right hand flashes out in a left reinforced block to defend what he foolishly believed was some sort of back hand, only to feel a cold sting poke him in the left oblique and a subtle burn in the back of his tricep. The knife hadn't cut deep so it didn't hurt enough to slow Sieg down. Sieg was lucky that his block prevented the knife from going deep because a grevious wound this late in the game could be dangerous. The cut from the knife began to stain Siegs white regalia.

Sieg would follow through with the slight momentum of the reinforced block and continue to twist his waist in a counter clockwise turn to perform a right shovel hook to the opponents right side abdominal obliques that would be exposed after using the left arm to block a left handed strike.

Second Floor - Break Room

12/17

Now would be time for some baddass s**t. Sieg reflected the first coke can back at the opponent's chest with a high left round house kick. Then he would reflect the second to the groin with a mid back heel kick by bringing that left foot back around into its starting position.

The movements were performed quickly but with a sort of ease that reflected the mastery begotten by 60 years of non-stop combat.

The steel shin guards worn on Siegs legs acted as a sort of metal base ball bat to send the pitch flying back at the opponent with an increased speed (and therefor higher striking power) and structural damage that would cause the cans to bust upon hitting their targets or being blocked.

As Sieg returned the coke cans with his kicks, his right hand would reach behind him towards the counter to grab a pot of hot boiling coffee. Because of the way Siegs body was turned during the kicks, the pot would be obscured during the kicks as it was blocked by Siegs body.

However as soon as his left foot returned to its original position after the kicks Sieg would follow through with his left legs momentum and toss the pot of boiling hot coffee at his opponents chest.

After the toss he would move forward rapidly into hand to hand striking range.

The cyberpunk had self-esteem issues.... He glowered at Desmond.

"C'mere, ya ct! I'm gonna slap your face off your ******' face!" The words coated in an angry New Jersey accent, which wasn't typical of the nerdy cyberpunk, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. It did make him sound like a retard though. Bummer.. Ed would move at a slow yet steady pace, concentration unperturbed as Desmond would dash towards him. The punk would know exactly what to do and when to do it, a time that was fast approaching as his opponent swallowed the already short distance between them in short order.

Once the tonfa-wielding man would take his last step, composing himself and simultaneously beam the weapon at him; Edward with all the dexterity the man could muster would shoot downwards (causing the tonfa to pass overhead) towards Desmond's leading leg. The cyborg taking advantage of the fact that Desmond was utilizing both arms at the very same time, and would find it undeniably difficult to alter his motions on such sort notice. After all, Desmond would only have about a second to deal with what was coming up next.

First, the punk's shoulder would go careening into his opponent's center (around the waist/groin area) in the attempt of using his 235 pounds of mass and hockey player's build to put Desmond off his center of balance. Secondly, Edward's arms would wrap around his opponent's leg, crossing said arms diagonally at the wrists as they encircled the limb, and pulling back in order to lift the leg of the ground. Both of these maneuvers used in conjunction was nothing but the simplest of single-leg take downs, and would easily knock Desmond on his back if it worked.

If things went as planned, Desmond would find himself feeling like a bowling pin, whilst a bowling ball (Edward) literally hurled himself at his leg. The tonfa-wielding douche bag would find himself on his back with the prospect of an angry cyberpunk mounting him.

-Sette-

Eternal Dirge Wrote:

Second Floor - Break Room

Only cans weren't really designed to take kicks ere they? Where Sieg was knocking them out of the park, Damion had just been flicking them off his feet, much in the same way a soccer player would flick a ball up to start bouncing it. But as the can's came back Damion would stab them out of the air, letting the shaken up liquid spray all over his arms, still shifting backwards.

The coffee pot was next to impossible to miss, after all it wasn't a common practice to throw ones arm out backwards in a kick, and the mans bulk was not so great as to hide it completely. But as the coffee pot came flying through the air, Damion opted to duck, winding his right arm alittle and shaking free the soda can. His arm was still sore, but stabbing things was easy enough.

" I'm sorry I forgot your mothers birthday, but throwing coffee around won't make it up to her."

He pleaded, moving in to meet Sieg again, his left arm whipping and throwing the can impaled on the knife to the ground. As they came close, Damion went high with his left knife, a fast motion that would ultimately be a feint as he dove low, Shooting his right leg behind Siegs left one and throwing his weight forward, his driven leg dropping till the knee hit the ground. His inserted right leg would stop Sieg from stepping back, and his upper body would impact the monk in the waist. His weakened right arm would stab the knife into Sieg's right leg, to keep that from pulling back aswell.

If it all worked out, Damion would end up inside of Sieg's guard with the monk on his back.

12/17

Second Floor - Break Room

13/17

When Damon spoke of Siegs mother, Sieg pretty much ignored it because he didn't know what it was supposed to mean. Sieg didn't dwell on the missed coffee or the blocked cans of soda.

The opponent came in with a low technique armed with a knife in his left hand and Sieg, sitting in his stance seemed completely unworried about the entire situation. Sieg was so at home in close combat that nothing seemed to bother him or make him think anymore.

The opponent would fake with his left knife, a feint that would cause little reaction from Sieg as his hands up at guard he would have blocked it easily with the right forearm bracer. Soon after the opponent would do something that would garner a fierce reaction from Sieg.

As the opponent dove in, Sieg immediately would get hold of the opponents armed left hand with his right while sprawling out. The sprawl ofcourse was the act of sending your hips straight to the ground while kicking your legs out, to defend against a takedown. During the sprawl his left hand would reach under the opponents neck while his chest would be positioned on top of the opponents head.

The left hand would act as a point of leverage where Sieg pushed Damions head to the left and away from his own legs, while his hips prevented the opponent from driving forward to gain control of the legs that were slowly slipping away.

The opponents attempt to stab his right leg with his own right knife would miss as the distance between he and his target increased, the knife would instead cut Sieg along the front of his right hip and end up tangled in the thick sash around his white outfit. The opponent would lack driving power due to the placement of his right leg and Sieg would achieve a dominant position on top of Damion.

Eventually Siegs left leg would be pulled free of the opponents right leg grasp due to the sprawl and after that Sieg would then modify his left cross face into a frontal head lock. After the attempted attack on his right leg by the opponents right hand blade, he began driving his knee into the opponents head beneath his chest, over and over again.

Sieg had wanted to stay away from grappling, but the opponent had given him a good opportunity to win the fight.

Second Floor - Break Room

But that left Damions right arm still free, and his knife was still sharp. It didn't take alot of effort to stab someone in the gut with a pointy instrument, enough, but not so much that the clothes would hinder it. Even as Sieg began to pull his knee back, Damion's legs could curl under him, settling him into the headlock more, and his right arm would shoot up hard, the very sharp and very deadly tip of his knife, which was already resting against his opponents stomach area after all, would drive in hard, much like applying pressure to a pencil on the skin.

Unless Sieg had skin of steel, he was about to lose his breakfast as Damion jerked the knife to the right hard, the sharp cutting edge sawing as he took a knee to the face, twisting his head so that the next one would hit the side of his face, warm blood leaking from his nose. He couldn't avoid the knees, but he was pretty sure slicing someones abdomen up like the catch of the day would make them let go. Even if Sieg could see it, it'd be hard to avoid what with his arms so busy wrapped around Damion's neck and his line of sight blocked by the man's body.

Perhaps the Monks choice of clothing would be his downfall.

13/17

((Sieg and Damion should direct their eyes to the Debug Mode thread. It should also be noted that Damion will be on his 15th post of the 17 post round when it comes time for him to make his reply.))

Time Paradox

Roen was on the far side of the roof, as far away from the elevator as possible, with his arms crossed upon his chest and the Death Throe firmly within his tail's grasp. He was watching the city below with a sense of pride. Security was barring the public from the entrance into the Weather's Foundation as his team and that other team fought. So long as Bellanox wasn't fighting, he had no need to watch Edward of Sieg, confident as he was in their abilities. Not to say he wasn't confident in Bellanox; but that was a tangent. He was only concerned with the common rabble below for the time being, smirking at the level of attention the Heaven or Hell tournament garnered.

Having no words to utter out loud, Roen contented himself to silence until his opponent showed up.

Finally, Getting tired of this whole waiting thing he would begin to press the up button multiple times. Finally the door would open, No one in the elevator, Good. Things were about to get hot. Stepping in, He would press the button for the roof and wait for the doors to close. As the doors closed, His hands would rev the hilt to the blade a few times more. Charging more runs through the use of heat and friction. His current count at three. A few moments would pass until the elevator's door would slide open with a ding. Stepping out unto the roof, Meiun would gaze over the devil's form. "You ready to get this over with?" He spoke in a nonchalant tone. He was ready to get this over with, and over with fast. He stood, Both arms at his sides, Blade grasped backwards in his hold, The right hand wrapped firmly around it. The left hand simply open and free. He took a step forward, Entering the almost center of the roof. "Lets go already."

Weather Foundation - Rooftop

Ding!

Reaching behind him and taking the sheath of the Death Throe out of his tail's grip, Roen would heave in a deep breath and sigh through his nose as he grabbed the wire-wrapped hilt of his blade, drawing it from it's womb with his left hand before leaning over and setting the sheath upon the ground. Clearing his throat and turning around to face his opponent, the Devil would then step forth to greet him on the center of the roof, his left hand flourishing the b*****d sword with it's grip along his left flank in negligence.The iridescent obsidian colored blade shimmered as if it writhed with life as light danced along it's surface before it settled, it's tip pointed towards the ground as the Devil advanced.

No thoughts. No emotions. Just an abyssal devil setting his jaw and steeling himself for the inevitable battle to come. Last year, he thought fought for the joy of battle; for the excitement and adventure of meeting new people and beating their faces in. After striking out, he went to the Dark Tournament and made it to the finals, again with nothing to prove and only a desire for some more senseless brutality to lose himself in. Then it was onward to the Yggdrasil, and again - he made the finals.

Then it hit him. Like a s**t-ton of bricks, it just hit him. As he lifted his sword and pointed it's narrow tip at his opponent's chest, Roen found there was no passion behind his hostile intent. He had no drive within him anymore. He didn't even see Meiun! He just saw another peon in the ring with him; another blurry face that he would forget in a matter of days. No, all Roen saw was almost five years of venting his emotions on any fool who stepped into the arena with him. And when the Devil looked inward, all he saw was nothingness. In five years, he had vented all his anger, sorrow, and self-pity.

He realized he was running on empty. And strangely enough, this was disturbing. What the hell was he fighting for anyway? What did he succeed in forgetting over the past five years? Hell of a time to have a mid-life crisis, in the beginning of a battle; but Seer-Dammit, Roen had no idea what the blazes he was doing on this roof. He needed a moment of soul searching to figure out what he was doing. Shifting his footing as he neared the five-foot mark between he and Meiun, the Devil began to circle counter-clockwise around the man, sword between them both, left flank facing the man. He wouldn't initiate first contact just yet. He just needed just a second to find where the hell his vigor went.

"Fool." Whether Roen was talking to himself or Meiun was up for debate.

1/17

Second Floor - Break Room

He flinched as he failed to feel the purchase he was expecting, the blade penetrating but as deeply as he hoped and as Siegs knee came back he knew it hadn't done anything. It did leave his arm in a passable defense position, and with a jerk he released his knife, punching the side of Sieg's knee to knock the aim off. Instead of hitting him full on, it'd clip the side of his head, sending stars through his head for sure but not knocking him out. And now with it in the way, he could latch on, looping his arm around the back of the mans knee and holding it in place.

From the outside, they looked like a pretzel, although that was the least of Damion's worries at the moment. It occured to him, rather suddenly, that he could still bend his right arm, and did so promptly the knife still clutched there stabbing for...somewhere, he wasn't entirely sure what he could hit but with luck it'd make the other man let go and he could retrieve his other fang.

All in all this felt incredibly awkward, but he could atleast see that it hadn't born fruit, Sieg bleeding from two places atleast and him about to lose a tooth it felt like.

15/17

Second Floor - Break Room

Damion would use whatever free arm he had to defend against the rapid knee shots, ready to sacrifice it to keep from getting knocked out. He had never removed the knife in Sieg's stomach, and it still held there, held up by the pressure of the other mans body and his own clothes. He would leave it there and just focusing on blocking. Sieg might be desperate, but so was Damion after all. Let his arm shatter, as long as he remained concious.

Damion's right arm, wrist, however, would weedle around, jabbing at the man with the tip of his knife despite the confusing hold he was in. It wouldn't do much, but he sensed the fight was nearly over. His free arm would remain however, aided in it's blocking by the fact that Sieg was pushing down on his back. He just had to keep it up.

17/17

Five years..,

Sword-calloused fingers tightened their hold upon the wire-wrapped hilt of the Death Throe as Roen went about the tedium of igniting the hearth in his chest. In the quick process of thoughts and tangents, he quickly began to realize just what spurred him on; what made him the Darkened Devil. He began dug deep within the find his passion, and like an ember smothered in ash, he dusted it off and grabbed onto it in an iron like grip. He examined it; dissected it; came to know it as only he could intimately do. He was betrayed, and it was like being murdered and surviving. He remembered, in a quick flash of his life, who he was and who he thought he was meant to be. A friend, lover; warrior of peace, a contradiction to the darkness he was bred from, a father-to-be.

And then he remembered the moment he was stripped of his power and banished to Gaia, never to return to Earth again. When he was near-death in the wilderness, cold, and alone, he didn't vow to be a better person - he had been a good man, given the circumstances. He didn't vow to one day return to Earth, he was unwanted. In a moment of clarity on that cold and soggy dirt, he realized just who and what he exactly was - A Devil! Try and fight as he might, there was no denying that the blood of sinners ran through his veins. He would always be proud of his accomplishments and feats, he'd always lust for women, he always be Seer-Damned hungry, he'd always be greedy for more power, he'd always be a lazy b*****d, he'd always hold onto his anger, and he'd always be envious of the past life he once had.

Like a wyrm devouring it's own tail, each of these traits bleed through one another, fueling his drive. In embracing his terrible nature, he had found peace. In light of this, Roen realized that he had never vented all of his self-pity, sorrow, and anger - he had merely only forgotten what it was like. He had settled for a life of mediocrity in the face of so much more recognition and desire to increase his own self-worth that he became infuriated with the fact that he was but a few moments ago content to go back to the Alibi and spend the rest of his days trying to grope Bellanox and drink Coronas. He became even more enraged when he thought that he might have forgiven the people who sent him to this hellhole in the first place. Forge a better life, they had told him. No, they would rue the day they thought that the handsome young-man they once knew could redeem himself and save a war-torn Gaia.

Upper lip curling into that of a vicious snarl, The Darkened Devil dug and dug and dug until his chest burned in self-righteous fury. They should have known that a destiny isn't something joyous or an easy burden. Look where it led him. Pompous bastards! He should have killed them all when he had the chance; but he was denied his vengeance, making Gaia the next best thing. He'd spite them, the Redgraves. He'd spite them all! Gaia was his playground now, and he'd save it just as they wanted him to - killing and disfiguring one blurry face after another and clawing his way to the top. He'd garner not respect but fear in the hearts of these people, and use it to shape the world the way he wanted to.

Gone was Roen D. Jaeger, the friend, lover, warrior of peace, a contradiction to the darkness he was bred from, and father-to-be. Five years ago was the birth of the irrepressible, unforgivable, unstoppable, shameless, thoughtless, hopeless, heartless, undaunted, unrepentant, and unsaved Darkened Devil. Remembering his true self, the Devil would narrow his deep-set garnet eyes at Meiun, furrow his eyebrows, and grit his teeth tight as he reached over with his right hand and grabbed the bottom few inches of his wire-wrapped hilt, hefting the blade up and over his head in a high-guard. Controlling his fury and letting it guide his actions and bolster his resolve, he would cease his circling around his opponent and step forth, swinging the Death Throe down and ontop of Meiun's crown, if of course Meiun didn't do anything prior. Though drenched in anger, he was far from blind. So would begin Heaven or Hell in true.

2/17

There he stood, Counter circling the devil. His eyes on the hands waiting for the opponent's strike. In one moment everything went blank, In his mind he saw the face of the person he was fighting for the most. Himself, Like looking at a mirror, He could see his inner most emotions. He was here for him, And for him to gain the power he craved. Everything would flood back in only for him to see his opponent lift the hefty blade and then aim to bring down on top of his head. Without words, The male would dart forward, Coming into close range with the devil he would halt, And bring up the left hand which held the large blade in it's reversed grip. Shifting is footing so that he would make a makeshift spin on the planted right foot whilst raising the blade in a cross body swing to make contact with the blade. The heavy nine pound sword of Meiun's being swung with monstrous force aimed at the side of Roen's own blade in an attempt to parry it and stagger the devil. Meiun would then shift on his right foot again and swing out his right hand, A spinning backhand aimed at the devil's chin. Had everything worked the way it was supposed to, Meiun would have ducked in and swung his blade into Roen's own in a parry, Then spun on his foot to execute a spinning back hand. Heaven of hell indeed, Heaven or hell.

2/17

Rune charge:3/5

Sieg was known far and wide as the heroic warrior monk who held his faith high even though the world he lived was filled with demons and heresy. While at first one would build the image in their mind of a majestic and courageous soul, the true image of Sieg Ecstuffuan was a bit more disconcerting.

Sieg was a warrior before he was a monk and it showed. Sixty years of constant battle had numbed him to certain things. Despite his religious the truth was that Sieg was an imperfect soul. He was addicted to the adrenalin rush wrought by combat and he lacked the empathy that prevented other monks from harming another soul. The damage that Sieg unleashed upon others and himself was seen by the old man as simple sport.

It was not that he did not feel the pain, but rather he had gotten used to feeling it. Sieg gave the nurse who was stitching up the multiple bloody wounds about his body a smile as if he did not feel the needle go through the flesh. It wasn't that Sieg didn't feel it...he felt it as any other man did...it is just that he didn't scream out nor did he quiver. He did not find any reason to.

"Its amazing that your even still conscious after that Mr. Ecstuffuan", the nurse said to Sieg within the office building away from all the battle. Sieg was sitting up on a stretcher covered in bandages around the areas that had already been stitched or didn't need to be.

"Oh fiddlesticks young lady. Tis just a flesh wound.", Sieg said...thinking that he heard the line from another christian warrior.

" Ack!" There was a feeling he'd never get used ot, his feet slipping out from under him like that, though the feeling of a soft seat beneath him was far preferable to the cold floor that it could have been. " But I enjoy bleeding...."

The elemental didn't even wince when Raven removed the staple, just a slight jerk of the head as the staple pulled at his flesh. " Pin Cushion?" Who had done what now? Damion pinched his leg, trying to wake himself up more than his odd blackout state. " Wait....right, is he upstairs? I don't see him."

IT was going to take him aminute to come back obviously. He was painfully aware of how sticky his clothes had become, the soda that had sprayed onto his back slipping between his clothes and his back and making for a very uncomfortable sensation. Damion could think of several ways to fix that, but felt it'd just be better to take the damn vest off and clean it later, standing up and doing just that.

" So....two of us are gone." That made sense after all. he just wondered how they were doing.

Edward would advance, attempting to push through Desmond's desperate defenses, knowing quite well that victory was at hand. The cyberpunk knew it and he was pretty sure that his opponent was beginning to understand that as well. Apparently, his opponent had very little experience with fighting on the ground, exemplified by Desmond's efforts in getting Ed to stay away.

The first would be the slight push, merely an obstruction and not really a good one as it was only Desmond's arm against Edward's entire body. But the tonfa strike came soon after that, the attack powered by his opponent's innate abilities, glancing off the side of his jaw due to Edward's constant movement. It was painful, the area beginning to bruise and inflame, and blood instantaneously filling up his mouth. But it didn't help Desmond that he was attacking from a disadvantageous position, and that Edward at that point was so determined to mount his opponent that he'd have to go through a lot more pain before he'd actually consider folding.

The cyberpunk would muscle his way through the push and the tonfa strike, feeling like absolute crap, but his desperation only caused him to move forward. The punk would take the mount and settle in for strikes.

Finding himself being held up by Desmond's arm as he tried the elbow strike, the cyborg quickly opted to rain down punches instead. His left prosthetic first followed by his right in quick succession, leaving his opponent with a plethora of punches to defend against but only one limb to defend with unless he'd decide to pull back his other arm. It didn't help that Desmond would later attempt to attack with said free arm.

Edward's strikes wouldn't stick to simply being plentiful in the amount of punches being thrown, but would also vary in the numerous angles being employed against Desmond. The cyborg's fists (cybernetic and not) would come in from all sorts of directions, some aimed for the nose, temples, forehead, eyes, cheekbones, mouth, and even the ears. The right was strong in it's own right, but the left was as if an extremely strong man was punching some one with a pair of brass knuckles. The punk would continue this until Desmond stopped him somehow, blacked out, a judge stopped the match, or some other action like his opponent quitting under the stress of the constant onslaught if his opponent could even manage to speak without getting a fist stuck in his mouth.

If Desmond continued with the gut attack, instead of moving in to defend himself. He'd find himself both in a world of hurt but also with an attack that would sure fail due to lack of distance. The mount insured that there was at most two feet of distance between the two combatants, and with the combined lengths of Desmond's weapon and his arm that attack wouldn't reach it's full potential. It would hurt but it would only be an annoyance compared to other attacks that Ed had already taken in the fight.

The cyborg would continue to deliver death from above.

-Nove-

Right foot planted firmly before him and his arms swinging down with all the bloody intent of a murderer, the Devil was at a disadvantage of any quick movements; but he had no intention of backing down from his physically imposing opponent. This would not be the first time he had faced a man or creature bigger than himself, and he would not be intimidated by Meiun as the man darted inside his guard. He had faced larger men in last year's Heaven or Hell and dropped structures ontop of them to ensure victory. He wouldn't hesitate to bring the entire Weather's Foundation ontop of Meiun if it meant a win, if it ever came down to it. As it was, Meiun thought getting up close and personal was a wise decision - The Darkened Devil had every intention of making a fool out of him.

With the Death Throe parried away yet his firm footing enabling him to keep relative balance, Roen would manipulate his tail in a subtle fashion to compensate his off center of gravity while watching and suffering no false illusions that Meiun was attempting to backhand him. Let him try, the Devil would think to himself as his snarl turned even more vicious, his torso leaning forward and his head cocking to the side to duck below the fist. his knees bending to lowering his body closer to the ground. Meiun had spun, and no matter how fast anyone could spin, they had to take their eyes off of their opponent - a mistake that Meiun would have to unfortunately live to regret.

Fwish!!

Meiun's fist would molest nothing but air after Roen bent his knees and ducked below it, and before the man's body would twist the rest of the way so that he could once again lay eyes on the Devil, Roen was already poising the narrow tip of the Death Throe, aiming it at the blur of body infront of him, and lunging forward with a savage war cry to impale any bit of flesh he could get with his weapon. Accuracy was little to null in such close proximity and the hastiness of the lunge; but it was a sure bet that the Devil's weapon was aimed to slip anywhere from between Meiun's last few ribs to the man's hip bone. Either way, this could very well be the show stopper if Meiun didn't do something drastic. With a savage war cry from below, it looked like it was all or nothing. "Rrrrrrghhh!!"

3/17

The devil ducked, As expected when anyone see's a spinning back hand coming toward them. Fear not, Meiun's plan had intended on the opponent getting closer, Being hit was also a part of this plan. Due to the testing in project EDEN. Meiun's resilience to pain is increased. Minor cuts bruises and broken bones wont effect him as much as they should, Stated basically, His threshold for pain is highly above average. So the blade to the are right above the hip would pierce and run through, But this meant the blade was his for now. His left hand reached down and over to the blade, Gripping it in his hand, Cluttering it among the hilt to the blade. As he did this the runes in the blade Meiun had held, Which he had been charging until the battle started would glow a bright red and burst into flame upon the runes activation. Meiun's right hand would rear back as he took a step forward,Running the side down the blade a bit more.

"LAY DOWN b***h!"

Meiun's right hand would lash out toward the devil, As soon as it happened a bright flash of light and a large ball of flame would swirl off of his fist aimed directly toward the devil's face and chest. Given his current position.

{ Volcanic rave:

Charge required:2

The user throws a massive two jab combo,One jab sending out a massive burst of flame.

Using his Pyrokenisis,He channels the flames around his hands often mostly concentrated around the right hand,When the right hand is thrown a mass amount of fire is released from around the hand in the shape of a fireball,Which moves up to six feet forward at about 5mph.}

((hands are switched, Only the right is thrown fist throwing the fireball. ))

If the attack hit the devil, The flame and concussive force of the fire ball would bit him on his back, Were Meiun would follow up with the second jab of the combo, Right down unto the devil's face used as the devil would be blown down unto his back from the downward fireball thrown. Meiun would drop down, Right knee aiming to hit the devil in the stomach, The left hand having let go of the blade and now coming down with the monstrous jab aimed at the nose. If the knee would land, He would quickly turn it into a full mounted position on top the devil whom if having everything happened the way he would have liked, be on his back without his blade. He would then having let go of his own blade to execute the attack would begin to drop a barrage of hammer fist onto his face, Attempting to end the match.

3/17

Rune charge-1(edited due to mistake on my part)