Gold Mountain Casino

THE FABULOUS GOLD MOUNTAIN CASINO!

Established June 10th, 2005 by the late Johnny K. Gambino, Gold Mountain is a symbol of the sheer awe and might one name can create. Still but five months old, this great casino holds some of the most intriguing world records ever seen on Gaia.

From having the most slot machines in one building, at unlimited. To the smallest amount of employees in a casino, estimated at no more than two or three in the entire building.

Such things emphasize the teamwork and good will Johnny K.'s Gold Mountain instills.

Located at the north by northwest end of the fantastic Isle de Gambino, the casino has survived the many hardships its place of residence has endured. Despite the loss of both masters and their vast mansions, Gold Mountain still stands, ready to satiate every Gaian's hunger, for gambling.

The building is two stories high, with the newly installed arena basement underneath. The two glowing towers extending out from the sides of the building reach an impressive height of sixty feet into the air. The first floor, simply known as the gaming area, is a massive expanse, possessing blackjack tables, roulette, the famous slot machines, and some of the best known poker tables in the world, hosting many of the greatest players nation-wide. The twenty foot high ceilings are but another note to the impressive nature of Gold Mountain. The second floor, reserved for some of the most posh parties around, is just as vast as the floor below, with twelve foot high ceilings an unknown maximum accomadation, seeing as its never been reached. With twenty seperate bars, and over forty professional bartenders, drinks truly are, all around.

Rest In Peace, Johnny K. and Gino Gambino, for your name lives on in all of us.

~

GTFOMO LINEUP

STAY TUNED

Kichiro had paid attention to the discouragement of bladed weapons for this fight. Thus he walked in with a duel set of mythril coated tonfas with with a wooden core and steel rods in the center. They were balanced to perfection by elven smiths. His right hand gripped a handle and spun the tonfa in a slight circle. Since, they were not illegal, he sill held the normal blades in his cloak in case his oppenant decided to use them. His left hand gripped a tonfa and held it so that the long end was held out right, and thus was how he approached the arena. His rainbow colored cape fluttering the air behind him.

Kichiro walked to the center, mind filtering out the crowd and everything about him. He hardly heard the announcement, his hearing was atoned to the beating of Custard's heart. After the touching of hands, he'd spin back to his corner quickly. His cape covering his retreat.

Kichiro's right foot was forward and pointing at Custard. His right tonfa held at shoulder hieght and pointing at Custard's chest. His left tonfa low at hip level and pointing at Custard's right thigh. 2 feet of the tonfa stick from the handle porturded forward, and six inches back. His left foot shifted back at a 45 degree angle.

Chris Custard Wrote:

Chris had decided against carrying a weapon to the ring, seeing that it would be easy enough for him to get one anyway. Once he saw that his opponent had decided he'd throw his cape, Chris held up his right hand in front of him and shouted-

"Pulse!"

The cape would be blown towards Kichiro, and due to physics, would wrap around him, allowing Chris to rush in and take hold of the right tonfa, placing his back against Kichiros chest and squeezing him between the corner and himself. Whilst all the while steadily delivering elbows with his left free arm.

The cape of deflection would send Custard flying away at 9m/s at a 30 degree angle to the side. Thus, would he never reach the tonfa of Kichiro for that matter. It was likely that the unexpected blow would send him into a world of pain upon landing.

Kichiro's eyes would watch Custard as he flew backwards, and away... awaiting the next move.

((Read my profile in my journal, it'll do you good.))

"I'm Michael Tucker."

"And I'm Sean Daniels."

"And oh my Lord is this fight getting off to a rocking start."

"You could say that again Michael."

"And oh my Lord is this fight getting off to a rocking start."

"... Well anyways, let's go over what's happened."

"Our man Custard tried to pull a strange trick to ensnare Kichiro."

"But that cape was a beast in disguise, lashing out to try and throw him away."

"Though that wasn't nearly enough to stop Chris, he's already in the air."

"Shooting... a vine!?"

"WOOOOOOAH! This is just too intense!"

So, once the vine was knocked aside, it slapped into the ring and stuck. So this guy thought he was invisible eh? That would be swell, if Chris had normal eyes. One forgets that when invisible, you still give off heat so it was simple enough for Chris to see him as he would anyone else.

Chris still zoomed at him as normal, though Kichiro wouldn't be aware Chris knew where he was. Just as Chris came within striking range of Kichiro he extended his right arm and made a fist. Aimed right for Kichiros face.

Chris Custard Wrote:

So, once the vine was knocked aside, it slapped into the ring and stuck. So this guy thought he was invisible eh? That would be swell, if Chris had normal eyes. One forgets that when invisible, you still give off heat so it was simple enough for Chris to see him as he would anyone else.

Chris still zoomed at him as normal, though Kichiro wouldn't be aware Chris knew where he was. Just as Chris came within striking range of Kichiro he extended his right arm and made a fist. Aimed right for Kichiros face.

Close melee...

Kichiro had not fought many creautures that were normal in Gaia, and he would watch as Chris continue to zoom at him as normal. 15 feet to cover was more than enough for the next chant...energy mask. All his energy signatures, matched that of the coldsteel katana within his cloak. He had no heat signature as Chris would come in. Though, this chant would be going the same as his hands.

Kichiro's raised tonfa in the right hand would have no trouble continuing its previous spin and momentum to hit away the incoming fist down and to Kichiro's right. This would likely cause Chris's arm to go across his body and leave him unblanced. As his eyes easily watched Chris the entire time, and with the momentum of the previous swing... it's mythril coating would likely snap the arm of leave a really good bruise as it hit it away.

Kichiro's left hand would not merely stay still as all this occurred, and its hiegth at hip level would give him an easy target. Seemingly invisible, even in energy signatures, it would be hard to dodge. Chris made the mistake of bringing magic spells into this, and the left tanto came flying towards his groin as he approached.

Again, unfortunately it took time to say stuff, and by the time Kichiro would've finished chanting, Chris would've already connected with his face...

...if it weren't for those tonfa. Fortunately, they hit just above his elbow where the bone was generally stronger and covered by rock hard muscle. There was an audible thwack and a bruise would raise later, but Chris was otherwise fine. The fist would still connect. As for his groin, there was a crunch, but that was it. Chris had a cup on, as usual. It was impacted slightly, but still functional.

And as for lowering your temperature to hide your thermal signature. It was impossible, thermal signatures work on heat, or in this case, the lack of heat. Kichiro would just turn blue and stand out even more.

OOC: Last post goes to Chris Custard. Any of his attacks will be nulled by the referee's intervention.

The referee would blow his whistle and then forcibly put himself between both fighters, signalling the end of the match. The announcer would enter the ring and take the ref's place as he went to consult the judges. Quickly, the referee would return with another small cue card, and hand it over. Taking a quick moment to read it, the announcer would raise the mic.

"The judges have come to a decision! With a score of 1 to 1, the winner is:

NOBODY!"

Once again the announcer would call the two fighters into the ring.

The referee would relay the rules between them, adding one other little thing.

(NO OOC CARP, OMG)

And he'd say it again:

"Touch hands and come out fighting."

Before dropping his arm down between them.

Shouyin was grinning wildly as he smacked Lazenca's hand. Not rough or nothing, that cat, err, wolf had claws, but in a friendly manner. He was wearing baggy black boxing shorts that reached down to his knees, and, a pair of boxers aside, that was it.

He put his right foot back, legs shoulder width apart, feet pointing right forty-five degrees, knees slightly bent. Both hands formed fists in front of his face, the left hanging a little lower in front.

The first move would be his, with a quick kick to the shin with his left leg, not powerful, but enough to take Laz's attention away from the left jab to the nose, and right cross to underneath the eye.

What the frig'? A nasty little explosion went off in Shouyin's back, and he went tumbling into Laz. Well that was uncalled for. And then the arms came for his shoulder and neck. His neck was a special area though, he didn't like people touching it. And although there was plenty of surprise, it didn't stop Shouyin from throwing out his right arm and catching Laz in the side.

The feeling of the rock arm colliding with Mr. Miranda's body probably wouldn't hurt, but it'd be sudden and uncomfortable. However, his grip would be enough to take Lazenca down with him. They'd both hit the ground, Laz probably harder than Shou, since there was added force required to take him down.

Shouyin kind of, scuttled backwards away from Lazenca while on all fours and got up, immediately going back into the previous stance. He had to watch out for that explosion thing, but it was kind of hard to predict. The only clue Shou had was that he was, looking at him while it happened? Lot of good that did.

Showed our hero for trying to kick, he'd always known it was useless, couldn't even throw in a quick opener with those silly feet. Tch... Shouyin would step forward on his left, quickly ducking down to cover the rest of the distance between them before rising up to Lazenca's right, throwing a heavy right punch that was somewhere in between an uppercut and a hook to the man's stomach, nearer to the liver.

'Ill show you how to use them legs shouyin'

Sieg thought with a smirk. Sweat began to engulf his body as hundreds of combinations would flow out from his being. His entire body would throw variations of muay thai kickboxing techniques using the hands, legs, knee's, elbows, head, and a mix of both the shuffle and pendullum footwork. His punch's would come like pistons, but more powerful and precise than any machine. They would come like the dragon in that there power and image would dissapear and reappear all in an instance, his body could do this as it was under SIegs full control. Siegs kicks came low for the most part but with balance and grace. They came fast like the flurrys of jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts; but they possessed such balance that it seemed as if these kicks could stop on a dime and move in a completly different correction. This came not from chi but from the power of Siegs pelvis muscles, thighs, trunk and his back.

The flurry of attacks would come out fast and powerful, as if they reflected dire effort but the fact was, combat was one of the most natural things Sieg could do. Like breathing or walking.

He didn't even have to do all of that. Laz was taking this fight seriously enough since it was a way for him to learn and grow, but he was taking more risks than he usually would. Like, starting off a sanctioned fight with a non-physical attack. Or, countering. Laz had already been superextended on that side, and there was little to nothing that he could do about Shou's counters. The gut check was solid, and Laz was forced back. He knew the leg was behind him, but it was one of those things that you couldn't do anything about.

He would have gone to the ground, if it hadn't been for Laz's ability to shift states rather quickly. No Hollywood special effects... screaming, groaning, light, tearing muscles and all. It just happened, and that's all Laz cared to know about it. That said, Shou would probably be suprised when Laz shifted mid-fall into a rather large wolf [not "werewolf"]. Like this, he was able to do a midair check... but he was already pretty much on the ground. So, the check enabled him to gather himself quickly, rather than wholly avoid hitting the ground.

The second he was able, Laz switched directions, pushing off his hind legs then his fores, up to Shou's body. He shifted back to Transitional state [humaniod] in the middle of that leap, and tackled Shou to the ground, football style. His right shoulder to Shou's chest, already driving forward with the leap, going through the guy in front of him. The main difference is rather than stay down and talk trash like football players would be known to do, Lazenca immediatly pushed himself off Shou, crawling backwards as if he were still in his wolfen state.

((You guys need me to rp the ref? Its my turn.))

"..."

Sst, sst, sst.

tp, tp, tp, tp.

Sst-sst, sst... sst!

"Don't overdo it."

Reiko locked eyes with his trainer and quietly obliged without saying anything or demonstrating any disagreeable body language. He only took a deep breath and bounced very lightly on his feet.

"I'm always coming out of retirement. I wonder why."

His trainer smiled and placed a gently placed a towel over his head. And said in her unbecoming of a martial artist, trendy, girl voice.

"Go for it.."

Reiko exited out of his corner's entrance when his name was called... he was off to the fight again.

OOC: It's all good Sieg, me and Wulf totalled up the points ourselves.

I'm gonna go watch I movie, I should be back before it's all over.

Don't go crazy you guys.

IC: As per protocol, the referee would bring the two fighters, once they were done greeting the crowd in whatever way they felt necessary, together in the middle of the ring. The rules laid out and agreed upon by both men, he'd nod to each and speak those fateful words.

"Okay boys, touch hands and come out fighting."

'Lo would the might arm come a'swinging down, and the main event would begin.

Shouyin Wrote:

OOC: It's all good Sieg, me and Wulf totalled up the points ourselves.

I'm gonna go watch I movie, I should be back before it's all over.

Don't go crazy you guys.

IC: As per protocol, the referee would bring the two fighters, once they were done greeting the crowd in whatever way they felt necessary, together in the middle of the ring. The rules laid out and agreed upon by both men, he'd nod to each and speak those fateful words.

"Okay boys, touch hands and come out fighting."

'Lo would the might arm come a'swinging down, and the main event would begin.

And Sieg would do just as the ref. wanted them too. He walked out of his corner slowly, with his left arm extended ready to tap the other fighters fist lightly with his own. Sieg kept eye contact however it was not just the eyes of the opponent that he was focused on. Sieg didnt like to focus on any one thing.

'tap'

The look on Siegs face as he did this was one that reflected both desire and insanity. This was the time when sieg was really happy. The smirk on his face was set off by the way his left eye was squinched and his right was wide open, clearly this was not a normal gaze.

Sieg would have moved backwards without turning his back to his opponent. This was not out of trust but out of habit. He moved backwards into the corner of his ring and then began to move into his stance with his gaze ever scrutinizing the opponents position and form.

The frequency of his spiritual aura began to become more dense and erratic as his tan tein opened to release even more spiritual energy into his body. Sieg moved into his stance with one fluid motion with his body under his complete control.

Siegs feet would both be pointed forward in his opponents general direction, spread medium width above the white shining canvas of the ring. His left foot would be in front of his right foot, making it a left lead stance. His back right heel would be raised slightly off the canvas. His knee's would be bent slightly, keeping ready to act.

His arms would simoutaniously move into place. His right hand would move in front of his mouth with the fingers of both of his hands curled and relaxed. His left hand would move in front of the area just below his left male breast. His left elbow would be held about an inch away from the body and his right would be allowed to touch the body.

At this point the ref would thrust his arm down and begin the fight, and with that Sieg would advance.

Siegs walk forward was one that kept his balance maintained, keeping ready for the opponent to attack at any moment. A single forward motion was made with his back right foot sliding forward and then with his left sliding forward.(Multiples of these movements were made in order to advance) His feet would slide along the canvas, but in no way was his advance slow. His right heel remained raised as he advanced and his knee's remained bent. This movement kept Sieg ready to move at any moment and kept his steps balanced. Siegs chin would move down as he would approach.

His first move upon getting in hand to hand range of the opponent would be, to throw a left hand jab at the front chin of the opponent. The jab was fast and would retract faster than it had been thrown. His left fist bawled as it was thrown at the opponent. The jab would not be completly extended before it would retract faster than it had been sent out. The jab would remain bent as he didnt want to overextend the left arm. The jab would be controlled, and would be able to respond to the movements SIegs saw through his physical eyes and felt with his minds eye.

Sieg ecstuffuan Wrote:

His first move upon getting in hand to hand range of the opponent would be, to throw a left hand jab at the front chin of the opponent.

Reiko slipped his head over to the left slightly Paying no mind to how close the fist might've been to hitting him.

Then his right foot slid back more as he edged back into the maximum length his own arm would go. 2ft and some inches. Long range.

Sieg ecstuffuan Wrote:

His left hand would lash out by the end of this movement again, aiming towards the left side ribsection of the opponent.

(( ... ))

Reiko grabbed Sieg's left wrist with his left hand while turning the left side of his body a bit counterclockwise. Why was it so easy to catch? Because throwing a fist at the opponent's corresponding side was easy to see and predict. The shortest distance between two points was straight. In this case. a Left should hit the body's right and vice versa. Especially given that the body would turn slightly and reading shoulders was something you had to learn how to do.

Immediately, Reiko's right fist came across in a sharp hook over Sieg's left shoulder, at the lower area of the left side his head. Where his jaw was connected to the skull.

"..."

Amidst the roaring crowd of spectators getting into the action, there were at least two attendees in the audience who remained calmly in their seats. One, a sharply dressed individual with slicked back white hair, wearing the finest fasionable suit, a Volex, and the new line of Romani eyewear, sat quietly with his arms crossed. He wasn't even watching the fight. He merely let his head hang with his eyes closed. He didn't need to watch to know who the victor would be. He was simply here for moral support... and his date had wanted to come.

The other, a busty young woman wearing much less formal attire that included a T-shirt with the words "MILK" stylized in black and white with boxes of the opposite color barely containing her huge breasts, delicately placed a tastey morsel in her mouth she had purchased at the consession stand. She was not as quiet for long.

"C'MON! HIT HIM, STUPID!" she yelled out over the crowd, cupping her hands around he mouth, hoping it would carry her voice all the way across the arena to one of the combatants. A look of worry crossed her face, as she turned to her companion and asked, "You don't think it's because of his injuries, do you?"

"... Nah, he's just warming up," the other man finally said, looking up at the same time, and uncrossing one arm to raise a hand to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the light reflecting off them to dramatically reveal his lady-killing green eyes.

Keith S. Makaze Wrote:

Amidst the roaring crowd of spectators getting into the action, there were at least two attendees in the audience who remained calmly in their seats.

[Nice to see you too, Andy and Mai.]

Unchecked Twitch Wrote:

> Keith S. Makaze Wrote: > Amidst the roaring crowd of spectators getting into the action, there were at least two attendees in the audience who remained calmly in their seats. [Nice to see you too, Andy and Mai.]

Amidst the roaring crowd of spectators getting into the action, there were at least two attendees in the audience who remained calmly in their seats.

(I knew remembered that from somewhere!)

Shouyin Wrote:

And they fought fought fought the night away.

I think we'll just leave it at that.

Thank you very much to everyone who participated.

Next time we'll make things a little longer, or at least extend the main event.

Maybe sprawl things out over a day or two.

Whatever the case, I think it's safe to say this was a great success.

So take -that- Vahn. >= P

Edit: If you two wanna keep fighting, feel free to, but I'm done for the night.

((I got to go to bed soon, but Ill try to sneak in one more post.

damn time flies when your having fun.

I wanted to work my ground work on reiko too, well maybe next time.

Vahn said it woudnt work?

Guess I showed him...

lol

I read that argument with reiko and the knife thing. That was funny to see you baddass dude bitching. I didnt take a side, so dont ask.))

"No." John muttered simply, looking about himself to gather his bearings. Whilst Samantha had the leisure of humanity, John didn't like teleportation simply because it messed with his senses. He had an acute awareness of electrical signals within the air, and moving from one place to the next for him was like smelling a rose before smelling a rotten carcass - the change was abrupt and needed time to process. Slight disorientation didn't cover it.

The doormen at the doors of the casino sighed, one turning to the other. "Oh great. Teleporters. Ten bucks says they're kicked out for 'porting into the vault."

"Nah, not these two. They've got more of a Bonnie/Clyde thing happening...if Bonnie was Punky Brewster and Clyde was He-Man."

"Hopefully they'll just leave. I cant stand it when the partons get rough."

John sighed. He needed to get cleaned up before entering the casino proper. "...You haven't got a shower and a VXL sized shirt in that backpack, do you?" He asked the girl with a smug smile.

John simply allowed her to lead him, bemused by her quick thinking. People had too much reliance in magic these days - it was good to find someone steeped in realism. Even if she was a little young.

Moving into the hotel, the doormen glancing them up and down - but silenced by a glare from John - and they moved to the front desk.

"A room for me and my...niece." John said to the lady behind the desk.

The woman looked the two of them up and down. One, a man who had barely fit through the door and was covered in bandages, the other, a slight teenager who looked more at home in a library studying then in the company of a walking juggernaut.

She said nothing - she simply accepted the coin John placed down and handed over a key. "Anything else?"

"Yes - a change of clothes for me and the girl, and some food." John replied, taking up a pen in his finger and thumb and writing down his measurements, pausing for a moment to look Samantha up and down before writing down hers as well. "Something smart, dressy. We'll be going to the casino tonight."

"You do realize that minors are not allowed into the casino..."

"Without supervision. Which i am. Being her uncle."

"Right. Your items can be ready in a few minutes. You can wait in your room, if you wish..."

"Cheers." John said with a smile, snapping up his key and, still holding hands with Sam, walked into the elevator leading up to their floor. He released her hand as the door closed, turning to look down to her.

"You may not need this talk, but i'm going to give it anyways, so listen up - we're going to move into dangerous situations now. Asking about a person, even someone like your mother, is a difficult process, especially in a place like that hotel. Lots of money floating around, which means lots of fat-heads who would sooner spit at you then talk to you - or just kill you because you're in the way. Sometimes all it takes is asking the right person, and sometimes it takes asking them...hard."

The elevator doors opened, allowing them to walk out into the corridor. It was a short walk to their room, nothing fancy, simply a hotel room with a big bed, a TV, and a shower. All John needed. He kept talking as he opened the door, allowing Sam entry first. "Normally, i'd tell you to stay behind...but that usually never gets me anywhere, so i'll just ask that you keep close, dont draw attention and above all - stay smart."

He sniffed and swiped his thumb across his nose, a short puft of dust erupting from it. It tickled his nose, and he sneezed, hard enough to push Sam off-balance. He sniffed nosily as he chuckled, embarrised. "Sorry...i'm gonna get cleaned up. Knock when the togs and food arrives."

And with that, he wedged himself through the door of the bathroom and shut it behind himself. A short burst of Tribal swearing emitted from the closed door as John tried to figure out how to get into the glass shower cubicle, before the shower finally started.

"Yes, yes...liten nese avlytting..." John muttered to himself, soap and steam surrounding him. She was pushing it.

The hot water and soap stung his numerous wounds, but the bandages held. They were good quality, and John savored them.

It wasn't long before he finally exited the shower, looking about for a towel. Spying one, he quickly dried himself - before realizing he couldn't wrap it around his waist. Sam most likely wouldn't want him wandering around naked, so he took it upon himself to actually brush his hair, buying time.

"Those clothes get here yet?" He called. He could smell the food from here, but he couldn't leave till he had clean clothes. It took him almost ten minutes to get into the shower cubicle, and he wasn't going to try again.

"Taking out half the criminal element in the city would do that." John muttered from the door, accepting the clothes before shutting it quickly, before she could spy him.

He looked the clothes up and down. Pressed black slacks, a nice leather jacket and a black shirt tucked neatly in the coat hanger. His boots, kicked to the side when he was undressed, could be polished enough to seem sophisticated enough. And, of course, a pair of sunglasses in a little pouch.

He smiled. It was rare he wore clothes of this caliber. He would savor the opportunity whilst it lasted. He didn't expect any of these clothes to make it through the night unscathed.

He wondered about Sam's comment as he dressed. It had been years since he'd killed Alita and all her lieutenants. A lot had changed since then. Most surveillance footage of John, if there was any, would be useless now - he'd transformed completely from the lithe, slim figure he had been back then. Bigger frame, bigger muscles, longer hair and the beginnings of a beard showing on his face, only someone who knew him could tell the difference between him and that shadowy killer, all those years ago...

But then, he'd stayed out of Durem. He'd caused enough property damage to entail a citywide search in case he ever showed up again.

"What does it say about me?" He asked as he exited the bathroom, rolling up the sleeves of the silk shirt. He was happy with the fit.

He actually looked presentable for once. He'd spit shined his boots quickly, rubbing out any scuffs or marks with his towel. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands framing his face. He'd even trimmed his beard a little, taking away the unsightly stubble about the cheeks and under the chin and around the neck. He crossed his arms and leaned gently against the wall next to the bathroom door - it wasn't load bearing, but it took his weight.

Old Ghost...

A fitting choice of words.

He moved out of her way as she flitted past him, before moving over to the bed, sitting himself down in front of the laptop. Picking it up, he placed it on his knee, before cracking his knuckles.

He downsized the DPD website and opened up another box, finding a web browser and typing in the name of the casino they were going to go into. When that came up, he moved through the regular areas such as contact information to find a user login. It was a typical one, with a user-name and password.

John clicked the girl's start menu and quickly read through the programs she had on it. When that was done, he went to her hard-drive and checked through the files within. She was ordered, meticulously so - which was why it was easy to find the cracking program she'd hidden away.

Activating it, he placed a hand underneath the laptop, feeling for the wireless snub. Finding it, he closed his eyes for a moment - before opening them again. Now he was the antenna, and all the information going out into the world was being amplified by his own electrical impulses.

He went back to the casino's login and typed in a small jargon username and a useless password. The computer beeped, the cracking program doing it's job, and the screen signified that he was logged in. Scrolling through the information before him, he quickly found the list of rooms occupied and reserved, and searched for Honoraven's name. He also opened the folder containing the information on previous visitors of the hotel - this he also did a scan on.

John hadn't always been pumped full of muscle. There had been a time when he had done the worst of wetworks, where the skill with a computer was necessary. Whilst he wasn't a programmer of any calibre, he did know how to use a cracking program to unlock a server's information. Like opening a locked door, all you needed was to find the right pick.

And from the way Sam knew so much about her mother's whereabouts - and his time in Durem - she obviously had hacking skills.

"Then i'll make him get you another one...you look lovely, by the way." He said, looking up and smiling at her. She cut a pretty figure. She'd be a heartbreaker when she came of age.

He growled at the computer as it beeped at him - Honoraven's name hadn't come up on the registrar. "Your mum wouldn't be going out under a false name, would she?" He asked.

He couldn't see why, but it was safe to ask. Both searches had come up blank. This meant that she had asked that her name be kept confidential, or that someone had removed her information at some point between her disappearance and now.

John rolled his eyes. That was the problem with amateurs, they get caught up in the excitement, in the thrill of the chase. That can lead to danger...to trouble.

"Stay focused." John said, closing the laptop with a 'click'. "We're here to find your mother, after all. I intend to make this as painless as possible. The less heads i knock about, the better..."

For himself and for Sam. Why else would he order the clothing, searching for information, and not just barge in? If he wished he could literally tear down the entire building with his bare hands, but then what? There would be no gain.

There had been a time when this would have been easier...a wink and a smile to the right person would give him all the information he could muster. But now, thanks to his size, thanks to his appearance, that option was gone.

The most he could hope for was that Sam would keep her wits about her, stay cool, stay smart.

He set the laptop to the side and reached out for her hand. "Here's the plan...You are a princess from a faraway land, looking for a healer of great import. Her name is Honoraven, and it's urgent that you find her. I am your personal bodyguard, and i do not leave your side, not for a moment. Act important, act aloof - you're used to getting what you want, and nothing less. If you ever feel scared, or dont want to continue, just tell me and i'll take over. Any questions?"

Her input was important. If she felt she could not do this, then there was no point. There was always different avenues. All she needed to do was say so.

"That's my soldier." He said with a warm smile, reaching out to rustle her hair a little.

He stood then, packing away the laptop into her bag as well as the book she'd been carrying. Loosening the strap, he hung it over his shoulder till it was at a suitable length, before placing it down on the bed with satisfaction.

Pulling on his leather jacket and sliding on his sunglasses, he slung the bag over his shoulder once more. The band-aids on his face looked a little interesting, but aside from that, he looked like your standard bodyguard - albiet considerable more beefed up then others. With the sunglasses on you didn't know where he was looking, and with the obviously girly bag over his shoulder, it looked like she had told him to carry it for her.

"Lets go, your highness." He said, opening the door for her to walk out of.

He smiled down to her as she saundered out, like a cat within a home - before his face went blank. From now on he would not smile, frown or pull any other facial expression other then total and utter stoicism.

They went down the elevator and through the lobby, Tomorrow's head turning to stare at the receptionist as she blinked, unbelieving the transformation that had come over the two that had stood before her not one hour ago. The moved through the front entrance and out into the streets, where they quickly made their way to the casino front.

The door-men stood at the doors. Would their little facade work now?

"Ma'am!"

"Ma'am!"

The doormen spoke in unison as they opened their respective doors simultaneously, allowing entrance for the princess and her bodyguard.

John followed Sam in quietly, moving behind her. It aggravated him that he had to take such small steps, his legs many times longer and bigger then hers, but it couldn't be helped. Perhaps it would help his brooding mood he was trying to portray.

John moved to stand beside her, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited for the manager and head of security to arrive. He stood to attention, rigid and firm, glaring at anybody who got too close. The casino was a bustling place, thriving with the rich and famous - a girl and her bodyguard wasn't all that different within these walls.

"And how are we this evening?! My name is Claire, and i'm your dealer!" A bubbly voice suddenly said, causing John to turn and look at a card-dealer who had suddenly resumed her place at her table.

She smiled hesitantly at John, before smiling down to Sam. "Oh, but you're too young for this sweety...perhaps we could play for a little while while you wait for your parents to return?"

John looked down at the girl, watching as the dealer dealt the cards out. "It's called Blackjack here, sweety." The dealer replied, her voice slightly less bubbly as it had been when she had first talked to them.

"Please take care with your tone around the Princess." Tomorrow growled to the dealer, who trembled slightly as she flicked the second card over to Sam...

John said and did nothing to the tap - he simply turned away, looking out around him as the dealer dealt a card to Sam.

There was action all around him. to be quite honest, the electricity in the room was beginning to rub off on him - and not in the static sense. It felt like this entire casino, with it's brilliant lights and many, many electrical poker machines, had it's own generator to give it energy. He felt the power within the lines all around the building, coursing through the machines.

He looked about him, assessing any dangers. A few people were looking, but nothing that seemed too serious. A few business men leaving the cafe after losing their pay...some of the security staff that seemed to be sizing John up with their eyes, probably for the exact same reason John was sizing them up...some old ladies shrieking in glee as their machines buzzed...

"Correct, your highness..." The dealer said to the girl with a small smile, before revealing her cards. "Dealer has nineteen."

John spied the man and woman, allowing them to approach. The man held a clip-board in his hand, looked very professional, very clean. Obviously a white-collar manager. The second was a woman, tall and strong - she looked almost like an amazon in a suit.

The manager and head of security. "Thank you for meeting with Her Highness on such short notice." John said, his voice like a thunder that rolled from his lips. "The Queen of Terran would be very pleased with the hospitality you've given to us."

The two people hadn't even spoken yet. They had barely stopped walking, and already John was acting like he had their complete cooperation. It was a nice trick - kept them guessing, whilst confirming in their minds that you were the boss.

Tomorrow knew the girl would be crest-fallen - but she didn't know better. She didnt know how to question someone.

"The subject is about this tall, with dark red hair and red eyes." Tomorrow said to the pair. "She speaks multiple languages and has been known to carry a fan made of steel. If she had been here, you would have known about her - she tends to attract a small crowd of fans."

Before they replied, he held up his hand to silence them. "I'd like to request access to your security footage over the last week, just to be sure. It will not take me long to look through them."

John paused for a moment - before stepping away from Sam for the first time since they started the charade, moving in close to the manager, leaning down to put his face directly into his.

"The woman is a healer of the highest order, and the Queen is in need of such a healer. If that information leaves this casino floor, your cleaning staff will have a lot of time digging your guts out of this fine carpet. Do you understand me?"

"I will." He said to the security lady, before turning to the 'princess'. "Your Highness, would you like to see the security room? It has access to the entire casino."

Nudge nudge, wink wink. Unless John magicked a massive neon sign saying 'oppertunity ahoy to stick out of his head as he tap danced upon a fire eating tomato soup out of a flower vase, he could not make this any more clearer to her.

Samantha~Munin~ Wrote:

She was tempted to tell him that she didn't really want to go look at the cameras, especially since she really didn't think that Hono had been here... but she was willing to play along, she had asked for his help after all, so she was willing to listen to him.

The young lady slowly slid off her chair, shaking a stray curl back behind her shoulder. "Lets go then...If she was not here then we have other places that we need to check before the night grows any older!" Violet eyes practically stared a hole in the large security manager's chest until the woman shrugged and turned to lead them back to the security center.

"Yes princess..." John said efficiently, looking about him as they began to walk away. He was keeping an eye out now - now that they had made contact with the casino manager and head of security, a lot of people would be raising their eyebrows.

He followed close behind the trio, letting Sam move in front of him where she belonged as they came to a door. A swipe of a key-card and a press of a hand into a palm-print ID panel allowed them access.

This was extremely important. The casino 'cages' were massive and built like labyrinths. This made stealing from them very difficult, as it was rare for a burgler to get this far, and even rarer to find his target - and even harder to figure his way out afterwards.

Coming to a large door, another swipe of a card and press of a palm revealed a big office, three sides of the four walls covered from top to bottom with television screens, each signifying a camera pointed to the casino floor.

Strapped into large chairs, suspended from the ceiling and surrounded by wires and tubes filled with liquid, were three people, two men and a woman. Their heads were covered in what looked like a massive helmet which obscured their faces completely, their arms and legs strapped down tight to the 'chairs'. This was the metaphysical equivelent of a security system within Gaia - three powerful psychics, getting information fed directly into their brainstems to process and gather information.

John had never seen one up close, and as he moved forward to one, it twitched involuntarily, it's hand spasming.

The three spoke at once, in unison, as if from a collective mind.

"Don't fret, John Tomorrow. This is of our own free will."

"Don't fret, John Tomorrow. This is of our own free will."

"Don't fret, John Tomorrow. This is of our own free will."

John's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. The foremost psychic twitched again as the three suddenly span around from their walls, coming around to crowd around him and his young 'princess', awaiting their questions.

Psychics. John never felt comfortable around them.

John crossed his arms, waiting for the psychics to answer.

They had been plugged straight into the whole banks of camera feeds, credit-cards, EFTPOS, ID scanners...they pretty much monitored everything that went on in the casino.

((Sweety, you'll have to answer for me. I cant make up what i dont know. I have no idea where Hono ended up - this is your RP, you're the pilot. I'm just holding on for the ride. ))

He looked back down to Sam. "What?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow. "Last time i saw her was a few days ago, when Vahn was fighting that moron Silver and some other guy. She bounced Silver out of the arena when the fight moved elsewhere - i was busy chasing after Sunstrike. I dont know what happened to her after that."

He shrugged his massive shoulders. He thought she knew all this. Why else would she be at the Stadium?

Datho?! His first name was Datho?!

John tried to hide the grin from spreading on his face. Honest.

"Last time i saw him, he got his a** whipped real bad and was trying to get away. I tried to help him, but he seemed to be scared of everybody - even me. I didn't see where he went, but..." His eyes narrowed as the grin was swept from his face. "...It was strange...it was like, for a minute, someone else's brainwaves had appeared next to him...and then pulled him into something...before i lost both their signatures."

He frowned. That didn't sound like bouncing, or teleporting. It sounded more like a portal technique. But John didn't know anybody who used portal techniques...

A vibrant young woman walked through the smoky, crowded rows and hallways of slot machines and tables, her hair flowing behind her like the gold out of the machines, and much the same color.

"Where are you... you've been here. I can smell it."

The young woman sat down at a nearby machine, finding next to her an older gentleman with a clear disdain for the machine he was using. One of the woman's heels strapped up nearly to the knee clinked against the footrest below as the man looked over to his side to see the newcomer.

He began to speak without being addressed. "Looking for Lady Luck? I must tell you, She hasn't been kind to me these past few days. I'm not one of those hardcore gambling men, myself; I take care of my finances. But I certainly do enjoy the rush."

Green eyes darted to the right. "They say that the owner of this island walked in with but a single coin and left with the deed to the island. Do you truly believe that destiny is shaped by luck?"

A jovial laugh, followed by "Well, Miss, if my destiny were shaped by anything else, I certainly wouldn't want to know. Care to make a wager?"

Thirty seconds later the click of the woman's heels and the swish of her golden ponytail leaving the casino was all that announced her presence.

"Care to make a wager? We'll play these two machines until one of us hits a seven. If you win, you can have all my winnings for today."

"And if you win?"

"A simple kiss for good luck from a pretty young lass is all I ask."

He had certainly received his kiss, and more; The machine she had just left was pouring out coins. She had hit a triple seven, and thus, the jackpot, in just one pull of the lever.

"You seem to need it more than I."

Sir, I'm going to have to insist you apolo--

A person named Maximos.

It spilled all over the bandages covering his right arm, and filling his nostrils with a sweet pungent scent. He hated ginger.

Now Maximos did not play the slots, he had come here following a particular man who had said something a floor below he simply couldnt not let go. Now the man had problem engaged in just enough drink that he may not remember what he said. But to Maximos it was utterly unforgivable.

--I see...You are determined to handle this situation via fisticuffs...inebriated or not, you'd best be prepared to defend yourself.

We're a little beyond that.

Maximos wore a two piece black suit meant for such sem-formal, yet none traditional occasions such as this. Both sleeves had long slits to about half way to the elbows. His jacket was open, revealing the white shirt, with black horizontal stripes beneath it. His pants were black, as were his boots, as were his gloves. Everything was perfectly pressed and spotless....save for the ginger stain on his sleeve.

In his mind that was the first attack. This unnamed man grabbing a weapon was a confirmation of what was about to happen.

Have at you!

He shouted, stomping across the short distance, his hand scooping up one of the small stools in front of a slot machine, and swinging by its midsection straight down, aiming to catch and divert the "walking stick" with the stoods legs to the ground, while still leaving the fluffy seat facing upwards.

The first stool slammed loudly into the empty ground as Maximos' unknown target took several steps back. Fluidly as Maximos' left hand smacked on the flat cushioned surface, and he leap frogged clean over the first. Both hands reaching forward and catching the second stool, bringing it to, to the ground in the same smooth motion as Maximos sat on it, folding his legs....and stealing a drink from a nearby, and recently vacated slot machine that had just begun spewing out coins by the gallon.

The top of the stool swiveled around, in squeaky loop as he ran a hand through his hair, adjusting a few stray strands that tickled his forehead.

I see. So its going to be like that, is it?

Heh...

Maximos said with a grin. Ahh, a sword. He loved swords. Blades. Knives. Sharp, unhealthy things. He took a long, hard sip, finishing off the drink with a satisfied...

Ahh...lets do this!

He fell back, tossing the empty plastic cup away. He leaned forward, flipping the stool around. Four legs pointed forward, as he broke at his opponent and thrust the chair hard forward at his chest. The staff new better than to get involved, and had already started pulling chairs and tables out of the way, making a makeshift ring of sorts.

He smacked it alright.

But that was part of the plan. Stools had pointed legs, nothing clean and flat to simply smack and break from. Maximos turned the chair at a slight angle toward the oncoming sheath. The sheath was thrust forward, so it came in through the bottom and out over one of the foot rests. And then he twisted it counter clockwise, switching his hands, right over left, spinning the spoke-like legs of the stood like a top.

The effect was to basically twist the caught sheath right out of his hand, at point he would immediately slam the stool forward, aiming to crash into the man's chest, again.

I said...!

-Hrmph!-

He slammed the chair forward. A stern look on his face. Maximos was never really one for shouts and display of teeth in combat. Each combat was a stylistic venture, a dance, an art. Every fight was a new thrill. He played the perfect gentleman, sure, but he lived for this kind of thing.

The stool kissed Joe's chest, just a moment, just a second. Just long enough for Maximos to push forward with his right hand, while his left grabbed the freed sheath and pulled it, from its prison, like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.

Just as armed himself, his legs were blown out from beneath him. It was so calm, so simple, so totally unexpected. It was less like this man created wind, and more like the Casino AC became suddenly very vicious, and its aim suddenly went entirely too low.

His feet were blown to right and fluidly he adapted and moved with them. Mr. Smith had moved backwards, giving Maximos all the room he needed to dig the fingers of his right hand into the cushion of the stool and slam it down, using it as a base. A stepping stone, in the middle of the vicious water, if you will.

Ha ha!

He rolled hoped and rolled in mid air, pushing off his right arm, turning so that his left hip landed on the stool, and his right leg extended out to rest on the flat bin of a nearby slot machine.

....its too late for that!

In a single move, he kicked off the slot machine, shoving off the stool in air, and bringing the sheath straight down, like a samurai, wielding a wooden katana. A strike to the head was the aim.

A full on blade vs. a wooden sheath.

That was not an even match.

Part of being a swordsman is knowing the strength and weakness of your weapon. You have to respect your sword if it is to respect you.

Of course there was only one problem....

Maximos wasnt going to leap to extreme heights, while touching the ceiling may have made for a nice flare to the show. It would have also left him wide open. He had only jumped a few feet off the ground, enough to keep the audience' focus on one location. There was an audience after all, a couple dozen. Bets were being passed, people were cheering for fighters who's names they didnt even know.

And this snazzy dressed shadow had a chair rammed into his gut. He let out a dry heavy, gasping for air. His eyes seemed to well up for a moment as his breath was caught and strained his lungs.

Ooomphf!

And he was carried up, and over the round chair. His swing was paused, as he leaned forward, performing a quick front flip in the air just above Joe's range. He exited the flip swinging.

He did not swing against, or beside the oncoming blade. With both hands on the end of the sheath giving him maximum control, he swung it straight for the blade.

...this wasnt his sword.

The length of wood didnt stand a chance, it might crack in protest, but he would impale it on the sword, bisecting the sheath clean down the middle before finally jamming half way down.

He would land, and immediately swing the sheath like a construction worker swinging a large wrench. Because with the blade trapped in the sheath, all he needed to do was twist hard enough, and he should be able to wrench the sword out of Joe's hands as well!

Ha ha!

Hands on hips, leg stepping on a slight raised rock, head up in the clouds. That was Maximos in his own mind as the weapon was "wrenched" free from Joe's hands. Blame the bit of drink, or the heat of the moment, but he hadnt notice how unbelievably easy that was to do.

If he did, he might have kept the "arms", he had just acquired. But he didnt. In the same motion as he pulled the sword free, he swung his arm out, and tossed it aside. No bystander in the crowd dared touch it.

He was here to teach a lesson.

You cant learn anything if your dead...

And no sooner than his hands were free, was he being...tackled?!

He wasnt at all prepared for something like that, and found himself entirely slave to it. Joe bounced forward, and impacted. Maximos winced as his sore chest too the impact, but kept his focus. Needless to say, he was infact stunned!

Maximos' mouth slammed shut. His teeth ground against each other, a dry grunt escaped him, as his abs tensed. Normally he would loosen, letting the blow impact and wash over him as his body moved with it. But he was falling, there was no moving with this blow.

He kicked himself, knowing full well he could have caught the fist, or caught Joe, or something if not for his distraction as the man so violently shouted.

"******** Reaper!"

It touched him.

Not like a soft song or a good book, it touched him somewhere deep and angry. It tapped him like the sticky contents of the bottom of a jar screaming at you to be eaten while defiantly resisting the efforts of your spoon.

Do I know you...?

The recognition dug in his gut like a knife, swirling with the burning ache of a set of hard knuckles, and all of that cascading over the butterflies set free after that last bottle of rum.

It was an experience, one he nearly lost himself too, he eyes seemed to grow groggy, his tense smile loosened until he was awakened by the hard reality that was the solid wood-tiled ground.

He had a man on his chest. A man beating out a lifetime of frustration on the arms he put in between them. Maximos was fast, but like any good fighter, he knew the value of the high ground and he simply did not have it.

Why are you suddenly so angry!?

This man was enraged, he had gone from retreating to primal rage. These fists could have easily been traded for the snapping jaws of a dog that had been pushed too far. Or a lion who sensed someone trying to steal its meal.

His eyes sparked, his left arm screamed, his right simply gave off a series of dull metal dings, like striking a steel bar. Streams of violet danced across both limbs, and down his temples riding along the floor. The shadows of both men intertwined under the Casino lights into a black mass which extended out behind the enigmatic Mr. Smith.

You really need...

It was deadly silent. A thing out of nightmares, some sort of giant monstrous hand, outstretched from the conjoined shadows and reached forward to grab Joe. Its palm easily the size of his entire torso. Its fingers aimed to wrap around his shoulder and waist in one fell swoop.

...to GET A GRIP!

The hand would wretch back. The crowd would gasp. Its enormous form, moving to peel Joe clean off Maximos and toss him straight back into a pile of chairs and tables which formed the edge of the "ring". A series of unearthly faded howls, screams, and laughter seemed to poor from the grasp. Almost as quickly as it came it would then slither directly back into the black.

Theres something familiar here...

He didnt spare a moment, no not a second. He had no idea how tough this guy was, for all he knew that arm would barely stun him and he'd be barreling back across the distance. Maximos brought his legs to his chest, clenched his taught abs and kicked forward performing a quick kip and landing back on his feet.

His eyes immediately locked on his target. On this man, this Mr...

But I dont even know his name...

...Sadly he didnt even know his name. What he did know, by sight, by sound, even by the feel in the air was that this situation had becoming so much more interesting. Maximos flicked his wrist sending something flying up from his sleeve, a black rock, maybe a marble. It twirled in the air, two or three times before he snatched it up in one clean swoop from the far left to over his right shoulder.

There was a loud snap, as a jet black blade soared into his grip. It looked as if it was made of obsidian, forged of one solid peace and it even hummed, when it cut through the air leaving a swath of black in its wake as it was pointed directly forward.

Whoa...!

Was it the room putting those tingles in his stomach? He could have sworn that punch killed those butterflies. Maximos' eyes were off his opponent for a second, not even two! And now there was a sword teasing off clothes, glimmering muscles, a perfectly cut body, symmetry and even a dashing scar across his chest.

"That was... a nice... Trick..."

Maximos smirked, a coy smirk.

Not so bad yourself...

He said, using his sword like a teacher uses a pointer to gesture at the parts he was impressed by. Which of course turned out to be something of a wave up and down covering the whole general area of this nameless figure.

I dont think I would forget that...

What's your name, kid?

"Joe Smith, good sir"

Save the sir business.

Maximos responded back, with a smile and loose wave of his left hand. As if he was brushing off the sir before it reached him. It didnt fit him.

He brought the free hand back, stepping out of the shadow of the pillar he had been tackled behind. With a swoop it snatched another abandoned drink off of a table that had just miraculously avoided the swoop of the giant black limb moments ago.

Waste not want not!

He said, cocking it back, and tossing the drink over his shoulder. Where it would land on an unconcious man, covered in shiny golden coins, who might later wonder just how powerful that drink was to knock him and the machine out.

Maximos didnt skip a beat. He took a step forward. He fixed his jacket and sleeves to look as properly stylish as can be and said.

My apologies for my rudeness. Honor and such. I fear I'm having entirely too much fun to worry about all that jazz.

He gestured loosely in the air, dismissing honor..and such. His fingers loose, his arm looser, pumped with rum, vodka, and whatever a Screwdriver is. He was loose, and just the perfect amount of smooth that cut directly short of clumsy. He smirked, one of those playful smirks.

My names Maximos.

And returning the kindness given him, he took a very formal bow. Extending his left hand outwards, while holding his sword in his right so nimbly behind his back.

Care to dance?

Always a gentleman.

Alright then..!

He said, his long legs carrying him straight forward with reckless abandon. Perhaps the drink was at fault for that. Joe' sword washed through the ground like a alcohol hallucination, but Maximos wasnt so convinced. He twisted his upper body to the left, turning himself sideways, and bending at the knee. He was the taller of the men after all, but like this head head came up to about Joe's chest.

His left shoulder leading the right, his left hand on the hilt of his blade, as Smith's blade sliced flawlessly through the ground, the left handed slash just barely missing the sideways Maximos. That meant he had all the opening a speedy fighter needed.

Without missing a beat, Maximos straightened his right, bent, leg. Standing up tall, to his full height, just as Joe exited the slash, pushing his cheek right up against Mr. Smith's.

Tango it is...

Your not Tangoing, if your not cheek to cheek. Up close, Maximos smelled alot like sweet bath soap. It even over rode the scent of booze on his arm. A DJ obliged them with a suitable track to be played over the Casino stereo.

...Lets dance!

He'd give just enough time for the contact to register. Before he shoved forward onto his right leg about half way, and thrust his right arm forward for a very stern, elbow to the gut.

That was meant to stun.

Immediately follow which would be a forceful step into his opponent, as he extended his left leg. It was meant to push the man back, using his right shoulder to lead the shove as fluidly he brought his sword in a diagonal slash from his lower left, to his upper right. At point blanc range. In a swath of black. With all the speed and grace Maximos was known for.

The leverage of the sword shoved between them, and Joe's hopeful shaky footing should clear some space between them, and give Maximos a chance spin around, turning and taking a step or two in the opposite direct. Then quickly without notice he would turn round, spinning his sword down holding it diagonally from his left side, toward the ground. Very gracefully.

Regardless, the crowd would go wild.

And so it was a dance!

With his single twirl and the screech of a violin he took, he turned. His sword spun once overhead sending a small line of red mist out in a circle, painting a deep crimson ring across the faces of a few slot machines. A ring, which, as Mr. Smith rushed forward encircled both fighters.

It was a tango! The two met, one retreats, the other dashes across the distance, forcing the two to meet again. The second meeting always more fervent than the first.

He felt the blade kiss his back, causing it to arch, his mouth opened just slightly, he caught himself just before a sound slipped out. His right foot managed to extend just to stop his spin. His left was a step behind, making it look almost as if he had fallen helplessly onto Joe. Look, not feel. In truth, the slight arch of his back moved him back, he leaned into the pain, and of course onto the man pressing up behind him. Maximos settled into a wide, Cheshire grin. His right exited its swing, falling loosely by his side for just a second as the last drops of red framed the area.

The click of shutters captured the moment, it'd sell for thousands on the right fan sites.

The music rushed. Joe's sword sliced upwards, cutting a clean line straight across the shadow's back. The cut split his jacket and snazzy shirt right up and across. With its force it sent Maximos spinning away in one direction, while Joe spinned the other.

The twirl split Maximos' jacket in it motion giving the first glimpses of his pale skin and of the deep violet tattoos that spread across his back. It was by nothing but pure chance that both men would stop at exactly the right moment. Maximos immediately turning to face Joe. His right arm extended, holding the sword straight forward. His left slid up his back running along the fresh would as it cried its first crimson tears, catching a bit on his finger tip. He winced, half a wince, half a devilish grin.

Not bad Smith.

He would say, while bringing his red stained index and middle finger across his lips, a pale pink tongue licking them clean and slightly staining his bottom lip.

...not bad at all.

The beat cascaded down, and rushed upwards again. He dashed forward, his sword held low at his right silently cutting a black line across the wooden planks of flooring. His left shoe slid to a stop while his right arm brought up his sword and thrust it forward, straight toward Joe's chest! He knew the man would defend, but if there blades never meant Maximos would have felt horrible leaving there "partner's" out of the fun!

Was it safe to say Maximos was distracted? Two and a half bottles of Nocturne knows what sort of drink, enough shots to make a machine gun blush, had filled his mind with little more than foggy snippits of memories. Memories that jostled around like marbles in a black velour bag.

Now he was caught in the aching tingle that raced up and down his spine. Like fire and ice, the cut was thin as a blades edge and it burned. But...well...we'll save the rest for later. A thought came to him. This thought barely survived in a sea of churning...we'll save that for later. Save to say that its difference allowed it to stand out.

Hey! I'm supposed to be leading!

A thin breath on his ear. The whine of a violin coaxing him from dark corners. It wasnt a gasp so much as his breath caught for a moment.

Eh...what the hell...

The pressure released, and the breath slipped from him softly. As he embraced the realization that he had just been dipped.

Something was said or done, and he had pursued. Chairs. Shadows. And now the culprit pressed against him. His right arm pushed to the side, useless, his left had moved around and up his "opponent's" chest, smearing blood up until he met the wound and then followed it to the X shaped scar moving down the top V of the scar, and up, painting it read.

Just as he reached the top of the V, the music cut sharply. Maximos moved suddenly, smoothly. He quickly stepped to the left, twisting at the hip, side stepping Mr. Smith. In that uncertain moment in which gravity had yet to pull, and Joe had likely yet to realize that his support had moved, Maximos caught him. His right arm held the man across the back, angled even father back. Maximos draped over him, inched just close enough to seep into personal space without making it seem like he was making "a move".

Joe had been properly dipped.

Claps filled the air. Roses were tossed into the ring from all around.

He looked Joe dead in the eyes, deep almost luminescent blue eyes meet Maximos' mismatched black left eye and brilliant white right eye. His left drew a line down the other end of the V at the top of Joe's X scar. Effectively, drawing a crimson "M" over the X.

Mmmm...that looks alot better....

The music jumped again, as Tango's tend to do, instructing the dancers when to change positions, when to break away, when to slide together. As it did this time, Maximos lifted his right arm, bringing Joe's form closer. Alot closer.

At heart...I've always said, I'm....

A camera men and women held their breaths. Hours from now when this aired on the internet fan-girls would hug there pillows and squee. There was left than a foot of space between the men to begin with, to move closer...with that suspicious grin smattered across his face...it just seemed like Maximos was going....like he was about ki....

Kick some fight back into this fight.

His left hand was already placed on Smith's chest, with his right lifting the man, it gave him proper leverage. Sparks could be seen dancing from his hand at the very last moment, entirely too late for it to matter. His shoes squealed along the floor, as he shoulders aligned, his right foot dug into the ground, his left pushed like a piston, and his left hand flew forward in a very, stern, very direct palm to the chest meant to send Joe back at least 7ft. But....as there was a support pillar only 5ft back he'd likely stop there. Some monks called it the Buddha Palm, for Maximos it was called the Shadow Palm.

He brought his sword up, in the space between the two men, gesturing at the M. Again using it to gesture, as well as using it to hold defense across the space.

....dont you think?

Oh he smiled, he smiled wide. Even bringing his left hand up to his mouth to taste a bit of his "paint", sparks dancing across his eyes.

...a fighter not a lover.

No comment?

Likely because the impact seemed to have sapped the breath from the mans lungs. Its ok, there would be plenty of time to examine and appreciate the art the two would create together, in a medical office with stitches and gauze.

Violet sparks danced from the corners of Maximos' eyes, down the sides of his face before vanishing around his shoulder. It was an instinct reaction Maximos had when he relishing something particularly tasty. In this case, he moved from finger to finger slowly. Index, middle, ring, pinky, and lastly thumb. Gently licking off the crimson that stained them. You see his gloves were fingerless. Maximos loved to feel his fights.

All the while he kept his sword up between both men.

He heard that first true breath of air, as Joe's lungs recovered from the sudden shock, and looked up from his hand. His eyes wide, hungry, something primal in them. Something that was blinked away as Mr. Smith's sword was swung straight for his left arm.

Intoxicated by the coppery, irony flavor staining his lips, mixed with the swirling tickle of liquor dancing up and down his spine Maximos really had only one option.

As the violin squealed, he brought his left arm up. The string instrument played a single long cry, and Smith' sword did the same. The kevlar in Maximos' gloves only did so much to protect the palm of his hand as it slide along the obsidian length. Threads popped in either direction, soon followed by a streak of crimson as Maximos hand zoomed down the blade, and finally grabbed around Joe's hand, lifting it up and smearing red across his glove, as well as a trickle of vitae down his sleeve.

Maximos slashed, bringing his right hand in a fluidly graceful slide from right to left across Joe's torso, as he stepped under the man's sword arm and outside of his reach.

This left Maximos standing at Joe's side, his releasing his swording as his right moved to quickly from back across the same path from left to right. This time however using the flat of the blade to sort of push Joe into a spin away from Maximos.

Connect, depart. That was the flow of this bloody dance.

Regardless, after completing the second motion Maximos would move his left hand to snatch a red rose out of the air staining it even redder with his own vitae as he held it gracefully in his left hand...and took a bow.

The dance wasnt over, put people certainly were cheering. And well...he was a gentleman, through and through.

A slip, a slit and a rain of blood down his wrist, trickling down his open sleeve putting something of a soundless giggle on his face. Both men spun in opposite directions, it made for something of a dance.

And then Joe kicked! It landed square on Maximos' wound. His spine, the most sensitive of locations. The soles of his shoe dug into fabric and smeared red along the slit, right past where his fingers once dug. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface and rolled down Max's spine.

The Shadow's mouth opened, he was going to say something, maybe make a sound. Maybe cry out. It was a blissful thing after all. Such lovely pain, such pristine accidental movements.

But instead caught a rose in his teeth. Its thorns sliding against his lips and tongue had a sobering effect. His foot flew forward, toes striking the ground. He twisted immediately at the hip whipping his body quickly turning to face his opponent, even as he bent forward in only the most formal bow. His left hand coming up across his chest, fingertips touching so as not to make too much of a mess of his jacket, his right hand extending to to the side holding his sword with a suave kind of flare.

Sometimes words are just superfluous, his bow was a silent answer to Joe's comment. And when he rose, and extended his sword toward his opponent with a vicious grin on his face, the kind that would make the devil blush, and he waved his sword toward himself. That was a silent challenge for Mr. Smith to proceed. But would he?

On a stool Reinhart sat facing away from the bar, resting his elbows on the edges he looked around for a moment and thought back to what Dedric said.

"Hiring some more help?"

He raised an eyebrow at the idea, what else did he need, he pratically had an army of servants back home. Like always he wore a casual looking suit, something form fitting and not too uptight.

Better not to dwell on the help so he turned to the Bartender and ordered.

"Apple Martini please."

The bartender responded.

"Right away Mr. Reinhart."

He sighed and reached into his pockets looking for his wallet.

"A cola?"

Reinhart looked over at Anna, back to the bartender.

"Get this woman a good drink."

The bartender hesitated a little but went on with the request.

"Cola? You're at bar, have a drink."

It didn't take long before he gave her a good one over then he continued talking.

"What's with the notebook?"

"A cola it is then."

The bartender brought their drinks shortly after.

"Cheer."

He raised his glass to her.

"What brings you here then, doesn't look like it's the gambling."

She was exceptionally cute, not to mention Reinhart loved the business types. May as well have a little fun before the person he was supposed to meet showed up. What was her name again?

"Anna?"

Reinhart almost spit out his drink.

"You're the new help?!"

What the...?! What was she supposed to help him with? Thought he could think of one or two things he didn't figure the old man to let Reinhart indulge in something so...

"Sorry, sorry."

It took him a second to compose himself but after he did he stood from the stool and stuck out his hand.

"My name's Cristopher. Cristopher Reinhart, I believe we are who we're waiting for."

He laughed lightly and kept a smile. She's supposed to help with....?

"My what?"

Reinhart looked at her like she was speaking in tongues or something he just couldn't understand.

"I'll kill that old man..."

He whispered turning away from Anna for a moment so as to not alarm the girl. An assistant? That may be fun, but what the hell? Reinhart led a very strange life, maybe she was supposed to help him keep the normal part of it organized. Funny.

"My what...?"

He said again laughing a bit nervously.

"Makes perfect sense ..."

Especially since being recognized by people almost everywhere he went made it hard for him to do what he does. Still though, what was she supposed to do? Handle the media and keep them busy while he went out to do whatever he wanted? Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, she could speak on his behalf and drop a little lie here and there to buy him time.

"...I need a little organization in my life. I'm not as famous as you think however, or at least I don't think I am."

He'd settled back onto his seat and sipped his drink casually as he continued speaking.

"If you're going to handle the media, you have to know me pretty well."

A grin appeared on his face.

"What do you know about me Anna?"