17/11/05
Characters: Edge, Nassir
Furnace Room
This little-used room houses, naturally enough, the boiler and furnace.
Some students may be assigned to tend to it, but not too often. The room is
surprisingly large, as it spans the entire length and width of the building
above it. Thick pylons jut through the room, supporting the building. The
only way in or out of the room is up the stairs to the main hallway.
[Exits : Up to Hallway ]
A resounding clang sounds through the underbelly of Gedo High as the door to the
boiler room is slammed shut, two more following when bolts are subsequently slid
into place. Oddly there is no shrieking of protesting metal; someone keeps the
entrance very well maintained, and presumably it must see a fair amount of use.
Not the jauntiest of thoughts given how this chamber is currently being used...
what's far more jaunty is the whistling that floats down the stairwell, some
generic eighties heavy metal number being butchered by a happy gangster.
Ladies, gentlemen, hostages: Edge has arrived. Continuing to whistle, he
slouches down the metal steps to the hard concrete floor, posture habitual with
hands as always residing in his large pockets. Nothing else is different either,
except for the pleased gleam in his eye. He has an interrogation to carry out, a
classic street brawl to look forward to, and has won one hundred percent of
today's fights. Life is good when you're Gedo.
Making his way over to one corner of the vast cellar, the purple punk pauses a
short distance from his intended destination to look around with a wary eye;
ensuring nothing has been moved, that nobody has come to disturb the careful
Feng Shui of the chamber, and most importantly? That Nassir is exactly where he
was left, chained by his wrists to a support strut just a short distance from
the corner, far enough away from the hot central part of the room as to be
comfortable. Relatively speaking.
Surprise, Surprise. Nassir is exactly where Edge left him, almost down to the
milimeter. How long was he down here? Hours? more? The young soldier wasn't
entirely certain, and to some degree wasn't certain if he cared. He spent the
vast majority of his waking time trying to grow acclimated to his new
surroundings, gauging just what exactly was down here, what interesting tidbits
might be sharing the boiler room with him.
What little time remained between assessments were spent idling over the events
that lead to Nassir's capture...the young girl who seemed to handily beat not
only the Gedo High Lieutenant, but Nassir as well. The fact that they were
willing to keep their own prisoners both surprised and impressed the Shanksquad
member...and when combined with his earlier curiousity, it was more than enough
to convince him to stay around and ride things out.
Of course, some concessions needed to be made. Prayertime, for example. If he
were going to stay down here for much longer, he would need to make
accomodations. Obstensibly, he could break his bindings...or failing that, make
use of some of his...trickier tricks. Deciding upon a course of action should it
happen to be necessary, Nassir spent the rest of the time waiting and
listening...and after enough time near the boiler, sweating. It's not as bad as
if he were placed virtually atop the building's heatsource, but still enough to
bead along his face.
Anybody would be surprised at finding themselves captured and locked up in
Gedo's basement - even those who know the school and its workings very well - as
this is hardly something done on a regular basis, by any but a select few. Edge
is one of these, knowing the ins and outs of the building, the student body and
the staff like he knows the hidden partitions in his pockets. His instincts led
him to volunteer for boiler tending service some time ago, and now his entry and
exit from the room goes unnoticed by his superiors and subordinates alike.
Though it's highly likely some of these suspect the truth and choose not to
indulge themselves in verifying it... he's quite the asset to the gang, after
all.
"Ehehehehe!" The sight of Nassir exactly where he was left causes a burst of
merriment from Edge, the music finished now he has arrived at point B. Tossing
his head back, tongue protruding at the end of his cackle, when the delinquent
is done he swaggers forward to cover the distance to his hostage - seeming
satisfied that he isn't going anywhere, and making no attempt to appear armed or
prepared in any way. Dropping to his haunches a few feet from Nassir, he leans
forward and says with a sneer, "How is our little guest enjoying his stay? Is
everything to sir's satisfaction?"
As much as he looks to be having fun, it's immediately clear that Edge isn't
here just to get his kicks and leave. Something about his posture suggests he'll
be staying here as long as it takes, and his mocking questions seem to not at
least be purely rhetorical. Backing up the former, he pulls his hands from his
pockets and lays his arms more comfortably across his knees.
Nassir's lips pursed, shifting at an extreme angle to one side of his face. It
was plainly obvious that Edge was hoping for the question to earn a submissive
response...and yet the soldier couldn't be certain he was prepared to give it.
During his tenure as a Shank Soldier, Nassir was subjected to all manners of
brutality and torture, much of it administered by Rolento's hand himself. Shank
Soldiers usually operated around sensitive information or objectives, and were
to be as resiliant to torture and interrogation as possible.
In campaigns, that torture would be delivered by a professional, the kind of men
and women who spent their entire lives perfecting a craft. How would Edge--a
High School student, albeit gifted--compare? Could he compare, even?
"...Quite."
Nassir's demeanour is not on lost on said High School student, his keen eyes
fervently searching for any sign of emotion from the younger boy. Whatever
training he's had has apparently been very good - and his skills as a warrior
were displayed against Juli, even if these proved inadequate against a much more
powerful force. It won't be held against Edge's prisoner regardless, given her
apparent track record thus far, and skill is not what matters here. Intent is
what matters, intent and origin.
"Quite?" The gang leader echoes the response he's given with a wry smirk,
leaning in just a touch closer and staring into the eyes before him. "That's no
kind of answer, but I'll let you off. Not a good time to be polite, eh? Heh."
Shaking his head, Edge leans back and glances off to one side, into the corner
where a small heap of items has been placed. The outline of a few sheathed
knives and a grenade or two identify the owner of this pile easily enough.
"Let's cut the crap then. I dunno who you are, what your name is, or why the
hell you turned up outta nowhere yesterday... care to help me out?"
Looking back around, an eyebrow shoots up, Edge's mouth twisting a little
further, enough that his expression is mocking by its very nature. He doesn't
/need/ to voice anything else - the fact he neither needed or appreciated the
aid given against Juli, nor the intent he harbours to cause vast amounts of pain
if he's not enlightened as to the situation.
Even more needless to say, if it comes to that? He's going to enjoy it.
"I am Nassir Mahomet. I hail from Riaydh, Saudi Arabia."
The answer comes quickly, though the words themselves are spoken in measured,
clipped tones. It's almost as if he's merely repeating something he memorized
from a book somewhere, as opposed to generating a thought-over answer.
Mantralike.
"I am to engage in studies in a Southtown school. The choice is left to me, and
I will be choosing the school which suits me best. To this end, I have done much
study, and engaged in much information gathering."
With the second portion said, Nassir's words don't so much end as they
abort...someone hitting the 'stop' button on his mental tape recorder. Too
practiced in the response, and yet not carrying the telltale signs of a
wholecloth fabrication.
"...huh." Edge stares levelly at his hostage for a few long moments after the
mechanical flow of speech comes to a halt. The Gedo lieutenant may not be the
brightest spark around, but he's certainly not stupid and can easily draw the
obvious conclusion from this. The only problem is... he can't spot any flaw in
the information, can find no reason to justify his mistrust, or his chosen
approach to the trespass. But there is an unwritten, barely spoken code that if
a stranger comes to the school with no indication of their intent - if they
sneak in unannounced - their guarantee of good health is forfeit.
From a rational perspective though, given the reputation of Gedo High and the
relationship it has with the outside world as a whole... was the Arabian
justified in his actions? Perhaps making his way inside could have been
forgiven, if he'd done what Juli had done, but he interrupted a battle between
welcomed parties. Edge clucks his tongue as he mulls all this over, displaying a
surprising level of sanity given his actions this far, and seems to come to some
conclusion after shooting a thoughtful gaze at the ceiling.
"Well, Nassir Mahomet, you put up a good argument," the delinquent snickers for
a few seconds before giving a quick wink, "Almost making me feel /bad/, here.
But none of that explains why you'd sneak in an' start throwing weight around
without checking in with the Boss. So," Pausing once more, this time Edge gives
a wide yawn, looking tired already with all these words in place of action.
Pushing himself to his feet, he crams his hands back in his pockets and looks
down at Nassir, "You got time to explain that?"
The reply is more of the same, that stilted, mechanical reiteration of facts
pouring forth like someone hit 'play' on his monologue again. "Gedo High School
holds one positive distinction that none of the other schools can claim. Gedo
High school on paper is no different from the others, save for abysmal
attendance records and grade point averages which generally can't crack
two-point-one-nine. There is a principal, there are staff members and other
support staff on the payroll as needed. However, none of those individuals
happen to be in charge of the day to day maintenance of the school."
Pause for breath, a motion which makes the explanation seem slightly
more...human. Slightly.
"Daigo Kazama runs the school as a beneficiary, according to intelligence...an
intelligence which is old, and possibly outdated. It has been confirmed that the
school still runs under that model, at least as much as a school can. However,
the school also has an issue with rebellion, which may render that a moot
point."
Pause, round two.
"You are familiar with current events? The turmoil in Afghanistan? Leaders are
removed constantly. Checking in with 'The Boss,' no matter who he is, is a
counterproductive measure if my goal is to measure the character of the school."
Nassir's head rolls up, looking to establish eye contact with his captor. Hard
brown eyes focus, tenor voice lowering somewhat to offer a more solemn tone.
"Thus our current situation, and why I am willing to endure it. You have been
quite an educational experience, and not in an entirely negative fashion."
Edge's nose wrinkles in distaste as he finds himself bombarded with a whole slew
of facts, impatience taking over quickly to the extent that just before Nassir's
monologue finishes, his foot taps a couple of times against the floor. Blah blah
grade points average, blah blah beneficiary, blah blah current ev-- wait. His
attention snaps back into focus as the point is reached, everything else
absorbed in the subconscious so that the fully conscious Edge gets the benefit
without having to comprehend anything too 'dull'. Listening properly now, he
nods along to affirm his familiarity... he doesn't /care/ as such, but he gets
the reference. Then the relevance dawns.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!!" Before Nassir is fully done speaking, the gang leader snaps
a finger out and all but rams it in his prisoner's face, expression contorted in
rage. Quite the mood swing, and it would seem to be around to stay for a while.
"The Boss ain't going anywhere! Daigo Kazama has /built/ this place into what it
is. Half of us wouldn't even stick around if he wasn't in charge. He's going
nowhere, understand?!" The extended finger is jabbed forward for emphasis, and
then that hand is clenched to a fist, pounded against the opposite palm as Edge
takes a step back, gaze remaining burning and intent on Nassir's own.
"I'll show you a Gedo education, kidgloves, and I'll teach you to respect the
Boss." Though his mood isn't improving, the purple punk is now speaking in more
of a controlled seethe, continuing to grind his fist as he circles around the
Arabian boy and lifts a foot in the air. "This won't hurt a bit," he mutters
darkly, giving an incoherent scream before bringing his boot down /hard/ on the
manacles securing hostage to post. Three more times he slams the metal before it
shears in two with a shrieking protest - the youth taking great delight in the
pain this must be causing. After the handcuffs fall to the floor with a metallic
clatter, he circles back around.
"Everything you brought with you is over there. Go pick up what you need and
come at me however the hell you please... impress me, and I'll let you get your
scrawny ass out of my territory." Spitting at Nassir's feet, Edge directs a nod
of his head toward the corner and its pile of belongings, making no further
movement for now. If the agonised ex-Shank wants to get a sneaky blow in, he's
welcome to try. Gedo will prevail.
COMBATSYS: Nassir has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: Edge has joined the fight here.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Nassir hadn't flinched on the first one, fully expecting some kind of physical
retaliation to come his way once he started in on Daigo's status. Granted, from
Nassir's perspective the soldier was doling out the Harshne--er, plain and
unmitigatable facts. A leader only lasts so long. It's the vision which is most
important, the ending goal. Instead of flinching, Nassir merely grits his teeth,
bracing himself for what he thought was inevitable...and then discovering the
true target of Edge's rage. Quick to adjust, Nassir pulled the slack taut,
bracing his wrists against the repeated impact until the soldier was free.
Rubbing at his wrists idly, Nassir started over to his equipment, fastening
belts, harnesses and bandoliers in surprisingly quick order. "Everyone has noted
the greatness of Daigo Kazama." Another plain and simple truth. "He is, by the
word of many, a man worthy of fighting for, a man worthy of many sacrifices. To
some, a man worthy of all sacrifices. What ethic does he teach? What mandate?
What ends of his will come to light by the strength of your means?" Fingers
quickly drummed across various items, exploring digits ensuring that nothing's
been -obviously- tampered with. After all, it would suck to explode because
something was jostled, right?
"You serve Daigo as a Lieutenant. You obviously fight for him, and you handle
much of his footwork." Nassir had no idea how much of this situation was
arranged for by Daigo, but if his own experiences in the Shank Squad taught him
anything, Daigo simply -had- to know they were down here. "But do you die for
him? A misplaced explosive may be enough to turn both of us into little more
than dust thanks to the power of the furnace. Perhaps a moment of clarity is
needed."
COMBATSYS: Nassir focuses on his next action.
Once his released captive begins to strap himself up with the various trinkets
that form his fighting style, Edge gives a light 'hmph' and turns on his heel,
striding a few paces away before turning around with one fist raised, the other
hand returning to his pocket. He almost feels tempted to cast off his jacket and
fight a little more comfortably, but with the honour of Gedo at stake his
hackles are raised too high for anything beside violence to ensue. Nassir's
musings do not go unheard though, the focus set on the dervish will not allow
this.
"I told you to shut the hell up. Daigo's the most worthwhile person I know.
Without him I'd be just another dumb punk." Spitting the words forth with a
blunt honesty that may not entirely be true - there was something 'special' bout
Eiji Yamada even before he assumed his current moniker - they none the less feel
true to him. "I don't need your judgement. But I /will/ make you understand."
His fingers curl and uncurl a few times around the air, impatience getting the
better of the youth. Doubtless by the time he makes his move, Nassir has had
plenty of time to prepare himself.
"Screw your clarity. SYAAAA!" Surging forward with his mouth open wide, tongue
lashing out maniacally, Edge crosses the distance in a flash. Extended fist
jabbing out for Nassir's face, this marks only the beginning of his opening
assault. Should that blow connect, it's followed up with a right knee to the
stomach, and an uppercut from the same hand - aimed to stagger the Arabian back
into the corner.
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Heavy Strike.
Mais non, there is no arabian to stagger back into the corner by the time Edge
has cleared the distance. Where Edge is a flash, Nassir is...well, considerably
faster, for one. Pretend we had a very pretty metaphor for speed, here. Kicking
into motion, Nassir curled into a tight ball and rolled forward, clearing the
fist by a goodly distance before popping out of the ball.
"I understand."
That was all Nassir had to say to the knifer, all Nassir could even think to say
even if he wished to produce more. There's no more motion out of the youth,
nothing more than his watchful gaze, waiting for Eiji's next move...trying to
divine the thug's fighting style, trying to solve it...and trying to serve as a
distraction. While the trick isn't exactly new, Edge might not've been coherent
enough to see it used against Juli--set on the ground where Nassir started his
roll is a small orb, a dark grey which probably blends in altogether too well
with the dank surroundings. While the explosion was a calculated risk--too small
to bother the boiler in this case--it might be enough to spook Daigo's
lieutenant into making a mistake.
COMBATSYS: Nassir successfully hits Edge with Scorch the Earth.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Nassir 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Edge
"Heh! Fast little bastard," Edge sneers as the testing jab finds nothing but the
rush of winds against his curled fingers. Shoving that hand back into his
pocket, he spins about to face Nassir's new location, slouching back in that
deceptive stance of his. An eyebrow raises as the couplet of words reachs his
attention, but beyond that the gang leader doesn't seem inclined to do anything
else for the moment - waiting whatever move his opponent might make on the
offensive. No sense walking into anything nasty until he's scoped the power of
this guy for himself.
"What th-" About to goad the dervish on, a snarl coming to his lips as he leans
forward slightly to address the motionless Arabian, Edge is cut off abruptly by
the explosion that triggers at his heels, the blast pitching him into a brief
stagger forward - pain flaring up his back from the heat of the blast. "SHIT!"
Spitting the curse with a quick glance behind to check for any further issues,
after ensuring his temporary safety he decides it's time to retaliate - using
one motion to face Nassir and dash forward toward him.
He's moving slower than might be expected however, ready to trace any movements
the younger boy might make before he can fully close the gap. But when he sees
an opening - regardless of how decent that is - he gives a grunt of exertion and
flips himself into a somersault, legs arcing around him to deal not one but two
strikes to his evasive foe, boots coming down in a speedy succession for the top
of his head. "Stay still, bitch!"
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Spinning Axe Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Nassir 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Edge
The change in speed seems to serve Edge well, at least for the moment--Nassir
doesn't seem to be making any odd movements, though should Edge happen to be
perceptive enough he might've noticed the slight tingle in the air that
precludes either a lightning strike or something well and truly /big/. There's a
preparation going on, even if it's not a physical one. Edge's attack almost
becomes an afterthought for the young man, hands raising to protect his
face...though it quickly becomes an issue of 'too little, too late'. Drilled not
once, but twice, Nassir slides across the floor for a couple of feet before
coming to a stop as a sprawl of a human. Nassir was hurt, at least as much as
the pair of blows could provide...but again, Edge's awareness comes into
question. It was a gambit of sorts, though one that could make the fight a much
more...interesting one.
Even as Nassir was being hit, something shifted from behind, something not quite
alive, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. Animate, definitely,
and perhaps sentient, but not living. Cast in the mold of Nassir himself, a
shadowy blue figure quietly moved across the boiler room floor, phantasmal knife
drawn in a wispy hand. The attempted attack is simplistic enough: With Edge's
back turned, the knife would simply be deposited somewhere painful, like a
kidney, or perhaps the liver.
Nassir was full of tricks, some decidedly more...tricky than others.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Phantom Patrol.
Once he feels the white leather of his boot make solid contact, Edge knows he's
got his wish. He'll finally be able to assume control of Nassir's positioning,
if only for a short time... he already got a glimpse of how damned slippery the
arabian can be, first against the newest gang member and now against himself.
This time the feeling is of jubilation rather than frustration, and both strikes
are completed cleanly, the gangster landing on his feet with a neat grace
immediately after sending his foe tumbling. "Good doggy," he croons, tone
upturning at the end as shock registers. Eyes widening suddenly, he drops down
low and tucks into a roll to one side, straightening into a crouch a few paces
away and darting his attention sidelong to catch the dissipating blade of
energy.
"The hell? Where'd you learn those stinking tricks?!" Less a question and more a
demand, Edge thrusts an accusing finger toward Nassir. These are no schoolboy
fighting techniques, nor anything taught in any dojo he's heard of. Explosives,
phantasmal aparitions? This is crazy stuff. "Whatever." Lowering his hand with a
tut of annoyance, banishing his astonishment to the winds, there's only one
thing left to do.
"EAT THIS!" Sliding up to his feet with the cry, Yamada takes a step toward his
opponent, ducking his right shoulder and turning into it while his right hand
lances out bearing a flash of steel. With a *snikt* as its blade retracts, a
switchblade fires off toward the Arabian. But it doesn't end there, and Edge is
already beginning to giggle as he completes a full spin, coming up to his full
height with left hand this time shooting forward to launch a second blade.
"...and /this/!!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Double Blade Strike.
Even as the apparition failed in it's task and the lease on life is pulled away,
Nassir was able to glean some advantage from it--Edge was freaked out, which
bought him time to make a recovery. Pulling himself up to his feet, the Arabian
dervish spun away from the knife offering--Edge's weapon would have to settle
for striking against a wall...and likely dulling in the process. Indeed, these
weren't normal schoolboy fighting techniques, but then Nassir wasn't a
schoolboy. He never was, unless you consider the sands of the middle east as
appropriate classrooms.
Whirling a second time, Nassir's left hand flailed out to allow the disturbed
air to catch the folds in his uniform, creating a light 'fwap' noise. His other
hand was busy with one of the knives on his bandolier, gripping it expertly
before making a return volley with his own throwing blade of choice--thin,
hiltless, little more than a lengthy cutting edge, or razor blade.
COMBATSYS: Edge negates Large Thrown Object from Nassir with Thrown Object.
"Tch!" Edge actually relents in the tossing of his second blade as he completes
his motion, stopping just short of tossing it toward where Nassir once stood as
- clearly - the dervish has moved on. "II told you to stay still..." Repeating
himself in a less aggravated voice, in fact giving an amused smirk as he tails
off, this time the Gedo punk is more than prepared for what his opponent
attempts. The incoming knife is watched as if in slow motion, and with lazy ease
its sent skittering away in a shower of sparks as the second toss is belatedly
made, to meet the opposing weapon in mid-air.
With the danger deflected away, Yamada pauses to rub lightly at the back of his
neck, rolling his head a little to ease up built tension. Before he's quite
finished, his feet are shifting about beneath him, setting up for what he does
next- what can only be described as a pounce. Dropping low, Edge's hands dart in
and out of his pockets, at the same instant his legs tensing and pushing him off
into an arcing forward leap toward Nassir. "RAAGH!"
As the gangster flies in, his hands are pushed out in front, each bearing a
glinting dagger ready to slice into his opponent on impact. It's unpredictable
and a lot less unwieldy than it appears, his body perfectly angled to either
rebound or tuck into a tight roll after the intended strike.
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Medium Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Edge
"..."
Nassir by all rights should be used to something as mild as a mere stabbing.
Yes, a /mere stabbing./ That's right, we said it, and we're sticking to it.
Mere. Stabbing. After all, he's been stabbed in the past. He's been shot. He's
even been hung by Rolento's hand in recent memory, albeit not for very long.
Edge's stabbing should've been nothing for the soldier...and yet, each new
stabbing feels just like the first. Painful. Burning. Muscles and nerves begin
to demand some kind of cessation to the hurting, unionizing, forming a voting
bloc and demanding that motion be shut down immeadiately.
Generally, it's pure willpower and adrenaline that keeps the young dervish going
strong...though that doesn't do anything to fix the hurt of being stabbed, being
driven to the ground. It hurt...but he'd keep on going. After all, blood was
just drawn, and he'd be damned if he couldn't return the favor in spades.
Rather than bring out another blade, Nassir's hands curl into tight
fists...fists, minus the middle and index finger. If Edge was awake for it, he
might've seen Nassir attempt something similar to Juli, though in this
particular instance the young soldier had to hope for better results. Driving
the hand upwards, Nassir sought to thrust the fingers into the base of his
antagonists' throat, triggering an undue amount of pain and more importantly
getting Edge off of him.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Strong Throw from Nassir with Weapon Jab.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Edge
Keeping Edge from rebounding and rolling away is a wonderful idea - actually, it
causes the Gedo gangster to panic briefly, even lost as he is in the glory of
drawing first blood from his opponent. Before he can even tense himself to pull
away he can feel an attack due to make contact with that delicate part of his
body, and with a desperate scream of rage he thrusts one arm out to catch
himself on the ground. The blade dropping from that hand, the other keeps its
burden as the purple punk's right hand lashes up to simultaneously divert
Nassir's blow and cut him across the face. The cut could hardly be called deep,
but it's certain to make some kind of difference.
Still caught by a fair amount of force before the throat thrust can be fully
negated, Edge is coughing when he finally rolls away, using a shove from his
grounded hand. Springing into a half-crouch away from Nassir, he flashes a
mocking grin. "Nice try! You've /really/ got what it takes." The sarcasm drips
from his tone, though there's little time to linger upon it as with a cackle of
bloody delight Daigo's lieutenant starts forward again, a spring in his step and
right hand lightly tossing the dagger in its grasp.
...and then he was gone.
One moment, Nassir was bleeding on the ground, generally having a rough time of
Edge's assault (to say the least) and starting to look towards the eventuality
of him losing to the Gedo knifer. Some elements of his personality reminded him
of Holly Wood, constantly showboating and seemingly a little...off balance. If
only the combat style was the same, he could approach him in that manner...but
as it stands, Nassir had to deal with the prospect of cracking Edge's style
before it was too late. What to do, what to do...
"Careless. Watch where you step."
With that said, Nassir reaches into his pocket, producing a length of silvery
piping with a red button on top. His other hand busies itself with a pouch on
his side, producing a small handful of spherical objects--smaller than the first
he used, but one could easily imagine what taking the brunt of the full hand
could do. Tossing them not so much at Edge as he did around him, Nassir
depressed the button, causing a small -thud- of an explosion.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Scorch the Earth.
Fortunately for the stalking Gedo lieutenant, Nassir telegraphs his attack
rather too much - not only has he played the confusing explosives card already,
but this time around they're not even hidden. The site of a /handful/ of the
things only alerts Edge even further to the fact he needs to do something
impressive here, and a quick glance upward affirms exactly what that should be.
"Ehehehehe!" Leaving a crazed giggle in his week, his skinny frame is kicked
into a high somersault, that carries up into the eaves of the room - not overly
high, but enough to avoid the triggered explosions in the nick of time.
This perch comes with the added advantage of being an excellent spot for sniping
Nassir off with some well-placed tosses, and the first of these comes right
away. Before the smoke can even clear, Edge scrabbles around in his pocket for
one of his better throwing knives, launching it forth with a triumphant smirk
and with force that almost spins him around on the slippery metal girder. But he
retains his footing and watches with keen eyes trained on both his opponent and
the spinning blade seeking to nail him.
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Reversing Blade Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Well, it was /something,/ at least. Nassir's lips curled into a frown as Edge
bounced away from the handful of explosives, dropping even further into a snarl
as Edge's defensive measure turns into an excellent offensive opportunity for
him. The soldier was in here for however long, and hadn't noticed the perches
which lay abovehead. Was he getting sloppy?
The knife which suddenly seems to materalize in his leg would make a potent
argument.
Thrown with the kind of force that probably could've allowed it to imbed itself
in the walls here, the strike is more than enough to send the slip of a soldier
flipping head over heels, landing prone on his back with a heavy thud. Muttering
curses under his breath, Nassir stopped to pull the knife out of his thigh,
wincing as the effort caused a sick sucking noise. That...hurt, and he'd likely
want to do something about that later on.
COMBATSYS: Nassir takes a breather.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
A wide, dirty grin smears itself across Edge's face as he watches that whirling
blade hammer home with a force easily capable of killing lesser men. Shifting in
his crouch, the Gedo punk allows Nassir the time he needs to pull forth the
knife before slapping both his hands to the surface of the girder, hunkering
down in a very solid position. Tense and prepared, resembling nothing more than
the predatory eagle - though very few birds of prey sport massive shocks of
blonde hair. "So tell me, Nassir, if you're still looking for a school... what's
with the uniform?"
Pausing to let the question sink in, Edge bites to answer it before his younger
opponent can, grin widening further as he ecstasically crows, "Something you're
not telling me! Think fast, pencilneck!" Shoving himself off with an extension
of effort from both arms, the gang leader drops into a falling arc toward the
grounded Shank Squad soldier, cutting into a forward flip halfway down and
executing something a little like that somersaulting double kick from earlier.
This time, however, he's not aiming to strike twice - just once, landing with
the other leg bowed beneath him and brutally /slamming/ his extended right foot
down into the place that hurts men most of all. Crush those melons, purple boy.
"Eeeehehehehe!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir blocks Edge's Low Blow.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/=======/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Okay, that's totally not cool.
After watching his fight with Juli, Nassir...should've seen that one coming.
Edge seemed to have a certain...je n'sais pas about him when it came to the
dirtiest of schoolyard tactics. It was his forte, his raison d'etre, and he
generally performed them in a manner that best displays that fact. To this end,
Nassir went skittering backwards, the blow having to settle for striking a
tensed leg rather than the youth directly. It still hurts, not being able to
pull entirely out of the way on a busted wheel, but it's a hell of a lot better
than the alternative.
Lifting his other leg up, Nassir makes his best effort to shift the youth
backwards, get him to stumble. This motion is accompanied by another press of
the button, triggering a second explosion. Remember, he threw a handful of those
smaller explosives...though one might imagine that the resulting bang is
considerably less, as well.
COMBATSYS: Edge slows Large Thrown Object from Nassir with Large Thrown Object.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/=======/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Crap. The instant Edge sees Nassir scrabble away, the realisation dawns that not
all of those little explosives were triggered off first time around. Spitting a
curse, the Gedo punk sweeps his hands quickly along the floor to either side -
the motion frantic and desperate - and when his fingers close around what he
presumes to be one such orb he all but screams with triumph, hurling the object
toward his opponent as he does so. "RIGHT BACK ATCHA, D-!"
Boom. A couple of feet from Edge the globe erupts, the hot blast knocking its
target back a few inches as his hands go to cover his face instinctively. Mouth
twisting to a dangerous snarl, he glares through the smoke at Nassir, one arm
lowering and the other hand running back across his mouth - from which trickles
a tiny slither of blood. "Now that, that was just /cheap/." And there comes that
giggle again, this time more edgy than those previous, no hint of genuine mirth
in there despite the irony of his words.
Whew. At least /something/ was working, albeit not up to total standard. Rolling
backwards once Edge is busy with the explosive, the arabian wasn't stopping for
a breather: It was time to do something amazing, something fantastic, something
that would help him turn this thing around, somehow. An onset of offense, strung
together to as to at least turn Edge's victory into a pyrrhic one.
Cutting through the smoke generated by the bomb is another object--perhaps not
totally surprising given the way the fight has gone. A knife, though it's
entirely the wrong shade, almost unnoticable due to the darker color and the
lack of sound. Coated in Nassir's shadowy blue energy, the blade was sent for
Edge's chest...though Nassir would settle for -anything-.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Horrors of War.
Denied. If Edge is intent on proving his school's superiority today, then as far
as fighting goes? He is setting an example to which any Gedo brawler would be
proud to aspire. Watching the incoming blade with a deadly intensity, eyes
narrowed to slits and training upon the energy that caused so much damage to the
impressive Juli, the delinquent for once has no gloating words to offer. He
seems oddly focused on finishing what he's started, and as Nassir's weapon seems
just about to impact - there's a shifting sound of leather upon concrete, a
light 'tch' from the delinquent and suddenly he is gone.
"This is the power Daigo Kazama taught me how to use," Edge croons when he
becomes visible again, some way back from his previous location and standing
with hands thrust into his pockets, lower lip curled in a cocky expression.
"It's called 'how to kick the crap out of useless little S... O... Bs." Phrasing
each letter carefully, savouring them, he pauses after delivery before abruptly
turning his back on the young dervish. "You know what you are, kid? You're
nothing. If you wanna /be/ something, you make the best of what you've got, you
find others like you, and then you go about becoming the greatest out of all of
'em. Heh!" Grinning back over his shoulder, the purple punk scuffs one boot
against the floor.
"If you set foot in Gedo High again, you'd better damn well pray you do it as
one of us. Heads up, dogbreath." After spitting a gob of phlegm to the grey
stone underfoot, Edge breaks into a flowing blur of motion. Turning about in a
flash he whips one hand from a baggy pocket, the expectant knife swishing
through the air toward Nassir. The force put into the first throw is immense -
enough to stagger the Arabian back against the wall, and such is the intent.
Compensating for his surge of effort, Daigo's lieutenant drops down into a
forward sprint, one hand still buried deep.
"SYAAAAA!" Tongue protruding and eyes bugging with madness, the youth covers
half the distance to his foe before finally letting rip with the second dagger,
fingers launching it forth with equal force to the first - propelling it toward
the tender stomach of the younger boy. It's an oddly long knife... could he be
aiming to actually pin Nassir to the brick wall?!
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Double Blade Strike EX.
The first knife impacts solidly in the soldier's body, the thrown weapon
slamming into his shoulder and in turn running him against the wall. If the
second blade was actually meant to skewer the youth, and place him rather
painfully as a bit of living decoration? Then it most assuredly does. All Nassir
can manage is a voiceless cry of pain, face tangling itself up as if he intended
to actually shed a tear or thirteen. From the looks of things, this went well
beyond the scope of mere pain and into the realm where a doctor's assistance
wouldn't just be wished for, but outright mandatory.
Nassir's eyes go wide, then, staring into the face of his tormentor before the
flame of life gutters out, flickers momentarily, and dies. Body slumping forward
save for where he's held up by the knives, the body begins to flicker out
entirely, growing light, then completely insubstantial. There's no 'poof' noise
as it completely fades out, no telltale sound of smoke and mirrors. No, this is
much closer to what might be expected from a certain sidescroller when a certain
HUUUUGE MAYOR OF WRESTLING decided to piledrive the eighteenth 'El Gado' into
the ground.
It's the sound of metal on metal, a pair of 'thunk' noises that announce
Nassir's presence near the boiler. The pilot window was open, and a pair of
circular object rest by his feet.
"I am suitably impressed with your fervor. Perhaps I will endeavor to meet this
Daigo. However, I believe it will be after the repairs. I will be making my
leave," And what follows was a word in Arabic, before Nassir kicked the first
object in through the pilot window.
"The ball is in your court, as I've been told they say."
COMBATSYS: Nassir focuses on his next action.
"Hrn?!" Edge noticeably hesitates in any celebration as his bump of trouble
flares up. As has been noted previously, the gang leader would not be such if he
were entirely stupid - cocky, presumptious and proud but certainly not dense.
Grade point averages not with standing. Still, he feels something wrong, coming
to a halt in a half-crouch after hurling his final blade and watching Nassir
crumple. Doubting very much that the evasive boy is dead and gone, he still
cannot help but be surprised as the form fades away. Rising to his feet, he
reaches up to adjust the collar of his jacket self-consciously, expressing his
distaste in the situation with a single word, "/Shit/."
But shortly thereafter, the dervish makes himself known. Eyes slamming wide
open, the purple punk spins on his heel, dropping low with fists clenching at
his side... animalistic, feral... but entirely unprepared for the action he
surveys. Repairs? Oh... shit indeed. A high-pitched shriek of rage rips from the
delinquent's lungs, and without further warning Edge is running down the room
toward the boiler. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!" Spit flecking out in a misty
spray as he screams, he will find himself too late to stop Nassir entirely.
However.
Hands scrabbling near the floor during his headlong dash, they soon fasten
around a cable connected to a piece of unidentified industrial equipment.
Something large, made of heavy duty plastic and metal, and dangerous enough to
be kept down in the boiler room. He doesn't give a damn what exactly he's
gripped, so without further ado he spins around, heaving on the thick cable and
whipping the machine around with it to soar in toward Nassir. It bounces off
various support struts and, indeed ,the concrete floor as it flies, huge
sparking cascades kicked up by each impact. If the school above has remained
unaware of the battle raging below this far.. that time is over.
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Large Thrown Object.
The second orb is kicked into the boiler pilot window before Nassir spies the
change in Edge. Should one happen to look inside the unit that likely supplies
heat to a very large portion of the school, one could see one of the
balls...begin to melt. Either the grenade was a dud, or a reasonably convincting
ruse--a clay pidgeon, if you will. Of course, if one's attention isn't glued to
the window, that's a very easy fact to miss. Maybe they just haven't exploded
yet, or perhaps they're merely waiting for Nassir to fully depress the button.
Given Edge's rage overwhelming him, Nassir easily dove out of the way of...was
that stage lighting the cable was attached to? A washing machine? A walrus? The
answer is irrelevent, as the flying machinery would have to settle for crashing
loudly against whatever other things happened to fill the boiler room--things
which were hopefully not the boiler itself. While Nassir was /fairly certain/ he
could escape the explosion, the chance that he was wrong was too big for
comfort.
Rolling out of his dive and onto his feet, Nassir grinned widely. "You love this
Daigo Kazama, do you not?" Now, while that phrase could be taken in any dazzling
variety of ways, the way that the question was phrased might suggest that he
didn't mean it in a literal 'in the closet' sort of way. "I will meet with him,
and his other supporters. Who in this school is as ferverent as you?"
Not waiting for a reply, Nassir slid forward, bringing both of his hands high,
fists save for those two fingers being extended on each hand. What follows is a
flurry of finger-jabs, the majority of which were sent high, into Edge's
throat...assuming he can land them properly. Shadowy blue chi flew with each
strike, outlining the attack and leaving an afterimage in it's wake. Against
lesser men, the technique /could/ kill...when done correctly. Gen was an
excellent example of such a master, as are others. In Nassir's hands, it merely
caused a lot of awkward and unorthodox pains.
He'd get better at it. He had the rest of his lifetime to master it.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Stockholm Syndrome from Nassir with Cheap Shot.
[ \\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Nassir 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Edge
Actually, Edge has ceased paying attention to the boiler - he very much doubts
that Nassir the suicidal sort, and this being the case? Any explosion large
enough to cause any serious damage would be bound to finish off the beaten
dervish, so all the gangster has to do is keep him right here. The door is
heavily barred and would take a good few moments to get open, and by that time
Nassir's still-perky opponent would have no problem catching up and making with
the pain. So instead of going for those infuriating metal balls, our rageful
protagonist is waiting for any further appearance by his foe after that huge
piece of machinery has waged its final deafening portion of destruction.
Thankfully, everything down here is good and sturdy.
"Love?" He replies to the recovered Arabian, suppressing his anger well enough
as he answers, backpedalling quickly to make distance with the closing
youngster. "I don't love anyone. But I respect the hell out of him.. and that
ain't gonna change." Hawking to spit off to one side, Edge has lulled himself
into a false sense of security and finds the first of many finger stabs going
directly to his throat. Several strike the teen before he can twist back out of
range, choking for air and eyes wide - for the first time this battle - in shock
at being struck so savagely. The reaction is desperate, but perfectly executed.
"Pft!" Leaning quickly in to his speedy ex-hostage, Yamada releases the load he
built up prior to the successful strikes, a messy gob of phlegm smacking his foe
right in the eyes. "TRASH!" The scream comes cracked and broken over a partially
crushed windpipe, but it comes accompanied with a kick straight to the groin,
something to put the dervish out of commission while Edge steps back, massaging
his throat and seething.
Well...damnit. That wasn't the response he was looking for. What he was looking
for was for Edge to mayhaps choke up a little bit, and be stuck dealing with
that while Nassir figured out what to do from here. Instead, Nassir wins himself
a kick in the balls and a loogie in the eye.
Okay, alright. This fight has finally gone to hell. Nassir could, ultimately,
read the writing on the wall. Edge was, at least in these circumstances, a
superior fighter. It was a bit disconcerting, but Nassir could at least see it
for what it was worth, and perhaps respect it. That respect went out of the
window right as a product of the Cold and Flu season struck him. Unclipping one
of his bandoliers entirely, Nassir merely throws it in Edge's general direction.
He would have to focus on his anger, as opposed to the pain in his ohsosensitive
pseudoextremities. Pushing the button down one last time, the resulting chain
explosion is more than sufficient in reaching both Nassir and Edge...though one
might guess that the Arabian Dervish simply didn't care. Indeed, it might've
even been close enough to do something quite deleterious to the boiler, though
that was up to the fates at this point.
Nassir, suicidal? It was certainly something Nassir could do--he just wanted to
save it for something important to Rolento's goal of Utopia.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Random Weapon from Nassir with Fierce Punch.
[ < > ///////////////// ]
Nassir 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 Edge
The juvenile delinquent is still busily restoring his oxygen intake and
straightening up his collar when Nassir hurls in that beltful of explosives. A
scathing gaze snaps to the item, and a fist clenches down /hard/ at Edge's side.
"You're pushing it, scrawnyass..." he hisses, voice still sounding somewhat
stressed from the series of throat thrusts, but audible enough. Though likely
Nassir will be focusing more on what his opponent does next, lashing out his
raised hand to grab the bandolier and swing it like a club as he launches
himself across the small divide between them. "Yeeee-ahahahahahaaa!"
The crazed teenager is laughing even as the explosion triggers, ripping into his
thin body and ruining yet another outfit, but he doesn't care, faltering only a
little and instead slamming the full force of the erupting explosives down into
their owner. Boiler be damned - if the kid wants to take Gedo down, he'll at
least go down with it. Continuing to cackle against the blaze, Edge releases the
ruined bandolier and instead brings up his fist, crashing it down upon Nassir's
head and following up with a series of punches straight to the face.
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir endures Nassir's Random Weapon.
[ < > ///////////////// ]
Nassir 2/<<<<<<
"Welcome to Southtown Action News! A shocking occurrence today for the student
population of our beloved home, as the terrorist acts overseas have finally
arrived here and are hitting with full force. Nancy, over to you!"
"This is Nancy Kerrigan reporting from just outside Gedo High, where today a
heinous terrorist act was performed! Police were not allowed onto the scene, but
an unnamed member of the local fire brigade has reliably informed me that a
variety of /dangerous explosives/ were found to have been used inside the
school's boiler room. No casualties have been reported, though the scene is
littered with the signs of battle."
Nancy: "I've managed to secure some words of reassurance from Daigo Kazama, the
man known as the Boss of Gedo. Mr. Kazama... what do you have to say about the
incident? How bad is the damage, and most importantly, what will be the
repercussions of this /horrific/ act of terrorism?"
Daigo: "Whoever it was, they didn't do enough damage to shut the school down
longer than a couple days, and I don't think it was a terrorist attack.
Terrorists would've struck somewhere more populated, or valuable. This was just
some lunatic's idea of a prank. Whoever did it will be caught. We might even
let the authorities deal with them, if they're lucky."
Nancy: "Powerful words from a powerful fighter! Watch out terrorists, wherever
you are. Back to you, Taka!"
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