Maruchi’s hazel eyes widened at the sudden arrival of the newcomer. He and Monroe both ceased their battle to study the man. That was great timing! he silently thanked the stranger.

His face was aged, though obviously naturally. Heishuro guessed late forties… late fifties… Next the fighter’s eyes shifted to the man’s clothing. He wore beast hides, stretched and strained around his unusually frail looking body. His small stature in both height and weight was near laughable to the former-champion, as it probably was to Monroe.

At the thought of Vossler, the young hazel eyes shifted to him. Maruchi was pleased to see him giving the new arrival the same calculating look that Heishuro had been wearing. As he turned his gaze once more, he found the middle-aged man standing sideways, his arm raised level with his head. This new stance allowed Heishuro to see the man’s straggled hair sweeping now his neck.

He’s imitating Vossler… the fighter mused with a badly suppressed chuckle.

A smile must have been showing plainly, because the stranger’s eyes snapped to the grinner. Before returning the smile, the man began to flash strange objects around his body; clicking and scraping against one another as the man’s new adoption of Marchi’s stance continued.

“Are you trying to piss us off?” the martial artist couldn’t prevent himself from saying. Without looking, he could immediately sense Monroe’s amusement at the fighter’s blunt question.

“I am Harvy,” he said tonelessly, ignoring Heishuro’s rudeness. With the words, he halted his stolen stance, returning the measuring look to both Vossler and Maruchi instead.

“Lemme guess?” Heishuro half-shouted, shattering the silence, “another wants to collect this “bounty” on my head?”

“Quite the opposite actually,” he spoke in the same emotionless tone; leaving Maruchi’s raised eyebrows with no answer to lower them, for he had turned to Monroe quickly, a look of determination across his face that hadn’t shown before.

Heishuro gazed at Monroe, who showed the same signs of confusion that the fighter himself wore. This Harvy was complicating things…

The fencer wasted no time in testing Harvy, for at once he had his blade pointing at the man’s throat, not unlike Maruchi’s earlier predicament. But Harvy knocked the tip away with his strange tools.

With a delighted chuckle, the bare-footed fighter jumped in to aid the old man who, despite his age, was holding his own against the modern swordsman.

Steel met bone with a sickening crunch constantly as Heishuro’s spherical motion pecked away at Vossler’s exposed chest. Before the chainsaw kick could cease, Monroe had fallen to the ground, keeping his one hand clutched around the hilted blade; and the other nursing his bruised torso.

OoC: Could have been better.... but meh.

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