(Round One) Unseen Beauty

[Kitsuné]

OoC: I want to state now that, being english, I use different spellings of words. It's not just bad spelling.

BiC: Mist lingered over crimson, dulling the colour, but not shrouding it completely. The colour still burst though the haze, rupturing the silky vapour. It moved hastily, parting the omnipresent fog. Eyesight was futile in such conditions, seeing only particles of liquid pulse around, blanketing all. The blur of colour beneath the mist was a person, cloaking themselves from the vapour that they believed to be poisonous.

Heishuro Maruchi’s ignorance had prevailed when he mistook the harmless fog for the poisonous Ciélaron clouds. The clouds were a dangerous composition of wind; miasmic toxin; and liquid. The toxin itself is usually dissolved in the rivers: When diseased animals die by riverside.

Maruchi, with his hood draped far passed his nose, was seeking refuge. He knew of a place where he could stay for a few days. So with oxygen struggling to penetrate his covered nose and mouth, the red-clothed fighter hurried to his refuge.

***
Finally… somewhere to relax! Heishuro mused as he let himself drop onto the luscious grass. It caressed his skin tenderly, brushing out against the hairs on his arm.

Maruchi was in the centre of a clearing, a magnificent spectacle of beauty, unseen to the world; untouched by the people. No… this place was all his. The clearing opened up from as organs of the cave.

Purities swam in the waters, the waters that descended, seemingly from heaven, over the waterfall. Perfections doused the pool at the bottom, where the waters finally rested in a salubrious fountain. Surrounding the pool: a greenery; circling the spherical fountains.

Heishuro had stumbled upon his haven by chance; as he ran from the Ciélaron clouds (though the previous ones had been real). He had taken shelter in the closest bush, diving headfirst through it. But he did not stop. He had found a secret entrance! As he rolled on, it became apparent that he was in a cave, the cave that, at the end, would reveal the place he was now.

The cave walls obstructed Heishuro's vision of where the waters came from, but he didn't care, examining further would be pointless.

Maruchi rose, regarding the waterfall with false interest. What he was really wondering had nothing to do with water...

"Taki," his voice escaped as a whisper, faint and fragile. Tears began to glass his vision, but he quickly blinked them away.

There was so much he did not understand: Why had she done what she did; what did she want from him; what was their fate? So many questions swarmed his mind, sending his heart racing at his own thoughts about them. With difficulty, he forced himself to think about a different topic.

Slowly, he walked towards an oak, corresponding the waterfall in size. But just as he began to strike the tree; footsteps reached his ears.

[mmmmm_PIE]

Thought. A gargantuan slab of shining marble, torn screaming from the living earth by some soulless behemoth, hurled with an impossible force into the all-devouring cosmos.
Evaluation. Discordant winds sweeping the comet's brilliant surface; each stronger, more pitched, more persistent than the last. Each seeking sole dominion of the colossal stone.
Argument. The utter hell conceived by the ferocious convergence of two shrieking storms. Twin hurricanes matched and weighed in world shattering fashion.
Decision. A resounding crash that proved an indisputable victory. The marble torn, shattered, sublimated, frozen, collapsed, vanished... gone.
Conclusion. A new resolve arises, built and honed in the mind's most terrible forge. Hold off two more days, and then harvest; whether there was yet any sign of frost or not.

Harvy shook off aggravation with a tight smile. The mind was prattling again, behaving as melodramatically as ever and with an added touch of insanity... but at least his partner was focused. The elements of 'farmer' currently highlighting his existence were going to fade, and fade quickly, now that the donors were far behind. If he could hold on until the kid showed up he was golden (first impression were everything), but if not...

He was actually rather excited about meeting this 'Heishuro'. Whatever the young man's true story, he was had spent years on earth, or at least a mirror of it, and would surely know a great deal about being human. Maruchi was a necessary tool at the moment, and Harvy would never lose sight of that, but if everything cleaned up nicely today there might be a little time left over to have some... fun.

The boy was still nowhere to be seen and the body took the opportunity and ran through the op once more. Maruchi was ideal muscle; physically superb yet emotionally pathetic. A complete psychological profile included in his briefing (thank you very much Tokyo Justice), altered to account for recent observation, gave Harvy a detailed map of the man's head. Barring interference, or some unforeseen catastrophe, he'd have the man made in minutes. Then it was a simple matter of seek and destroy.

Harvy though Heishuro was practically begging for the job. The boy seemed to be of a very specific hero mentality... the kind of guy who loved to do the right thing and, in equal measure, loved people knowing he was doing the right thing. A man equally convinced of the fairness of the world and his own greatness; so very sure he would get what he imagined his due.
A terrible sob story and a few quick compliments would have him hooked.

Of course, the body would need Maruchi's respect as well: equally easy. The boy was broken and adrift; his life full of questions and instabilities. A classic country man, devoted husband, loving father, long time master of of the land, and all around strong souled fellow, would be a champion in the lad's eyes. Good Dreamers, this was a sinch!

Reality yanked him back in time for a clumsy halt and soft curse. Two meters ahead the bottom had fallen out of the world; solid earth and rushing river suddenly deciding to acquiesce more appropriately to gravity. Harvy gathered himself and moved cautiously away from the gushing water, wondering how best to tackle the gorge. There were no immediately obvious paths around, and there was certainly no time to search out possibilities.

The body planned a careful route down the short yet sheer wall (preciously distant from the nerve-wracking flue), and began his decent.
----------------------------------------

OOC:
Heh, at least the Brits are certain of their spellings. They tell us Canadian English is supposed to be unique, but its really just a garbled confused mixture of the two more dominant systems.

Edit: Harvy.

[Zorolo]

A prick. That was the guy that had assigned the hunter to this damned mission. "A friggen prick bastard!" the bounty hunter stated angrily as he punched a nice hole in the wall of the cave. Not only was he lost in some god damned cave, but he was looking for some guy he'd didn't even have a description of. All the man from 2043 had was a name. "Heishuro Maruchi," he whispered, still pretty pissed off.

How this had come about... well... that was something entirely different. He'd been merely traveling and saw a strange bill posted on the job board. It looked interesting, so he decided to see what was up with it. When he arrived to where the person who was giving the job was, he found a man that was heavily clothed and veiled, hiding his face and body. All he said was the man's name, and said he was nearing a cave with a waterfall as one of the entrances.

Naturally the inquisitor, the former assassin began looking around at maps and other such things of the sort to get an idea where in the hell that freak was sending him. "That God damn son of a ***** prick sent me way out here for no damn reason!" the modern fencer groaned as he kept searching down the cavern, still recalling more of how he'd gotten himself into this God forsaken place.

It hadn't taken more then three or four days to find out all the areas that matched the location named, and then a few hours of reading about them, but he did finally find the one that matched best. His flashlight illuminated the cave, revealing the mosses and fungi that were growing in there, along with some rather oddly placed grass. "Shouldn't that be more towards the waterfall?" he asked no one in particular. Why in the world did he always take up the interesting and purposeless looking missions that popped up. Odds are, he'd find himself nothing and turn back, disappointed.

In fact, he might have found something if he had entered behind the waterfall, but instead, he had elected to head through an opening a good distance around and to the side of the cavern. He had learned through his studies that there were four entrances. One behind, near a marsh seeming area that was nowhere near where he was; one behind the waterfall, but that wasn't the closest one; the one he was using to the east; and lastly, the one to the west.

The entrance the fencer had chosen was slightly elevated above the others, putting him on a different level then where the man he was searching for was upon. And still Monroe walked, keeping his flashlight in front of himself to see where in the hell he was going. The color of the rocks unchanging, the cave itself; boring and everything he found himself doing made him want to shoot something. He couldn't take much more of this walking forwards. He'd give it five more minutes, and then he was out of there.

Suddenly, the battery in his flashlight went dead, and he narrowed his eyes angrily at it in the darkness. Without really thinking about it, as few people do when they get mad, he threw the plastic camera against the ground and pulled his gun from his holster. Quickly cocking back the hammer of his revolver back and using the laser sight to aim at the flashlight below him, Vossler quickly fired off a shot, blowing the light in half and a massive hole in the ground. Titanium bullets do that, or one would imagine.

Suddenly, the broken ground began cracking. Before long, the crack expanded far beyond where it had started. "You've got to be kidding me," the man said as his advanced eyesight could barely see the cracks when sudden...

CRASH!

The fencer was sent plummeting down with the half words, "Oh shi-" A few moments later, the shattered rock and the man from the future came crashing down. None of the falling rubble touched Monroe or, oddly enough, the man he fell on. The fencer stood up and dusted himself off. There was light down here... and someone else two. The brown haired enhanced human looked at the person he had hit and took a few steps back. "So you must be Heishuro Maruchi," the fencer groaned as he looked at him before smiling. Something about actually finding the undescribed person was very... rewarding; Even if Monroe didn't have the slightest why.

"Well, I'm here to collect your bounty. Get ready, cuz I don't give my hunts a second chance," Vossler stated as he drew his sword and leapt back some, taking a traditional fencing stance, getting ready to fight. He had five bullets left if he needed them; a knife at the read, and his titanium sword that would be nearly impossible to break by anything of this world. Well, this poor guy seemed outmatched from how the man from 2043 saw it. Odds are, he'd be wrong.

OoC: Still getting used to Monroe, so it may be a bit crappy, but it felt pretty good writing it. ^_^

[Kitsuné]

Before he was even given the time to feel surprised, Heishuro's apparent adversary was gazing at Heishuro, his blade frighteningly steady as it pointed at the dumbfounded fighter. Realising his mouth had draped open, Heishuro hastily shut it, tearing a chunk of his lip off in the process. Well done, you might just kill yourself for him, he mused as he nursed his bleeding lip. Why does this man want me dead? And how did he know my name?

As these question's pulsed through Maruchi's mind; he realised he had been stationary for quite some time, probably with his signature look of "concentration" on his face. Maruchi raised Xuriken and let his mouth curl upwards. It had been a while since he'd had a good ol' fight.

"I am Monroe Vossler," he stated firmly, "the one who'll collect that bounty on your head!"

The news that a reward on his head didn't comfort Heishuro, though it wasn't as frightening as perhaps it should have been.

Fighting started as the waterfall belched, spraying Heishuro and his foe with cool waters. Heishuro eyed Monroe's blade, wondering how strong it was. Deciding it best not to take chances, Maruchi drew a "Z" in the air, waving Xuriken threateningly at Vossler. Without hesitation a serrated flash of light constricted the weapon, causing a dazzling glow of lightning-blue.

Startled, the darkly dressed man rubbed his eyes gingerly, but it was too late. Heishuro had leapt at Monroe, unleashing a more-than-potent spiral of flame at Vossler. His reaction: Gritting his teeth and baring it.

Heishuro, in his amazement, was struck dumb by his threshold for pain. But in those moments; whilst Maruchi was awestruck; dumbstruck; and probably all the “strucks” you could think of: He was literally struck. The fencer’s blade slapped hard against the fighter’s chest, not piercing the skin, but leaving a long red line where the flat edges of the smallsword had whipped him.

Muttering various swears under his breath, Maruchi let himself stumble backwards, hoping to lure Monroe into a foolish decision. But Vossler didn’t come any closer; he merely raised his blade high, obviously not accepting victory.

“’Ey! You can do better than that!” It wasn’t a question.

“Can I?” Confidence rung in the words, making the red-clothed fighter feel more like a dumbass than usual.

Monroe gave a faint smile in response, but spoke nothing. It was clearly an invitation to continue their battle.

“When this little spar’s finished, I need a quick whiz; ok?” Maruchi asked jokingly.

Again Vossler didn’t react with anything audible, but his face was etched with irritation. He didn’t expect a challenge. Realisation must have been clear in his face as he thought, because Monroe eyed him suspiciously.

Heishuro switched to the more offensive rage stance, constantly swinging the nunchaku around his body. Unmistakably intrigued; he eyed Xuriken, a look of caution in his eyes.

“Quite an unusual weapon you got yourself there,” he observed as the nunchuks and his sword met; scraping against one another in the struggle of chain and blade.

Heishuro nodded once, but was more focused on trapping Vossler’s sword. After many seconds of confusion, Maruchi pulled Xuriken and the smallsword away from Vossler.

Their gazes met, though neither moved. Vossler appeared defenceless, yet Heishuro didn’t know what to do.

[Zorolo]

Annoying. That was what this bastard was. He was just insanely annoying. Pyrokinesis was one thing that Monroe could deal with, since his enhanced body allowed him to modify his body temperature to make burning or freezing him harder to burn or freeze him. That was annoying, yes, but what this warrior had just done was insulting.

"What kind of warrior steals a man's weapon to take away his ability to fight?" the dark clad fencer asked, shrugging as he looked at the warrior. "I can understand if you're afraid that I'd break that feeble weapon of yours, but don't think that I'll let you keep my sword," the enhanced human said as he cast a smile. This guy had some annoying powers, but Monroe would be damned if he was defeated by him.

Heishuro stabbed Vossler's sword behind him and walked forwards slightly. "If you want this sword, you'll need to get past me to get it," the karate warrior said as he began swinging his weapon's fiercely, perhaps to try the dark attired fencer, but it didn't really do anything but slightly annoy the modern fencer.

"All right, if that is the way you want to play it, then I'll give you less then I had planned to. If you're going to play it that way, then I'll play," the former assassin whispered as he drew his dagger from beneath his jacket. A kind of calmness set on the battlefield, even as the fighter swung his weapon fiercely. The bounty hunter wavered to his side and then charged rashly at his foe, getting ready to take down the supposedly wanted man.

As the fencer got in range, he began using his knife to push away the steel weapons with split second timing. Enhanced reaction time was a blessing, and even the slightly blurring weapons could be seen with his enhanced vision. There was a weakness in this weapon his foe used, and he'd have to exploit it: the chain. The knife moved forwards at a relatively fast, pushing the chain forwards and bringing the two weights at the end forwards.

The dark clad man narrowly evaded the ends of his foe's weapons, spinning around the warrior and throwing a chop at the warrior's neck, knocking the multi-elemental warrior forwards and giving the modern fencer a chance to sheath his dagger and grab his sword. The dark haired man slid his foot back as he looked at his hunt, who seemed mostly unfazed by his attack.

"Lucky," the fighter whispered as he took an offensive stance, keeping a safe distance from his foe.

"No, skilled, there is a difference," the dark clad man said as he charged. The moving of his foes weapons became faster it seemed, and the clash of steel against titanium created large sparks as the two warriors fought intently. The heavy heads of the nunchucks clashed hard with the heavily reinforced blade of the former assassin.

Before Monroe knew what was happening, his foe's weapon's weights were moving extremely fast and clashing with his sword, removing any chance Vossler had for a counter attack. How fast was his foe's weapons striking? Monroe didn't know, but he had to come up with something. "I don't care if you have pyrokinesis," he whispered as sparks kept shooting from where their weapons met. "I don't care if you weren't trying," he said in the same, flat tone as he watched the attacker's weapons blur at the speed they were moving. "I don't care if I get the money from you... I'm not going to lose!" the fencer yelled as his sword suddenly slashed hard, stopping the heavily pressed attack.

The modern fencer's sword pointed at his foe's neck, a strange feeling around both its user and the blade itself. Something darker then one would expect from this modern person. Odds are it was just the setting, but the former assassin seemed to be surrounded by a great deal of darkness. "Your move," he said as he stepped back a few feet, keeping his distance safe. After all, his foe needed a place to move in order to strike, didn't he?

[mmmmm_PIE]

Violent crashes accentuating the aquatic cacophony to his distant right, testament to the sudden collapses common to caves of this sort, had given Harvy no pause. The partial chimney chosen he had chosen to aid his downward climb was well-weathered, any earthly instabilities long since beaten away from the immortal rock, and in truth he had had little room left to fall.

It had been the strange sounds that followed, muffled yet clearly out of place in an “empty” gully, which had precipitated his sudden change in behavior. Patiently, the body had made efforts to quiet his decent, had made careful moves back towards the rushing water, had begun to recognize voices punctuating the din, and was now attempting to see without being seen.

Harvy had no trouble identifying a hostile situation; the confused and angry tones of the yet indiscernible words would have been enough put him on his, if the steady stream of clipped, violent thoughts hadn’t already set his heart to racing. He was apprehensively concluding on a quiet escape when, suddenly, reflex tugged a word out of the chaos and through it in his face; ‘Maruchi’.

“Damn!”

Abandoning caution, abandoning inhibition, abandoning plans and tricks and facades, Harv began to run. The mind suddenly snapped in focus, demanding maniacally for an explanation. The body knew that everything was shot to Hell, either completely unsalvageable or else not worth the effort, but he was a creature of emotion and, at the moment, none of that mattered.

Two humanoid figures resolved in the semi-gloom. The body identified the closer of the two, well-muscled and garishly red-clad, as Heishuro. The other, lithe and hard, was an outsider and, apparently, a bastard. They stood apart for the moment, trading glares and throwing taunts, quite obviously preparing to rip each other to shreds. The Dreamers damn them both!

Though still unnoticed, Harvy was near enough now to make of the face of each man; cause enough for another curse. There was a darkness in the mystery man, deep set within his eyes and echoed throughout his entire being, a black assurance that this fellow would not hesitate to kill: no matter the circumstance and with little reason. Maruchi’s features, proclamations of a bright innocence, assured something quite the opposite. Damn and damn again.

“Stop right there!”

Well, he had had to do something… ah Damn…

OOC: Everything's settled with character approval now; thanks Ranarath.

[Kitsuné]

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.

[Zorolo]

Vossler rose slowly, coughing up some blood, his eyes glazed over with a burning hatred about them. He was standing, even if his upper body was hanging over, fighting through his bruises and wounds. A smile crossed the modern fencer's lips as the dark energy around him seemed go grow further, making the where he was standing an unbelievable amount darker. Something was growing within him... or maybe something trying to get out. Whatever it was, he couldn't see it, nor feel it, but he knew it existed... somewhere in his soul.

The intruder, Harvy, had created two weapons from the strange tools he carried, both looking exactly like smaller versions of the fencer's sword. Crude and simple in design, lacking the elegance and craftsmanship of the former assassin's blade, but still effective from their appearance. The martial artist and the middle aged creature looked at each other and nodded silently as they went on the offensive.

The fierce strikes of the nunchucks and the clashing of the blades rung hard against the dark clad fencer's blade as he moved backwards and continued to block fiercely against their attacks, not leaving any openings this time. There was no room for error here, since any hesitation or error meant death. That was the only thing that would come out of this battle: death.

As the fencer stumbled backwards, trying to avoid what seemed to be almost certain death, he could feel his anger and hatred welling up from deep inside him. Long abandoned hopes of finding out what his past were returned. Desires of finding a purpose grew stronger as the clang of metal and strength grew. His desire to experience everything the world had to offer, his greatest desire, finally returned, and with a sudden, and furious, slash, he stopped the blades of Harvy and the weapon of Heishuro.

As the bounty hunter's sword stopped his foe's weapons, something suddenly manifested itself in an unusual form. Four dark, long, clawed fingers pressed against his foes, one to the side of their necks, and one pressing against the respective sides of their chests, holding the attackers at bay. It seemed like the hearts of the two on the offensive had stopped for a few seconds as Monroe looked at the ground, catching his breath from his hard breathing. Slowly, his eyes rose, and he could see the claw, but not just that, his whole body... it was covered in the same darkness as the claws that all extended as long as his fully extended sword.

To the onlookers, Monroe's dark encompassing shadow appeared to have the head of an almost jackal like appearance, but not. The body of the darkness was very muscular, and his normal hand rested backwards, as did Mornoe's. As for the dark creatures other hand, it was much larger, and had fingers the length of the modern fencer's sword. Slowly the strange image began to fade, and Vossler leapt back as far as he could, sliding to a stop.

What the hell was that? he asked himself, feeling his breathing shallow. Whatever it was, it had stunned his foes, and it had made them halt. In fact, those claws had actually felt real against their skin and clothing... he didn't know how, but the former assassin knew this. Whatever the hell that was, it was something out of a bad movie. In fact... it looked like something that he had read about in history.

"Set..." he whispered, recalling his study of mythology, and the God of Chaos. A god that caused all kinds of problems... but why in the world was he seeing and feeling the powers of a dark god? How in the world had that happened? Had he just been seeing things? No, that had been real. Vossler could feel the evil permeating off of the darkness as it surrounded him. He could feel the monster's presence, and apparently his not-so-lucky foes had the same problem.

Monroe started laughing as he stood up and pointed his sword at them, bending his elbow back and changing his fencing stance to a foil stance. he'd have a lot better extension this way. It didn't matter what he had seen, or what he had felt. That was a God damn illusion and that was all there was to it. Simply a trick of the mind caused by his anger and the darkness of the cave. It didn't matter, all he had to do now was snap his idiot foes out of their trance and start this battle up again.

"Hey, you idiots! What are you gawking at? Are we going to fight, or are you two going to stand there?" he asked them mockingly, sliding his left foot back to better brace himself for when they did attack. Things had just started to get interesting.

[mmmmm_PIE]

OOC: Delicious Development Z. Thought KItsune and I had the major advantage in this one, but now...
I enjoyed writing this entry, especially playing "the mind". The first paragraph perhaps my greatest work of bull****, and I've BS'd quite a bit in my day. Thanks alot for this guys.

IC:

A mental aria of laughter, screams and light, arrose in triumphant majesty. With a power beyond pitch and volume and tone it made a grand cressendo, exploding into realms of sound heavenly beyond the reach of highest angels. Oh how each and every joyous note of that song of songs shook the pillars of the world; how it's beauty brought the coldest souls of hell to weep. The essence of music grew into a tempo without time, a melody without measure; it filled the universe, became the universe, and in the moment it began, had already moved on.

With less the a moment's warning, the body was very nearly overcome by the orgasmic energies the mind had released. His partner was lost in a blissful hysteria; a dangerous elation that had taken hold the moment Vossler had brandished a blade. Harvy understood the draw, the man's expertise was utterly delicious, a perfectly controlled existence beyond anything the body had yet experienced... but a fight to the death was still no place to lose one's cool.

Every ounce of psychic power he possessed had been given over to empathizing the man's skill; Harvy was no longer even able to emulate basic emotions and no where near free enough to attempt deep telepathy. With no way to be sure, he decided he could not trust what he saw on the fencer's face... but it certainly appeared as if the boy had been just as startled by his little magical display has he and Maruchi had been.

If Vossler had truly been unaware of that... that thing, (A "Typhonic Beast" according to the giddy ramblings of the mind, whatever they might be worth) then perhaps killing the lad today would be a mercy. That darkness was his destiny.

Bah, this was no time for musing! Quickly working a few adjustments into his artificial blade, the body decided to again press the attack. He had no chance against the blademaster alone; they were equal now in skill but the other man had all other advantages; strength, size, speed, experience and, apparently, dark magic. He simply needed to tip the balance in Maruchi's favor. That really shouldn't have been to difficult; the men had been evenly matched in the begging, things had changed somehow... and his life balanced on the degree of that change.

The body came straight on, meeting a stark Vossler on the edge of his range. He kept his blade work defensive; evading or deflecting the powerful strikes which would doom him for a mistake and peppering the man with light stabs and hoping to draw just enough of his opponents focus to present Heishuro a solid opening.

He took a small stab in the first moments, and though he managed a solid strike in return, the fencer soon had him dancing. His shin was stabbed, then his side... his left arm took a heavy whack... where was that fool fighter?

[Kitsuné]

Heishuro glanced at Harvy - He was taken serious punishment for someone of his age, and Vossler didn’t seem to be tiring - Reluctantly, Maruchi dove back into the war zone.

Monroe had seemed just as awestruck as both Harvy and Heishuro about the earlier act of evil. The magic had been evil and daemonic… the thought of someone that wished him hard wielding that power wasn’t at all comforting.

Customized bone met the real thing as the fighter’s right foot poked into Vossler’s leg, setting the fencer of balance. He swayed unsteadily on the spot, trying to regain his footing, but finally accepted defeat as his sturdy legs buckled beneath him, giving way to the declining body above them.

Exchanging amused looks with the now spectating Harvy; the talented youth voiced his thoughts: “He’s no match for the two of us!”

Cracking his nimble knuckles, Heishuro returned his attention to Monroe; who had now risen back to his feet.

“Not taking advantage of a floored opponent ‘eh?” Maruchi could sense disapproval, disappointment and slices of dislike in his voice. He must be dissin’ me! he added in an afterthought; before chuckling heartily at his use of the old American slang.

It was once a second language to me… but this new world has changed everything. Feeling his expression change, the martial artist pushed away his emotions that his mind forced upon him and turned, once again, to Vossler.

It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a battle like this. He had insurance: If things got out of hand, Harvy would step in. He had a decent opponent: Monroe and Heishuro seemed evenly matched enough for them to both be wary of the other. But best of all; he had incentive: This wasn’t some fight against a weak Mexican; or a handicapped match to test his skills… this was a real battle in a real world. Against someone that really wanted him dead.

Wrapping the lightning chain of Xuriken around his fist; he crashed fiercely into Vossler’s defending blade, (with a little magical help from the winds) leaving the fencer and martial artist in a tension lock. Maruchi’s nunchaku were scraping ravenously against Monroe’s blade; forcing it back towards its owner.

Unable to contain his grin, he arched his lips upwards, boasting his strength to the fencer. But Vossler kept his nerve, and continued the losing battle of muscle.

A glance at Harvy revealed the same winning smile that Heishuro wore proudly. They couldn’t lose now, not with both of them opposing the weaker Monroe.

Alas, it was not curiosity that killed the cat; it was his overconfidence that his curiosity would go unpunished.

Within seconds of his teeth showing; his hair wavering; and his lips level with his nose; pain thickened in Maruchi’s eyes, his smile dying on his lips. He slowly gazed downwards, horrified at the chaos of silver and crimson. Vossler’s blade was buried deep in his chest.

Staggering backwards, Heishuro Maruchi’s memories flashed vividly before his eyes. They were so clear; he even reached out to grab them. But his fingers closed slowly around nothing, and he let himself drop to the ground, his loyal Xuriken beside its master. Smiling weakly, he recounted the blow.

He had been winning the battle of strength, but not of wit; as his blade turned on him: Monroe had shifted his weight backwards out of the death grip. Maruchi had been leaning forwards, so when Vossler had dropped to the ground, there was an exposed torso ripe for the bloodying.

Feeling his senses leave him, he silently marvelled the peace that came with perhaps his last minutes. The fencer walked towards the bloodied mess holding his blade, and lifted his sword from its resting place.

Placing a hand over the gaping wound, Heishuro turned to Harvy, who held a look of sadness and horror, and spoke a few frail words: “Harvy…” he managed. Hearing no interruptions, he continued, “get this bastard for me…” with some of the little strength he had left, he inclined his neck, gesturing at Monroe.

[Zorolo]

OoC: Nice. ^_^

BiC: Monroe stared at the dying martial artist as blood seeped from the stab in his abdomen. That guy was pathetic. One small stab and he was on the ground, bleeding to death instead of getting back up and fighting. Bruised ribs, damaged muscles and a shaken frame and the modern fencer was still standing, mostly combat ready. How had that guy lived till today?

The former assassin watched as the body approached its ally, mostly in shock at what he had just seen. The elder man placed his fingers on the warrior's neck, and smiled slightly. Apparently Maruchi was still alive. Monroe knew this though; he could hear the heart of the wounded warrior beating.

"He's alive," Harvy whispered as he picked up his strange, makeshift sword with a smile. "Now, I'll defend him," the odd warrior stated.

"I knew he was alive," Vossler stated dryly, not entirely happy, but hell, he didn't know if he had to kill Heishuro or not. "All this means is I'm bringing back a living bounty, not that it matters either way," he stated nonchalantly as the modern man brushed a strand of his hair from his eyes. "Now then," the dark clad man whispered, "it is about time you moved so I can claim my bounty," the agitated bounty hunter whispered as he walked slowly towards the fallen warrior.

Harvy didn't respond in words, but merely picked up his sword and leapt into action, literally, and swung his blade down toward Monroe. The modern fencer didn't have time for this. He wanted to get his bounty and get the hell out of here. This man's imitation skills were impressive, but not enough so that the fencer would worry too much.

"I don't have time for you and your games," the hunter stated with a quick, and powerful, kick to Harvy's gut, throwing the body until it landed right in front of the flowing waterfall. The modern man stabbed his sword into the ground and placed his hand on his unmoving bounty and was about to hoist the warrior up just as a powerful, and sharp, pain entered his chest. A blade had gone into the right side of his chest, although not far, and the dark haired man responded by pulling back.

Vossler stepped back a bit, holding his chest as blood gushed out of his wound. It wasn't deep, but it was annoying and painful. Harvy seemed to be smiling as he held his sword tightly. Man was he annoying. Vossler jumped back and fell to one knee, darkness filling his eyes. He wouldn't lose, but things definitely didn't look good.

The dark clad man placed his hand on his revolver with his good arm, letting the blood flow from his stab. It would heal soon enough, but for now, he had to make sure that this intruder didn't bother him anymore. With a silent movement, the enhanced human pulled his gun from it's holster and pointed it at Harvy, the laser sight giving him accuracy.

The hammer clicked back quickly, and Monroe took careful aim. He only had five chances, and then his number would be up. Do or die time! He pulled the trigger, and let lose one of the bullets, which moved quickly. He'd see the end to this through.

[mmmmm_PIE]

Quite frankly, this was disgusting. The body was nobody's hero - Great Dreamers he was the quintessential jerk, truth be told - and while he considered himself a man of some honor, he listed 'breathing' ahead 'vengeance' by a considerable margin. He should have been 10 minutes gone the moment Maruchi went down; instead he was still here, forcing half an inch of imitation steel into a very angry, very dangerous, very unharmed swordsman. It was the damned kid's fault... and the mind's, of course. His partner had found some bleeding-heart boyscout code in Maruchi's mind and simply refused to let it go.

If only Vossler could have finished him off, it would have saved both of them a bucket of trouble. In truth the boy was a far cry from doomed. Harvy had spent terrible moments inside the head's of dying men; experienced mortality to the fullest extent of which a living being was capable... and while the fighter was in rough shape, the body gave him a solid day to find a healer.

None of that much mattered now. Monroe had taken the blood-gushing stab in simple stride, impossibly more aggravated by the wound than pained. There was no chance for victory matched head to head with this bastard, no chance of quarter after an assault like that, and certainly no chance of Dreamer damned retreat. Ah well; he die with dignity at least.

Harvy hefted the make-shift blade and attempted Vossler's perfect pose: no dice. The man's skill had abandoned him; faded completely out of muscle, thought and memory. He made a desperate grab into the fencer's head and found no purchase. His opponent had dropped his focus, had completely forgotten about the beloved blade... but why in the world would --- Damn!

As the detestable assassin wrapped his grip around the revolver, the body lashed out with all force he possessed; simultaneously tearing at the tenuous ties that bound it to the mind and flinging his partner into most extreme depths of their shared world. Consciousness thought winked away... and was instantly replaced by titanic pain; the abhorrent loss of half his being filled him, drowned him, consumed him. Torment burned away his eyes and burst out his ears. Harvy became a creature of purest anguish.

The body was simply that now; a hollow, soulless shell. Everything about this new creature contradicted the perfect, united existence it had once desired. There was nothing human here but dross blood and brittle bone... chemical instinct and electrical reaction. The first bullet was still seconds away, but the beast knew it would come high... the second shot would break left and the next back to the right... two still in the clip; one shot low and one saved for-

No longer hampered by a pointless consciousness, synapses fired at light's speed. The first forward dive was natural clockwork; a symphony of perfect motion. The right spiral was mechanically sublime and the backwards leap a kinetic miracle.
The fourth shot was miles off.
The fifth slammed brutally into the creature's upper arm.

The body's pain mutated - took a new, desperately physical quality - but then, pain was everything. It had no thought to give to the newborn fountains of crimson; no reason to change its programmed course. It completed a perfect dash to the large red heap, positioned itself as closely as possible to the subterranean river, clasped the shuttering bundle around the middle, and, with a tremendous grunt, flung itself into the rushing flew.

Fleeing a world of crushing torment and ravaging water, Harvy gave himself to darkness.

[Zorolo]

Silence. That was all that Monroe could hear after the last shot was fired and ripped through his foes arm. Those bullets could blow holes in tanks and come out the other side and still have enough force to rip through stone walls. Lucky for Harvy he had only gotten a small wound from that bullet, but still, something about the battle festered in Monroe's mind, creating a burning anger. The modern fencer sighed and fell onto his butt, looking forward.

Drip, drop, drip, drop.

Water dripped from the hole in the ceiling, landing on the former assassin's sword absolutely nonchalantly. Even though the water hit his sword, it was not stopped from its ultimate goal. Unlike water, the dark clad man could die, and he could feel his mortality as he clenched the right side of his chest where Harvy's sword had gone through his flesh. Blood was still trailing down his vest and shirt, although it had been greatly slowed thanks to his enhanced body, but even at that moment living seemed to be painful. What was he going to do?

At that moment, Monroe looked at his gun, removing his hand from the weapon to observe it. He flicked open a small compartment on the weapon, a small piece behind the chamber on the right side that could be moved for quick, single bullet loading. Monroe had practiced quick hand loading but found the gun tended to jam if he did it too many times. Also, in his case, it was more effective to simply eject the chamber and empty the spent shell casings and then put in new bullets.

He closed the compartment again and lifted up the gun. Slowly, and painfully, the wounded bounty hunter moved against a wall of the cave and opened the chamber of his gun. He turned the weapon upside down and allowed the spent casings to fall to the ground and scatter about. He didn't care, they were like any other tool: replaceable; just like Monroe.

Vossler reached his hand into his pocket, feeling the pain in his chest as he reached his right arm across to the pockets with his bullets. Placing his hand upon one, he removed the titanium projectile and examined it, loading it into the first slot of the chamber. He continued this motion five more times before closing the chamber of his gun and spinning it. The whir of the chamber spinning ended with a click, and the world went silent... except for the water dripping.

Where was that water coming from? From what Monroe had seen, there was no water on the upper level when he had headed up there, so how did it get there now? It hadn't been from his foes, for Harvy had carried Heishuro away and jumped into the waterfall. If they survived, the two of them were lucky that they escaped the dark clad bounty hunter. He didn't care that he had lost a bounty, but he did care that they hadn't even stayed to finish the fight, the bastards.

Slowly, the modern fencer pushed himself to his feet and holstered his gun. He'd been bested by a pair of idiots and extremely bad luck. It didn't matter, since if he ever met those two again, they would die. He stumbled over to his sword and plucked it effortlessly from the ground and sheathed it. He turned ever so nonchalantly and walked the way Heishuro had entered. There was no way he'd give those fools the chance to see him falter; that time was over.

OoC: Now I'm done. Good battle guys. ^_^

[Kitsuné]

OoC: I started it; I guess I’ll finish it.

BiC: Feeling the gentle rush of water relaxed Maruchi’s pain; though sensing his presence near the surface far from relaxed his worries.

Harvy swam beside him, supporting the injured fighter. Not a single particle floated beside them; the waters were clear, transparent; like unyielding glass, sustaining perfection under any weight.

Turning to Harvy, he noticed the frantic motion of swimming; the hasty beat of his heart. Flight without wings. That would be the name of the image he saw now. Harvy still had hope left, he still had something to struggle for…

For many hours Heishuro and Harvy bobbled from the surface to the depth of the river. Harvy was struggling to keep himself afloat; whereas Maruchi merely let the tide control him, though unbeknownst to himself sometimes. For he was drifting in and out of consciousness all the time, thinking about his life; his mind unfazed by his physical awareness.

But without warning, the streams of comfort thinned beneath him, leaving Harvy and he sprawled across luscious, salubrious grass. Feeling the familiar rustle of the grass, the martial artist managed to sit up. Observing the gaping hole in his stomach; he poked it gently. Feeling an immediate flash of pain, Heishuro hoisted himself to his feet, surprisingly satisfied. There was something wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

For seconds he had thought that his life had ended with him realising, but the stab of agony reassured him. Though the wound still nagged away at him, the waters had cleansed it and washed away the excess blood. A simple trip to the healers would have him wondering if he’d been in a battle at all.

With a stab of surprise; the fighter realised what was bothering him about his survival: He’d wanted to die. Attempting to discard the thought, but failing miserably; Maruchi let him fall to the ground once more, with a wrenching in his stomach.

He’d resigned himself to death. He had accepted that Monroe would take his life. He’d even considered suicide! Taking away death is just as heartless as taking life. As he heard Harvy groan he felt hatred brewing inside of him. He had no right to save Heishuro…

Tightening his grip on Xuriken, he strode towards the floored man. Their gazes met, and Maruchi could feel the alarm radiating from the man, Heishuro’s eyes didn’t show the warmth they had before. Biting further through his already cut lip; Heishuro Maruchi clenched his free fist and, upon the feeling of his fingernails digging into his palm, raised his nunchucks high above his head and brought them down quickly; silently; effortlessly.

But he stopped.

In front of Harvy, one nunchuck hung down towards him; the red-clothed fighter raised his chin and gestured up. The older man took the nunchuck and was pulled swiftly to his feet. The paired exchanged a mutual smile, and Harvy outstretched his hand.

With reluctance; slight, but nevertheless, Heishuro took the hand in a firm clasp; shaking it with a unsuppressed grin across his face.