CVnU: Immortal Kombat! Arquitenens vs Mr.LeBeau

Once more two fighters are selected to face one another in a bloody brawl!

Bets begin to rack up, the Court Arcani beginning to profit before the first punch is even thrown.. but this will be nothing compared to the windfalls of later matches.

Inside the lush greenery of the dormant volcano the two fingers are inserted by helicopter. Separated by two hundred yards of greenery and foliage outside of one another's line of sight.

Fight!

First time out of England and things were already turning out much better than expected. Attending the event solely to investigate the Court of Arcani, as fate would have it, Abigail was lucky enough to be paired off against Charlemagne LeBeau himself; another big name in man-mutant poker game, as she’d heard it called. The best way to scout is to see the competition in person, and as far as she hoped, he’d never heard, or at least never cared to remember the name Aensland.

She’d already begun to formulate her thoughts regarding the competition before the helicopter landed, and as soon as it did, she began a steady trek to climb up the smaller hill within the volcanic island. Her best bet would be to keep it ranged, take the high ground and try to batter him from afar. Though things would have been better with a full-fledged forest, the bushes would provide some cover from which to seek her opponent. Her pace was gentle so as not to tire herself out at the start, and as she came up, she lay down in the foliage and drew her bow, watching for the shuffling that would come with movement and give away the location of her target.

The whirlwind vortex created by the rapidly spinning propellers forced the underlining grass down as the Ultra-Sapien was dropped off. Methodically unbuttoning his shirt while the wind continued to assault everything underneath it. Unable to instill a sense of urgency in the mutant hating homo-sapien supremacist content on loosening every single silver plated button before neatly folding the long sleeved light pink Bureberry London Treyforth and placing it back on the helicopter. Likewise he meticulously slid out of his appropriately color coordinated trousers folding them and setting them next to his folder shirt. His watch, socks, and designer shoes following closely behind leaving the Illuminati affiliate in nothing more then his low cut grey Emporio Armani briefs with a black waistband freeing himself from the restraints of conventional conformity. Satisfied with the proper storage of his clothes, Charlemagne crouched down in an almost primate mirroring manner chin held high as he surveyed the tree canopies.

Naturally anticipating his opponent, regardless of who they may be, to seek out an elevated vantage point taking the high ground in a tactically motivated maneuver, the aristocratic LeBeau began a paced run through the woods. Intentionally disrupting the natural wildlife forcing them in one direction towards the base of the nearest hill. Crashing through the foliage they would hopefully draw his opponents attention and initiate an attack thus giving away their position. Taking shelter behind the base of tree silently waiting, he would press on if unsuccessful forming instantaneous strategies as he went.

Dammit! No sign of even a head anywhere down there, and all the scattered movement made it difficult to pick out a target. At least, one that could be ascertained as viable. Remember Abbey, she cautioned herself, don’t underestimate an opponent. Especially not here. Of course, she aimed not to kill; merely to defeat and move on, and to pick up as much information as possible. Tough not knowing whether the enemy shared those sentiments. Whatever the case, the first step to victory would have to be finding the target.

With a deep sigh, Abigail lowered the bow and returned the arrow to the quiver, whereafter she replaced it with another. This one had a more round, flat head. Concentrating her aim on where she last saw movement, angling slightly for wind, she let the arrow fly. Not as graceful a method, and a bit more crude than the typical arrowhead, but it should serve its purpose nicely. For upon hitting in its intended spot, the beeping would start. And after three seconds, the napalm would disperse radially about the area. Three more, and the arrow would explode from the head, the ensuing flames set out to devour the greenery and flush the man out of hiding; with any luck he would use the time delay to start moving and not fry completely.

@Arquitenens:

As anticipated Charlemagne was able to track the trajectory of the masterfully fired projectile. But what he had failed to forecast was the ingenuity of the beautiful archer who's modified innovative arrow, now impeded in a tree trunk no more then 50 yards away, began to signal its impending release of land scorching death. Without hesitation the Ultra-Sapien whirled around breaking into an all out sprint. Perfectly formed void of any lateral movement in his torso, knees continually pushing forward generating unmitigated power, the Greek trained athletic masterpiece achieved top speed almost instantaneously. The evolutionary advancement fueling his genetic makeup enabling the mutant hating revolutionary physical abilities that, for all intensive purposes, were superhuman. Though the Intellectual Idol officially labeled it as Ultra-Sapien, refusing to share any semblance of a connection with those he had deemed developmental sub-species and thus lacking the sacred homo-sapien purity manifested through genetic virtue.

His stride had not faltered in its accelerated pace, narrowly vaulting with swan like grace into a small watering hole just as the sweeping flames blazed overhead incinerating everything in its path. His opponents devastating attack having served notice as to the level of tactical awareness in which she effortlessly employed. A short while later in the shadow of the intense wildfire Charlemagne maneuvered towards the hill, added in his stealth like approach by the blanket of rolling black smoke heavily surprising the visibility throughout the underlining area. Allowing swift advancement to the top of the hill. Finally permitting Humanities Liberator the luxury of forfeiting his need for champagne like tactics. Bolting towards the bonafide bowmen displaying unprecedented acceleration before slightly hopping into a feet first baseball slide cutting a semi-formed canal carved by his bodies agitation of the ground. Raw speed generating substantial momentum as he tried to propel his lead leg with flawless precision targeting Arquitenens' side. If successful the surgical strike would rupture the external oblique muscle painfully disrupting her ability to inhale and exhale.

There was no doubt in Abigail’s mind that the arrow had served its purpose of drawing his movement. She just made out his figure diving into the waterhole before the flames could consume him, expressing a bit of relief. Though she had completely forgotten to account for the smoke and the flames obscuring her view of the target, silently cursing herself for doing so. Though it might’ve been possible, with a slight push of her own genetic gifts, to shift the probability of a hit in her favour, she dared not waste an arrow; not when she couldn’t remain completely focussed. She merely kept still, crouched in a low defensive position, waiting for when she could lay eyes on him once more. A when he did, she had a surprise waiting with the next arrow, lightly tipped with a poison that should dull the senses and slow targets without proving fatal.

Charlemagne bounded out of the flames like a bat out of Hell, his emergence startling but not completely surprising. Considering who he was and what he’s done, it’s not unexpected that he would dive headfirst to the source of the danger. Kind of the point being here in the first place, for pretty much everyone. Abigail tensed up and went into a half-ball, a split-second defense, and the stiff knee collided with her left arm, forcing it to bend at an unnatural angle with a pop. She fell to the ground with a yelp and rolled a small ways before catching herself in her fall. Letting out a groan, she pushed herself back to her feet, propping the bow on her back, then snatching up the arrow which had fallen, and with it in hand, she started up and darted back at him. At his legs, to be precise; her right shoulder in position to collide with his right knee cap, while her arm snaked around, using the unequal footing to attempt a crude takedown. And in the same motion her hand, holding the arrow, would seek to plunge it in right at the back of the kneecap. Pending success in this endeavour, her own elbow would seek to find its way crashing down across at his temple, before making her way down the side of the hill which the flames had not reached.

@Arquitenens:

Fluently the acrobatic archer initiated a series of offensive minded transactions charging head long into her opponent. Driving her shoulder into his lower extremities capitalizing on the disproportionate leverage using her arm to lift while her momentum continued forward slightly elevating the human extremist before driving him back first into the ground. As Charlemagne landed he immediately threw both his legs up on either side of Abigael's head, attempting to lock his right leg overtop of his left foot in hopes of securing a triangle choke. The Brazilian Jiu Jistu maneuver, if successful, would instantly began to cut off her oxygen supply rendering the skillful combatant unconscious. However as the Ultra-Sapien's vision began to blur, clouded spaces of time breaking his continual chain of thought, the shaft of the poison tipped arrow brushed against his hand finally bringing his attention to the stealthily executed attack. Forcing him to break away from the choking attempt, rolling backwards in a dizzily performed somersault.But before that, the Pinnacle of Perfection reached out attempting to grab the shouldered bow of the lovely archer in hopes of using his superior strength to crush its upper portion aborting its further use. The poison coursing through his system was being combated by an immune system amplified by evolutionary advancement.

Flashing a disconcerting smile the LeBeau Legacy rolled forward somersaulting in the same manner he had previously employed to create separation, only now he was utilizing it to advance his position back towards his opponent. Rolling out of the man made spiral vaulting into the air with an unorthodox "Gainer Flip" (a back flip that ends with the performer forward of the starting position due to forward momentum), his right leg snapping towards the chin of Abigaeil before landing. There was no hesitation or registering whether or not the kick was successful before violent open handed combinations were thrown using deadly palm strikes. The fingertips folded against the bottom knuckles producing significantly more force as Charlemagne targeted Abigael's fourth and fifth rib before transitioning from the palm strikes into a spearhanded strike aiming the extended fingers on his left hand up towards the pressure point of the archer's carotid artery. The debilitating attempt would temporarily paralyze Abigael if it successfully landed.

@Mr_LeBeau: 

Though the initial takedown had been successful, Abigail found herself unable to follow up with the elbow, as it seemed as soon as she got him to the ground, he had initiated a chokehold. A quick counter like this should have been expected by such a skillful opponent, but even had she anticipated his move exactly, she wasn’t fast enough to muster any counter to it. Her basic training didn’t extend nearly as far, and her physical conditioning was no match at all. Only the pre-planning of her poisoned arrowhead managed to loosen his hold, or she would have surely been done right there.

Having been freed from the hold, Abigail rolled back as quickly as she could, simultaneously taking an arrow and readying her bow to fire at the man standing before her. But as she went to draw back on the string, she pulled at nothing but air. A second look revealed exactly why; Charles had in fact crushed the upper limb of her bow. While there was initially shock and anger at her weapon being broken, she knew she had the means to replace it without much trouble.

Distracted again! In her thoughts about her bow, Abigail nearly missed the opponent flying towards her. Her arms raised just in time to defend against the knee of the mutant-hating super sapien, though the force seemed to shake her bones even in spite of this, thus opening the way for the first of the next few attacks to land without hindrance. Two attacks crashed against her ribs, though the uneven footing and a slip on the hillside allowed her to roll down and create some space between the two. But there was still a sharp pain and aching in her abdomen. Was that a snap I heard? Though spared for the moment, it was clear she was fighting an uphill battle, and she couldn’t quite figure why he could still function so close to full capacity like that after she’d poisoned him, never considering that the mutant hater might turn out to be anything like one himself. More distractions, however, could not be allowed. She reminded herself to focus on the fight.

Fighting literally uphill like this, her best option would seem to be again attacking his legs. But of course Charles probably knew that too. Glaring at the broken bow in her hand, Abigail removed four arrows from the quiver, throwing the first almost like a dart at the ground in between them. It would almost immediately spring up with a thick smokescreen, allowing Abigail to capitalize on the same kind of cover used by Charles earlier. The other three quickly followed. In quick succession, Abigail snapped the shafts, shortening them, and threw them off in a similar manner, aimed directly at Charlemagne, spread just far enough apart that they should catch any attempts to dodge; this was to be compounded by the fact that shortened fuses in them would mean a quicker detonation midair, further blinding and disorienting, allowing Abigail to move in herself. In the cover of her smokescreen, she rushed in, broken bow grasped firmly, horizontally between her two hands, and dove, aiming to crash this time into his left shin with much greater force. If it couldn’t be used as a firing tool, it could still be used as a bludgeoning tool.

@Arquitenens:

Triumphantly positioned at the top of the mountain's incline the arrogance of a man who not only believed that his victory was at hand, but that he had undoubtedly accounted for every conceivable outcome and variation, watched as his skillful opponent rolled backwards purposely tumbling away. His palms still flush with the sweet sensation of contact after successfully landing a plethora of masterfully executed strikes to Abigail's torso. But as she rolled to a stop defiantly retrieving a collection of her deadly projectiles, Charlemagne realized the true depths of his willful opponents determination. Strategically she employed the first couple arrows with a blanketing smoke deployment shadowing the continuation of her tactical machinations. Hurling the next series with near-peerless anticipation boxing in the Ultra-Sapien having created an extended attack zone making escape impossible.

Charlemagne acrobatically attempted to roll clear of the arrow induced barrage only to be met with an explosive force throwing him backwards into the initiated explosion of yet another arrow. Once again his body, now singed by the small rapid release of the arrow's high temperature detonation, was flung with disturbing force propelling him across the ridge of the mountain's landscape rolling end over and leaving a trail of agitated Earth in his wake, finally coming to rest in a smouldering battered heap. Slowly he attempted to regain his composure refusing to highlight any signs of pain or defeat while bringing himself back to a standing bass. Simultaneously the relentlessly gifted archer charged bow first diving into the shin of her opponent flipping him over head and violently onto his back. A light spritz of blood erupted from Charlemagne's open mouth as he landed, the poison from her previously well executed assault slowing his reaction time as well as his acute sense of perception.

Again the Ultra-Sapien pushed his body back to its feet visually unsteady but none the less dangerous locking his gaze on the blonde bowmen bringing his fists up into their technical position. Taking a moment to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth taking time to admire it with a grin before circling to the side of Abigail. "Your fighting aptitude is impressive, but I think you lack the............ .killer instinct!" Deceitfully reaching down scooping up a hand full of soil. Flinging it towards the archer's face its intended purpose to either blind, or facilitate her movement, Charlemagne tweaked his hips and then unleashed a devastating uppercut generating his power from perfected technique.

Transferring natural energy and momentum from his thighs to his hips up into his body and through his arms. Summoning what speed he had left to try and maneuver just off to the side of Abigail slinging his arm behind her neck in hopes of securing a headlock which he would then transition into a Pankration variation of the DDT wrestling move. Striving to disturbingly drive the top of Abigail's unprotected head into the ground. If successful the continuation of the move would be to swing around to her back in hopes of securing a rear-naked choke.

( a visual of what a DDT is)

As she had hoped, Abigail’s attack successfully landed, capsizing her foe. With the arrows and the explosions, it had worked out even better than she hoped, and hopefully it would be enough. But no such luck. Charles stood and she stepped forward to survey the damage done to him. Oddly enough, as much as she felt disturbed by his blood, he seemed to revel in it, which was even more disturbing. She cautiously watched his every movement while he circled, waiting for him to make his move.

“Your fighting aptitude is impressive, but I think you lack the…..........killer instinct!”

Through no conscious effort on her own part, Abigail stopped and considered his words, and in that brief moment taken to process the words, the wily supremacist grabbed up a cluster of dirt and flung it in her face. Her hands rose suddenly to clear her eyes, but of course he left no time for recovery. Blinded so, she flailed wildly with one free arm, but was unable to defend against the uppercut.

Relentless in his pursuit, Charlemagne continued pressing onward. Before Abigail could react at all to the previous attack, she felt the vice grip locking around her neck and her body being jerked downward, and the next thing she knew, a sharp pain shot through her skull. Her mind went into a daze and her eyes started to tear up and glaze over. She hated herself for it, almost as much as she hated him for such a dirty trick, but once he was able to lock in the chokehold, his superiour skills and physiology left her as helpless as a newborn deer in the face of a wolf. Not completely unbelievable that she lost to such an opponent, but she would hate to admit inferiority to one like that and it was just as surprising. She likely had at least one fractured rib, as well as aches in her arm, chest, neck and head, and she was forced to submit.