Scene #2979: WMAT B1 Richard Stadler vs. Kirikou Rung

Owner	Pose
Nagato	Up in the announcers booth sit two girls holding mics as they watch over the battlefield, a smile embracing both faces. "Ho hoo~ Welcome everyone to the World Martial Arts Tournament this afternoon! I'm Ryuujou, light carrier for Admiral Nagato and I have Shimakaze, destroyer for Admrial Nagato and we'll both be bringing you the action that comes from the Spinach Wastelands here today! So with the help of Shimakaze, shall we take off?!" The other girl grins, a mechanical turret sitting next to her, "Shimakaze here! Today's fighters for the sortie are Kirikou Rung, a fist fighter with hands of the elements and Richard Stadler, a Zombie Hunter! Who will be fast on the draw here first as we get ready for the two to duke it out on the land seas of the wasteland!"
Kirikou	While the preliminaries were fun, and Kirikou's in the fights mostly for fun... well, they were the qualifying rounds. He's got nothing against the Monster Hunter he fought, but the audience was still not as pumped for a qualifier as they would be for, say, the finals. THAT is going to be fun, if he can ever manage to get that far.. and to get that far, he'll need to have his game face on. All he's got on right now is the twin gauntlets that are his signature weapons. He doesn't know a whole lot about his opponent, but that's okay. Ought to be fun either way. He arrives in the combat zone, looking around to see what to see. Trees, greenery, hills. Not a lot to work with, but enough to keep things interesting. Particularly the trees. Good, he'll want to stay close to those. Kirikou raises a fist, signalling his readiness to the little camera-drone thingy following him. Loud techno-rock peals out in announcement. A fighter NEEDS music. Kirikou's a fan of enough music that the song itself doesn't matter, so long as it's got a solid beat and it gets the heart racing. He strides out into the open, turning, raising his arms and pumping his fists, getting ready to fight. All about the show, all about having fun and giving the audience what they want. In the future he'll be lost in the fight, focussed solely on his opponent... for now, what's the harm in playing to the audience?
Richard Stadler	Richard Stadler was somewhat suprised he actually had got into the fight proper. Granted, his record hadn't been so.... illustrious so far, and he had made it a match or so through things last year, but these engagements seemed to be getting larger and tougher each year he played in them. Or... really, as much as he was uncomfortable admitting it, maybe he was simply getting older. Something that you embraced in a philosphical sense still somewhat hurt when you saw the actual effects of it. "Gathering wool again, boss?" DeClere almost grumbled as she ran over his armor and gear one more time, professional and percise, and giving a none too gentle smack aganist all the areas he had been wounded in the last match, illiciting a small grunt or a wince, but nothing more. "A bit. Not enough to miss that they called me a zombie hunter again. I need to speak with those people up in the booth. It's getting to the point I'll need a cover story if it starts catching on." DeClere scoffs a but, before reaching to her side, and handing off the HK 416 over to Stadler, who pulls the charging handle back to check the chamber, before slapping in a fresh clip, and clacking it forward to load a round into the assault rifle. "Remind me why we're actually putting you out there again?" DeClere asks. "Is it because you really want that goddamn motorcycle? Or are you going for the black budget, again?" Rick shurgs his shoulders, slightly. "Column A, column B. I'm going to go with... recruiting and proving to myself life doesn't stop at fifty. Just in case I can't prove myself /that/ well, confirm our contingency's in place. I'm not going to use it unless they do something similar, but I want it to be on standby." DeClere nods, as Stadler turns to enter the battlefield. He doesn't have any music cued; no chants or 'arena' entrances beyond the cheering of a few locals and soldiers in Army Green cheering on the fight. He was not an ostentatious man... most of the time. So it was a simple march to the center of the arena, to Kirikou, before extending his hand. "Here's hoping for a good fight. Hope you and I can keep the killing part of it to the war."
Nagato	Cheerfully, Ryuujou shouts out over the mic, "Oooh! Kirikou makes his way and signals to the little cute drone that he's ready and with music backing his entrance, the crowd is rooting for him! Go Kirikou!" clapping from the booth is given before Shimakaze interrupts with her own. "Ah, Renshouhou-chan just gave me a peice of paper with an update. Apparently he's not a zombie hunter! We're sorry, Richard! But there he goes, out onto the field and there's people cheering for him! Good luck Richard! I'm rooting for you!" Another cheerful shout is given and Ryuujou pipes up, "Then what is he? Oh well, it looks like they seem both ready for a sorite! Now shall we get them started? GO!"
Kirikou	Kirikou seems friendly enough when his opponent comes out to meet him, and doesn't try to take advantage of the gesture. He doesn't shake hands. Shaking hands is for old people! He does, however, move to bump fists with the old not-zombie-hunter. "I kill monsters, dude, not people. Even if we're on opposite sides. Here and now though, we're just opponents. I'll give ya the best fight I can give ya!" he says cheerfully. Kirikou takes in the sight of Stadler, the military men cheering him, and has to wonder. Army, special forces maybe. Guns and grenades. Not his first time taking on such a foe, and they're usually a world of trouble. The man's older too, which means that since he's here, he's got a world of experience going for him. This is going to be good, he figures, and it'd probably be a damn good idea for Kirikou to not try to get clever in the fight. If he gets clever, he's likely to be outfought. If that means taking the role of the brute in the fight, he's good with that. He takes a stance, deep and low, giving his opponent a chance to get ready. Then he ducks low and takes off like a sprinter. If his opponent's going to start the fight close to him, best to keep things close as long as possible! He leaps and flies past Stadler, lashing out with a foot in passing, a move more likely to knock his opponent around a bit rather than to crush and bruise.
Richard Stadler	looks down at the fist bump that his hand is given. "Ahh. Well... I do hope you're a good monster hunter. We need a few less monsters in the world, no matter who's killing them." A bit of a nod, there, all the while thinking about who doesn't shake hands in a fight like this. I mean, he was wearing gloves. Is that what the kids did these days, though? Lord, it was sometimes hard to understand today's youth. He'd have to check with his daughter after this thing- His hand moves to his ear, and he breathes out a little bit in releif. "Oh, that's a loud off my mind. For a minute I thought I'd really have to work with the press on this one. You wouldn't beleive how hard it is to work through those blasted notions about what people think you are." He notes, taking a moment to look Kirikou up and down. Well, he was young. A lot of fighters in the multiverse were, now a days. Weapons were... interesting. He didn't know if he could expect range attacks from them, or close range. Both of those were possible, and there a few too many unanswered questions for him to feel truely confident. At the very least, he wouldn't have to worry about bringing in his contingency. The guy wasn't carrying a nuke around, for God's sake. Though... Rick was thinking he'd been fooled before, when the boy decided to start things off with a rush towards him. A split second decision, and his hands move to his rifle, bringing it up and blocking the force of it with the hardened receiver, pushed back, boots digging into the slightly damp dirt of the underbrush as he quickly counters by bringing the butt of the rifle forward to smack him in the side of his abdomen. It wasn't going to do a lot of damage, but it might dissuade him from getting close for another few seconds. It'd give him enough time to actually get some room and avoid another strike like that.
Kirikou	It's good to be wary of your foe, and Kirikou prefers to approach every fight with an eye towards maximizing his defense rather than his offense. Sometimes, particularly when wounded, he has to throw that philosophy out the window and go all-or-nothing. Right now though, he's content to remain quick and with his gloves providing most of his defense. He draws away from Stadler's butt strike, deflecting it aside mostly harmlessly. Spinning and once again crouching down low, he comes up behind and underneath his heavy gauntlets. Jabbing with one as a fake, he then lays out a measured hit with the other. He doesn't put his weight behind the blow, preferring to still remain uncommitted so he doesn't open himself up easily to retaliation. Still, just his arm power and the weight of steel behind the punch isn't so easy to dismiss.
Richard Stadler	Richard Stadlergrimaces slightly as his own attack is easily deflected. To expected, certainly; this person did seem to know what they were doing close up. And that meant making sure to keep themselves close to the target; those gauntlets were liabel to get more dangerous, not less, the longer he kept in such close proximity. But he couldn't risk moving to another weapon as long as he was in this close. The rifle comes up again, attempting another block, but he's caught off guard with the fient, and the second shot hits him straight in the gut, smacking aganist harden cermaic (which helped in this case) and ballisitic fibers (which didn't do a damn). It knocked the wind out of him, for a moment, pushing him back. He quickly holds up a hand, dropping the rifle to the ground... While his off hand reaches to the holster at his belt, taking the short distraction to quick draw his side arm and pull the trigger twice in rapid succession. He'd lost the rifle for a moment, but it had to be taken as a risk.
Kirikou	Kirikou has his fists already raised as the pistol comes up, his center of mass well and truly shielded. Stadler likely doesn't realize just how good the defense of those gauntlets are. Bullets bounce off, not even scratching the metal, because what's being struck isn't really metal. Not that he's invulnerable of course. Far from it. Kirikou just knows how to put up a surprisingly solid defense. Sparks go up from his gauntlets, one of the bullets deflecting into the ground, throwing up fragments of debris. A slow trickle of blood starts as some of the shrapnel hits Kirikou's shin, but it's nothing he has to fear slowing him down. "Wow. Not bad." Kirikou says, taking a moment to take stock. He's not referring to the man's attack, but to the way Stadler took a jarring hit and kept fighting. Kirikou abruptly withdraws, moving quickly to dart behind a tree and make his own adjustments to fighting strategy. Normally Kilik doesn't like doing this, but he has to establish some level of ranged threat. If he doesn't, he figures a cagy opponent like this will work hard to deny him close range. He thinks in that case, the experience of the older fighter might find some way to succeed. So when Kirikou comes out from around the tree, pistols in each gauntlet, he grins and holds his fire for just a moment. "Let's see what you got!" he says, snapping off a shot with each gun, action-hero style.
Richard Stadler	Well, damn. Stadler doesn't have to look over the sights, but he was certain he had aimed that properly. He even might have seen something bounce off those gauntlets in something of a spark. That little bit of blood was the only thing to go off that he had actually inflected any damage. "Thanks." He manages to say, in a slightly raised voice, before taking the oppurtunity to dash behind a tree, skidding to a halt next to it. "I would have felt better if you had at least grunted in pain while saying it!" All right. Most of a mag in the browning. He could handle this. He'd have to work fast, but if that person needed to punch him, they'd have to rush close, which meant- He's peeking around the tree for a second, when the first crack of those pistols go off, giving an unsoldierly yelp as the bullets slam aganist the bark, sending wood splitters into a slightly unprotected face and a few other pieces of skin. "Oh, damn it." he mutters. Pistols. He had /pistols/ too? At least it wasn't magical energy blasts or something else that he was half expected. And at least he was shooting them like this was a goddamn Chinese action film. But that /did/ mean he needed that rifle back. The browning is holster, and he reached behind him to pull out another automatic. A quick action to eject it's clip, and slide a longer extended one into the magazine, before flicking the fire selector off single shot. A deep breath, and he's dashing out of cover, holding the trigger down on the Glock 19 to send a hail of nine millimeter rounds into a wide grouping, pointed in the direction of the boxer. If it hit, excellent. If it didn't it might give him time to rush toward his rifle.
Kirikou	Kirikou had pretty much expected he'd be shot at. He ducks behind the tree once again, taking cover. He does grunt in pain as a bullet punches through his thigh. Trees, after all, aren't great cover. The bullet passes through, and while he feels the impact, pain is something that'll come later. It's just too soon for such an attack to register as more than a numbing impact and a wet feeling as his blood begins to flow. "Damn it, this probably wasn't such a good idea." Kirikou moans to himself. Cover behind a tree is BAD. Cover behind invincible fists, on the other hand, that's pretty good! Kirikou lurches out from behind the tree, dropping down low to one knee. Arguably this is more because his leg's not ready to take weight on it just yet from the shock of the wound, but either way his low profile is a deliberate move. Crouched down low, he can hide most of himself behind those massive gauntlets. He also sprays off a hail of bullets. Ammo conservation? Yeah, no. guns are kind of a weak option anyways in his hands. He's just trying to give Stadler something to keep in his mind. Er, not actually literally. Hopefully the man's got a good helmet.
Richard Stadler	Pain was a useful reaction, for the most part. On the other fellow. One can only hope that his was one of those people that hadn't gotten shot enough to be able to handle it, as hoping he hadn't felt the damage and was quickly bleeding out was a bit too dark for this scinerio. Either way, it did it's job of keeping that boxer down long enough so he could run past where he'd been standing before, grabbing the rifle... just in time for those rounds to be sent his way again, one after the other, a fussliade of shots that, in this case, was heavy enough that one of them had to hit. He grunts slightly as a round clips him on the scaupla, digging it's way into kevlar as he collapes behind another try. A slight wince in pain as he reaches up to dig the slug from where it had been stopped. Bullet proof meant it didn't penetrate. The impact could still hurt like hell, and that range of motion wasn't that good. He moves to the browning with his off hand again, holstering the Glock as the Browning pops out from the tree. The rest of the rounds in the clip are expended in an aimed fashion, .40 Smith and Wesson round attempting to aim for those spots that /weren't/ protected by ground cover and gauntlets.
Kirikou	Kirikou runs dry on his one pistol, his other hand too busy covering his vitals to fire. He's also slightly inexperienced with guns. While skilled and obviously fairly accurate, if not to gunslinger level, he doesn't count his shots and clicks dry twice before dropping that hand and reholstering the gun. He's at least enough of a pro to do that rather than discard the weapon. It might not be useful again in the fight unless he gets a break to reload, but if he throws it away it'll definitely be useless. The lull in Kirikou's fire allows Stadler to get some good aim in, and a high-caliber bullet scores in his exposed shoulder. The wound is relatively superficial, but aside from those gauntlets Kirikou has little defense to gunfire. Lacking armor, those hits add up in a hurry. "Screw this." Kirikou grunts, forcing himself up from the ground. He breaks into a charge, using his unwounded arm to help keep his wounded arm's fist in front of him as he pulls the trigger on his remaining gun, charging in against Stadler. With his arm wounded he's not sure how effective he'll be in melee, but he'll be a damn sight more effective in melee than he'll be at range, surely.
Richard Stadler	It was good to keep someone's head down. And if he could keep firing, then he could do that indefinitely. He'd eventually win... assuming unlimited ammunition and no particular need to reload. Ahh, the issues of real life with the theoretical. At least he had some breathing room fore the last pistol round is fired and the slide locks open. He quickly moves back to cover, ejecting the clip, loading in a fresh one, before releasing the slide catch and sending it home with a round in the chamber. Another look out. He was- Goddamn it! He's back behind cover again, another round smacking him in the upper arm for a bit of a stinging feeling, but nothing too bad, as the other rounds smack aganist the poor and soon to be dead tree he was covering from. He was charging. Decided that enough was enough. Well, that was understandable; it had to have happened some time. But that means this advantage of range wasn't going to last. So he had to make it count." The pistol is holstered, and, in one fluid motion, he slips around, on his belly, rifle pointed down toward Kirikou like this was a shooting range, and pulling the trigger on the rifle three times. .40 S&W hurt, but high-velocity 5.56mm NATO rounds would hurt even more if they hit, as well as being much more accurate. The problem was, if the boxer wasn't stopped, the rifle would be horrible at close range... which is why Rick was reaching behind him for a blade as his last aimed burst was fired.
Kirikou	Charging low behind his doubled-up fists, Kirikou isn't much of a target. Moving fast, there's little hope of accuracy beyond putting high-velocity shots into center of mass. Fortunately for Stadler, he's got high-velocity shots and Kirikou's center of mass is a fairly easy target. Kirikou screams, a cry of anger and agony, as the burst strikes his gauntlets. Even as the bullets deflect away, a spray of blood goes up from his shoulder as the impact hammers at his arms. It's only the impact damaging Kirikou, not the bullets themselves, but the impact is enough for Kirikou's already-injured muscles to tear from the strain. He's STILL coming though. Staggered by the bullets, the young fighter recovers his stride. His left arm all but useless by the shots, he draws his right arm back. It begins to blaze, streaking in like a comet. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" comes the boy's drawn-out cry, pain transformed to rage, his soul igniting and sending a punch with far more than mere muscle behind it. Armor can absorb impact, it can even resist flame... but this flame isn't the sort that actually consumes objects. This flame doesn't test metal, it tests mettle.
Richard Stadler	Three bursts was all he had, and he's liked to be proud of the fact that he had caused some damage by overpowering his 'shield', seeing that muscle tear and blood stream. He'd liked to be proud of it, but there was simply not enough time to gloat over his achievment, as he hadn't manage to stop the charging bull. He has just enough time to come to a knee, fumbling with a motion he needed to practice more as he managed to slide the M9 bayonet onto the rifle itself, before that loud combat yell and the gauntlet /rushes/ forward. Not enouth time to block , and Stadler doubles over in pain at the impact. The punch could litterally feel the heavy ceramic plates smashing into a thousand peices, broken shards held into a pouch, as Stadler coughs up cloud, desperately sucking in air as he falls agaist a tree. Goddamn it, that was tough. He hadn't pulled that one, and it had cracked several ribs. "Fuck..." He feels broken inside, and he could really sense DeClere's eyes on the back of his head telling him to call it off. But he had one advantage. The enemy was probably not expecting him to work past the pain. Granted, /he/ didn't expect himself to, either, but that doesn't stop him from giving the best yell he can, ignoring the stabbing fire of his wounds as he brings the rifle up. This isn't a 'stroke' to the side. This was smashing the polymer stock of the gun as /hard/ as he could, with the training and desperation of a trench fighter 100 years ago in Arras or the Somme caught with enemies in front of him. He was aiming to crack the skull. If that didn't work, the follow up of that blade attempting to press into the chest might.
Kirikou	Kirikou's soul-fueled fire isn't exactly holding back. He's using all his power, but even so he's modulating his soul energy. This is a strike to wound, not one to kill. A killing strike aimed at a Kishin would burn through flesh, revealing the soul within. This less-lethal attack he reserves for humans, even during wartime. It's still not fun and giggles, of course. Just because he's not trying to kill does little to moderate the damage done. He's definitely impressed at Stadler's willingness to keep going, but by no means does he expect the blow to end the fight. Stadler's in the WMAT after all, and he passed the qualifiers. One way or another, this is going to be a hell of a fight, and not one easily ended. Expecting Stadler to continue, Kilik's able to defensively ward the rifle's buttstrike. Once again, his good arm takes the hit cleanly, the metal gauntlets more than a match for even a fierce attack. They're not perfect though. Besides, he's mostly down an arm right now. Even as he deflects the brutal blow, the bayonet glides across his chest before he manages to spin away. Most of the cut merely slashes his shirt, but there's more blood as well, starting to soak into the shirt where it was peeled away. Kirikou's left arm, flopping more or less useless, might still be something to be wary of. Angered by the damage, Thunder silently wails in Kirikou's head. That left arm also charges, taking on a yellow aura with occasional crackles of arcing blue plasma. But it's his right arm right now that is doing all the work. As he spins away from Stadler's bayonet, he dips and comes around again, this time hammering down with his glowing fist in a clubbing motion. And... despite the rage in his howl, despite the obvious pain... the kid is GRINNING. Nothing like burning rage and pain, of putting yourself on the line against a strong enemy, to make a person feel alive.
Richard Stadler	Rick wasn't aware that his enemy was modifying his attacks to go a bit less lethal with them. Lord knows they didn't /feel/ that way as those hits were pounding a body who could relay less and less on broken armor. His broken ribs were taking roll, however, as that strike to the face did very little damage to those gauntlets, and his slash only causing a little blood to be drawn. He's heading back to a defensive position, but his labored breathing and poor stance, in addition to the fact that, as Kirikou was bad at range, he was bad in close quarters, he's not able to put up as much defense as he would have liked. His rifle's up, but that clubbing motion slams down on it, knocking him to the ground and causing the weapon to get knocked out of his hands, as the blue energy slams into him again, smacking him to the ground, forarm guards underneath his BDUs only able to keep his bones there from being broken. And, a beaten Richard Stadler knew, knew, that this was going to be the best shot he had. He hadn't brought a rocket launcher, sadly enough. It would have been useless, anyway. But he is able to unsling the shotgun that had been hiding behind his back, a sawed off model without a stock, but with an extended magazine. If he was at range, this would have been a horrible weapon. Would have missed every shot. At this range, though, he was pratically point blank. And every. single. shell loaded wasn't the standard buckshot round. They were explosive, cannon rounds in a smooth bore gun, AP rounds meant to rend flesh. And the entire magazine full was leveled and fired at Kirikou as he brings his fist up again, one round after another fired, Stadler giving an involuntary, nessecart yell as the forest booms with the sound of burning gunpowder and exploding rounds, puncuated with the signature 'Ka-KLACK' of the repeating mechanism. And when it's over, he's throwing the shotgun to the side, standing up, and getting back to his rifle, his ears ringing and eyes partially blinded by smoke.
Kirikou	Kirikou's only modifying his attacks to be less lethal, not to drain them of any actual power or even damage. Damage can be healed, so he has no reason to go easy on anyone. Only death is farther than he intends to go. Death, however, stares Kirikou in the face. A bloody cannon of a shotgun comes up, and the boy's eyes go wide. "What the FBLAM". Kirikou's already diving, trying to get himself out of the way of the attack. He's only partly successful. It's a good thing this isn't buckshot. Buckshot would be horrible. But even so, AP explosive rounds are no picnic. He deflects some of the blast with the shielding of his more-than-ordinary gauntlet, and pulls much of his body out of line with the rest. What still strikes him, however, is enough to shred the flesh and muscle of his hip, lower back and upper thigh. To turn a good portion of his lower torso into a bloody ruin. The follow-up shots are more or less complete misses, as the flame and explosions effectively hide just where Kilik flung himself to. They don't need to hit though. Just one shell by itself did pretty huge damage even if it didn't hit the boy cleanly. As the smoke clears, Kirikou props himself up, struggling to get to his knees. Kirikou's tough. There's a supernatural element to that toughness of course. Soul energy doesn't just make soul weapons hit hard, it also enhances the wielder's physical attributes well above that of a normal human. But what's making Kirikou move now isn't soul power, it's sheer bloody-minded willpower. "Goddamn man, you shot me in the ass!" he growls. Yep, body half a ruin, and that's what he's complaining about. And it does seem to have pissed him off. Energy flows up and down his arms; orange flame blazes down the right, yellow and electric blue down the left. Ignoring the pain as soul resonance floods through him, he brings his arms together, pointing them at Stadler. "Triple D!" he calls out, releasing soul power in a short-range blast of elemental energy.
Richard Stadler	The inch backwards from death and not much farthur was certainly felt from those attacks. That's one of the reasons Rick was attempting to finish this fight as quickly as possible... with those aforementioned explosive rounds. And they did seem to be actually effective. Rick did have to track the target in front of him as Kirikou tried to dodge the rounds sent to him, but he could at least give a pained smile as he saw the results. /That/ showed extensive damage to his opponent, and not just from the aftermath of the attacks straining his muscles while just bouncing off something that could have been called an 'iron-clad defense if it wasn't much more than that. After the last shell in the weapon is expended, he feels like he might have a chance to get out of the prone position, standing himself up, given the apparantly excessive damage he might have caused. He moves to reach for a few shells in his gear, still wincing from that wounded shoulder as he attempts to load a few shells, this of a standard variety. Which slows him down just a little bit as he finds that the target in front of him isn't as... wounded as he'd liked. Or as prostrate as he'd like. "Would you rather I have shot you in the face-" Stadler tries, before he notices the energy being directed right into the gauntlets themselves. "Oh, damn it." He might feel exactly how it would be to get hit with his own shells as the elemental energy slams into him; what armor he happens to be wearing is nowhere near enough to delfect the large bit of damage heading his way, even if the ceramic underneath hadn't already been broken and pulverized from repeated attacks. There was a large aspiration of blood, the clothing he was wearing mangled, torn, synthetic fabric's melted together from the energy discharge, as he falls aganist the trunk of a tree. The damage probably wasn't outwardly bad, or as bad as it could be, but the sucking gasp, the spitting up blood, the hand gripping his chest, indicated he probably had a good amount of internal bleeding, more cracked ribs, and a great deal of shock. It took Stadler a while to move away from the tree. He stumbled a bit, at first, but his hands were automatically on his rifle, bringing it up once again. His surgeon from the sidelines was probably going to throw a fit, him getting /that/ damaged aganist someone who was /much/ better than him at close range for a tournament, but there wasn't anything for it now. Kirkiou wasn't the only one working on willpower at this point. Over the next 15 minutes, it simply got worse. Nothing as damaging as that large attack, but broken limbs, massive bruising, and probably a dislocated jaw for a few moments as he brought his own rifle up, exchanging fire, bayonet slashes, and the odd grenade in turn. And in the end, Richard was barely standing on his own two feet. Inches from collapsing. But it just took him a few seconds to realize that his opponent wasn't getting up. "Oh, thank Christ." He manages to spit out, rifle falling to the ground as he smacks aganist the tree trunk again. "Though this means I have to do this shit again. Fuck, why can't I just take Yunomi to Disneyworld with my days off." He mutters to himself, staying still as his back up enters the field to curse him out and haul him away. Normally, he's pull his opponent out, as well, but the simple fact was he'd only brought his surgeon this time, and his enemy had done very, very well. He simply didn't have anything left for the honorable thing. Damn it.
Kirikou	By the end of the fight Kirikou was feeling pretty bad. Not just physically, but emotionally. There's a certain thrill to trading blows with someone that can take it, sure. His own wounds are bad, and they drag him down. Damage to his shoulder keeping him from using his left arm except for during bursts of extreme effort and will, injuries to his leg and hip keeping him from being fully mobile. The worst is the damage to his spirit. He prefers a decisive fight, not a battle of attrition. He can certainly give and take, but not to someone he can respect and like. The fight takes several more minutes to decide, during which Kirikou tries many tactics. Hit-and-run, hiding, getting in close and trying to block Stadler's ranged advantage, even taunting Stadler with not-entirely-serious trash talk about the man's age. In the end though, he's too hurt to maximize his own advantage, and even his formidable willpower doesn't carry him up again when he takes another crippling shot to the leg. Unable to effectively move, lacking the spirit to fire another blast of power, he shakes his head, coughing up blood, and weakly holds up a hand. "Enough, grandpa." he says, still trying to grin through the pain. "I can't beat you. You're the toughest old man I ever fought, and that's SAYING something! Just... get someone out here to carry me off..."
Richard Stadler	It's rather clear by DeClere's glare and the fact that her hand was on the M9 holstered at her waist that she really wasn't the type to assist someone who beat up her noss that badly. Stadler himself, though, managed to extricate himself, slumping aganist a tree as he makes a motion to the surgeon herself. She glares at him, before grabbing him, and pulling him over with a rather aggressive motion back to the defeated combatant, as he moves to weakly grasp the hand that'd offered. "Oh, you could have beat me. I'm rather beatable right now. Never have to outrun the bear, and all that; just have to outrun the other fellow." Did that make sense? Probably a little bit, but he /was/ suffering from a quite a bit of bleeding, and maybe not thinking that clearly. DeClere's pulling him over again, as she whistles over to the Arena staff coming to pull Kirikou out of the battle area. "And everyone gets old! Remember that. Trade physical strength for experience, and you'll do fine." He manages, last, before DeClere leans in. "You do know he's on the other side, right?" Stadler nods, and says lower, "Trust me, if he follows that advice and I see him again, I'll have artillery. Just get me somewhere I can lay down and get all this blood back into veins."