Martial arts Western RP

[Scorpio]

In a timeline similar to our own, history took a turn on one event.

Alexander the Great during his conquests came across a collection of manuscripts on the full secrets of fighting using the full potential of mind, body and spirit. He added these to his spoils of war, referencing them from time to time.

On his deathbed when Alexander was asked by his marshals who he'd leave his empire to, he replied "To the strongest".

To gain the advantage, the marshals made their move for the manuscripts, which where torn apart in the process. Each took what he could and went their separate ways.

Across history pieces of the collection have travelled, been added to or improvised with according to new weapons or cultures, so that thousands of fighting styles have descended from it across the world.

It is now the early 1880’s. The town of Paradise New Mexico is receiving an influx of people for various reasons. Labour in the nearby gold mine and farms on the outskirts, work in the town, gambling, even purely fighting (the name Paradise is an ironic choice).

Rules

-Basically, a martial arts theme set in a Western setting with elements of steam punk.
-I’ll give everyone two character slots; use the second immediately or later, whenever it suits.
-During the creation of your character, spice things up by making up your own fighting style, and use any kind of weapon you like, swords, guns, maces, spears, steam punk combo weapons or even prosthetics.
-On the fighting styles, whilst becoming stronger, faster or more agile is fine, or developing unusual body changes, please don’t have some weird Dragonball flying around blasting people with lasers and fireballs…it’s just no fun. Think Godhand instead.
-Pretty much any reasonable character choice is open. Good, evil, comical, the grey areas in between.
-No plagiarism on other players, keep your characters your own.
-No trenchcoating.
-Permission from other players before influencing their character.
-Have fun.

Characters

Scorpio:
- John Swift
- Navarro

Oct:
- Max Kaiser
- Father Albert Byrd

Ty:
- Jack Graham
- Nillson Mercer

Val:
- Valentine Lamean

Fallen:
- Ivy

Rei:
- Seika Muramasa

[Scorpio]

NAME: John Swift
HEIGHT: 6'6
AGE: 28
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Brown
NATIONALITY: British
STYLE: Sleeping Falcon
WEAPON: Twin custom wakizashi

Swift is a travelling fighter and gambler, looking to finance his travels through a few poker matches during his time in Paradise.

The fighting style of Sleeping Falcon focuses all negative emotion such as anger into physical combat, leaving the mind to focus on the surroundings. This has the side effect of making John very optimistic outside of a fight.

His weapon is a pair of customised wakizashi, with pistol grips. He keeps them tucked into holsters on his belt. Balanced for both wielding and throwing.
***************************************************
NAME: Navarro
HEIGHT: 6'9
AGE: 29
EYES: Red
HAIR: Black
NATIONALITY: American/Unidentified Latin
STYLE: Aztec Rattlesnake
WEAPON: Custom repeating crossbow, brass knuckles with twin inch long spikes

A hired killer and all round sadist. Navarro is in town looking for work and a fight.

His style allows him extra movement in his body, like a snake, allowing him to dodge attacks easily and circle an opponent for precision attacks. His slitted red eyes and pointed canine teeth are a side effect of his training, although this adds to his menacing look.

His main weapon is a 5 foot long repeating crossbow of his own design, firing 10 inch bolts from 50 round magazines and able to compact to a smaller size for storage. He usually carries this weapon in a guitar case, he doesn’t play a guitar, it’s just a good cover, a special mechanism allows him to launch his weapon out of the case to keep it in reach.

[Oct-taku]

NAME: Max Kaiser
HEIGHT: 5'11"
AGE: 30
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Blond
NATIONALITY: Austrian
STYLE: Endless Waltz
WEAPON: Dual Gunblades (Think a combination of revolver and longsword)

A professional gambler from Vienna, Max came to Paradise to pay off some debts he owed via a poker tournament.

Thngs went bad, needless to say.

The Endless Waltz style focuses on avoiding attacks by outmaneuvering opponents. Used in conjunction with his dual Gunblades, Max can dodge attacks and simultaniously place himself in an excellent positon to strike.
****************************************************
NAME: Father Albert Byrd
HEIGHT: 6'
AGE: 29
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Red
NATIONALITY: Assumed to be British, possibly Irish or American
STYLE: Holy Word
WEAPON: Pair of Blessed Swords

Albert Byrd is a Catholic priest. Or more accurately, a Catholic assassin. Used by a division of the Church that seeks to erradicate heresy (think a new Inquisition), he is sent all over the world to destroy sinners that are beyond redemption.

Using a pair of blessed swords, his Holy Word style emphasizes getting in close, and attacking until the target dies.

It works.

[Ty]

NAME: Jack Graham
HEIGHT: 5'7''
AGE: 28
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Brown
NATIONALITY: American
STYLE: Drunken Fist
WEAPON: Brass Knuckles

Jack, like many other people in Paradise, decided to become a professional gambler. When he can't make ends meet in the casino, he gets into fights at his favorite bar, getting patrons to place bets. His opponents usually underestimate him because he's always drunk as a skunk. What they don't realize is that the more hammered Jack is, the more dangerous he becomes.

Jack's style is mostly staggering around like a wino. But what looks like stumbling and tripping is really bobbing and weaving. He can dodge opponent's blows and counter-attack with surprising speed, and his erratic improvised punches and kicks are difficult to defend against.

---

NAME: Nillson Mercer
HEIGHT: 6'11''
AGE: 31
EYES: Deep Blue
HAIR: Blonde
NATIONALITY: Russian-American
STYLE: Death Adder
WEAPON: Custom .44 Revolver

Nillson immigrated to America while he was in his late teens. Back home, he and his parents had ties to a major Russian crime syndicate, wherein all the young men were trained in the Death Shadow style. Upon arriving in America, Nillson continued training on his own, inventing his own style he called Death Adder. In the present day, he acts as an outlaw, robbing unsuspecting passers-by, killing indiscriminantly, sewing chaos and making it easier for the Russian crimelorders to establish a foothold in the west.

Nillson's style allows him to "shadow-jump", moving at near-light speed in short bursts, limited to about 50 feet at a time. He can fight hand-to-hand, but he prefers to use his revolver. He knows nothing of honor or fair tactics. His favorite tactic is to suddenly appear behind his opponent and blow a hole in their back.

[Scorpio]

ooc: At Ty's suggestion, I'mma start this and see if we can't get some more members, in your own time peoples.

[Valentine]

NAME: Valentine Lamean
HEIGHT: 6'6
AGE: 39
EYES: Grey
HAIR: Greying
NATIONALITY: American
STYLE: Gun Kata
WEAPON: Twin Colt .45s with 7in barrels

Valentine spent his entire life studying the art of gunfighting. With the years of study put into action he is able to move out of the way of projectiles and use his pistols in a more melee style of fighting that is as brutal as any sword. (think equiblirebum) Due to his age he has tried to stop fighting many times but finnaly accepted his journey in life will be with a gun in hand. He does not like gambeling as much as others but will do it from time to time for fun.

[Scorpio]

ooc: Val's in, start anytime. I'll edit something in here later, drawing a blank right now.

[Ty]

OOC: I'll start us out, 'cause I've got an idea now.

IC:

Nillson lurked in the darkness, in the wee hours of the morning. The sun would be up in about an hour, so he had to work fast. He'd been tracking this wagon train for a day and two nights, waiting for the right moment to strike. The wagons were circled for safety, but all the men and horses were asleep. There was just a single young man with a rifle standing guard. It was almost too easy.

With a wicked grin, Nillson stepped out from behind the ridge. He tensed his muscles, took a deep breath, and suddenly took off. In the blink of an eye, he was suddenly a dozen feet from the camp. Another split-second flash, and he was right behind the kid with the gun. Before the boy even noticed him, Nillson had a hand covering his mouth, and the other pressing his gun into the kid's lower back.

"No sudden moves, little man," he whispered. "If you make a sound, it will be with your last breath." Nillson's tongue wriggled about like a snake. He could practically taste the man's wide-eyed fear. And he loved it. "Give me the rifle."

The guy obeyed, holding out the rifle with one hand. Nillson grabbed it from him and disappeared. Before he had a chance to wonder where he'd gone, Nillson reappeared again right in front of him, pointing a revolver right at his head. He stifled a scream, putting his own hand over his mouth this time.

"You have gold?" he asked the frightened kid.

He hesitated, then nervously shook his head.

"Do not lie to me. I hate liars."

With a muffled wimper, the guy looked toward one of the covered wagons. He nodded toward it.

"That's better." Nillson stepped aside, but kept his gun aimed at him. "Remember, now: not a sound."

Nillson slinked over to the wagon and climbed slowly up into the back. Buried under a pile of dusty clothes, he found a small wooden box, heavy with raw gold ore.

"Ah, you do well for yourself, prospector." He stuffed the box into a pocket on his coat, then climbed down, keeping his gun trained on the kid. "Very well, indeed. Now, I think we are finished, here."

Nillson put the revolver back in its holster. The kid started to breath a sigh of relief. Suddenly, Nillson disappeared in a blur again, reappearing right next to him. In a single fluid motion, he whipped out a large hunting knife and slashed him across the throat. The kid collapsed on the ground, clutching his neck and making disturbing gurgling noises. As he lay there bleeding to death, Nillson began shadow-jumping around the camp, cutting the throats of every sleeping prospector he saw. Men, women, children; there was no difference to him.

Once he'd killed everyone in the group, he started piling their bodies into one of the wagons. He roused one of the horses and hooked it to the front. With the knife still in hand, he cut a bloody snake-shape into the side of the wagon. His calling card.

Finally, with a sick grin still plastered on his face, he picked up the discarded rifle and fired into the air, right behind the wagon. The surprised horse took off running, towing the wagon along behind it. It reached the road and kept following it, straight toward town.

"Ah, that worked out well," Nillson said to himself as the horse tore off into the distance, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. "They should end up at Paradise by eleven. Maybe noon."

With that, he dropped the rifle and walked back to his own steed, still hitched to large stone just beyond the ridge. He saddled up and rode out past the rim, out of sight of travellers. He planned to get some rest, and perhaps tomorrow he'd head into town. He wanted to make sure he left enough time for the fear to set in. For him, the fear was half the fun.

[Valentine]

Val woke up in his motel room in paradise at 4am as usual. He stood in the middle of his room away from the bed his hands in his pockets away from his guns where most men would never be able to reach there guns. Without a twitch his guns were out and he had three dry fires from each gun already fired before he had finished blinking. "I need to work on that" He muttered to himself. "I used to be able to get five out of six instead of three." Placing his hat on his head he wandered down stairs for breackfast at the bar. He walked into the Last STand saloon and sat down at the bar "Hey mac bring be a shot and a beer. It was another long night and I need a hearty meal." The barender turned to Val and smirked "The name ant mac its mark but for as much as youve been drinking go ahead and call me mac. Shore you are mate heres your grains." He poured Val his drinks and busied himself at the other end of the bar

[Scorpio]

I step off the train when it pulls into Paradise. Carying my one small bag with me. Seems what they said about the town was true, serene looking, busy, wonder what the gambling is like.

I follow the main road of the town checking out the saloons, maybe a drink first would be a good idea before I relieve the locals of their money.
***************************************************

Navarro was walking a dirt road through a small canyon heading to Paradise. He'd been told to keep to the open main roads to avoid bandits, but he was always looking to provoke a fight.

A bullet hit the ground in front of him, breaking his train of thought. Several men came out of hiding, one above him carrying a smoking revolver, the other four on the ground carrying axes, swords, one even had a spear.

"Alright boy, hand over everything you carryin'. Start with that guitar."

Navarro set the case on the ground and stepped forward, arms in his pockets.

"C'mon guys, don't ya want to cut me up a little first? Unless those blades are as dull as you are."

The one with the spear lunged for him, he tilted to the side, balancing at a 45 degree angle. The second threw one of his axes, he ducked under it and grabbed the spear, pulling himself upwards and using it to spring back to his case.

"My turn."

He kicked the case open and stamped on a small pump inside it, his weapon launched upward, as he grabbed on it unfolded to its full size.

"When you get to hell, tell them who sent ya."

He pulled the trigger, launching a hail of bolts at the robbers.

[Oct-taku]

Max W. Kaiser was having a drink in one of the local saloons, when his day went downhill. A patron who'd been giving the poker halls and saloons trouble stepped inside, and was greeted with insults.

"Ye heathens1" Father Byrd said, addressing the saloon. "And ye who frequent the dens of iniquity! Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at-"

"Hand. We know, Padre." said one barfly who'd had enough. "Look, preacher-man, no one wants to hear your sh*t, so perhaps you should leave."

Byrd looked down on the man (he was a good 6 inches taller than the drunkard).

"Grace be with you, my son. Amen." There was something about that was word. Something dark. Immediatly, the top half of the man's head was laying on the floor a foot from the rest of him, his brains leaking onto the floor.

And that's how the barfight started.

[Valentine]

Valentine looked up from his drink at the preacher who was killing and enciting the bar fight. A small smile crossed his lips and he turned back to the bar.

A dunkard was thrown into the bar next to him and tried to grab his drink. Val grabbed his hand and threw him out the window and turned back and finished his beer. As he put the bottle down a man slid down the bar. Val chuckled a little "Hey Mac you still got that scatter gun under the bar. No not the single I want that double street sweeper of yours."

Mac grumbled a little and tossed the sawed off doule barrel eight guage shotgun to him "Thanks mac now if you could roll down two more shells." As the shells rolled down the bar Val fired both shells into the roof and cracked open the shotgun. As he jammed the two new shells into it and snapped it closed. "Now ladies and what few gentlemen there are in here please take your fights outside. Mac here will be grateful and so will I." As Val tossed the shotgun to mac he jingled around in his pockets and slapped a twenty dollar gold piece on the counter. "Thanks mac and ill see you tomorrow for food." He wandered out into the street and down to the stable to check on his horse.

[Ty]

Jack was passed out at a table toward the back of the saloon. He still had more than his fair share of alcohol in him from last night. He slept right through the beginning of the fight, but the shotgun blast roused him. He stumbled to his feet just as Val left.

"Hey, sounds a'right to me. Let's take it outside. Who's up?!" he half-yelled, wincing a bit at the volume of his own voice. Apparently he was still more hung over than drunk.

He took a swig from his glass that had still been sitting there since the night before. He belched and pointed a finger roughly toward Byrd.

"A'right, I got 20 on preacher man. Who's again' 'im? Any takers? C'mon, fellas, le's make this inter'sting."

[Oct-taku]

This would be said just as Father Byrd removed the head of the bartender. Guess Happy Hour was over...

[Ty]

Jack frowned. "Aw, hell, why'd you hafta go an' do a thing like that, preacher?"

He said it as though someone had just spilled a glass of milk rather than beheaded someone. He grabbed his glass and gulped down the rest of it, exhaling contentedly. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out two sets of brass knuckles, which he slipped on with surprising dexterity, given his inebriated state.

"A'right, new plan. How's about you an' me dance, partner? If I win, I want you to drop whatever gold you got on you. An' if you win..." He chuckled to himself. "Well, I guess we'll cut off that chicken's head when we come to it."

[Valentine]

As Valentine entered the stable he could tell something was amiss ad that there was gona be trouble there were to many men inside looking at him without trying to seem like they were looking at him. As valentine put his hands on his horse to check him over for mishandeling and illness one of the men whipped around with a lever action 30-30 and emptied it towards Valentine.

A smile crept onto Valentines face as the man turned with the gun. The first shot would have gone through his left eye if he had not lent his head to the right. As the other six bullets passed his face and chest he twisted around and weaved through them as only a master of the gun kata could. From where he stood he grinned madly as he shifted his feet for the first time. "Come on boy you know you can do better than that. Ill even give you time to reload if you hurry and tell your damn friends to come on out and face me like a man."

The mans eyes wnt wide and he stuttered "I uh uh but I should h-h-h-have hit y-you." The rifle clattered to the ground as he scrambled for his pistol. "You should be dead."

The man never had a chance to touch his pistol as the bullet passed through his heart. The man looked down and back at Valentine."When did you pull out your gun?" he asked as he dropped to the floor stone dead. Valentine chuckled a little "If I had a nickle. . ." he muttered as the bulets started to fly towards him. He twisted to the left and shot three rounds bursting three hearts. Next he leans back as two bullets fly towards his face and he flips his other gun out and fires the last two from the first gun he pulled bursting two heads open and twists around as bullets come so close the graze his duster and clothes. His left handed gun fired off four rounds at the door killing only three people and wounding the fourth. his last two bullets were spent on the wounded man. The maniacal grin on his face still there but slowly subsiding as he reloaded his guns and emptied the pockets of those that attacked him and taking there guns. "not much to make off these but every little bit helps eh Spite?" He asks looking up at the horse. Spite snorted and returned to his hay more than used to he gunfire.

[King Jager III]

NAME: "Ivy"
HEIGHT: 5'6"
AGE: 23
EYES: Dark Grey
HAIR: Black
NATIONALITY: Unknown, skin is sickly pale.
STYLE: Black Lotus
WEAPON: Long pin/needles.

Ivy was inducted into the Black Lotus style when she eight years old, due to her heraldry. She has trained as an assassin, but now seeks to help the human race evolve - by killing all those who can not adapt or are not immune to her deadly infections.

The Black Lotus fighting style Involves the martial artist having been inflicted with a variety of poisonous, toxic and other venomous substances and yet not killed from these. After they completely take over the individuals blood stream the fighter then learns how to use their own blood and other bodily fluids to
infect their weapons and subsequently their opponents, causing them to die. The speed of their opponent's death does not matter, only that they suffer miserably...

Ivy's key weapons are a variety of long metal needles, (usable for throwing, claw fighting or knife fighting) which she keeps concealed underneath her own skin. As of such, all her needle weapons have her poisonous infection stained onto them.

*****

The gunslinger didn't stand a chance.
All the lady did was spill his drink. A drink that cost him next to nothing. But, the poor gunslinger believed he had some honour, that the lady had spilt his drink on purpose and that his honour had to be redeemed.
Calling a duel, he thought would let him win. One gun, one bullet each, he lent her one of his revolvers for Christ's sake. But she didn't use the revolver...

The gunslinger was on his knees, looking at the single needle protruding from his chest, before turning a glance at the creepy young lady who stood over him.
"It appears you'e making a turn for the worse." She heartily proclaimed to him "Shame really, you seemed so confident!"
As she spoke, one of the townsmen ran over to the villager, a bag full of bandages and the like, which Ivy presumed to mean he was a man of medicine. As the Doctor knelt down to be at level with the gunslinger, Ivy spoke again.
"It hit him close to the heart. He's shown no resistance to the toxins and if he's lucky, he will be dead shortly."
Both the doctor and the gunslinger looked up, each a look of shock and despair. The doctor, being the the only one of the two able, begged a question "And if he's not lucky?"
Ivy, who had begun to walk away, turned around, a grim laugh echoing from her, causing the gunslinger to react even more fearfully.

"Then the pain he's feeling will be long indeed."

[Delacroix(Rei)]

Seika Muramasa

Age: 18

Eyes: Electric Blue, Blood red iris and Coal black veins in the eyes.

Hair: Black with blood red streaks.

Nationality: Japanese.

height: 5'7

Style: Chuhei Jitoushin

Weapons: Razor sharp Yo Yo round daggers.

Out casted by her home country for looking too different, she was sent to a monastery on the Ukushima islands, An island that is rumored to have magical healing properties to make her look like her country men.

The island was magical but far from healing, she was infused with the Mischeif Spirit or the "Tanuki" and she was changed completely, Her features are those of a adorably cute 18 year old girl but her eyes say different she's blessed with quick speed, quick thinking, and somewhat of a kind and gentle aura.

The deadly thing about her is that gentle aura makes you trust her nearly immediately untill she users her unbelievably fast hands to beat the shit out of you or her feet or she uses her Circle Daggers to slice you up.

I skip in the Town's saloon and I smile at all the inhabitants.

"A fight? Ooo~ This should be fun!" I say, smiling brightly walking behind the Preacher and kicking him in the back of the knee playfully and then walking over to Jack and I knee him right in the testicles.

"Alright boys, come and get me." I say, snickering.

[Scorpio]

I walk up to a decent looking Tavern, pausing as a man gets hurled through the window.

"You okay buddy?"

Another fighter dives out after him, they both roll into the street brawling. I look inside the tavern, among the fighters are a drunk, a preacher and an asian girl..looks Japanese maybe, hard to tell at the speed she moves.

I pulled up a chair outside the bar and sat, waiting for things to cool down.

"Some crazy people these days eh?"

I turn to the voice. A taller reptile looking man had walked up carrying a guitar case. His hat tilted forward over his eyes. He pulled up another chair and sat down.

"Name's Navarro."

"John Swift."

"I take it you aren't much into fighting."

"Heh, not if I can avoid it. I'm just here for a few friendly rounds of poker."

"A gambler eh? Got any favourites for this round?" He pointed his case towards the bar fighters.

"Anyones game at this point."

[Delacroix(Rei)]

I pick up a glass and I split it in half with the Yoyo blades and I throw them in the back of the two men sitting at the counter.

"come on, this is fun, Try it!" I say, dashing up to both of them in a blur and kicking the jar of peanuts in their faces.

OOC: That's you Scorp.

[Ty]

Jack staggered after Seika, looking more injured than he really was.

"'Ey, now, missy. Tha-was jus' un-called-for." He chuckled weakly. "Well, I can see you don't like playin' fair. Fine by me. Hey, any more takers? I got 3-ta-1 odds right here. The girl's 4-1, and I'll give the guys at the bar 2-1 each."

Looking around for any more betters, he staggered over to one of the tables, grabbing an empty mug from the tall, blonde fellow sitting there.

"Min' if I borrow this?"

Nillson grinned. "Not at all, friend."

"Ah, thank-ya very much."

With surprising speed, Jack whirled around and sent the mug flying at Seika.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

I place my hands behind my back and I jump and land on the mug while it's still up in the air and my weight brings it down.

"That was it?" I ask, kicking the mug at him, hitting him in the forehead.

I dash right on top of him, my shoes right on his chest.

"You smell very bad." I say, pinching my nose in mock disgust.

[Scorpio]

I dust the peanut fragments off my clothing as Navarro does the same, before he stands and pulls out a set of brass knuckles with a pair of spikes on them.

"You not joining in here?"

"Not unless I need to." I reply.

"Fine, would you mind watching my case then buddy?"

He charged off before I could reply, weaving around the various opponents and sucker punching them, twisting his body to avoid retalliation. He slinked up behind the girl. Swinging a kick past her head to hit the burly individual in front of her.

"Pardon me darlin'." He tipped his Stenson and gave a polite nod.

[Ty]

"This's nothin', sunshine. You should see me at night."

Jack suddenly rolled over backward, flinging the girl off of him. He got to his feet and swung a backfist at her. It missed by a mile, but the low sweeping kick hit home, knocking her off her feet.

"C'mon, hun. You gotta do better than that," he said, wiping a small trickle of blood off his forehead.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

"You missed though." i say, sitting in a chair right behind him.

"That's a Tanuki dummy, you dummy." I say, springing from the chair and landing in front of him.

I get into a fighting stance and a blur of kicks and punches appear from infront of me, all of them hit but since their so fast, they don't got alot of power behind them, but the final kick does.

I end it with a drop kick to the chest, and as he falls down backward, I jump on his chest and ride him down as he falls hurting him on impact.

"Aww...poor you." I say, smiling.

[Ty]

"Dang," he half-coughed. "Now that's more like it."

With his upper-body still flat on the floor, Jack kicked his legs up and wrapped them around her, pulling her down to the floor hard.

"Say Uncle," he joked, squeezing his thighs tight around her throat.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

"I don't breathe." I say, biting down onto his leg and drawing blood.

"let me go." I say, my calm gentle voice lost and now replaced with a more stern voice.

[Ty]

"Augh!" Jack winced. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He released her and quickly sat up, giving her a nasty punch to the kidney with his brass knuckles, then quickly rolled back and stood up again.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

My hair suddenly flashes from black to blood red, and my hair flows around as if I'm underwater.

My eyes are closed but as soon as I open them they turn blood red aswell.

"You asked for it Drunk!" I scream, charging him, using his body to break through two pillars and through the wall of the saloon.

I grab him before he hits the street and I slam his body on the wall and I grab hold of his throat, raise him high and I proceed to punch him in the face over and over again.

[Ty]

Blood trickled from Jack's nose and mouth, and he definitely wasn't laughing anymore. He coughed and looked up at the demonic eyes staring back at him.

"Nothin' personal..." He coughed again. "But I got my next meal ridin' on this."

He side-swiped at her elbow, cracking the funny bone and breaking her grip. He landed on his feet, immediately dropping to a squatting position, and shot back up, catching her in the chin with a vicious uppercut, followed by a quick jab to the ribs.

Awaiting her next move, he half-staggered-half-danced around her, bobbing left and right like a boxer.