Let’s just pretend like Terry never sprung out of his sitting position to strike a ceremonious taunt. The sight was only true inside his head—almost like a false sense of triumph if you will, considering what was coming after him. He did, however, make a boasting remark in regards to his slamming maneuver, believing that he’d make for a decent wrestler just as much as he did an actual combatant. While he was far from being a boastful person, Terry did, oftentimes, love to sell this idea that he was stronger than he already was, exuding confidence in hopes of striking fear in the hearts of his opponents. Oftentimes, he also did so to encourage his opponent to perform better, which seemed to work for Mika throughout the bout.
If it wasn’t for the sight of the Mad wreaking havoc upon her bustling vicinity, Terry wouldn’t have been so distracted and would’ve continued to ride the blade wielder across the concrete, but alas. Upon being alerted, he darted his sky-blue eyes towards the sight of the flinging, beaten civilians, his veiny arm around her clavicle loosening. It always bothered him when the locals were in danger, even when nobody was seriously harmed in the process. Since the moment he was born, his solidarity with his fellow South Towners had been unquestionably great, moreso after
the incident that nearly wiped the city out of the map. The South Town Hero was so close to leaving his opponent alone to check others’ conditions until…
SHINK!SPLASH!…Mika’s blade managed to graze against his mandible, leaving a lengthy, crimson scar across its pointy surface. He jolted back in surprise, then finally stood out of his sitting position, his palm instinctively covering the bleeding wound. He hissed and flinched at the pain, and once he moved his hand away from his mandible, a bright red hue had tainted his pitch-black glove. His eyes widened at the sight, a devastated gasp briefly leaving his parting lips.
“Heh. Well, that hurts,” Terry remarked, gradually forming a wry smirk.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”He could still sense blood trickling down from where the blade had grazed him, leaving miniscule spots across the front of his sleeveless shirt and the ground beneath. He didn’t seem to be affected by the slicing wound, regardless—or so, it seemed? Despite what had transpired early on, the remaining crowd remained ever-so-lively, roaring even louder at the intense view that Mika had created with her swinging blade. Swinging his blood-stained hand down to swash the fresh liquid away, the former KOF champion strode forth, approaching and offering his presumably laying opponent with the same hand.
“Hey, hey, I gotta admit you did great, but you just broke my heart with that dirty, lil’ ambush. Think you’re so slick, eh? I thought our relationship was special,” Terry quipped, still throwing cheesy one-liners every now and then like nothing just happened.
“Down for one more? C’mon, pal, ain’t nobody come here to watch you lay like a pretty, lil’ baby.”If Mika did accept his hand, Terry would help her stand back on her feet, then draw her closer to his front, only to catch her off-guard with
a spinning backhand. He’d aim the back of his alternating fist at his opponent’s silver temple, intending to render her unsteady once connected.
Meanwhile, Xiangfei flinched and jerked her shoulders back at the sight of the civilians and battle-hardened pirates alike hurling here and there, not expecting Oros to misinterpret her latter suggestion. The way the unhinged lady had been looking at her made her feel a little self conscious. Was it her outfit of choice that caught Oros’ attention? No, it couldn’t have been her outfit. It was just some plain, red-and-blue mandarin dress with no sleeves. Compared to
a certain kunoichi, she’d dressed rather modestly, hadn’t she? Or what? Or was it the fact that she reminded Oros of somebody equally attractive? Either way, the notion of somebody presumably acknowledging her beauty left Xiangfei blushing, as the notion rarely crossed her mind. Her reverie didn’t last long, though, as she shook her head, clicking her tongue and frowning at the loose cannon standing in front of her.
“No, you dummy! They’re not what I’m talking about! It’s right there,” she scolded, her finger angrily pointing at the ongoing bout between Terry and Mika.
“You have to face either of them to win the VIP spot. Or you have to face me right here right now for beating up some clueless customers.” She cracked her knuckles, an audible
bump erupting, as she readied herself to do what she’d been trusted to do: kicking some rabble-rouser’s ass and making sure they were humbled. Hopefully, her uncle wouldn’t have been so pissed when he found out what had just transpired from across the entrance of his restaurant.
There goes the potential customers, I guess… Oh, God, I’m screwed!FIN.
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