3065/WMAT B2 Richard Stadler vs Franken Stein

WMAT B2 Richard Stadler vs Franken Stein
Date of Scene:	20 September 2015
Location:	WMAT Arena - Devil's Hand
Synopsis:	Richard Stadler tries to take down the mad scientist Franken Stein in this year's WMAT!
Cast of Characters:	300, 848
Tinyplot:	WMAT 2015

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Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The match this time is happening at the Devil's Castle. Haunted ruins, at night, with the full moon high over head. Clouds drift by occasionally, blotting out even THAT much illumination. A dark haze floats around the area, and all necessary accomodations have been made to film/televise/spectate the match in the castle itself. Though somewhere deep within, there's the squeal of of metal, and a pale light shining upon a sunken-eyed visage. A man turning a large screw occasionally to clear his thoughts. It goes right through his skull and out the other side, and doesn't seem to just be a decoration.

    This match is one that takes place both outside, in the courtyard, and inside, within the haunted halls and rooms that seem empty but have cold presences within them.

    Very spooky, and not at all a conventional martial arts tournament match! Is the doctor's opponent prepared for this sort of thing?

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler has noticed the new place they happen to be fighting in; a bit... different than the other places of wide open pastoral settings or rocky wastelands (what a difference a quarter of a mile makes). It was spooky, to be certain. A little bone chilling, if Rick had to be completely honest with himself, with anything lurking inside. Luckily, Rick happened to know exactly what was in that castle. He was a man of science, and not someone easily taken to supersitution. So, no ghosts, no spectres. Just 1 patchwork doctor who Rick simply wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating.

Labcoats did not mean someone was an easy defeat.

He enters the castle itself from the front door, painfully aware that he would have prefered a dozen men for this maneuver. He'd only brought 2, and they were standing on the sidelines, a dour women and a chipper one, both looking with a different form of concern. The door creeks open, a shotgun being placed on his shoulder, and a light on the underbarrel flicked on, as Stadler heads forward. "Usually I can see my enemies at the beggining of these matches." Rick calls out to the empty(?) corridors.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    A patch-work mouse, like a flesh golem or something, goes squeaking by near Stadler's foot, making almost electronic noises as it sniffs about, peers at him, and then continues on its way. The sound of a voice echoes through the halls, and Stein looks up from whatever he's experimenting on. A directable work-light is grabbed and switched off as the gray-haired man looks over his shoulder, sits up in his chair, and then kicks the desk in front of him, making a tray of used surgical impliments jump and clatter. The force is enough to send his chair rolling backwards.

    Stadler may hear the sound of squeaky wheels approaching in the distance, maybe even just SENSE that something is coming before there's obvious evidence of such. The squeaking of the wheels grows louder and louder as they get closer and closer. And then out of the darkness of the hallway ahead, a chair emerges, with a man facing away!

    The chair hits a groove in the doorway and falls onto its back, dumping its passenger unceremoniously onto the ground with a 'GACK!' of dismay.

    Still seated in the chair, Stein looks up at Stadler upside-down, the wheels on the chair spinning in the air. "...It's still out of alignment." The eccentric doctor climbs to his feet and picks his chair up, dusting off his labcoat's rear and then says, "You must be my opponent. Sorry about that." He seats himself in the chair backwards, and then turns it around to face Richard, his arms resting on the back of the chair.

    "I just got involved studying this area's wandering souls." He leans his face into the palm of one hand, his glasses gleaming in the minimal lighting, and leaving the rest of his features in darkness. "They can be dissected too, apparently." Stein sits up straight and says, "But enough about that. You probably didn't come here to hear about my experiments. So let's get to what you DID come here for."

    There's cameras all throughout the castle, observing from different angles, but hidden such that they aren't obvious. That wasn't part of the original plan for the match, but Stein made some adjustments. He's even the one who relocated everything to the castle. When he heard the place was haunted... Well, he just had to give it a proper investigation.

    "If I recall correctly, you're the one who defeated one of my students in your previous match..."

    A thin, creepy smile spreads across his face. "...I'm going to return the favor."

    Then he's off, pushing himself off the stone floor of the hall, he rolls towards Stadler, still in his chair, one arm raised, and tries to deliver a straight palm-strike aimed at his opponent! A simple maneuver, right? But one with a bit of extra electrical spark to it, if it hits!

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler's eyes track toward the odd mouse. His shotgun twitches, but it doesn't jerk to the threat. Instead, his boot picks up, as he lets it run underneath it, ready to press down, if need be, before it zooms away. And then he hears the sounds of squeaky wheels, from a... three caster? chair that is head coming from the room, toward the hallway, and then straight toward him. His shotgun is up at that target... just in time to illuminate it when it collapses to the wood and there's the sound of suprise.

His shotgun remains on the person for a moment, before lowering. "Oh, that was a far enough distance to make on a chair like that anyway, without spinning out in such an undignifed manner. Did some experimentation once when I had nothing better to do in Saudi Arabia back.... Lord, 20, 25 years ago? It's tough." He notes, before shaking his head slightly.

"Oh, not a problem at all. A bit of a scientist myself, though not an occultist by any means. I'm more interested in just what part of the brain that screw's gone through that allows you to talk to me." He frowns for a moment. "Well, no, no, not nessecarily. We could do some more talking. Compare notes. Work together. Make this a science competition... but... I don't think I could rob you for the chance for revenge. Not my intent to defeat your student in particular-" He starts, before the chair is rolled forward rather fast, and with that palm strike sending him jolted back, giving a cry in pain as the acrid smell of burning hair, kevelar, and a little flesh can be scented. The one thing it misses is the shotgun's chamber, however, so the rounds in the magazine were still intact, and sent forward with the loud ringing sound of 12 gauge buckshot filling the air. At the very least, he's going to get him out of the chair.

"If you want to make this personal, let's make this perosonal."

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The shotgun blast does indeed knock Stein out of his chair, and put a hole through the back to boot. His chest veritably seems to smoke or smoulder from the attack, but he soon is doing a handspring back up onto his feet as he says, "Not revenge exactly." He dusts himself off again, but his turtle-neck sweater-shirt has more than just debris on it this time. There's a hole in the fabric, and blackened marks on the skin underneath. Still got off pretty easily for being hit with a shotgun! Or maybe he's just a lot tougher than a normal human.

    Grabbing his damaged chair in one-hand, Stein says with a somewhat sadistic look, "But I was looking forward to being the one to give him that beating myself. Since you're the one who took that opportunity from me, it's only fair that you get what he was going to get!" Then he picks up the chair one-handed, and lunges forward with it, trying to trap at least one of Richard's arms, preferably the one holding the shotgun, in the frame of the chair, and pin it against the wall! If successful or not, his free hand capitalizes upon the distraction attempt to attempt to deliver a claw-strike with bare finger tips into the other scientist's ribs, and then TWIST into it, using that considerable strength of his to try to do significant painful damage.

    And yet this is still him holding back and restraining his tendencies. Most people wouldn't think that who don't know him.

    Hell, even those who know him can't always tell what's going on in his head!

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Well... that did seem to be effective, given the large gapping hole through the chest. Rick's exaultation is immedeiatly restrained, however, with a few quick mental calculations. Primarily with the facts that something three fights in that could have holes punched in it like that probably wasn't effected by them too much. And the simple fact that he'd blown holes in other things that really didn't- And there it was. Not as much damage as he thought, up and attacking, before moving to slam the chair aganist the wall. The shotgun goes off with a /bang/ just after, gunpowder and pellets scouring a stone wall instead of hitting Stien, before that hand moves to dig and twist into his skin, punching past armor and ceramics to rend skin into a pulpy mess.

THere was some lucky bit in Rick's favor, though. The smash had gotten one arm, his main one. He still had an off hand free. It couldn't aim very well, but it could claw itself at the Glock at his waist, pulling it out of the holster and pulling the trigger, hosing the area in front of him with 9 millimeter rounds in an attempt to forst the other to take some distance. "Oh, wonderful." He gives a rasping set of words, the clip sliding out of the machine pistol after it was empty. "Let me just say I /appreciate/ the lesson. Hopefully he learned something from me in the process of nearly handing me my ass."

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The rounds from the glock can't quite be avoided at close range. He has to release the chair to try to evade, and even then, one of the shots skims the side of Stein's forehead and leaves a blood trail, another clips his shoulder, before he manages to make a few swift and agile leaps backwards to avoid the rest. He has a pretty high pain tolerance, NEEDS to have one for what he does, but an impaired body is an impaired body. And running out of blood is dangerous no matter what. So as blood runs down the side of his face, Stein takes a moment to consider his next attack. The damaged chair lies on the floor, and Stadler might now have his shotgun ready for usage again while his opponent stands back and observes.

    He even pulls out a cigarette, lights it up with a spark off his fingers, and starts smoking as he gives his opponent time to recover and strategize as well. "Comparing notes sometime DOES sound like it could be interesting," Dr. Stein offers as he breathes out a cloud of smoke that becomes shaped like a skull before dissipating. "Everything in the world is my research material. And I suppose now everything in the Multiverse is too." he explains. Then he grins again, as he pulls the cigarette from his mouith and holds it between two fingers. "You intrigue me. I want to study you a bit more." Then he turns and runs! Fleeing down the dark corridors and passages of the castle, with only one thing called out behind him!

    "Come and find me!"

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Once Stadler's other arm is released, the shotgun is brought up again. Stein had some time to consider where to go next, but the fact that his enemy wasn't attacking has him pointing, just pointing the shotgun at the enemy target, finger pressing on the trigger with just a little less tension needed to through more buckshot at him. His nose wrinkles at the cigerette, shaking his head. "Well, note one, if I could ask you to put that out? Given how much aderenline I have running through me, that smell's really making me want one, and I promised my daughter I wouldn't."

He slowly moves around the man, attempting to get a bit of a different angle. "Note 2, has those words concerning me a bit. Study is to be done in controlled conditions, for specific hypothesis. You don't look like a social scientist, which makes me worry you're the type to dump chemicals in a water supply to see how they spread-"

He sees him running down the halls, looking toward him, but doesn't give chase. He'd been here longer, and blindly following someone like that meant running into traps. Instead, he heads forward slowly, shotgun flicked to the side as he loads a few more shells from a pouch at his webbing. One, two, three, four. No pump. That would just waste a round.

At least this fight wasn't going to be boring.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The cigarette isn't put out. But that might be for the best as it means that a scent trail is being left behind for Richard to follow. Even if he might not want to keep inhaling it and experience temptation. The slow progress through the castle has the shotgun-bearing soldier going through crumbling ruins, rooms with cobwebs all over, an empty study with a cold fireplace at the far end. But SOMETHING'S burning in here... Infact, the scent is coming from this particular room. In the dark, Stadler may find that the dim light of embers from a lit cigarette stand out, though directing any light of his own towards it reveals the cigarette has been put out in the fireplace.

    Stein's voice echoes from SOMEWHERE in the vicinity suddenly, "You're wise to be cautious. But you've already revealed a lot to me. The fact that you can be affected by tobacco smoke... That even though you are experienced enough to retain self-control, the temptation still eats at you..." There's a pause as Stadler may determine that the study truly is empty except for that cigarette. Already abandoned. So one of the other rooms then.

    "...The fact you have family..."

    The sound of Stein's voice is coming from somewhere nearby... Maybe the room across the hall.

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler still wrinkles his nose for a moment. He is telling the truth in the fact that a beating heart and a tense situation occassionally makes him crave a cancer stick or two. But he had stopped smoking years ago... regularly, and he didn't plan to start again for a kumite-lite for money and fame. He wasn't the type to be rattled so easily, either, stepping slowly through the corridors, the hallways, past empty rooms, breathing slowly, in, and out. Ears open for the sounds he knew meant passage, habitation. The slight smell of fresh ash brings him into the study, the bright light flashing through the room, scanning slowly before landing on the cigerette in the fireplace.

He's twirling around quickly at the sound of the voice around him, into the direction he thoght he heard the voice in. "A few facts, certainly. But nothing much that you can grasp onto. Name a hundred servicemen, and 60 of them will be smokers. Find the ones that quit, and... well, it's hard to ever really quit." He says, continuing forward.

He stops. Stops in his tracks at the mention of family. His steps start up again a second afterward. "And lots of service persons have family. But, I'll let you have a little bit more of me, no cost to you. You've just made a statement of fact. I suggest keeping it there. You won't like what happens if you go the way I see others go who mention that little tidbit."

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    "You misunderstand," Stein replies. His voice is DEFINITELY coming from the next room... "Knowing you're a soldier, and that you have family, and that you're here in this tournament, and made it this far -- even defeating one of my students -- means I know a critical piece of data about you." The room is damp. Water has been trapped in here, leaking from the roof in the past. It hasn't rained any time recently, but the smell of mildew and mold is significant on rotting books and crumbling furniture. The floor sloshes with water with every step Stadler may take.

    "You are not only strong, but likely to become even stronger when defending those you care about. I might not be able to understand that feeling completely... But I have some sense of it. The way I feel about my students, for instance." A light sparks somewhere in the room. Electricity crackling over a humanoid form. Stein is revealed! "It's admirable trait. So try to win this match for your daughter's sake, and show me everything you have."

    Then that sparking electricity ignites several packs' worth of cigarettes all around the room, perched in very carefully located dry spots atop so much else that is wet. The spark travels from cylinder to cylinder, until suddenly a room that was dark except for Richard's flashlight suddenly blazes as bright as day light.

    And then Stein leaps all the way from one end of the room to the other, attempting to hit Stadler with a one-two combo of flying spin kick to the head, and then a knee from the other leg as he rotates! The battle is rejoined!

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler knows that the voice is coming from there. Which meant his opponent knew that too. It was a problem that he didn't have a solution for... at the moment. A rapid breach of the room was possible, but the words he heard next... 'knowing you're a soldier'. He had to be expecting that, and possibly rushing in there with a flashbang would be... less than cautious. Plus, he was certain, a flashbang would be a wet puff in all theis water.

"You're quite good with your analysis. I'm afraid I can't match that... not at the moment. But... well. Let me see a bit more of you, and I can see what I can find out. I'm good at seeing what makes people tick. HOw they tick. People and... other things."

"Don't sell yourself short, though. Students can be like kids. Teach them, guide them, fear for their future. Be proud of their accomplishments. I suppose it's about intensity in the end. That part, admittedly. That part might be hard to understand. But that's very, very good advice."

His last words spoken as he sights on Stein, in the middle of the room. But he can't bring the shotgun up to bear before that spark jumps at the speed of light to bloom forward with the acrid smoke of ciggerettes, lighting it up like the sun was eating through the dilapated roof above them. It was enough to distract, all at once, and that attack took advantage of it.

The spinning kick moves to smack him aganist the head, the sound of a shoe cracking aganist a skull loud and painful for those watching it, much less experiancing it. The next kick catches him disoriented, smacking aganist his knee to bring him down... but it didn't rotate away. Not fast enough, at least. Maybe it didn't hit just as expected, but it was more than enough time for a reaction to take over, and for one of Stadler's gloved hands to grab the leg before his other one attempts to /jam/ a trench spike into the flesh of it, narrowly missing the bone if he's able to aim right.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The spike jams into Stein's leg all right. It's painful, of course, and he can't escape easily with his leg held. But just as Richard has put his opponent in a similar position to where Stein had Stadler earlier, he still has another limb available. And his other leg tries to kick Richard in the face twice in quick succession. One is more to the side of the head, the other more like a face-stomp. Light, not full-force, meant to help break free of the grip, so that the doctor can do a backwards roll away through the sloshing water that fills the floor of the room. The red and yellow light of the cigarettes turns the smoke that is quickly filling the room into a sunset-hued haze. But at least there's no danger of a fire. Not with everything so damp in here. When the crumbled white cylinders burn down, they'll extinguish in the moisture that is already creeping up through the bottom of each.

    "I'll take that advice into consideration." Stein replies once he hopefully has some time to either remove the spike from his leg or to just shake out the deep injury like the limb is asleep instead of bleeding out of a hole, depending on if Stadler kept ahold of his weapon or not. "Even I am research material after all. Studying and understanding myself might be aided by studying others. That's why I was looking forward to facing you after hearing about your victory. Not only can what type of punishment your body can take give me data... But I might learn something about your strong spirit as well."

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
The face stomp does it's intended job of gettig Richard away from Stein, and his head is spinning slightly, like a punch drunk boxer. A helmet. Next time, he was coming in a helmet instead of trying to pull off the whole 'ball cap' thing. Probably wouldn't play for the cameras as well, but he really couldn't have this constant splitting headache and thoughts of an impending concussion in the middle of the battle. The grip on the trench spike remains, however, sliding wettly out of a leg muscle and covered in blood, as Richard makes a wobbly attempt to stand. He looks at the enemy in front of him in the dying embers of the extinguishing cigetettes, the strong smell of smoke, at the very least, so strong as to keep him from grabbing one and sucking it down to the filter. Really needed to get back on the nicotine gum.

"I appreciate it. I suppose I really can't fault a scientist that studies everything. And this is a rather legal methodology. Lord knows I've seen enough people trying to get combat data by doing some very bad things. I'm afraid all I've got right now is figuring out how to make those stitches on your face pop."

He reaches behind him. "And I've got to do something about that smell." He says, drawing a modified Webley, cocking the hammer and firing a power round towards the other scientist's center mass. If it didn't penetrate, it sure would kick like a mule.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    It's all timed very precisely. Or maybe it's coincidence. Right as Stadler draws his pistol and then fires, the last of the cigarettes dies out, plunging the room back into darkness except for that flashlight, if it's still on. And Stein MOVES right at that moment, leaping back into the pitch-black.

    He moves fast, if nothing else.

    There's no further dialogue from Stein, and where he went in this room is unclear for a moment, given that there's no sloshing of water. But then, after a few seconds, there's light again. In the form of electrical-energy that is not-quite-electricity, but rather Stein's own Soul Wavelength.

    Right in the water that Stadler is standing in, if he doesn't get out of it in time.

    Seems the talking part of this match is on hold for now.

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
It was bound to happen sooner or later. Rick was a good shot, but even he, in the certain circumstance of changing light and fast moving targets, can miss. At this range, though... Stein gets something of a bonus in a distraction, where the bullet bouncing off of stone at this range causes Stadler to stare in disbeleif. "Oh, come on." He mutters to himself, as there's a dash back into pitch black. He turns around for a moment, trying to find out where he's gone, given the stop of the voice and the lack of sounds he'd associate with movement. There was a way to rectify this at least, as Stadler's free hand reaches for his gear, again, pulling out a red cylinder, held in one hand. It seems he doesn't need to use it, though, as there's some light after all. And around him, too-

Stadler leaps out of the puddle of water he was standing in, the shock of the attack striking the water, and leaving the sing of burning hair on legs.. but little else, given that Stadler, old man that he was, could be fast, too. And that object in his hand was struck aganist dry stone, the room illuminated with the hot green light of a burning flare. It's bright enough to blind in front of... and also to properly spot the target in front of him, which he takes advantage of by jamming the burning end into his side.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    Stein's super clever trap doesn't appear to have worked, and he takes a burning spike right in the side as he remains crouched on top of moldering writing desk that he leapt up onto in order to avoid splashing in the water and betraying his presence. It hurts, of course. High pain tolerance just means he can keep FUNCTIONING when injured. It still HURTS. Further, enough damage, even if tolerated, can impair the body's functions. Buy Stein knows his body better than anyone. He has operated on himself after all~. So he knows how far he can push himself before he reaches that pain of lowered functionality.

    So though he winces, he retaliates against the lunge and side-step by trying to grab Stadler by the shoulder with one hand now that they can both see each other, and turn the lunge from his opponent into a throw against a wall on ther other side of the damp room. And then a knee comes flying in afterwards, aimed at Stadler's belly, and then two hook punches in quick succession to the face, and then a final throw towards the water on the floor!

    What a brutal assault! ...If it succeeds anyway.

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Oh, it succeeds, all right. The flare in Stadler's hand is let go after a moment; it still burns strongly in the water, sending up a muted green glow up from the depths. Enough to illuminate the area in front of Stadler, so he can at least see the attack that's coming right after. The grab is successful, throwing him straight aganist a wall, the thud of a body knocking aganist it not followed by a fall to the floor, but the smash of a knee in the gut, and then two punches at his face. There was some concern that he would have to visit a dentist after this, but the taste of blood in his mouth probably came from some biting down on the check, or a tooth cutting into it. Easy enough to ignore when he was thrown into the water.

There was a problem with quick attacks, however. It was hard to see what the opponent was doing while you were focused on throwing them down, and Stadler knows that he doesn't have a lot more energy to give. He sits in the fetid water, breathing heavily, one hand... pointing. Pointing in the direction of a wire that his other hand was holding. Which leads around up a wall... to a haphazardly placed directional mine, not a single foot away from Stein.

"Call this an experiment on possible wound mitigation." He says, before getting his head down and pressing down on the detonator, sending an explosive charge and a large amount of iron balls moving quickly toward Stein, like a mass upgrade to the shotgun that was somewhere in this room.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    Stein is caught by surprise. His reactions are fast. VERY fast. Against a speed-based opponent like Black*Star, he can still outperform usually (though that loud mouth has grown a lot). But there's still only so much he can dodge without Marie Mjolnir filling his body with lightning to make his muscle contractions and neuron firings faster than is normally possible. And a surprise attack like this, that is both fast and covers a wide area, is beyond the scope of what he can do.

    The metal balls tear through his body, pelting him, covering him with many small, bleeding wounds, and all he can do is try to shield his face with his arms and trust in that screw through his skull to shield his brain.

    When it's over, when the trap's results are visible, Stein is still standing over Richard Stadler. Bleeding, coat torn and stained with redness, one lens of his glasses cracked, no doubt feeling tremendous pain...

    But still standing over him. And there, standing over Stadler, Stein looks down at him, his features completely obscured in shadow except for his eyeglasses. Those glasses are opaque circles right now. Then, somehow, with his face just a black silhouette without detail, a smile that stretches wide across his face becomes visible.

    "Well-played~!" Stein lilts. Then he sends one hand surging down at Stadler... Who is now lying in the water... And may have a much harder time escaping a direct Soul Menace attack with the water acting as a conductor on TOP of a physical blow to the chest!

    He's avoiding causing internal damage as he would if this were a non-tournament fight, but as he puts his fist down and tried to HOLD it there, sending electrical current generated by his own soul into his opponent, it may still cause nasty-looking (but non-fatal) bleeding to occur from eyes, ears, mouth, nose, etc.

    It's cool though, it feels worse than it actually is!

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler looks up after the attack has ended, coughing slightly as even this water-soaked, mildew'd scented rat trap had some dust from the walls shaking around them. Stadler always had this hope around him that the enemy he was fighting was going to be somewhat... normal. Maybe able to take a few gunshots, avoid a pelting of buck shot or two, but, when they get hit with a rocket or explosive shells or a AP mine pointed /right at them/ from less than a foot away, they'd be a bleeding, insensate near-corpse on the floor. Victory, fight was over with, time to grab steaks, yada yada.

Every time, he had that sort of fleeting hope. He really should keep from having those by now. Esspecially now that he was staring up at the vision of a stitched together monster bleeding from a dozen different points.

"Thank-" He can at least get out, before that hand smashes aganist his chest, slaming him back into the water and sending electricity surging through it, Stadler's muscles twitching as the water frothes with an involuntary, mad dance of limbs. The blood streams out of his nose, his ears, he can feel tears of blood... like his left hand feels the drowned grip of the shotgun underneath the puddle.

It was a long shot, which is why it probably worked. For all intents, that shell should have been too waterlogged to ignite, and it would have been impossible to aim. It was buckshot, though, and since it /did/ fire, it really didn't need to be aimed.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    The buckshot fires, but Stein does something no normal, sane opponent would do. He grabs the end of the gun barrel, with his palm OVER the opening, and keeps the damage from spreading to more vital locations (like his face) by taking the shot directly to the hand. Between the moisture and the muffling, he still probably has some pellets come right out the back of his hand, and it hurts like hell of course. That hand isn't going to be very useful for anything. But he can keep his hand on the gun to try to control it, tough out the pain, and try to grab Stadler by the throat with that other hand, and hold him under the water!

    Whoah, whoah, wait! Even in a martial arts tournament that allows guns and explosives and who-knows-what-else, drowning someone is a bit dark, isn't it!? But that seems to be what Stein is trying to do! Even if he can't ACTUALLY drown Stadler before some counter attack comes, it may still deprive of much-needed oxygen, and a few thumps of the back of the science-soldier's head on the floor by attempts to do precisely that by the mad scientist may still cause some injuries!

    This opponent can go from introspective to encouraging to scientific to philosophical to brutal to downright crazy in very short periods of time. But even now, even SEEMINGLY trying to drown his opponent... He isn't actually interested in nor trying to do lasting harm to Stadler. But he's putting on a very convincing show for the cameras.

    "Is this all your daughter means to you!?" he demands of the possibly-submerged B.O.W. hunter. "I told you to fight with me all you have, for her sake! Fight like you're fighting to protect her! Show me that incredible spirit of yours! Show me what mine could become!"

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Fuck. The son of a bitch grabbed the barrel of the gun like he was a Scottish Lord in a sword fight. That always was a viable option to defend yourself, certainly, and much more preferable than death, but very few people had the training, for thought, and desire to live without their probable good hand to actually /do/ it. It was, therefore, unexpected, and quite effective. Whooly unnessecary, too, given the fact that the next click of the trigger indicates the remaining shells are simply too waterlogged to fire through that hand itself. And that seemed like that would be it for Stadler. His firearms were scattered out of arms reach or out of commission, and he didn't have the oxygen or strength needed to get out of the water, esspecially not after getting his head smacked into the stone floor numerous times. It was quite the show, out there. Even Stadler might have been fooled by it, and it would probably be over before anyone could really get up and arms.

But, unfortunatly, Stein had to keep pressing buttons. To metion that he was somehow, with this weak performance, doing a disservice to his daughter. As if she /knew/ her. Certainly, he could end with what his spirit could become, but, thanks to Oxygen deprevation , Stadler may not have heard that part. At least not until that familar feeling of an iron spike that was meant to punch through German helmets in the trenches of France slam into his wrist. And, just like that, Stadler's body took advantage of the weakness, head coming up and sucking in air as he attempted to /slam/ the scientist to the floor. "Don't /think you know me./" He says, attempting to get over him, and... do something he really doesn't do that often. The trench spike had an enclosed grip, a knuckle duster, and Stadler was using it to punch Stein's face. Starting with the lens that wasn't broken, and then going agian. And again, and again. "You want to know about me? Know that there's two monsters in the room right now. Know that I have seen things that provide proof there's no God up there, no matter what any priest says. Know that I've /lost/ a family before I got where I am. You think my daughter needs my protection? Needs /my/ rescuing her?"

Another slam down on the face, smashing aganist the nose. "I don't /save/ my daughter." He says, his voice quiet, too quiet for the cameras to pick up, a whisper between combatents as Stadler's spike drips blood.

Franken Stein (848) has posed:
    Stein's hold on Stadler is reversed, soon it is HE who is being held down in the water, being stabbed, and then being punched in the face over and over and over, until blood is streaming from his nose and mouth, just like Stadler's own. One eye is bruised shut, his glasses missing and in pieces. It's the blows of someone angry, determined, powerful in a way that only mortals can be. Overcoming adversity through will, ingenuity, and not giving up even when they fall down. Those around them pick them back up.

    Stadler might not have anyone physically around to pick him back up, but he has two working legs. They're strong, and they can support him. As long as his spirit holds as firmly as this... He can pick himself back up. And Stein imagines the man's daughter can do the same.

    "I never thought you did," he replies through torn, bloodied lips, as his torn-apart hand, and his other, less-damaged one, both go up to try to grab Stadler's wrist and halt the blows.

    "I just wanted to see how strong you were if you fought like you were determined to do so. Now I have." Stein is convinced that this opponent, even without 'special powers' or unique weaponry, is that kind of person. That kind of mortal, who is strong BECAUSE he is weak.

    The doctor may have special powers of his own, but he's the same kind of mortal. Despite his handicaps, despite his disabilities, despite his flaws as a person, he can rise up and overcome them. If he has a grip upon Stadler, he then releases two Soul Menace attacks simultaneously, one from each hand. They're both lying in the water. But only one of the two men isn't immune to Dr. Franken Stein's Soul Wavelength.

Richard Stadler (300) has posed:
Stadler wouldn't have called it force of will, just then, or ingenuity. It was simply a reaction, something a few firing nuerons in the situation drove him to do, to fight when every part of his body told him he had to stop fighting. Maybe, after he returns from the battle, has time to reflect while mending broken bones and electrically charred flesh, he could call it there. Here, though, it was just reactions. Reactions of a weakened body that still knew how to drive itself past a point where it should have stopped. At the very least, Stadler could thank it for that.

But, as the actions after his last punch show, he was still weakened, by both injury and the exhuastion of trying to beat down a capable fighter for the better part of an hour. Those punches are all he had left, and he's not able to stop the hand that grips his wrist, and send energy up into him. Not that there was much he could do, given the type of attack. It's one that had hit him before, only thiis time, he didn't quite have the strength to get back up.

He ends up lying in the water, head just above the surface, and it's clear he's not going to be getting back up. He gives a raspy breath, and lays there, shaking his head. "Hope I impressed." He manages to get out, coughing up a small amount of blood to mix in withthe fetid pool he was lying in. "I'm sure you would.. fight the same for your students. And, you have to know. You don't save them. They save you."

There's that final line, leaving the room silent for almost a minute, save for labored breathing, and the steady clomps of boots up stairs, through hallways, and finally bursting through the open door. The two woman who Stadler had taken to the doorway with them quickly and effectively clear the room, before both point their weapons at Stein. One of them, the blonde one, looks like she wants to pout at the loss, but is /really/ trying to keep it professional. The dark-haired one holding a shotgun similar to Rick's just looks annoyed. At everything.

"That's enough. Stay there." She says to the Doctor, before hoisting Rick up to his feet, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, her own weapon hanging on a tactical sling. "Jesus fucking Christ, boss. You knew it would end up like this, one of the fucking fights." She sighs, keeping an eye warily on Stein, as she backs to the door.

The blonde, bespecled one, once the shotgun weilder is gone, /does/ full on pout. "Well... at least you don't /look/ mean." Before she departs, as well.