Mission #8: The First Sibling (Open)

Havoc lay still and peaceful. His form was being gently cradled and rocked upon a man-sized piece of driftwood. The waves were carrying his form towards the nearest island one jostle at a time. Havoc was not only laying down, but cavalierly folded his arms underneath him so his hands could cradle his head. He had his only major possession, a large traveller rucksack, propped up as a pillow, which went hand in hand with him stripping down to his underwear.

Havoc was not taking this fanciful, suave attitude for the sake of it. He had been drying off for near enough an hour now. The fact that he was nearing an island was simply somewhat of a fluke. As he lay there patiently waiting for his warm yet moist clothes to be restored by the rays of the sun, his mind played back through the course of events which lead to his current circumstance:

---

The most important scene to begin with, was that of Havoc hanging upside down from a rope positioned precariously over the starboard side of a pirate vessel. The owner of the vessel was not to pleased that Havoc had been delving into the crews loot stacks for months to fund himself and his own means. While it was known for a while that a thief was among their midst, it was constantly a brand new underling who was caught with his hands in the treasure. Havoc bought himself a little loyalty and security by always helping to finger point and fish out the latest criminal.

At the time, his help was greatly received and humbly accepted... as humble as the average pirate can be anyway. The dejection arose when the captain awoke this morning, to the noise of Havoc stumbling about his quarters attempting to steal the captain's compass and journal for the Grandline. This was important, as the captain had gone through hell to retrieve the journal from a man who claimed it had the true mysteries of the line from a former pirate who turned back into the blues after seeing it for himself. The Captain was not overly trusting of his crew - and rightly so since at least one of them had been stealing from him for a while. As such, he kept the notebook close to him in fear that one of his current subordinate might overstep their position, either by mutiny or abandoning their post. Wherever the notebook lay, the captains gun was always close by.

Havoc had been caught red-handed, one hand one the journey, with another holding the captains personal bottle of rum, it's open nozzle perched securely on Havoc's lips. All in all, he was force to admit that it was actually quite human of the captain to give Havoc a time and place for execution rather than just... killing him where he stood. But then so many of the Captain's other recruits we put through the same treatment when they were caught, it might as well be protocol. They had practice.

Havoc was given a last wish, seeing as he was dangling over the edge of the boat with a couple of sharks spotted below him. Havoc asked that he be doomed with his belongings, initially asking if they might throw the crew's ship off the ship. Ignoring the practical implications of making a vessel walk it's own plank, or stranding a man at to to drown with a boat the captain refuted it mainly because it was his ship. Havoc then asked if he could lay claim to all the crews remaining treasure. The crew objected to that in unison. Finally, Havoc simply asked they throw his rucksack overboard first, explaining that he was looking to use that pack to escape and start afresh with the journal, and spoke about how it might cause him to haunt the ship if he does not die with closure, a situation that neither party is particularly interested in pursuing.

They agreed and the Captain personally cut Havoc down while his first mate chucked the pack into the sea after him. Havoc and his final earthly possessions each made a deep distinct 'plop' as the broke the water's surface followed soon after by a subtle ripple of two eager encircling fins delve down into the sea themselves. Most of the crew then looked over the edge and soon saw a red, blotchy cloud effervescing to the surface and the Captain had a satisfied smile on his face, feeling that he had achieved vengeance.

Not for those he wrongfully accused over all that time, he wasn't exactly an altruist; but for all the treasure he had lost. He rallied his mean and urged them to begin setting sail.

...Like many of Havoc's victims the crew would have been astounded to see that Havoc was now relatively fine, but that would be down to how little they actually knew or saw of Havoc during the state of play. First and foremost, Havoc had without a doubt been stealing treasures from the crew piece by piece, but not just for personal wealth and profit. At each pillaging event or robbery the pirates made, Havoc would leave trinkets, trinkets with notes, trinkets with notes with words of their next destination. These trinkets all came with the insignia of a black cloth, used traditionally for a pirate flag hoisted at the highest mast, which only had a symbolic red bird comprised of only a few zig-zagged strokes.

His calling card.

It wasn't that hard to incriminate a fellow crew member every now and then after all, they really didn't gel as a crew at all. Sometimes he didn't even need to plant evidence_[1], some of them just needed subtle, ominous persuasion while scrubbing a deck or grabbing a bit to eat to see them try their own hand at pilfering the crew's loot.

Once he felt the stint had gone on long enough, he just... allowed himself to get caught. He didn't need to steal the captain's notebook. That defeated the purpose of Havoc copying all the useful information it contained months ago. However in getting caught with it it would appear that the Captain and his crew caught him just before he made his daring escape.

Having set up quite a few unlikely chumps along the way, Havoc had picked up on the Captain's penchant for sending traitors to their death by shark attack. During the day in which he was to be executed, the crew was so invested and focused on making sure he didn't steal anything from room titled "Treasure Vault" that no one focused on the fridge. Havoc had actually procured to pivotal items during the town from night to morning. The first was batches of meat under the alibi of procuring a midnight snack before his shift at the crow's nest.

This meat was actually in Havoc's bag, which through misdirection the crew agreed to throw overboard with him as was left to dance with the sharks.

The rope was quite tentative. While being tied up in preparation for his execution, Havoc feigned trying to make an escape, cause two or so of the men to tussle him to the ground. It made a distraction vibrant enough to mask his devilish, half roped hands to slip a pen knife from one of his executioners belts into the folds of his clothes._[1] It wasn't easy, but Havoc freed himself of his ropey shackles by hacking at the rope with the knife from the moment he hit the water.

Once free, he swam down to his pack and let loose all the meat, which the shark delighted in and came down to feat upon. Havoc then throw out a swarm of pre-snipped ketchup packets, tubs and jars, letting it loose into the saline sea. While his audience weighted for and delight in the cloud of red bubbling to the surface, Havoc surface on the port side of the ship, swimming underneath, where no one would consider looking. He caught his breath silently and gathered up his things into a bunch. He paddled round to the rear and waited.

Sure enough the men began to chant a song in eulogy for Havoc at the top of the voices, giving their lungs a hearty exercise they wouldn't otherwise ever be put through. At point Havoc tread water with his legs while drawing his Terra boomerang from his pack. He let it loose against the ships semi-submerged rudder, hacking, eventually chipping off a piece. As the crew unfurled the sails, raised the anchor and began drifting of blissfully towards the horizon, Havoc peered at them from underneath the cover of his newly acquired driftwood. His eyes were focused on one particular point, namely the location at which he made his second pivotal swindle of the day; the crow's nest.

Eventually the crew ran into a marine ship. While the crew was surprised the marine division had been tailing them for some time now after all Havoc had been keeping them on the chase with his calling cards. The villagers and civilians who found the stashes may have kept the trinkets, but would probably feel justified doing so when they handed in the notes to officials. And being placed under arrest. The captain scowled, demanding to know how they caught up to him out in the middle of nowhere. The captain aboard dropped a few of the red-bird insignia flags to the pirates feet.

"You've been had." he explained coldly yet genuinely. The pirate didn't understand. The captain did not wish to console the pirate and his emotions, but found the situation a little to entertaining not to provoke him and so pointed to the pirate crew's highest mast, where - lo and behold - they flag did not hang, but the exact same insignia.

At the same time, Havoc was now seated on the large chunk of rudder he escaped with taking off the last of his soggy clothes to dry. He then looked in his pack for one more cloth item, having to rummage around other similar items to get it. He pulled it up and out of his bag. Droplets of sea water fell. He stretched it out to view the jolly roger, cocking his head and smiling softly to himself.

---

Havoc scaled an embankment while pulling his turtle-neck sweater over his head. He was note greeted by a quaint yet classy picture, but one of humble housing and mediocrity. It held no surprises for Havoc, who had landed on an island away from its actual port many a time now. He was, for lack of a better term, looking at the island from its 'rear-end' which would look hairy, scraggly unappealing and just as depressing as every other 'rear-end' he had the displeasure of seeing... metaphorical or otherwise.

Havoc followed the sounds and the action towards the social centre of the island. He had no idea where he was right now, but he was interested to see if the island held any means by which he could spread his dastardly name.

When Havoc reached the tourist section, array with inns, entertainment eateries and of course, the port, he was fully dressed, decided to go with something low key. He put on a black, hooded fleece jacked over his bourbon turtle neck with matching three-quarter jeans and plimsolls. He had asked a few locals some basic questions about his current, understanding it was named Karate Island and aptly so. Havoc didn't know what 'Karate' was, but apparently it was the brand of hand-to-hand martial arts this island made famous. When he first heard that tid-bit of information it stimulated his trouble-making senses. He now knew that the locals held this 'Karate' dear to them, which meant it was theoretically something they would miss if he could steal it from them. Of course it brought up to rather troubling issues, of how he could steal karate if it was in fact a brand of martial arts, and secondly what karate would even look like if he got his hands on it.

While musing over it he reckoned it would be worth sitting in on the island for a few days to get a feel for the culture. As a professional he had seen many a time that when people take pride in or believe in something metaphorical, they will make effort to make it a corporeal entity. Even the crudest of pirates embodied their pride and accomplishment as a pirate in their unique Jolly Rogers, which as a piece of painted cloth was something Havoc could covet from them.

Taking the idea of martial arts Havoc made a large, singular braid of his hair into an oriental ponytail; an image he recalled from comics, media and pop culture references. The rest of his equipment lay (mostly) in his large backpack. From then on, if anyone asked, Havoc was a travelling fight, looking to learn from new styles of battle.

Havoc walked through only one street, and he was quickly inducted into how unarmed fighting in front of elegant, sparkling gates with the back to towers that Havoc could only describe as houses with roofs that repeated for several stories, took such a major precedence in everyday lives. As naturally violent as fighting was, the locals didn't fight all the time simply because of anger and aggravation. It was somewhat of a tourist attraction and locally accepted sport. They want to fight. Simply for the sake of the art. Just about any service available could be paid for (or more specifically, rendered free) by choosing to battle for it.

Travellers, journey and sometimes even Karate Island residence would take up the challenge, each for their own personal interest. Havoc did not sit in and watch the shows. It didn't make much sense after all. These fights were everywhere. He didn't need to sit down and waste time watching amateur travellers take on theme-park cooks for entertainment. If he was going to steal karate, he wasn't going to find it here in the entertainment wing. He would need to surround some of the leading grandmasters.

In turning onto another street, he had to move to the side as a small group of people were running by in a frantic yet excited hurry. Havoc ran himself to keep pace with one of the runners, curious as to what this local phenomenon was.

"I'm not usually used to running like this unless the husband came home," commented Havoc sardonically. "From what immanent threat might we all be running from?"

"Threat? No, no - they're saying that a giant took up the martial arts challenge on Himitsu Street!" explained the fellow runner. Havoc pulled his head back a bit, quite sure he heard the man say 'giant'. Havoc was inspired by the news, but not with the same intention as everyone else. It was clear that the notion of seeing a giant fight was drawing the crowd, however Havoc's mind raced about the man who was willing to accept the giant's challenge.

When he arrived on scene, he instantly felt disillusioned seeing the old man as the representative of the restaurant use pity and false assumptions to trick his large, broad opponent into lowering his guard. Havoc had never come across another living person openly use feigning injury as a fundamental part of an art style. In fact, he's goal to become the world's greatest conman was something of a formality as he had not come across or even heard about anyone who regularly practised deception to this intricate and intelligent a degree.

Havoc began to ponder, seeing as this fight was the only one he had properly addressed fro more than two seconds since being here. He wondered with fighting through deception was in fact what this, 'karate' meant. It if was, then he hew know exactly what he would need to cozen.


Everything.

Havoc looked left and then to his right, seeing that the eyes of the crowd were fixated on the ring. As the Giant dropped on his derrière, the crowd popped and clapped to display their interest and entertainment. Havoc used the distraction to shuffle through the crowd and into the seating area, where numerous people had left their food unguarded to view the fight. Havoc sauntered through at a measure pace; not to fast, not to slow. He made sure not to look at what he was doing _[1] but not to away either. With the viewing audience filtering into the diner there was enough other moving bodies for a wandering food-nabber to not be an obviously suspicious figure. He was weaving through the crowd as if he was looking to get to his seat, or to a specific person.On each level of the diner people were flocking towards the windows at one side to peer out into the fight.
It was actually considerably easy for the vagrant to climb all three flights cherry picking from the table with left food and stowing them into his rucksack. Havoc changed tactics once he heard a major shriek from the crowd. It signalled something had gone wrong. As far as it affected Havoc, it probably meant his distraction would soon finish. He pulled back to the stairs and descented them with a bit of a cavalier skip in his step.

He may not have been watching, but as he looked out of the door on his way out, the image of the laughing chefs pulling their representative out of the sand told him that the giant was victorious against the older gentleman's crafty tricks. Havoc was always one to give credit to someone when they survive a con, and even though this man was a giant and the con in question was not put on by Havoc, he still felt in the pride he has for what he does that the man deserved some form of salute of respect.

It then occurred to him as he drew a few steps nearer to the door and the giant hunched to get inside, that he may have been fighting for the sake of a free meal. Havoc had been plundering vacant meals over the last couple of minutes so it made it likely that the large-scale man's lunch was now in Havoc's back pack.

He couldn't give it him back. It would be too difficult to figure out which meal was his and put it back without someone seeing him do so, but as a gesture of good- ....bare minimal faith, Havoc pulled at a couple of dumplings swiftly from his bag_[1] as he and the giant passed he pressed the napkin into his torso gently for a split second or two_[1] until the giant would naturally cradle his hands to take the food from Havoc. The point was not for the giant to be oblivious to the food, but for the waiters escorting him to be oblivious to the transaction. The con man then pulled the hand away and patted the giant softly against his back, about the height a regular man's should would be.

"Keep it. You earned it mate." explained and congratulated Havoc ominously. His mouth was half full, since he actually put a couple more dumplings into his own mouth before coming downstairs. While the giant would have heard Havoc muffle through the flour, meat and sauce concoction rolling around in his mouth Havoc knew that it would have been safe in that particular moment as they were in a restaurant; in the next, when masses of customers would find food missing, he wouldn't be waiting around to see the giant put two and two together.

Havoc had no idea at that point that he had incidentally taunted the giant with his own menu order, simply passing dumplings as they had the most practical shape of all the food in his bag to siphon off to the giant in passing. He slowly tucked in to the food as he walked, seeing as he had not eating all morning.

"Halt!" commanded a undisclosed voice throughout the street. Havoc did as he was told, caught off guard and clueless to what was about to unfold and who was about to emerge. Havoc slowly turned round after registering the voice resonated from behind him. When he turned he saw a lone figure dressed in a silk, monotonous coloured uniform. It was an off-red colour, something stick in the barren foggy wilderness of the visible spectrum between fire-red and cream. The figure walked towards Havoc , but once he got close enough he began to encircle the confused con artist. He didn't say anything, but his bold and cocky smirk signalled to Havoc that he believe nothing needed to be said. Havoc quickly glanced away before breaking the silence.

"Did I miss my cue?" he remarked with a cheeky grin, gibing at the extended silence. The stranger pulled tellingly at each sleeve and folded his body into a stance.

"Tell me your name warrior." the stranger insisted. His feet did not move, but his body swayed in anticipation of an unseen bell to ring. Havoc recognised instantly that imminent physical harm was coming his way. He didn't remember accepting any form of "challenge". He then wondered if this was just a straight up robbery, someone trying to make a name off of making Havoc their victim just as Havoc was travelling the seas to do the same to others. The idea sounded reasonable after he had rationalised earlier that Karate was some for of confidence tricking art. Havoc momently flashed a creeping smile in his lips at the thought of testing his skills for the first time head to head against another professional. Havoc bowed his head and walked towards the battle-ready stranger, holding up an index finger, requesting a one-minute time out.

"If I can be a obliged to peruse this moment momentarily," he began, closing in on the standing warrior and then begin to encircle the warrior, however with much less hostility and menace in his posture and glances. "I can't help but ascertain that your proposed question and prepared response do not seemed entirely juxtaposed," Havoc had walked round the rear of the warrior and was now side-by-side, leaning against the warrior firm shoulder and gesturing arms as he continued to regale him with his thoughts and findings. "...That is to say you seem certain that I might speak a name that is so offensive to the ear it would demand a spot of fisticuffs. I put to you a hypothesis, that you had discerned before you first spoke to me that you would lay your hands on me. Why bother even collecting a name?" The warrior blinked at the question, for some unknown reason feeling put on the spot.


"It's tradition for two battle-bound opponents to be able to announce themselves before crossing strikes! Should anything happen, you have the chance to state you name so at least that appears on your tomb." explained the warrior in a snappy tone, noting that he believed the answer should have been obvious. Havoc put up his index finger again and stressed it.

"So you have already decided there a significant possibility in my loss of life by your bare hands. You don't even know my name." replied Havoc, shrugging his shoulders. "It's rude not introduce yourself to begin meeting for the first time."

"B-b-but that's why I asked you what you name is." replied the warrior.

"But my name is not important." rebutted Havoc in a reminding tone.

"Yes,"

"But you need to ask it before duelling with me."

"Yes,"

"So. Even if I were to give you my name, which is unimportant, the unimportant act of naming me is the measure of importance of the battle; ...unimportant-ly. Ergo the battle for which is not made self important is measured by the necessitation to request a name - which isn't important. By that reason, should you never be given my name a fight would be pointless, and if you are willing to fight me no matter whether or not you know my name the fight is made even more pointless."

"Wai- h-hold on I... because you just..." The warrior broke his posture and physically tried to point out his own logic that just five seconds ago he was so sure made perfect sense. "Can I just forget the part where I asked for your name?"

"You can't undo what you've already done, but in your doing you can not do what did or redo what you previously undid or not-undo what you did and intend to redo in the future... subsequently not-re-undoing it." explained Havoc, emphasising each and every unnecessary negative.

"I don't get it." replied the warrior. Havoc nodded with a sarcastically reassuringly smile.

"Mate, I've been trying to express that for the last twenty minutes."

"What? We battle for the district rankings. How do you not know that?"

"I never said I didn't know," replied Havoc somewhat defensively. The warrior, hearing that phrase settling back into his fighting stance with an appeased smile.

"So you do understand!" exasperated the warrior.

"I said I never said I didn't know. I didn't say did understand." corrected Havoc swiftly.

"What are you saying?" asked the warrior, being frazzled.

"What are you saying?" parroted Havoc, simply stressing a different syllable.

"The rankings for each Karate school in the district! The district has fewer and fewer people looking to join and schools are facing closing down. With the possibility of schools dying or being shutdown, all schools in the district run by an unofficial ranking, pushing to rise above the mire by staking claims and feats against one another. That is why I am challenging all warrior I don't remember from my dojo, to uphold the banner across the district."

"Banner?" retorted Havoc. The warrior slipped his hands into each opposing sleeve and pulled apart to reveal a scroll which dropped and rolled out between Havoc and he. The scroll had the name of his dojo 'Solid Fist' in kanji.

"When I defeat my opponents, I brand their jackets with the kanji of this banner and bring the jacket back to our dojo." explained the warrior. The whole time he spoke Havoc' eyes did not break away from the long pristine parchment of paper rolled out against the floor.

“I like your banner”

The warrior tilted his head at Havoc's statement. He sensed something deranged emanating from Havoc, who still had yet to look him in the eye once more. Havoc's digit began to quiver, repeatedly balling into fists at the end of loose hanging arms. Havoc's mind was currently dwelling in a state of eureka, unaffected be the afflictions of the corporeal world. He was tantalising himself with the complete, mental schematic of how he would steal karate.

“I think I’ll take it...”

explained Havoc. Finally Havoc looked up, but his stare revelled in the heart of the warrior like the gaze of a perched raven. Havoc eyes weren't sinister, but genuine. It was as if he could see impending doom physically suffocating the warrior. He had not experienced eyes like that before. He began to step back rolling up the scroll as slowly as possible, trying not to make Havoc twitch into action.

"I said, put it down," reiterated Havoc, running full force at the warrior. He the start of his sprint he relinquished the weight of his travelling backpack from his shoulders_[1], allowing it to drop to the dusty, barren foot path with a a clanging jingle. The warrior recollected himself in the first few seconds, recognising that Havoc was an aggressor. He paused because there was something wrong, with no judge, no witnesses; with no formal arrangement this battle had no value.

Havoc primed a cocked fist in his stride. The warrior coiled up the scroll and clutched it in one hand. With the other he blocked the incoming punch with his forearm. Havoc had no major form in his punch, making the warriors counter very effective. After blocking the warrior rotated his arm_[1].

"Tatsumaki-ryoku..." clamoured the warrior as his shifted his waited in the flicker of his arm. "... Hayate!" pushing against Havoc's chest with the flex of his arm. Havoc went tumbling back while the warrior repositioned himself into a ready and attentive stance. However, in doing so, he glance as his supposedly full handy, concerned to see it was cupping a couple of cold, hard dumplings rather than the scroll.

"Sensaku" replied Havoc as he rose back to a vertical base with the scroll clearly in-hand. "Art of the Yatagrasu," mocked Havoc. The warrior grimaced, forced to go on the offensive and close down this dangerous stranger before he could away with his prized scroll. Havoc began strafing back as the enraged warrior moved against him. He shifted onto one foot as the warrior pushed out a palm against one of his pecks. Seeing his miss, the warrior folded up the outstretched hand and swung it round to clip Havoc's face Havoc dropped into an orthogonal, strafing roll to slip under the swinging limb. With the assailant on the floor, the warrior pounced on Havoc before he could rise to his feet, pounded Havoc's scroll clutching wrist with an open palm. The shock rippled in Havoc's arm, forcing him to drop the scroll, or more specifically, twitch and thrust it into the air. Meanwhile Havoc's other hand and clutched dust. He thrust the dust into the warriors face, stunning him long enough to rolled out of the pinand back to his feet. Havoc looked up at the now falling scroll and reach out to grab it. The warrior in return, grabbed Havoc's wrist as he grabbed the scroll there was a significant two-second pause as both men waiterd for the other to let go, both believe they had the obvious advantage. Havoc trust an uneducated punch with his free hand. It was parried, by the warrior with precise, trained force leaving Havoc wide open.

"Tatsumaki-ryoku: Teikiatsu!" cried the warrior as he coiled Havoc by his arm in a cyclic motion. He had the con man clutched by his right arm and used the rotary motion to reel him in with the intention to pry the scroll from the pinned arm.

"Senzaku-Nise"_[1*] exasperated Havoc as he was begin coiled, popping the scroll from his pinned hand to his free hand as he was reeled in. The warrior saw that Havoc hand he was hand outstretched, trying to keep it out of reach. He did not take the bait in trying to release the hold and instead began applying more pressure, folding the arm behind Havoc's back and forcing Havoc into a bend at the hip and shoulder. He had strength and experience on his side, Havoc beeing completely new to this level of technical hand-to-hand combat. Havoc quickly dropped to the ground, sand grands itching against his cheek. The torsion on Havoc's right biceps and pressure against his shoulder blade increased for each passing second he did not comply. The warrior looming closer and closer to snapping Havoc's arm right off. Havoc could feel his arm buckling and eventually waved his free hand, seemingly signalling he would let it go, rather than passing or dropping the scroll, he threw it up in the air_[2]. catching the concern and attention of the warrior. The warrior looked up in shock and Havoc once again capitalized on his lapse. He rolled onto his back and slipped through his turtle-neck jumper as if he was shedding his skin_[1]. The warrior grabbed the scroll this time, walking forwards into it's shadow with scrapping fists. Havoc had no choice but to stay way, seeing no safe way in, however as soon as the warrior caught the scroll, Havoc ran into the warrior's stomach from the free side. The warrior didn't bulge a muscle and position his free hand to clamp down on Havoc's open back.

"Utsubyō!" Havoc saw the arm raise from the corner of his eye and swivelled around the warrior's waist as it came down. Now behind the warrior, Havoc dropped the pants to his gi and rolled through his legs, tugging at the bottoms.

"Bottoms Up," responded Havoc before toppling the warrior. The whole time they had been tussling his eyes had not been alert so much as simply being attentive. They had the gaze of a student to a teacher than a fighter to his opponent. The shock and confusing of his pants being at his ankles and Havoc pulling on them off-balance the warrior, who began leaning backwards. Unable to move his feet to compose he was left open as Havoc rolled back the other way to lampoon his feet into the man's chest. The warrior eventually fell back. In the mean time Havoc swiped up his dropped jumper.

"Kiken-Kōto" _[2] uttered Havoc as he thrust the bunch jumper at the fallen warrior's face. It smothered him only for an instant and Havoc soon pulled the jumper away, rolling over the warrior to agitate and confuse him._[1] As the warrior's head was unveiled he saw that in his hand was not the scroll but now a duck leg. Havoc's feet fumbled a little as he rolled off the warrior into a stand, pulling his jumper back over his head while trying not to lose the scroll. The warrior threw the food aside and scurried to his feet pulling up his pants with an embarrassed and angered blush.

Havoc looked at him with satisfaction but only for a second, tilted his head with annoying. In the shift, his eyes clipped away from the warrior's brooding face to the Havoc's bag behind him. The warrior glanced quickly over his shoulder, seeing the backpack and understanding that he was standing between it and the man holding his scroll. Havoc scratched his head, subtly relaying his annoyance.

"Let's try this again," he joked wittily in a dry tone. As he spoke he stretched his muscle back muscles and shoulder joints.

"Prepare," parroted Havoc, unconvinced of the warrior's words. The Warrior bowed respectfully to Havoc.

"Before, my only goal was to protect the scroll. Now that I know you are accepting my challenge, I am free to hold nothing back. This time, be prepared for the full force of the Tatsumaki-Ryoku!" replied the warrior in a stern and convicted tone. Havoc narrowed his eyes. He could sense any presence of deceit from the warrior in expression, tone of voice or body language. The warrior was definitely sure he had more to give. Havoc, noticing the change in atmosphere was all the more concerned with retrieving his pack now than ever.

Havoc took one step towards his bag and unwittingly announced the start of the second round. The warrior stampeded towards Havoc leaving him with no option but to put his own feet into full gear. Havoc weaved in his steps, slowly rippling left and right more and more till his run became a zigzagging sequence of skips. The warrior found his head swaying repeatedly to keep his eyes focused on Havoc. Once he felt they were close enough Havoc made two consecutive skips to the warrior's right side, hoping to move passed him in one sly manoeuvre. However as Havoc pranced passed the warrior's frame, a careering heel swung round to greet him in the face.

Havoc was launched back, tumbling against the ground by the strike, having to physically shake the bearings back into his head. He glanced up with concern hearing the warrior's war cry being chorused by the sound of his impeding footsteps. Havoc rolled forward to reposition his feet firmly against the ground and made a timely jump over the warrior's head. Havoc was visibly stunned when he suddenly lost all his momentum in the peak in midair when a force clutched and tugged at his ankle.

"Tei..." chanted the warrior, dragging Havoc back down towards his feet. Havoc was helpless as he was pulled asunder.

"Kiats..." chanted the warrior as he lift a knee to intercept Havoc's falling gut. Havoc was winded quickly, having already been breathing abnormally after being plucked from thin air by the warrior. The kick bobbed and flip Havoc over about head level for the warrior. The rotation - and his mind being otherwise minded on the pain he was suffering through - forced Havoc to relinquish the scroll. The warrior gripped his hands together above his head and propped his other leg bent at the knee.

"Gyaku..." In a guillotine-esque effect, the warrior dropped his clubbing fists into Havocs stomach and thrust the con man down towards his knee, having Havoc's back crash unceremoniously on his educated legs. The impact thrust Havoc inches above the ground in a standing position. The warrior twirled to build momentum, catching the scroll and balling up his fists in his spin.

"...Hado!" he cried while thrusting his claw-like hands into Havoc's hovering back. The attack channelled almost all of the warrior's former momentum into his fist to transfer over to Havoc, resulting in Havoc spinning out in a grimacing arc to the ground. Havoc was reeling at this point, curling up into a balled on the floor ass all different parts of his body tingled and burned. What's more, he was now no closer to his backpack than before and he had lost the scroll. With the scroll in hand the warrior stowed it safely back in in sleeve. Havoc tried to get up, and found the sensation his body experiencing now and difficult to managing. He had never had to focus on any body-encompassing motor skills while in this level of pain before. His body was shaking and spazzing in random places as it grew accustomed to the pain. He concentrated on his breathing, trying to improve his pain threshold, at least for the next few minutes.

Havoc finally rose to his feet, much to the chagrin of the warrior who understood by this point that his karate was ultimately far superior to Havoc's in direct combat, which suggested his defeat would offer his dojo nothing in reputation. Havoc lifted his head to met the warriors unamused gaze eye-to-eye, the act of keeping his head level and still being difficult against the burning welts current plaster on his back and chest. The warrior gestured at Havoc with his hands, welcoming the thief to come at him one last time so he could put an end to it.

Havoc began stumbling lethargically towards the warrior, but his tenacity built up with each step, allowing him to pace faster and faster until he could build up a run. Wanting the advantage of higher ground, Havoc forced himself into a jump. The warrior, mindful of Havoc's rather basic grasp of hand-to-hand martial arts made no sudden or rushed movements.

"Tatsu..." he whispered, bending at the knees.

"Maki..."

The warrior pushed against the ground into a jump of his own.

"Senpuu..."

The warrior began to kick out at the air in front of him, lashing roundhouse after roundhouse until he built up a rotation.

"...Kyaku..."_[1]

The warrior landed first and with grace balance and ease. Behind him, Havoc landed inches away from his bag. The warrior folded his arms into his sleeves and took the first few steps to leave the area, silently establishing that he knew he had won only to pause with an astounded face immediately afterwards. He pulled his hand out of his sleeve to find he had yet again been clutching an item of forward rather than the scroll, seeing it was spring rolls. He turned round and the thief and the backpack were nowhere to be seen.