The Alley (preferably no guns for a change)

[captainankh]

Frost was insulted. He STILL expected a reply, but wasn't sure he'd get one. Which again didn't make sense, but then he was angry now. He turned to his first opponent. At least he had honour. Honour was paramount.

Frost attempted to calm himself down. He couldn't fight built up with rage. He looked for a weakness.

Bare arms. Not much to go on unless he could land a blow to the triceps.

The katana, which seemed to give him a speed advantage over his own longer but slightly heavier straight sword. Of course, the blade was slightly weaker but the newcomer had already proved that he knew how to handle that.

They all seemed reasonably matched for skill and speed. This would be a mental duel as much as a physical one.

He hoped that the first man would help out against this arrogant newcomer. Realistically, nobody could stand up to two masters of the blade, not at once. Otherwise it would just be unfair.

Frost moved slowly towards the man with the katana.
He hatched his plan.

[sheizus]

Gerald's blade was already raised, in an anticipatory centre guard position. The man was a wildcard. Blake had seen the work of the other man, Wesley first hand, but he had almost no idea how this man's game played, and that made him all the more dangerous.
For now, at least.

Keeping an eye out for any actions from his other opponent and his feet ready to move, Gerald awaited this man Frost's attack.

[captainankh]

His opponent dropped into defense.
Frost reacted. He lunged toward the man and swung wide, too slow for his style, but then this man didn't know that.

As his adversary moved to parry the strike, Frost spun his blow away harmlessly. His opening presented itself.

Twisting round he brought the silver blade down across the katana, forcing it down, away from trouble. With his left hand he reached out and grabbed his opponent's ponytail, too good an opportunity to miss.

He yanked the man's head back and demanded,
"Tell me your name! NOW!"

[sheizus]

A trick, though a rudimentary one at that. Outward displays of emotion were no way to go, but Gerald could not help but smile. This Frost had tied up his own blade in the process of keeping Gerald's out of the action, and his grip on the ponytail, while firm, did not cause any pain.
The man had no respect for any of the minor limitations employed by Blake's code, but there was no way he could expect an outsider to understand any of that. Indeed, it appeared as though he had struck a similar chord in his opponent, who seemed less able to deal with it.

The man had anger, though. Anger and energy. Anger that blinded, energy that spawned recklessness. Gerald could so easily release a hand from the katana trapped behind the heavier blade...
His hand moved deliberately towards his leg, the blades concealed there.

Motion suddenly caught his eye.
The third man.
Gerald's legs dropped out from underneath him, and he let loose sweeping kick to the legs of the other man as he fell.
Blake hoped Wesley's swing went high.

[danielwoodfield]

Clarke approached the darkened alley, M4A3 in hand, ready for some actions. He was stopped by two men at the entrance to the alley by two burly men, possibibly unusualy burly Koreans with a special talent for computer games. "Your weapon is not permitted in this alley," Mr Heo said carmly. Mr Choy added "Perhaps you would like to try your hand with this Kevlar-steel compound bastard blade with the special skull imprints on the hilt, the blackness of the blade realy would go well with your trenchcoat, Mr Anderson (NAI)." Clarke took the dark blade with glee, thanking the thin air in front of him as the two men evaporated. A all-so-familier smirk crossed his faced as he entered the alley, wondering what lied ahead in the dark and cold alley. Perhaps a gloryous victory. Perhaps an humiliation defeat. Perhaps a Linkin Park poster. Who but the future can tell.

[Chris Wesley]

Chris had been ignored by these two duellers, who seemed to be continuing the fight quite well without his help. He decided to end this pointless fighting, kill the one without a name and fight Tiberius.

As Chris started to swing his sword, he noticed a figure entering the alley, carrying a compound steel "wanker sword" with special Dull imprints on the hilt. The blackness of the blade went well with his skin.

"Clarke Anderson, we meet again. I believe it is time to to finish what we started."

He stopped within an inch of Gerald's skull, and turned to attack his old nemesis.

[captainankh]

Frost saw the man turn, just as he was about to destroy his adversary, the one with the katana.
His plan had failed, for now. It was too risky to remain like this, he had Mr.katana trapped but he couldn't strike, and so it was useless.
He vaulted into the air, soaring up and landing on top of a chainlink fence.
He wanted to see what 'Clarke Anderson' was about.

[danielwoodfield]

Clarke laughed out loud, his menacing chuckle echoing of the decaying brick walls. Chris stood no chance. Clarke's brother had given him 12 years of education in both armed and unarmed combat, Clarke was very experienced with the use of a blade. Clarke bought his sword over from the left handed position in a graceful arc, assuming a two handed combat stance, the ultra sharp blade not attracting a shiver of the moonlight. Clarke was ready for anything that Chris could throw at him. And that meant anything. "Shall we?" Clarke sneered.

[Seathia]

With a cold dark meancing scream the ground croaked then crack. A figure drenched in red light crawled from the crack and he pulled him self to his feat and rased his two handed sword and swang it around in a perfect circle and then he closed his eyes and spoke in a booming voice " I am Sethia von seperish. I am here to crash blade with your greatest" with that he opened his eyes which gloyed with an earthly red and he let his long black cloack fall to the ground to reveal a body amoured in chain mail his jet black van braces he spoke once more. "So who here is the greatess" with that he toke a step toward the crowd with this blade ready in a hi ward

[sanguinius]

Castor strolled purposefully down the street, the light drizzle spitting harmlessy off his white trenchcoat. As he neared his destination, he saw a pair of unusually burly koreans guarding the entrance to the alley. He was not surprised.Still walking, he ripped out his silenced glock and punctured their throats before they even saw him.
He strolled into the alley, not at all prepared for what he would see.
-~@8@~-

Pollox double-checked the grappling hook fitted above the window. Again. It was still ready. Leaping out through the crumbling brickwork, his blonde dreadlocks flung back, he swung down over the fence. His feet connected sharply with Frost's back, knocking him off the chain link. He let go of the rope, landing in front of the guy with the katana.
Having some, if little, respect for rules, he avoided his usual weapons and instead drew a double-handed claymore, a heavy weapon, but one of his favourites. And the only thing fitting for the occasion.

-~@8@~-

Castor saw Pollox swing down and knock a man from the fence where he stood. Apparently his brother was prepared for such a fight. He drew his own pair of shortswords, fast, agile, and near-impossible to block.His ears pricked up beneath his spiked blonde hair. They would decimate this place.