Welcome to Gaia! ::

A swirling effigy of energy shone through the fog that hazed lazily around the high-raised DJ platform. The shades of the rainbow scintillated into more esoteric colors and then into the visual spectrum beyond human range as the effigy expanded. It seemed like the swirling vortex form would consume the frightened Erin Karter and his overpaid band, whom backed away as far as they could without being made overly aware of the fact that the potential neck-break tumble was very much close to being kinetic. The crowd grew silent in wonder at the beautiful, eye-catching, reality-bending event that happened on the stage. Then, as one, they shied their eyes away as the energy exploded outward into brilliant, blinding light.

Moments later, the crowd could see again... and some gasped, some began screaming immediately. The man of the hour, the hero of the regular people, the king of the mountain, the <******** man. He defeated Leonard, clad in leather and dour as bad weather. Then he defeated Vrael, the Aquaman, in the very water which bore and cradled him. Both had wielded magic awe-inspiring and powerful and stripped Krausse of his weapons, one by one, and he had outmaneuvered them into pools of their own blood that reeked of defeat.

"Krausse! Krausse! Krausse!" the crowd screamed, shouted, and cried - their fists raised into the air. Dietric may steal some with his mystique and gruff, anti-social behavior, but Krausse made the crowd his and they loved him.

When the crowd thought you were royalty, you dressed like it, and Krausse dressed simply extravagant: his shirt was a billowing silk dyed the deepest purple that clung loosely to his skin, tucked into the finest black slacks, which hung over the tops of polished black boots. His ginger beard had been shaved and his short hair was styled for the movies. His katana, daggers, and rod all hung sheathed in a belt around his waist.

A single hand held up, palm towards the crowd, brought them to a quick silence. Krausse grabbed the microphone out of the stunned Erin Karter's hand.

"Ladies, gentlemen - no, friends, fans, and all those dear to me," Krausse began, his melodic voice resonated throughout the stadium. "You are what has been the ground that has let my feet run quick and you are the strength that has guided every finishing blow. You are what have brought me here, to the Final Eight of the Gaia Tenkachi Boudokai!'

When the crowd calmed down, he continued: "Today, I fight a most vile man. Like I, like you - like us - he is a human being, no more magical than a rock. Unlike us, though, he is a vile man, a man that tricked and cheaped his way to this point. His last opponent was Hoshiko, a one-armed woman, a kind soul whom wanted nothing more than to prove herself and enjoy herself... and Joel took that from her, using his simpleton brute strength and an axe against the tragically unarmed, one-armed Hoshiko."

Instead of cheers, the crowd booed, but not at Krausse. If Joel had made it to the stage by this point, he might find himself in an awkward position with his name cursed by thousands of people before the fight even started. When they calmed down, Krausse lifted his arms into the air and spoke once more: "Today, Joel will meet justice. I stand as the champion of Hoshiko. I stand as the champion of all those that this dishonorable brute has defiled in combat. Today and forever more, I am your champion!"

Nothing could overpower the crowd's chant as Krausse slid down the sloped DJ platform, the microphone back in a stupefied Erin Karter's hands. In the front row, before Krausse, security held back a woman who raised her baby in the air, her voice nothing to the crowd's cheers but her mouth saying "Kiss my baby! Please kiss my baby!"

With a beckon and nod from Krausse, the security guard let the single woman through and Krausse picked the baby up from her arms and kissed it on the forehead. The woman took the baby back in her arms silently, a warm smile on her face that spoke of the confidence her child would be a hero, blessed by a god in the flesh.

Krausse turned from the edge of the arena and began to stride to the center.

It was game time.

In height, Krausse and Joel were evenly matched. From there, the immense differences between the fighters began. The most obvious were the physical, with Krausse built for speed and Joel built for strength, but there was a difference that wasn't as blatant as night and day. It was a difference that maybe the rugged, rough street smarts of Joel weren't able to pick up on, but Krausse surely could. Joel was a fighter-for-hire - a killer, a simple back alley thug with too much gruff testosterone. Of his like, the despairing city streets were filled to the brim, each boasting their own particular brand of murder to those that paid the bloody penny. On the other hand, Krausse was a warrior, literally built from scratch to win. Whether it be diplomacy, war, or love, Krausse's arrogance did not allow him to accept defeat as he personally defined it. Beyond the obvious skill, intelligence, and bloodlust that could be found a dime a dozen, that drive was what made Krausse dangerous. It was what made Joel nothing less than a petulant child to be smacked out of the way. With his previous opponents, they had something to fight for that had meaning, and that made them dangerous, willing to nearly throw their own lives to win. It made them a challenge. Joel was just a lost soul who thought that gold was worth more than a billfold.

"Hey, you! Is that axe compensating for something?" Krausse said as he drew both of his daggers. Steel blades, six inches in length, double-edged, straight blades. They were fine weapons, more useful than a katana against that axe.

Then the heartbeat-by-heartbeat movements of battle began. Krausse took off at a sprint from the center of the arena towards Joel, going fast enough to cover the twenty five foot distance in less than ten seconds - just enough time for Joel to prepare a quick attack.

Not a bit of Joel's movements would be lost to Krausse's watchful eye, able to perceive so much more than a regular human's with all of his speed was so heightened. From watching Joel's previous fight with Hoshiko, Krausse had gathered the man knew how to wield his axe, otherwise he wouldn't have made the fight so difficult for the quick, skilled shinobi. The dagger - or shiv, or whatever short-bladed, "surprise dirty fighting" weapon Joel had hidden behind his back - could be a problem, but Krausse had two of his own daggers for a reason. So far, Joel hadn't gone farther than Krausse's expectations. The downward right to left swipe made one handed meant that Joel had to have immense strength, but not necessarily superhuman, to bring the axe back up with any semblance of speed and go for a double whammy attack. Krausse assumed Joel had the strength, though; the man wouldn't be keeping his big weapon while fighting such a nimble opponent otherwise.

At such a distance, Krausse didn't even have to try to see the tensing of Joel's muscles that indicated where the axe would go down. Krausse shifted towards the slash instead of away from it so that Joel couldn't bring the axe back around to the right in a reverse swing, and he would be forced to lift the all the way back to the right to strike. Though despite going towards the blow Krausse still didn't get hit. He danced around from the front of the axe to the side and then inside of it and covered the three foot distance of the axe in the span of a heartbeat, now almost face to face with Joel. Krausse could smell the sweat of the man and see the veins bulging atop the fighter's bulging thews, an attack that was so overwhelmingly masculine that Krausse could expect the man to whip out a foot long d**k to lay on the table.

As the axe hit the ground behind Krausse its full length behind him, he lifted up his foot and brought down enough weight and force on Joel's wrist to hurt it badly and maybe even damage the join. Simultaneously, Krausse's left dagger snaked out, lightning-fast, to stab the whole blade into Joel's left bicep so he couldn't use his dagger effectively. The plan was to disable - give the crowd a show - then deliver a dramatic finishing blow, as always.

Suddenly, Krausse saw the world from the familiar perspective, with the sun and clouds and Joel's imposing thews directly above him. He had seen Joel's attack coming and he instantly knew he wouldn't be able to avoid it with his body committed to so many different actions at once that couldn't be retracted in the blink of an eye, no matter how fast he was. Had Krausse not had one foot in the air, Joel would not have been able to knock the nearly four hundred pound warrior down with a bodyslam, despite Krausse's less impressive physical presence, but Krausse had lessened his weight, balance, and ability to resist such an attack by going one legged. Krausse's knife hilt also slammed into his own chest, causing him to wince slightly, but nothing was damaged except Joel's arm.

Then Krausse's vision was filled with the giant two-handed axe as Joel lifted the hefty weapon up and brought it down again like a guillotine. However, the flaw of guillotines was that they dropped faster than they retracted, and the same was with axes - Joel was strong, obviously, but he was only strong enough to lessen that flaw, it seemed. Krausse rolled to the side as Joel's axe smacked against the metal platform - which was another thing. Metal deflected metal and Joel smacking his axe so hard into a metal platform would hurt his arms since it would cause the weapon to vibrate, which would make it harder for him to lift the axe back up, as well as most likely leave him unable to react for a brief moment while his very heavy, hefty axe was bounced off of the much harder, thicker metal stage and his arms vibrated. Joel was also right on top of Krausse, as he had simply knocked the man to his back with the bodyslam and didn't knock him back.

As Joel would be stunned for that moment, Krausse would kick out as hard as he could with his closest leg straight into Joel's kneecap, all of Krausse's mule-like leg strength behind it. It would be enough to shatter Joel's knee.

"What the..."

The director of shiffled through the script.

"This wasn't part of the act! Damn it, what are we going to do?! We don't have a replacement!"

That was when the guys at the sound department, which was helping the fighting council, began to panic, holding their heads and running in circles.

((Sokoya will be replacing Joel. The fight will be extended by two days for you guys.))

But... there was one dissident in the crowd.

One very loud, fat, blubbery, dissident.

Thats right.

The stage-lights glinted off of the otaku's glasses as he cried out to the high heavens and raised an overweight fist at Krausse.



"NOOO! YOU BATHARD"

"HOTHICO ITH MINEEE!"

It took a score of security to restrain him from jumping onto the stage and murdering Hoshiko's would-be suitor, apparently, in his nerdrage, the fanboy had an obscene amount of strength hidden away in his layers of fat.

Goddamn mouthbreather.

When Hoshiko reached the stage, the crowd hushed in anticipation. Those who had them sat forward in their seats, the anticipation painted like a masterwork on their faces. A few whistles and hoots bounced from the crowd like undersea mammals on SONAR, but the sudden tension that gripped the entire stadium was taut and palpable, able to be cut by a butter knife. Who was going to draw first blood? What was the first move? When was the first move?

Krausse looked at her from the DJ platform and winked. "Hey there cutie," he said behind a perfect white smile and hazelnut eyes to make women's panties melt.

What could only be described as a complete awkwardness ensued as Krausse stood up from behind the digital keyboard... and then, almost as if chaos directed his movements, Krausse picked up and threw the sixty pound keyboard as hard as he could. Neither screwed on nor held by any force other than gravity to its stand, the hefty keyboard flew at Hoshiko at a speed that was quick enough that Hoshiko needed good reflexes to be able to dodge it. However, Krausse planned on her doing such a thing and, whichever way Hoshiko dodged, Krausse would chuck the keyboardist's wireless, seven pound, hefty metal microphone at Hoshiko's head with the speed of a well-pitched Major League baseball.