It painted a picture of the what one might expect to come- a single fighter in the quiet open ground, some discrete camera work perhaps, hidden and unmanned (or only lightly staffed) like many of the high budget tournaments did- but mostly just the hush and the man, bare chested and ready to fight with nothing but tooth and nail, his fists and natural arsenal, bared to the world. There was a certain poignant simplicity to it.
One which the approach of the second fighter shattered obliviously, apologetically.
A whine in the distance turned into a howl, until a motorbike came into sight- opting not to simply hoof it to the fight, the rider didn't stop until he was close enough to see the second man clearly- not technically armed, but by his definition plenty enough so to tell him that he wasn't running into some nearby picnicker or staff member. It came to a slow halt, motor growling, sitting at a shouting distance- far enough that the bike wouldn't be caught up in collateral damage if he walked over to Clash, but little more than that. After a moment, of apparent contemplation, he switched the engine off, revealing a second sound that had been swallowed by the motorcycle, as he reached up to take off his biking helmet and hang it across the machine.
Medium length brown hair negligently pushed backward, dark red eyes, and a face covered in a number of distinctive scars, from the jagged marks raking down his cheek to his jaw line, to the simpler cuts and dots, faded a little with age, anyone who'd watched the Heaven or Hell and related professional fighting circuits a half a decade back would recognize Rayner Veli- "Kael" as he'd ever gone by, until his official exhibition matches. Like Clash, he'd gone for some good, heavy jeans- only he'd brought some knives to the knife... and claw fight, two daggers belted around his waist, flesh below the neck all hidden from the thick jacket, much like the not-quite-armor he'd often warn, tail down just past his knees, cinched near his middle and about the ends of his arms- where the steel-plated leather gauntlets stuck out, complete with his signature knuckle plates, made to keep even the heartier metas and monsters from being able to completely ignore his blows, boots of a similar fashion trampling the soft grass as he sauntered on his way over-
And a pair of little white wires, leading up to some buds in his ears. He was whistling to the tune- and continued until he was nearly close enough to have crossed swords, if Clash had brought one. He paused there, looking the man over for a moment, still whistling. He DID have claws and wings... and those things had some reach. It wasn't like he could sprout some of those to even the playing field. But on the other hand, it wasn't like he wanted to shear them off, and they'd advertised a brawling style to all this. Granted, he figured that generally meant ******** when you brought in people laden in crazy powers- and appendages- but still, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, he removed the sheathed belt from across his back, letting the straps slip through his hand until it settled quietly to the ground, and finally reaching up to pop out one earbud, then another, whistling as he coiled them up and turned off the device, tucking it safely back into his jacket.
"I take it 'yer Clash?"
A crooked grin, one which crinkled the scars down his cheeks in an unsightly way, slowly grew into place, and he picked up the lazy pace again, slowly raising an open hand toward the other man.
"...s'a pleasure. We hangin' on ceremony, or does this thing start the moment we're ready?" He asked, never mind that he was the one who had arrived a bit late (an occupational hazard inflicted both by keeping a company and being a father). Up close, he had a few inches on the other man, which the boots only helped- but his eyes glanced up- that little difference in reach might not mean much if Clash was planning to fluff his feathers, or go open-handed to use those claws.
Honestly, going for a handshake felt stupid, given all of that, but he didn't know the guy- he might as well try and give him a shot before dropping courtesy or fighting dirty. Right?
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