((OOC: I think it'd be best to let you go first.))

((I'll make the ring, or whatever, then.))

The large plains was soaked with the still pouring rain, no animals in sight, though what you could see wasn't much. Tall grasses, about two feet tall, were bending under the stress of the rain. A lone man was leaning against one of the only trees for miles, a black fedora on his head and a leather trench coat to match, collar up covering the face. There was a surprisingly large sword dug into the ground next to him, the blade white, its shine reflecting off the rain in the nearby grass.

Khorshed was waiting for a 'Major Jones', a man who Khorshed thought was dangerous to his beloved Portugese people. Khorshed had left a trail that the man would not have been able to ignore, bringing him to the abandoned Southern Portugese plain, far from civilization as possible, where Khorshed would either end the man's life, or force him out of Portugal.

The choice would be Jone's alone to make.


((There, hope that's alright))

Striker was lying face down in the mud he was just over 400 meters away adjust the sight on his QBU-88 sniper rifle. He had his sights on the man who had left led him here and only one bullet left.
He squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

A loud crash echo across the plain. He screamed “GOD DAMNIT” The shot had hit just to the ground next to his target.

The second the shot rang off, Khorshed began his dash. He had pushed off the tree, grabbing his Blade from the earth. Khorshed pushed his left hand into his coat, pulling out his left AK-47. He fired pot shots in the direction he was running, about four feet off of Slash's location.

Bullets hit the ground all around Major Striker except one that hit the centre of his riot helmet. He threw himself to his feet and dropped his sniper rifle. He reached to his pocket and took out his Heckler & Koch USP semi-automatic pistol and let off a few shot in the direction of the man rushing towards him. “Now I’m pi**ed” he said to himself.

Khorshed hit the ground and rolled as Jones got up, dodging the bullets. He was closing, and now that the man was up, he fired the AK-47 at him, hoping to hit his target this time. The man would have had better chances concealed, but Hell, Khoorshed was fine with this.

Major Striker felt a sharp pain in his right hand. He'd been hit. Luckily that didn't matter he just tossed the pistol to his left hand and fired a few more shots, emptying the clip.
Damn it he thought Looks like i'll have the blow the ba***rd up
He dropped his gun and reached for a grenade.

Khorshed rolled when the man switch hands, but got a hit on his left shoulder. when he got back up, he was about two hundred yards off, ands pulled the trigger of his AK-47 again, aiming for his legs.

The bullet fired at him skimmed passed Major Strikers legs with a few slicing into his flesh causing a few deep cuts. That didn’t stop him from getting a grenade from his belt which he subsequently tossed towards his adversary.
It was only then that Striker kneeled down and inspected the cuts on his legs. "Not too bad" he whispered to himself.

Khorshed saw him throw the grenade, cursed under his breath, veered off his path, rolling and kneeling. Khorshed held his sword behind his back, in case it would help cover him from the blast. It helped a little, but most of it was the distance he put between himself and the grenade. All he got was some mud and earth on his back, and his coat got a little darker.

Khorshed pulled himself up, put his sword in its sheathe, and pulled out his other AK-47, and opened fire on the Major, this time walking towards him to increase accuracy.

The explosion of the grenade kicked up mud onto the visor of the Major's riot helmet, abscuring his view. As he wiped the mud of he felt several shot hit his bullet proof vest knocking him off his feet. He finished wiping the mud of his helmet and grabbed another grenade, pulled the pin and threw it towards the man approching him, although it didn't go as far this time because he couldn't reach back very far.

Khorshed stopped jumped back a little, and the Grenade exploded short of hi. He frowned, knowing he could not go on like this. His left AK-47 was getting low, and he began running. He was aiming for limbs now, the shots to the body ineffective. Now Khorshed was sure of it; this guy needed out of Portugal.

Major Striker painfully pushed himself to his feet when he saw the man running at him. His Mossberg 500 shotgun had fallen off when he hit the ground. It was lying at his feet in the mud. He saw stray bullets landing all around it so he decided to leave it and grabbed his M4 instead and let off an entire clip at the man running towards him.

Khorshed hit the ground, kneeling while pulling his sword in front of him, hoping to deflect some bullets that way. He had dropped his left AK-47, it being almost empty, and the bullets whizzed by. One of them got Khorshed in the (left) shoulder, another in his left leg. Khorshed cursed in Russian, and pushed on. Once the clip emptied, he pulled himself up, the wound to his leg only skin deep, and began running- though a bit slower- at Major Jones, opening fire with his Right AK-47, aiming for the body again, since he was to inaccurate when aiming at the limbs to cause th Major any trouble.

50 (or so) yards to go.

He's gaining too much ground, thought Major Striker I better get ready for an up close fight.
He reloaded his M4 but then dropped it because Khorshed was too close for him to use it effectively. He reached for his second to last grenade, pulled to pin and waited for Khorshed to get closer.
But then, suddenly a bullet skimmed the inside of his left arm causing him to drop the grenade primitively. Having dropped the grenade the then procceded to dive out the way causing him to be hit in his left side by two bullets. He landed in the mud grimacing in pain.

((Anything Khorshed says in <these things> is in Portugese, and anything he says in [Brackets] is in Russian. He speaks no English))

Khorshed ran up to the man, ceasing fire, though his AK-47 still out, and stopped about ten feet off.

"<I don't like killing people. You're a person. Get out.>" Khorshed said grimly in his Portugese language, hoping the man would understand, though doubting it. He hadn't seen the grenade, he was around four feet off when it went off, hitting him in the back and sending him flying, burning all of his hair and his clothes. He dropped both of his weapons, and when he landed in the mud, the large Persian man rolled. He was only conscious when he stopped because of his super endurance.

Khorshed and his clothes were on fire, the rain quickly ending the flames. Khorshed had a broken left arm, and bruises everywhere. Lots of burns, and no hair. The only reason his trench coat survived was because it was leather and soaked.

After a minute, Khorshed pulled himself up with his right arm, thinking of Major Jones, and pulled out the pistol he had hiding in his coat.

Monday Showdowns with crazy ex-soldiers isn't good for Vigilante Persians.

When Major Striker had hit the ground he rolled onto his back in time to see Khorshed go flying and landing in the mud.

That should be it, he thought taking off his riot helmet because it had been covered in mud again.

He was shocked when he saw Khorshed pulling himself up, but more suprised when he saw his left foot facing the wrong way and his trouser leg on fire, he'd been too close to the grenade. He could hardly feel his legs so he wasn't overcome with pain.

He grabbed his sub machine gun, pointed it at Khorshed and squeezed the trigger. But nothing happened, he was out of ammo for it.

"<Get out of my Country>" Khorshed said, firing at Jones's arm with the submachine gun, then going the other arm, and then the legs. Killing the man wasn't his goal, just hurting him bad enough to scare him off, though if the man reached for another weapon, drastic measures may be put into effect.

Major Striker listened to the man talk in what he recognised as Portugese but did not knock what he was saying. Then he felt the sting of the bulllet as they pieced his arms but not when they hit his legs, he still couldn't feel them.

He lerched backwards and his head swung to his side, he could see his M4 was fried by the grenade but his Mossberg 500 was knocked to just outside of an arms length from him.

He used he slowly picked up his riot helmet, leaning over slightly to obscure Khorshed's view. He then quickly turned and threw it at him. He rolled over twice and reached for the Mossberg.

Khorshed was hit in the face with the Helmet, and fell back, taking a few wildshots as he fell. His nosse was bleeding, and he was pissed. Khorshed pulled himself up a second later, shot at Jones again, the threw the pistol at the Major's hands, then followed up by grabbing the riot helmet and throwing that at Jones's head- And Khorshed throws hard.

A few bullet hit the Majors back but were stopped by his bullet proof vest although one sliced his right ear. As soon as he had his hands on the shotgun he span around inadventently deflecting the pistol with his elbow, although the impact did send a stinging pain up his left arm and causing a nasty bruise.

As soon as he saw the riot helmet flying at him he raised the shotgun sideways to try and block it, but the force knocked the shotgun back into Striker's face, cutting his lip, bruising his right eye, and breaking his nose. Blood was poaring of his face which was obscuring his view, and the blood lose was making him dizzy.

Undetered Major Striker let of two shots as quickly as he could and fell onto his back again exhausted, and writhing with pain. For him the fight was over. Even if it hadn't betten Khorshed, he couldn't fight on.

Khorshed took the two shots, one too his shoulder, and another to his chest, the right side, so no heart damage, though Khorshed doubted the bullet would have gotten past his bones. If he wasn't super human-ish, Khorshed would be dead. One grenade, a bunch of bullet wounds, a broken nose... He'd had a generally bad day.

Khorshed lifted his head, saw the Major go down, and smiled a litte. He'd won- sorta. though he doubted either of them could move, he wasn' expecting the Major to stay in Portugal, and laid his head back down in the grass, doubting he could move.

((Does his make a draw?))

((I think because neither character can really continue, we should call it a draw.
I must say that was a good fight and that you were a very good opponent.))