I Came to Play

Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Joined: Mar 15 2009, 06:21 PM

Jun 29 2011, 08:25 PM #1

Dim lights trickled from the bulbs lining the ceiling... A thick haze of long burned cigarettes lingered in the congested room... The distinct smell of spilled alcohol did nothing for the pungent, sweaty mugginess. The audience stood, stumbled, screamed and pleaded in rapt attention, eyes locked onto the combatants within the cage. Every slap of skin swayed them one way, another. Ties were casted aside, and the chain links of the barrier shook in ecstatic bloodlust. A thunderous hit!- the legion of eyes split: half closed and half widened considerably. Dejected groans, victorious screeches! A whirlwind of shattering glass and tossed money! The cage rocked even more, as the patrons of violence clawed at the combatants, either in thanks or rage. And while everyone got what they wanted, there was one who benefited that much more.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Your winner, via knockout!”

A heavily bruised left fist shone in the murky light, flecked with the tiny spatter of blood. Attached to that fist was a fatigued arm, barely able to retain that position. And, of course, attached to that was a person. Defined pectorals inflated and deflated laboriously, only hindered by the bluing of the ribs below them. Generic red and white basketball shorts sat below this mark, and extended down over his knees. Above, a sparkling, if not arrogant, smile remained posted on his face. No protective padding was to be found; none was allowed or needed in this illegal sport. It was sheer competition- the best man was ensured to win this way.

And that he did.

Youthful hazel eyes turned to the sole exit of the battlefield, yet he had no intentions of walking through it. Despite the excruciating pain of possible cracked ribs, he bolted to the links, utilizing them as foothold and grips, and was on top of it before one could question his intentions. His toned arms pumped energetically, which further riled up the losing half. Too bad; the winning half quickly pulled him to the ground, then hoisted him into the air, parading him upstairs.

[color=ff2000]“Hey, hey!”[/color] He laughed boisterously over the mob, still pumping his fist. [color=ff2000]“I know I just made y’all money, but you don’t have to touch the merchandise!”[/color]

Soon, he found himself placed right at the bar, as the other gamblers and fellow prizefighters grinned at him, receiving the victor as a king. Just the same, he took in the sights and sounds, unaware of a select few’s jealousy and malintent, then rotated on the stool until he faced the bartender.

“So what’ll it be tonigh’, fella? A good ol’ lager migh’ do it f’ya?”

He sputtered, and hunched over the bar to relieve the pressure on his ribs. [color=ff2000]“Joe, really? I tell ya every time I don’t drink. Gimme a soda or somethin’. ...And don’t try to sneak in some alcohol this time.”[/color]

The bartender and the fighter cut eyes at each other playfully, and then bumped fists. “Got it, fella. Oi, don’ worry ‘bout payin’. Ya earned me ten times my weekly earnins.”

He ran his hand through the light chocolate spikes of his hair, blinking every time he hit a matted tuft, and laughed. Jumping to his feet, though, the warrior decided to get some fresh air, because he knew it would be a half-hour before he would get that drink. Joe was also the fight club’s promoter, bouncer, and bookie, after all -a busy man. He didn’t even bother to think how he had earned the man ten times his paycheck; he was sure it was a grave overexaggeration.

Besides, the smell of alcohol and smoke always gave him a headache.

Through the torrent of people rushing in to gamble away their hard-earned gallos, he managed to shove his way outside. Even during the nights of late spring, the shambles of the Northern Wraith still gave off a certain frozen air. If it wasn’t for his... questionable profession, he would give these societal ruins a second glance. But it paid extraordinarily well, so the workplace was a moot point.

He circled the building, checking the condition of his scarlet Gravity Wolf inconspicuously hidden under a huge tarp. Gratefully, there was no damage or foul play. It was shaping up to be a good night.

...Was.
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Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Joined: Dec 27 2005, 07:37 PM

Jul 3 2011, 08:26 PM #2

The ivy rustled, clinging to the walls of the ancient, deteriorated buildings of the Northern Wraith as a snow-white Blade Liger shuffled past. In tow was a sleek, black and rustic orange Lightning Saix. There was something different about their body language. Obviously together, the two Zoids worked like an intricate unit. The Liger’s nose would point at the ground and then the air as if tracking a scent, and the Saix swung its head from side to side, piercing eyes shooting down every alleyway and building entrance. They moved especially stealthily past the bar, continuing on their way two blocks down the road. The team stopped outside a destroyed building, no roof, but walls on either side that were barely taller than the Zoids, capable of keeping them hidden.

[color=66FF99]“Niiiice find. This’ll work well for us...”[/color] The pilot from the Saix called, voice cocky and eager. He settled the Lightning Saix at the back of the building, and the cheetah-type gracefully settled and lowered her head to let him exit. [color=66FF99]“Let’s go, Wes.”[/color]

[color=9966FF]“Mm...”[/color] The Blade Liger parked inside as well, dipping its head down and the cockpit shield pulling up. The second pilot jumped down, joining his comrade. They two were officials, Guardian Force members to be exact, but they were dressed to blend in with the crowds that passed through the Northern Wraith. The white-haired Saix pilot wore a black vest over a white tank-top, and a ragged pair of blue jeans for pants. He was tall and muscular, powerful fists clenched at his side. The Blade Liger’s pilot was much more delicate, with thin arms and a soft face. He wore a blue hooded sweatshirt and black cargo pants.

[color=9966FF]”Ziro and I will be back soon,”[/color] The dark-haired Wes told his Zoid, [color=9966ff]“Jay. Sit. And stay here. Be ready for us at any time. Okay?”[/color]

[color=92B9D7]”Rrrf!”[/color] The Blade Liger chirped merrily, before rolling back onto his rear. The Liger’s long wiry tail waved back and forth, clunking against the ground. The Lightning Saix behind it hissed, claws snatching the other Zoid’s tail from the air and holding it still against the ground. The white-toned Blade Liger yipped, tail twitching in the Saix’s hold. Jay struggled to crane his head around, staring at it sadly and giving a soft whine.

[color=66FF99]“...You need to fix him.”[/color] Ziro commented, grabbing Wes around the shoulder and ruffling his hair teasingly.

The Lightning Saix, named Iko, rumbled in agreement, clamping the squirming tail down with both paws to hold it still. [color=FF9933]“Sometime soon, too,”[/color] She spat, amber eyes flashing dangerously.

[color=9966FF]“Nothing wrong with him,”[/color] Wes grinned a little, pushing his friend away. They chuckled lightly with each other for a moment, then their faces dropped, preparing themselves mentally for the mission ahead. From now on, they would be treading in dangerous territory. Outnumbered too. They turned in unison to face the bar and started down the road cautiously, analyzing the structure and remembering their assignment as they did. High above them, a bird of prey screeched and passed over, vanishing within the clouds. Wes glanced up at in uneasily, unsettled by the sound of its shrill voice.

[color=66FF99]”...An illegal fight club, huh? Gambling? Underground?...”[/color] Ziro said under his breath, grabbed Wes’ attention back. Ziro rolled his shoulders and tightened and loosened his fists as a subtle warm up.

Wes gave a short nod of his head, [color=9966FF]“Yeah. Infiltrate it... investigate it, and take it down...”[/color] He patted his right side, feeling the pistol at his hip, hidden underneath the baggy hoodie.

The pair strode through the entrance, Ziro leading. The lights seemed dimmed and unnatural to the two, being used to the careful lightning of office buildings and bases. Only Ziro seemed unfazed by the activity, relaxing a bit at the bustle and reckless feel of the place. Wes, on the other hand, was completely unnerved as they stepped past tables and chairs to the back of the room. They could hear shouting and cheering rising up from the stairs like water flooding up into the upper layer of the building. Wes kept glaring down the steps until the two walked passed, crossing the room toward the bar counter. The further they moved in, the stronger the smell of alcohol and sweat. Wes scrunched his noise at the stench, gentle blue eyes flicking nervously across the inhabitants of the building.

[color=9966FF]“What kind of person voluntarily walks into such a place?”[/color] The Guardian Force member muttered under his breath to his companion. He was too busy staring around to notice the bloated drunkard hobble past him, arms swinging at his sides, putrid breath heaving in Wes’ face. He gave the undercover police a sloppy wave and snickered at him before flopping down at his seat. Wes reeled back, both hands flying up to cover his face, eyes watering. Ziro just gave a light laugh at his distress.

[color=66FF99]“Seriously?[/color] The white-haired man said, stopping short and swatting Wes’s hand down, away from his face.

Wes squinted at him, stuffing his hands into his pockets to resist shielding his mouth and nose again.

[color=66FF99]“Never been in a bar before? Makani’s don’t know how to have fun!”[/color] Ziro sneered, flicking his wrist to signal Wes closer to the bartender. [color=66ff99]“Just follow me and pretend you’re a natural, a’ight?”[/color]

Wes grimanced, but obediently followed as Ziro stepped forward to address the bartender. He casually rested his arm on the counter and leaned in, a playful and scheming gleam in his seaform green eyes, a glint not far from what a bandit or gambler would give. [color=66FF99]“Hey man, tell’us how to get into the action? Wassa minimum bet, huh?”[/color]

---

The feathers of the bird’s wings fluttered against the wind, its body pitching left and right to masterfully adjusted to the wind currents. His sharp eyes stared down; precise vision trailing after the pair of police and then snapping to the Zoids. They were in astounding condition, suspiciously so for the Northern Wraith. Under the raptor’s precise eye, the small Guardian Force insignias branded into the feline Zoids’ shoulders gave everything away.

[color=B048B5]Guardian Force, huh?... Well, no one’s about to beat me to crashing the party...[/color]

[color=996666]Keheheh... of course...[/color] It blinked its copper eyes. Copper metallic optics. It was the shadow of an ordinary bird, but in reality an Organoid. White and brown in color, it’s markings and form matched that of an Osprey, only slightly larger.

He tucked in his wings, metal feathers clicking as they pulled back and rest flat against his oval-shaped body. It dove down, headfirst, rocketing toward the ground faster than the eye could follow, and vanishing into the woods surrounding the Northern Wraith.

It was all she needed to see.

Just as one figure vanished, another appeared, a woman. He slender form slipped around the side of the building, her gait graceful and powerful like a beautiful predator. Her eyes flashed, going from copper, still synced with the Organoid’s vision, and then fading to her own, natural silver color. She could be anywhere, tucked away safely, hidden while her vision stretched throughout the entire town thanks to the Osprey Organoid.

She stepped from the shadows toward where the Gravity Wolf was parked, her appearance visible in the moonlight. Her umber-toned hair was short, barely reaching her neck, bangs swept to the right side of her face. She was completely dressed in black, slim pants reaching down to her boots and T-shirt fitting snugly to her curved form. Her only accessory was a necklace, the pendent hidden under her shirt, but the leather wire visible around her throat. She looked casual, but fierce, an aura of mystery and deceit around her.

[color=B048B5]“Nice Zoid...”[/color] Her tough voice called to him, smirking. [color=B048B5]“I like the color...”[/color] The woman waved her hand in the Gravity Wolf’s direction, her expression growing more twisted. Either the sight of Koichi was just too amusing for her to bear, or there was something very demented about this girl.

[color=B048B5]“See you around... tough guy,”[/color] She called, sounding both taunting and seductive. She moved past him, always out of reach, barely standing around to give him time to analyze her further. She darted around the corner of the bar, headed for the entrance. It was time to play...
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Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Joined: Mar 15 2009, 06:21 PM

Jul 4 2011, 03:46 AM #3

Joe stroked the stubble of his chinhair and, contemplating the business he was running and the sheer volume of money he was making from it, chuckled heartily. Every bet brought him in more money, which allowed more fights and booze. And more fights plus more booze always equaled even more money for the shady character. Even if the shady passersby weren’t in for the downstairs action, they had some sort of vice: decent food, alcohol, broads. He could play off of those too, and did it well. The ringleader of sorts chirped, redistributing money from a banded roll of it, before he was stopped by some tough guy with white locks.

‘ Hey man, tell’us how to get into the action? Wassa minimum bet, huh?’

Queue cheeky grin. He had every reason to not trust this person, seeing how he just appeared in front of him with intentions for only himself... but then again, if you were in that particular sector of Nyx, you were bound to be there for yourself. Besides, money was his vice. Who knew? “Yer my type’a fella. Straig’ to th’ business. Minimum bet’s a hundred, but I suggest a grand. Mo’ bang f’ya buck.”

Looking up, he spotted the meeker of the duo who entered in together, and his grin became that much more brazen. He winked an emerald eye at the man, and then turned his attention back to business. “But uh, how bout a drink f’ya? Maybe tha’ll get you righ’ and settl’d in? An’ if tha’s yer friend, you can tell’em too, fella.”

--

He kept holding the tarp up, giving the scarlet wolf another once over. A hand glanced over the ankle guard; he winced upon taking a deep breath, and put his head onto the armor. Right hand braced against the concealed mech, his left crossed over to the other flank, fingers rapping lightly on the bruise, now taking a more characteristic blackening, rather than the ink blue shown beneath the hazy lights of the ‘arena’. Definitely a cracked rib –not terrible severe, but would affect his performance and breathing in general for a good while. The glories of this kind of work. Unfortunately, there were no doctors on call, no medical coverage, nothing. Just whatever one could do alone.

“Ya good?” Damao whispered as Koichi breathed laboriously, adjusting himself to the pain. He only needed a hint of his pilot’s pain to drop his normal carefree demeanor. A bit of agitation did come through from him though; he had to have been waiting there for an hour. And not moving was as good as being back with those bandits. But that was another story. “Guy roughed ya up really good, eh?”

Another immaculate grin swept across his face, and another bolt of pain rocked his innards. His pain threshold could rise fast enough. The young man grunted, voice cracking as his diaphragm manipulated itself to aid in forming words, and whispered back: [color=ff2000]“Yeah, yeah. Nothing I can’t handle, though. Don’t worry about it!”[/color]

“If you say so.”

[color=ff2000]“I say so-”[/color]

‘Nice Zoid... I like the color...’

The brawler wheeled around to the direction of the voice, then instantly regretted it. Vision hazing over from the immense pain and adrenaline, every synapse firing in harmony, he cocked his left arm to ready a punch and stared into the darkness of the alley, seeking out the source. The sultry robustness of it echoed until Koichi found the speaker. Obsidian clothing accentuated feminine curvatures, yet blending into the darkness; resolute discs of mercury flashed in some madness in the pastel whites and blue of the twin moons; coffee dark hair sat at the crown, framing a confident face on one side.

He barely had enough time to take in the fact that he was staring at a random lady in an alleyway before she let out another snide comment and spun around the corner. He... blinked, returning his hand to the damaged area, and rushed after her.
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Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Joined: Dec 27 2005, 07:37 PM

Aug 20 2011, 09:11 PM #4

[color=66FF99]“Naaah. Thanks anyway. Just here for the fightin’! Besides, don’t think my buddy here could handle it!”[/color] Ziro snickered and motioned to Wes. He dark-haired pilot ducked his head down, glancing away, but unmoving. Ziro placed two thousand gallos on the counter between them to cover himself and Wes, then casually spun back around and came to stand before Wes. A look passed between them, and with his back turned to Joe, Ziro muttered a few words for Wes alone. The older Guardian Force member answered by raising his line of sight again.

Ziro led, taking Wes the clearest route through the bar to the stairs. On the way there, the Blade Liger pilot bumped into another person, this one a woman.

The black-clad female had entered the building like a ghost, silent and stealthy to all but Koichi, who would have seen her dash around and through the entrance. She bumped into the Guardian Force Pilot, staying uncomfortable close as she brushed along and past him, hand temporarily resting on his arm. The woman was facing him now, not a hair on her head or blink of her eyes innocent or apologetic. She gave a seductive smirk, and then vanished back into the crowd.

Wes stared after her, frozen in his place, face pale with surprise. Ziro blinked after the stranger, then back to his companion, grinning. [color=66FF99]“See, it’s these times I’m happy I’m not married like you-“[/color]

“Hey, pretty thing...” The drunk Wes had encountered before rose from his chair, snickering and hiccupping, his “friends” at the table cheering him on. The large man stepped toward the brunette, hands grappling forward until they caught one of her wrists.

She stopped, piercing gaze snapping to him. Her fingers curled, threatening like claws, lips parting to show her teeth with a threatening growl.

“Oh, a feisty one!” He laughed in her face with a devilish smirk.

She heard the Osprey give a concerned chirp in her mind. But the woman just turned her snarl into a sneer.

[color=B048B5]...Give me three seconds.[/color]

[color=996666]Just three?[/color]

[color=B048B5]One.[/color] She twisted her hand in his hold, thin wrist sliding smoothly from the grasp until she was free. Instantly, she was low to the ground, hands resting on the floor as she swung her right leg around, breaking his footing out from under him. He buckled over, collapsing toward the ground, arms flailing to grab her as he did. She kicked against the ground and used her arms to throw herself back out of the way, nimbly coming to stand on her feet again in the process.

[color=B048B5]Two.[/color] She side-stepped around him, grabbing the chair he had previously sat in. The woman cleanly swung it around, into his fall, causing the wooden arms to jab into his gut. He let out a painful grunt as the air was forced out of his lungs, and was stunned from being stopped abruptly from falling.

[color=B048B5]Three.[/color] She let go of the chair, holding her right wrist with her left hand. She darted close to him, just below and behind the back of the chair. Her legs coiled and arm cocked back, then she surged forward, swinging around her arm to bash in his face with her elbow. The hold on her own hand was used as leverage, powering her strike. He went stumbling back, too drunk to catch himself on his feet, barreling into his friends and then collapsing on the table, shattering it. Splinters flew, glass shattered, and men shouted wildly, some clapping for her and others yowling their disapproval.

She heard the Organoid’s amused laughter in her head, and it only made her smirk widen. Her silvery eyes flashed around the room, quickly finding their way to the man that had followed her in. Her brows furrowed and she held her tongue between her teeth, mocking and taunting every one of them. Clumsy, stupid bunch of fools!

[color=66FF99]“...Daaaaamn,”[/color] Ziro let out in a whisper, his voice whistling. The two Guardian Force members had stood at the sidelines, eyes wide with shock. They certainly hadn’t expected a fight so soon.

[color=66FF99]“Not yet,”[/color] Ziro murmured to his companion, seeing Wes’ hand hover over his hip for his gun. The white-haired man tugged on his partner’s shoulder, leading him downstairs quickly, where they would mesh with the crowd and watch the scene unfold from a camouflaged position.

Whirling around on her heels, the girl had her back to the door again. This time, and hopefully without any interruptions, she continued her way to the stairs. One delicate-looking hand gently gripping the railing and the other sat comfortably at her hip as she made her way down the steps. She was drawn to the sounds, the haze of jeering and drink, of burning bloodlust not so different from her own. The faint rattle of the cage seemed to echo in her head, and it made her ecstatic. But she was not a moth to a flame, but a sly feline stalking toward her next piece of prey.

And the woman hadn’t muttered a word since speaking to Koichi outside the bar. Violence made the only statements she required.
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Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Taison Brodoc
Skilled Zoid Pilot
Joined: Mar 15 2009, 06:21 PM

Aug 21 2011, 04:12 AM #5

‘Naaah. Thanks anyway. Just here for the fightin’! Besides, don’t think my buddy here could handle it!’

“Ah. ‘Nother ligh’weigh eh? I tell ya, fella, this new gen’ration dunno how ta take a drink like a maaaaan.” The barkeeper vaguely waved his hand at Wes, shaking his head in an obvious façade of distaste.

His dusty green irises flashed a bit within the look, the attitude exuded from the white-haired man feeling a bit synthetic for his taste. He looked comfortable, and boy did he ever make a business deal like a regular, but he was a bit open about it. The money in play felt real enough for him to bypass it, though. Cautious greed took a hold of him as he inspected the individual bank notes, a trained eye searching for markings or other insignias of counterfeiting. Just in case someone turned on him and he needed to get away... which had happened before.

As soon as they checked out and became one with his roll, Joe looked back at the two men. His eyes coolly caught Wes’ sight, as he gave a kind nod towards the downstairs room, in just enough time to see his biggest money-maker reenter the bar.

[color=ff2000]‘Damnit...’[/color] Koichi’s eyes darted from face to face, trying to locate the odd woman. His breath grew further painstaking, though, as he could feel his vitality draining from the damaged torso. Not letting this pull his attention any further, the man put his pain aside quickly enough for the one-sided skirmish to catch his eye. A black-clad woman beating down a fat, sloppy drunkard: a day in the life of prizefighting.

Hearing the table collapse, he slid into the crowd and to the bumbling men, and Joe wobbled over after him. It took a bit of heaving, but the two men eventually did assist the unlucky patron up. The whooping and hollering and applause mimicked that of his own fights... and the impact mark certainly looked like it hurt...

Who was this broad?

Brushing the silvery-white bang behind his ear, the young male bolted across the floor, and slid down the opposite railing, feet catching ground shortly after.

The scene seemed a bit disjointed, but familiar. Old fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered, yellowing light beginning to get choked out by the rising volume of smoke. On the ground, rows of seasoned folding chairs circled the hexagonal cage, ten across and seven deep. People in everything from tattered t-shirts and jeans to gaudy business suits stood and sat on the seats, awaiting the next bout and the chance to win back all of what they might have lost. But on the upper balcony sat the so-called ‘high rollers’. Ladies and gentlemen in three-pieces, with the best blazers folded and the finest scarves tucked carefully away from dirt and filth. And unanimously the fattest wallets. They were the ones who either made their living from this kind of risk, or had nothing better to do with the money. No matter which, they all shared the same callous disregard for safety.

They all shared their love for money.

With others flooding in after, Koichi powered his way up to the mysterious woman, and grabbed her shoulder. And with a powerful tug, she would spin around, and come face to face with a burning question:

[color=ff2000]“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”[/color]

A man in an ultramarine suit above just swirled his expensive drink and watched. No one passes up a free confrontation, after all.
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Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Elaine Storm
Supreme Pilot
Joined: Dec 27 2005, 07:37 PM

Aug 21 2011, 05:26 AM #6

The drunkard groaned, lifting his head, blurred vision seeking out the people who had helped him up. He finally made the pair out, or where there four or eight of them? At this point, he couldn’t tell where the ground was, but nearly lost his stomach toward whatever way was down. He grunted again, trying to sort things out. His nose hurt like hell, and vision was still disoriented from a fresh black eye. Was there blood down his cheek from a split in the skin? It hardly mattered. He glanced around the room, bumbling a single question.

“What happened?! Who’in the ‘ell hit me?!”

There was nothing meek or nervous about Wes after they entered the arena. He had nothing but determination in his features, calculating the position of every chair and the person who sat there. He was carefully sizing up the room and the crowd, noting the disposition of every different class of gambler. His eyes flickered for a moment with disgust at the thought of events taking place day to day here. Bones broken, blood spilled, bruises burned into skin. All for the sake of money.

Ziro kept a cocky grin on his face, but mostly for show. The Lightning Saix pilot was also analyzing the ring, but for much different purposes. He spotted anything that could be used to his advantage for defensive measures or against him as a weapon. He pinpointed exits, isles, corners, every bit of space that wasn’t occupied. His mind was working through what would happen, while Wes kept tabs on the current situation. The white-haired male raised his hand to scratch below his collarbone, letting his fingers linger on a pocket on his vest with the motion. It would only take the flick of a single finger to trigger a call for their back up. And in moments, the police would mesh with the crowd.

The looked at each other, Wes disgruntled and Ziro still wearing a smirk.. They separated, one moving to one section of chairs apart from the other. They would have to divide and conquer, not get pinned down being so close to each other. Ziro was just moving away from the stairs when the woman descended down the steps.

Her dark umber-toned leather boots clicked as she stepped off the last flight of stairs, the sound of steel tapping the floor as he toes had pressure put on them. She took a few steps away from the bottom on the railing and then paused. She didn’t even have to try to listen for the sound of Koichi racing down after her. It was too obvious for the keen woman. She tensed, hairs at the back of her neck bristling as she felt him get closer. Then a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and ripped her around.

Oh, definitely not in the mood for that.

Immediately, she grabbed his shoulder with the opposite arm, and leaned into him, bringing her knee up to impact the wound at his torso. The injury was the first thing she noticed about him, and the first thing to exploit. Whether the blow was enough to force him to release her or not, she let her hand fall, reaching for her right hip. With a whistle, the sound of steel slicing through air, she had struck with a switchblade, aiming to slice across the bicep of the arm that held her.

The woman, keeping the knife between them, twisted and darted back, gaining distance from him. Her shoulders heaved slightly with the adrenaline, and she just sneered at him. It was a common question. An annoying one. So much so that she almost didn’t hear it.

[color=B048B5]“Fighting,”[/color] She hissed out the answer, raising the blade up to eye level. She flicked any blood from the blade, letting it splatter to stain her face and neck instead. The female looked more demonic and sinister by the moment, her expression twisting with every second the scuffle was prolonged.

Without another word or growl from her, she was racing for him again, sleek body closing the distance between them in an instant. She dove in for his right side, aiming and quick punch under his knee. She rose back up behind him, sliding one foot and keeping the other grounded to help pivot her around to face his back. The dagger whistled again as it cut the air, aiming for his shoulder blade.
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