A male body lies within a huge tube of murky transparent liquid; the man’s nude body is muscular and lean, floating gently by the small motions of the liquid of life. Limp and lifeless, this unconscious man is kept; dozens of wires connected to his body, an oxygen mask latched onto his lower face, his body concealed and shaded by the murky liquid.
This man is held in a comatose state of sleep, the lab he is held within lying in the very depths of one of the most secret of abodes in human history, the mantle of a derelict society. So ancient is this faction that it precedes even the Brotherhood; A small and organized group of elite minds and warriors that have made their purpose in life to observe the world and whenever the need arises, intervene and rectify any inaccuracies it finds bothersome.
Within the room a tall man walks back and forth, he stands at 6’1 feet, clad in a dark violet body suit, his footsteps echoing within the room as he is seemingly waiting for something. His hair is a short spiky mane of black, his body is well built and athletic, twin dark eyes glittering with fascination and intelligence as his head tilts upward, examining the sleeping man.
Then he inhales deeply and his dark eyes turn cold and calculating, his hawkish oval face of golden complexion seen off the face of the casket of fiberglass, hearing footsteps behind him, and reaching to rub his chin, apparently pondering something.
The man’s lips slant upward, him smiling to himself, flashing his teeth in a light grins, moving his hand to run over the cool glass, tapping on the glass with his fingertip and sighing flippantly before turning and laying eyes on the lab worker that had just entered the room.
She is a woman in her 30s, wearing a white lab coat over some casual blue clothes. She is around 5’3 of height and has short red hair and dazzling green eyes match her petite milky white skin, her face round and beautiful, smiling at her, his mate, his fiancé`.
He then crosses his arms and nudges his head at the cylinder, “I’ve been waiting for you, I believe it is finally time. He is physically ready to return to the world, it is time to awaken him, our precious little test subject…so Lauren my love, let’s give our little friend a big, warm, welcome…” his deep voice rolls out of his throat, coated with a hint of delight and faint malevolence.
Lauren looks apprehensively at the lifeless man, her body stiff and heart thundering, acting as if she is looking at the devil himself, petrified and hesitant, turning to looks at her lover with a frightened look, opening her voice to mouth a resistance to his claim.
The man cuts her off, lifting his hand, smiles at her, eyes soften “Come now lover, don’t worry, it’ll be ok, trust me when I tell you he can do us no harm…” he whispers to her in a smooth soft voice, carrying comforting warmth.
Lauren’s body shudders and she shuts her eyes, nodding once and moving her shaky hand to the console, gulping and biting her lower lip, bypassing the various controls and mustering enough courage to click on an oval red button, one that would awaken the unconscious figure.
Small lights on the corner of the large tube turn on, rising from top to bottom; surges of electricity begin traveling up the wires connected to the man, his body absorbing it hungrily, shut eyes fluttering and head tilting sideways. In a matter of minutes, he would awaken due to the surges that fill his body, feeding his numb nerve system and accelerating his bodily functions.
The man scoffs some at the gentleness and mercy his lover shows the test subject, the woman having tuned the machine to force-feed relatively weak pulses into the unconscious figure and decides he has no love lost for this man, and no time to waste on waiting for him to stir on his own account.
Therefore, he walks over next to Lauren and his fingers grasp a gauge lever that is currently pointing on “low”, facing to the left. His fiancé is about to protest again, eyes widening some, but he beats her to it and turns it all the way to the right, to “maximum” and then looks up, the light rebounding off his eyes, a smirk rising to his lips as he watches the show.
The machine roars to life violently in a moment’s notice, the electrical power discharging violently, angry high volt surges rocking the unconscious figure’s body, intensified by the ionized water in the tube, the currents spreading across the entire surface of the water and being absorbed by the subject’s previously limp body.
The machine’s engine races, mechanical sounds deafening the couple, them deciding to take a few more steps back and cover their eyes, the blinding light painful and the audible rumbling of the machinery making their ears throb.
The unconscious man’s mind fills with Pain, reality a blurry storm of confusion, disorientation and weakness the second sensations he feels for a few moments before a fiery agony stabs him in every possible part of his body, vertigo and nausea spreading through his stomach, it spinning and churning, threatening to expel its contents.
The man in the water stiffens and his body shudders and shivers painfully, eyes snapping wide open wildly, lungs forcing out a tormented scream that booms upon the speakers connected to a microphone in his breathing mask.
He is painfully rekindled by the throes of existence and life after what seemed like eons of dreamless slumber, the of forceful surges of electricity leaving his entire body trembling and tensing up all at once. His body is both hot and cold, a bitter taste filling his mouth, heartbeat racing and lungs unable to gratify his system’s insistent want of oxygen, a traumatized body struggling valiantly and successfully to sustain itself and survive the ordeal.
White-eyes without pupils glare wildly forward, unfocused and reflecting anger and confusion, as it is hard to grasp things clearly; everything chaotic, his vision blurry as he leans body is ablaze with unnamed pain, the water glowing with the light rays breaking in the water.
Only this being’s unique physique allows him to survive this punishment, and the fact the couple had long ago calculated what levels of power would be too dangerous and what levels would be appropriate and feasible to their research needs, the current level shying just a bit from the red line.
Lauren quickly clicks the red button again, the surge ceasing immediately, glaring some at her lover whom sighs and then shrugs, turning to the now awakened man. “Good morning to you, I hope you’ve rested well, for we have much to discuss, you and I…” The man says, grinning more and gloating obviously, as he spits out “Xavier Bison”
The man’s eyes narrow, memory beginning to return and recognizing his name, body recovering from the pain slowly, panting heavily, gritting his teeth, eyes flashing with rage, beckoning his power forth, reaching deep into himself, infuriated at these insolent pups. Who did these fools thing they were? He was no lab rat, he would make that clear, when he ripped their hearts from their still living bodies.
His fury is uncontained and quite visible, but he does not care of it now, for they wouldn’t remember it for long, it will be lost in the gushing flood of pain he will visit upon them, right before their deaths. The Lord of Shadowlaw tenses some and looks deep within him, calling upon his power, waiting to feel the addictive sense of indestructibility, the soothing feel of his psionic power.
The man’s laughter cuts him off, the dark one glaring at him, teeth grinding hard and body tensing,“It won’t work Psychic, the large bulk of your powers have been neutralized. Hell, you probably can’t even bend a spoon in your condition.” He says, unfazed by the murderous look in X’s eyes.
“Oh don’t act so surprised, you weren’t really expecting us to let you control your full powers, did you? It’s grand how you can use a little dose of hormones, to segregate the psionic brain cells in your body from the main nerve clusters…” the man says with delight, chuckling heartedly at the spectacle. “And if you’re thinking of using Chi to break through the glass, Allow me to burst your bubble, you are probably beginning to be aware that you are in full paralysis from waist down, and your arms are bound by binds of titanium, so I wouldn’t bother,” The man says to him with haughty eyes.
There is a dark glint of satisfaction and superiority within the human’s eyes, the very glimmer of it a mocking sight to the dark lord, the unfortunate fact he’s right a humiliation and slap to his face, an insult beyond insults, a blemish to his genius and power.
Xavier’s eyes darken more as he stops abruptly, his efforts in vain as the man said, quieting his rage and forcing himself to pipe down and listen to the mortal, “Who are you?” he asks coldly, making a mental memo to deal with this one, to break him down slowly, piece by piece, quirking his violet eyebrow in sinister curiosity.
“I’m glad you’ve asked, it appears that you’re cooperative already, allow me to introduce myself… I am Magnus Aurelium, one of the leaders within the ranks of what you psychics once knew as the Enclave, before it was destroyed, and this is my fiancé` Lauren,” Magnus says and motions to her, the woman only nodding lightly, her eyes showing unsuccessfully hidden fear, lips pursed tightly and body stiff.
X grins inwardly, they may have his powers locked, but not his brain and wit, he would get out of here sooner or later, one way or another, for now he listens.
“We are the descendents of that group of guardians, I must admit I thought you to be myth and legend” X says and curses his arrogance and stupidity for disregarding his father’s warnings of a possible revival of the anti psychic faction, ignoring it for the lack of immediate proof. The psychic lord feeling realizing despite his better efforts, he too had falling for the irresistible touch of pride, his sense of power and supremacy misleading.
“So as you can see, a New Enclave has arisen from the ashes of its predecessor, but before we venture into niceties, we should probably make some things clear Xavier.” Magnus says in an overly sweet tone, rubbing his hands together lightly.
“One, your survival and existence is in MY hands, I suggest you don’t forget that; two, we’re going to be together for quite a while, and we will perform tedious research on you, for our goals which you need not know, so any world domination aspirations you may have had, are hereby canceled.” Magnus says; ignoring X’s cold and calculating glare, the psychic evaluating him.
X’s mind wanders, though he listens to the man speak on how they found his burned and dying body in an Egyptian hospital, pulled out of the ruins of the Brotherhood’s helm. How they stole him from the medical facility in Cairo and snuck him here. Moreover, how they then used technology to save him, revitalize, and rebuild his destroyed body quickly. He absorbs the knowledge, devouring each word, expression and gaze, funneling the truths and lies through that and using what minimal control over his powers he still has.
Sometime later, they leave him, probably going to plan what tests to perform first, the door shutting behind them, the bond dark lord left alone. Xavier doesn’t pay their departure much attention, as they would be back soon enough, he instead ponders upon the long streak of mistakes he had committed and berates himself bitterly.
Gill should have rightfully killed him in that fight in his base. For X’s pure reliance on logic and the blind belief in his power had made him step right into a carefully tailored trap, and had almost cost him everything, it was folly to personally challenge Gill and not wait for reinforcements or a better opportunity.
The Psychic feels a sense of worthlessness and emptiness, wondering what was he thinking at the time, willing to yank and rip his hair off and bang his head upon the wall until his sense hopefully returns to him by the visages of pain. How could he have embarked on an assassination while at the same time making note to not be clandestine and in his presence mock the Godling.
The lord of elements’ power had almost destroyed him; the aftereffects of the Godling’s immense might had seared his skin, shattered his bones and devoured his flesh, only pure fortune keeping him alive, and a critical mistake made by the Godling himself.
He had almost failed; he had disappointed not only himself, but also his heritage and mission. X scoffs at his hollow and pitiful victory, it not being any consolation to him, for it was not his own, it was by some twist of fate, that made a sudden variable Gill hadn’t calculated allow him to turn the tables.
He bites his lips until blood comes to his mouth and shuts his eyes. The Dark one could not credit it to himself, for it was simply Gill’s matching arrogance and rash use of his incredible power that had broken a part of the lead based protective shield that blocked the psycho drives’ electromagnetic waves from reaching X’s body and mind.
The lord of Shadowlaw’s deliverance had come at the brink of death, him with the last visages of consciousness focusing his power, the psionic waves focusing into a beam of violet death. The dark tyrant could still feel the desperation, the pain, and the weakness beginning to gnaw at him, pure willpower keeping him on his feet as the whole area around them illuminated by blinding light, devoured by deafening thunder and torn apart by the shockwaves of their titanic power discharge.
Then on the verge of oblivion, when Gill’s godlike energy had finally reached X’s body, pushing his psycho power back, he felt a sudden rush of unadulterated and immense power, the psycho drive’s magnification properties once more available to him.
The Psionic horror quickly utilized this power, pulling energy from the machine, feeling his mother might, Rose’s spirit link between him and the machine, reestablishing the link with her. His mind clinging to that of the woman who was the core of his ingenious device, absorbing psionic power from her body and having the machine amplify it more before the empowered force of the energy was sent back into the user, him in moments.
With this newfound vigor from his secret weapon, he was able to push Gill’s power back, the amplified psionic power more than enough to shatter Gill’s waves or power and reach the desired target, the Godling himself.
It had ripped a foot on foot hole in the center of the blue and red being’s chest, destroying the flesh completely in its path, and with the Egyptian’s body no longer whole, and thus no longer was he immortal, the key to his demise utilized.
That’s all X remembers, as he blacked out moments later, in the wake of yet another explosion that roared through the tortured landscape, a doomsday trap meant to slay any being whom managed to kill Gill no doubt.
He was lucky, his shield had not dissipated completely, thus the intense flames and heat whom gripped his body, burned his skin and flesh and tore through him didn’t destroy him, but left his body critically injured and on the brink of death. It is much fortunate that his and Gill’s plan had alerted the army and rescue teams and he was saved.
Nevertheless it didn’t erase that face that he as a complete fool, intoxicated by all his recent victories and successes that he had let himself be lured into an unsecured area without a backup crew there to come to his rescue should he falter. Now, this is his reward for his stupidity and impotence to succeed, captivity, uselessness as he was at their mercy, a prisoner, a dog without teeth, a gun without a bullet.
Still, he would rise from the ashes like the mystical phoenix, return to his throne; this valuable lesson learned and assimilated. And he was a psychic, he had eons to wait in the shadows, he would outlive all his enemies and could always fix what damages would occur in his absence.
Soon enough he would come out of this ordeal, wiser and much more dangerous. Xavier then banishes the gloomy thoughts and wonders how long it had been since his fall, but does not dare surmise himself. He is content however with the news of Gill’s demise and that at least his goal had been met; with him out of the way, things would be much easier.
X had a gut feeling he should leave and insurance a few months ago and left Reeve a protocol to slow down the organization’s expanding and maintain and nurture the organization when and if X would be absent. Therefore, Reeve, who now held the mantle of power, would keep his interests safe and continue to roll X’s master plan on a low flame until he figured a way to get out of this blasted place.
Xavier vaguely senses the door open behind him, feeling the gentle and warm aura of the woman, Lauren was her name if he’s not mistaken. The cogs within his mind begin to turn, the foundations of a plan beginning to formulate, a risky and difficult plan, so he would have to be very careful and bide his time so that when the time comes, he will be free once more.
His lips curl into a small smile, feeling the eyes of this woman, Lauren gaze at him with fearful awe, the mortal female battling herself inwardly on what to say and how to act around the psychic destroyer known as Xavier.
His eyes slowly open, turning to look at her as well, causing the woman to start and gasp some, the pale white eyes curiously scanning. He chuckles lightly, some bubbles escaping his lips, at least he can console himself with that fact that phase two rolling into action despite his absence and current predicament.
The world was in for some fun, some surprises it wasn’t expecting. No matter how much they prepare and bide their time, their time would come soon…so very soon he could taste the fear in the air around him, and having your enemy afraid was always a good notion.
A howl pierces the night, the coyotes singing to the full silver moon. The wind blows violently, piling dust and gravel from the earth and throwing it asunder, adding to the cold air of the arid wasteland.
Then the nocturnal melodies of nature are joined with the tune of a hard pained grunt, a man hitting the ground hard, face slamming into the land, sending the small clouds of dust asunder, the man panting heavily, his back rising and descending rapidly as he coughs lightly.
This man coughs and spits blood and saliva, licking the crimson off his teeth, planting both hands on the cold soil and digging his fingers into its surface, turning sideways and glaring at his opponent with burning spite, he had currently gotten on the wrong side of a painful series of blows, but it was but a minor setback.
The male pulls off his upper garments and rises to his feet, whipping his head back to throw brown hair from its position of blocking his eyesight. The huge man’s tanned face is caked with sand, dirt and blood, pale blue eyes ablaze with uncontained ire.
He grits his crimson painted teeth and prepares to attack once more. He is clad in slack blue overall with a number on its back, informative of his occupation if you must, a convict in the American Penal system, this piece of clothing currently, minus its strapped overall like upper that dangles behind him, hugging his body,
The con is clothed beneath it with a sweat-soaked undershirt of thin white fabric enfolding his body tightly. The rippling mass of flesh who is this man moving like a locomotive, arm rearing back, body poised to strike, to crush his foe like a pesky insect, fist flying forth, using his hips to shift his entire upper body with the motion.
The Crowd cheers, people shouting his name, as they always do, willing him to rain down his wrath upon his enemy, he would not disappoint them, he lived for the smell of his foe’s blood in the fresh desert night.
The crowd however, winces instead of cheering once a pair of gloved hands deflects his blow gracefully, clasping around his arm and wrist, pulling him forth quickly. His foe unleashes a battle cry that deafens him as the con is forced to grunt sharply and a knee is thrust into his solar plexus.
The weary con finds pain visiting him once more as his opponent steps, yanking on his arm and thus twisting it painfully with his motion, a snap heard as his shoulder is dislocated from its joint. A cry is choked in the con’s throat as agony washes over him and he forced to the ground, a shoe to the face cutting him further, his face driven into the sand.
Frustration, rage, indignation boil within as he lashes out wildly, trying to repay the man for this painful and humiliating blow with all the fervor of a caged beast. He hears a frustrated sigh as his blow misses completely, then a flustered mutter he can’t make out clearly before a blow sends his head ramming into the ground hard, the collision sending the world spinning and everything blurring.
The con’s eyes roll, darkness creeping into his vision and devouring him, his consciousness submitting to the pain. The fight’s victor looks down at him; tired blue eyes scan over the now limp form of the convict, poking him lightly with his heel and content with him not moving.
He nods her head once to himself and pops his neck once, mmming quietly; he’ll be just fine, not like he was much of a workout in the first place. “What a waste of time…” he mutters to himself and stands straight, kicking some sand with his sneaker, cleaning the crimson off it with a small grimace before pushing some wild bangs back. He sighs heavily and rearranges his breath, not finding it too difficult as he put just a bit over the minimal in terms of effort to crush his foe.
The man is his late 20s, standing at an impressive 6’1 feet of lean muscles who are snugly fit into a purple and white striped prison garment; eyes bright blue, a cold and stoic mask over a bothered and restless spirit. He brushes his hand through the bangs of his neat blond hair, only his fingertips noticeable, the rest tightly bandaged by white straps of cloth.
He then turns and looks at his warden with exasperation, he had only agreed to fight in these circuits because he was addicted to fighting, it was just the way to live, it’s the only thing he craved for, for he had tried to lead a peaceful life before and it was just too d*mn boring for his sake. However, this life was equally unsatisfying, good opponents were getting harder and harder to locate in the drowning torrent of the average skilled fighters.
Cody’s gut instinct however tells him there has to be a good opponent amongst these lowlife criminals, all he had to do was bide his time until he finds the man, or woman, who could offer him a good fight, the blissful sense of satisfaction born in the midst of true mortal combat.
In the meantime however, being far from that blissful duel, all he has now is the joy of venting his frustration on his benefactor, if you could call him that. The Blond fighter grins inwardly as the warden gulps to himself and sinks into a cold and omnipotent emotion that choked him like a Python, the feeling all man and woman know more than once in their life, fear.
“You promised me some action! These jerk-offs are a waste of my time, Robert” The con says with a irritated glare and a sharp tone. His muscular arms cross, chest pressing against the fabric of his shirt as he sighs heavily, his skin crawling and shivers plaguing him the cold steel’s touch envelop him icily, penetrating the fabric of his prison garment and clashing angrily with the adrenaline-influenced warmth of his body.
“Whoa there, calm down partner, don’t ya go blaming me, “Stonehenge” Prison is “supposed” to populate the toughest, most violent and dangerous cons this side of the US, It’s not my fault you mop the floor with’em and don’t even break a sweat,” His warden says, the 40 year old Latino decent says hurriedly and a bit hesitantly.
Robert turns to his competition, and fellow warden, a prison director from these western parts, “Stonehenge” Prison to be exact, who had originally fixed up this evening’s currently more than beneficial night, one he was currently dominating rather easily.
“So…You got any more losers you wanna throw at my boy, old friend?” he asks the stout warden, his tone a pleased and confident one. “Or do I get my money now and call it a night?” he asks with a grin, flashing pearly white chewers which would not shame a Colgate commercial.
“Not so fast, Robert, I still got one last card up my sleeve. And ya know what, I’ll even double my the odds to make things interesting, what do you say Robert? You in or are you yellow?” The obese mountain of a man says with a mysterious little smirk of his own, sitting on his chair that creaks defiantly and groans at the weight that threatens to destroy it, gazing at the man with sheer curiosity and a glint of satisfaction for he knew that the greedy Robert couldn’t withstand this seemingly sure proof win.
“Hey, I got no problem wit’ that, More green for me, you got yaself a Deal. So...who’s the poor wretch ol’ Cody’s gonna make a rag doll outta?” Robert asks and crosses his arms as well, sitting more comfortably in his seat, quirking his eye curiously at the mass of fat and flesh who simply turns and motions to the ring. “Why don’t you look for yourself…?” He says and motions toward to the other side of the ring.
Robert abides the beckoning and turns his eyes toward the makeshift arena and immediately his grin widens so much, that it nearly splits his face. The sound of cuffs being removed ringing in his ears, followed by a thud as someone is pushed into the ring not so gently “This is going to be a Piece of cake for ol’ Cody….” He muses to himself and rubs his chin, eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
Cody’s eyes twinkle a moment as he catches the aura of his soon to be opponent and his lips twist upward, his blue eyes firing up as he turns his eyes to fall upon the new foe, a slender blond brow quirks in curiosity as he turns fully to what he with little difficulty he can distinct as a woman.
The Femme is clad a simple undershirt, covering a black sport bra, it slightly small and clinging to her body like a 2nd skin, hugging her well built, alluring and slender form in complementing manner. While the woman’s lower body snugly fit into a pair of leathery prison pants whom she folded up to her knee level and tied with some straps of cloth.
The Experienced fighter immediately notices the long and flexible bandages or white which are tightly tied around her arms and legs, acting as armguards and leggings, protecting her, even if only subtly from full bulk of the pain caused by deflecting and blocking powerful blows.
The Woman’s hair consists of smooth black strands of hair in varying lengths, these threads spilling behind her neck and flow just between her shoulder blades. Her forehead is decorated by a set of bangs, dangling forth and adding to the mysterious, exotic facial features of the young lady.
The Female warrior holds a black piece of cloth in her right hand, moving to grasp it with her other hand as well, stretching it before reaching up and using it to hold her bangs at bay. She ties it behind her head and using it as an improvised bandana, obviously aware of the disability her hair might be in the midst of battle.
Overall, she is in a fitting ensemble for fighting, the Asian woman had apparently made sure of that. The woman whom Cody lays eyes upon is known in the underground circles as Ibuki Hasigawa, a recently fallen Ninja, a calm and calculating soul who has proven many a time just how lethal an adversary she is in a fight and a forsaken and forgotten soul on a personal quest for vengeance.
The former child of shadows is by now quite adapted to these tournaments after the last 4 months in which she had been dragged around from place to place and participated in fights within these small, illegal tournaments curtsey of her “friendly” Warden
The Shadow fighter hadn’t really been challenged in these battles as of yet or earned anything in terms of material gain or even in the simple manner of satisfaction. However, she was making some serious progress in her journey of self-evolving and the remodeling of the orthodox Ninjitsu style she had all but breathed since she was but a toddler of 6 years old.
Cody flexes his cuffed arms to the best of his ability and sizes her up, smelling the scent of finesse and grace leaking from every cell of her body, tasting her power as if it were tangible. His blue eyes pick up her expertise through the glint of calm and calculation in her coffee eyes that lock with his own, her gaze making adrenaline overcome him again, body ablaze with life and renewed vigor.
“Let’s rock…” Cody says after stopping around 10 feet from her, sky blue eyes never leaving her own, the two warriors like raptors sizing one another up, cold fierceness mirrored from their icy gaze, the night itself shivering at the arctic atmosphere their auras express.
Cody’s body tenses beneath his prison attire as he spreads his legs some, entering his makeshift, free style stance. Hopping lightly on his feet and keeping his arms loose, lips curling into a small smile, eyes challenging and promising, promising a fight.
Ibuki silently complies by nodding once and turns to lift one hand to protect her face, the other one immediately rising to remain outstretched vertically before her body. She spreads her legs only a bit, the Asian woman then bounces lightly off the balls of her feet and let’s her body move gracefully with each of the leaps, small clouds of dust being dispersed as she does so, ready for battle.
Cody rushes forth, not giving her time to get comfortable, excited and ecstatic, pulsing with anticipation and eagerness at the prospect of finally experiencing a decent battle, proceeding to do what he knows best, fight.
“Sh*t…” A female voice mutters , the voice belonging to a woman whom hugs the wall with her body as a bullet ricochets beside her, leaving a nice little impression in the pavement next to her leg, missing her by mere centimeters, chunks of plaster and some dust spraying about due to the impact.
The woman looks at the gleaming pistol she clutches between her fingers, the scent of gunpowder making her shiver some as smoke rising from the barrel fills her nostrils with the sharp odor. The femme sighs heavily and returns it to its holster, she had but a single bullet left in her last magazine, and this femme knows such an omen spelled bad news for her.
She decides to savor it for the right moment in which she had a clear and sure shot, only then would she fire it at her foe. “How do you get into these messes Cammy White…?” she muses to herself as she licks her lower lip, her tongue running over the cracked surface, gulping down the salty taste of her perspiration.
Her blue eyes narrow as quickly pushes away some loose strands of her blond hair from her face, the gleam of frustration burning from within her. Ms. White is wearing a green body suit, the elastic fabric clinging to her sweat body firmly; the fibers caked with blood, not her own on that note, the hair draping down her neck stained with dry crimson as well, the stench sickening as it mingled with sweat, adding to Cammy’s discomfort.
Her breasts rise and fall as she pants, sweat drizzling down her face and neck. Her heart clawing against her chest like a caged beast, frantically battling to keeping up with her body’s desperate demand for oxygen, her muscles tensed some from all the physical activity she had been forced to take part of.
It all began a short while ago, she was reading some files when suddenly the alarm made her leap out of her skin and drop her cup of coffee. She grabbed her pistol rushed to the scene, hoping to finish off the mess her friends were sure to leave.
She was painfully proven wrong when she arrived on the scene, unprepared for what greeted her there, mainly the sight of a woman in black standing in a circle of corpses, sliced and torn from bullets, this femme having massacred her mates, with steel and bullets, an unforgivable sin.
The Mi6 Special Ops operative had then exchanged fire with the woman, but surprisingly she didn’t manage to hit, the femme equally agile as she is skilled, finding cover, thus neither she nor the hostile could kill one another as both used the surrounding area as cover from their respective ammunition.
Both femmes had emptied their assault rifles and are now left with pistols alone, and those respective weapons beginning to falter as well, the ammunition dwindling quickly, shells ringing as they hit the floor and bullets ricocheting off the floor.
At the current moment, they were at stalemate it would appear, both having exhausted their firearms magazines and clips almost if not completely, the time for guns and rifles were over. “Now’s my chance…” Cammy thinks to herself her senses picking up that her foe is still very close nearby, and thus she decides to finish this via a frontal hand to hand assault.
The slender, yet deadly Lady then whispers a silent prayer before leaving her hiding place and charging, muscles tensing as her boots push against the floor, picking up high velocity and shooting forth like a comet
She sees the woman clearly for the first time, as she was too occupied with dodging to take in the variety of details earlier. Her foe is s clad from head to toe in a leathery suit of Raven, a bizarre belt wrapped around her waist containing small pockets with throwing weapons no doubt.
Powerful fiberglass armguards and leggings of dark grey protect the Femme’s arms and legs, the ensemble sealed by and a standard looking Ninja mask of cloth that conceals her lower face and identity.
The Intruder’s body is athletic and rather slim, standing at 5’6. A katana is strapped behind her lower within a wooden holster and a pistol to her left thigh. Her hair is tied into a small bun behind her head, the woman’s skin milky white and her soft almond shaded eyes slightly slanted, this a sign of an Asian decency.
Cammy’s icy eyes burn and lips tighten into a thin line, as her body turns with her dashing motion, her fist screeching forth, arm extending and striking forth with deadly precision, thirsting for blood. Her movement like a shadow, her speed lightning, strength like a tsunami.
The black clad woman dodges Cammy’s attack cleanly, Sidestepping to the right and leaping into the air as Cammy zooms past her, spinning quickly while suspended above the ground, sending a kick in Cammy’s direction, her foot slamming it into Cammy’s back, sending the British Covert agent off balance and crashing into the wall painfully.
Cammy winces as her cheek hits the cold surface, quickly sidestepping to the left while turning her body, outstretching her arm as she does, ignoring the flash of pain the initial contact with the cold surface graced her with.
Her foe’s fist collides with the wall forcefully, missing the Brit, knuckles smacking into the texture of the wall whereas Cammy’s turning punch hits home, her fist clouting the other female’s abdomen and sending her lurching back a step.
The woman takes a few more steps back, distancing herself from Cammy whom meanwhile enters her stance, face devoid of emotion, eyes cold as winter, full of anger more smoldering than lava and more powerful than thunder, glaring into the Ninja’s eyes with increasingly intense fury.
Brown locks with Blue as Cammy attacks once more, intending to fracture the woman’s ribs if possible, knuckles whitening at the firmness in which her fist is clenched, her punch flying forth in a wide rising angle.
The Ninja bends her back, Cammy’s malicious uppercut missed, the woman in black quickly deflecting an additional blow with a flick of her wrist, bone touching bone, the block dispersing Cammy’s offensive.
Cammy tries to press her initiative further but the gloved hand of the Raven clad woman lashes out quickly and locks around her wrist, fingers grasping her flesh tightly, lifting Cammy’s hand over her head, the woman quickly stepping back a step before launching herself forth with breathtaking momentum.
The Assassin thus plants her fist deep into Cammy’s ribcage chest, between her breasts; bones clattering at the force of the blow, Cammy’s body twisting back some with the pain. The assailant able to feel the muscles protest against the hurt, sense the nerve cells flaring to send the signals of damage to the Blonde’s brain, hear the heart thundering and shuddering, as it is dangerously close from being damaged. The ninja’s eyes narrow some more an evil glint shining in her brown eyes as she attacks.
The air in Cammy’s lungs is spewed painfully, the woman fist flaring, a red light and force enveloping the fingers and knuckles, Cammy’s body beleaguered, a putrid heat invading her. A ripple of power forces its way into Cammy’s body and focalizing into one point, before spreading violently all at once, an angry force sending her stumbling back while bending forward, panting in an irate manner.
The ninja doesn’t stop there, leaping off the ground, taking advantage of Cammy’s vulnerability, lifting her foot upward and with horrid precision bringing it hammering down onto Cammy’s back, the heel slapping the recovering Mi6 agent to the floor, her body flattened against the cold floor like a pancake.
Cammy groans a bit, rising to a kneeling position barely, breathing shaky and heavy, before feeling danger approaching, her fighter’s sense urging her to defend. She immediately lifts her forearms, grimacing as her bones absorb a forceful blow, the momentum so great she’s sent back to the deck, her back emitting a thud as it crashes to the floor, blocking a kick with her wrists.
The Brit curses the ninja’s speed colorfully, in break neck speed, shifting her body and rolling aside quickly, dodging a stomp kick, wincing as the audible sound left by the ninja’s heel slamming to the floor, imagining what that would’ve done to her face and shuddering, pushing the thought aside and spinning her body while extending her foot.
The Ninja leaps upwards and somersaults backwards, avoiding the sweep kick neatly and landing a foot out of Cammy’s range, blocking her fall with her hands and quickly flipping to her feet.
However, the Mi6 Commando is already upon her as she lands on the pillows of her feet, pouncing forth like a feline, tackling her forcefully to the ground, the assailant’s breath disgorged out painfully, as Cammy slams her to the floor, her back thumping against the floor painfully.
The Special Ops commando moves from lying over the grounded ninja to sitting on her waist, pinning her with beneath her body, weight and position trapping her on the floor, pulling her fist back and clocking her with a punch to the nose.
The ninja grunts as her head whips back onto the floor, the back of her head bouncing off the pavement achingly. Cammy then exhales through grit teeth, grabbing the Ninja by the front of her suit, getting a good grip and hefting her upward for some more punishment.
The Asian woman recovers more quickly than Cammy had surmised, surprising her by shifting her hip suddenly while lifting her right hand, jabbing two fingers into Cammy’s side, letting them sink against her body and pester the organs beneath the fabric.
The Brit is forced partially off the ninja due to the horrid pained emulating the sensation of daggers digging into the gaps between her ribs, torrents of agony washing over her, finding it hard to breathe, muscles screaming for the pain to cease.
The ninja then goes one-step further, lifting her other hand and grabbing Cammy’s hair, gripping it firmly with fingers before positioning her foot snugly against Cammy’s body. Cammy’s head snaps back and sent is spinning, world whirling, reality blurring as the ninja extending her leg forth vigorously, throwing Cammy off her aggressively before turning to flip back to her feet.
Meanwhile Cammy forces herself to focus, rolling once on the floor, feeling something against her side as she regains her bearings, the object being the now empty Kalashnikov Assault Rifle the woman used to take out her friends with. Cammy grits her teeth, and rises to her feet and enters her fighting stance, waiting for the ninja to come.
The ninja’s eyes narrow at Ms. White, the shadow warrior moving to attack, kicking off the ground and breaking into a mad dash toward the Mi6 operative. When she is close enough the Ninja launches herself off the floor, bending her feet before extracting one towards the Brit, directing a dangerous kick to the woman’s thorax, heel first, hoping to both wind her and knock her off her feet.
Cammy defends solidly, her skillful hands locking around the femme’s heel, smirking some as she drops the foot and takes a quick step forward. Cammy feels the exhilarating feel of her opponents skull against her knuckles as she the Ninja is sent tumbling back a few steps from the force behind the blow that rams into her face.
Cammy’s jaw is tense and fists clenched tightly, more than just survival instinct flowing through her now, the insistent thirst for vengeance filling her, her rage flowing through her like inundating waves of electricity which psyche her up, the memories of her friends dead bodies gushing through her like an overflowing river, fueling her resolve more as she attacks.
The Blond convict releases a battle cry closing the distance between them rapidly, body shifting and muscles tensing as he leaves a mere 4 feet between them. Dust spreads, being carried on the currents of the nocturnal wind, formed in the wake of his sprint.
Cody inhales deeply, bending down a bit as his muscles tense, kicking off the ground hard, body defying gravity, his right leg lashing forth with lightning speed like an angry serpent. The natural forces of the earth adding force to his momentum, the force of the aerial kick great.
Ibuki’s eyes narrow some, crossing her arms across her body, accepting his forceful kick, shifting her weight forward, parrying it soundly while choking a small wince, her arms absorbing the full might of the force behind the kick.
She takes three steps back, quickly resuming her stance, feet pressing some against the cold sand, muscle tone tensing and lips pursing as she bursts forth, body flowing gracefully as it travels across the short distance between herself and Cody, body gushing forth with incredible speed towards her foe.
Cody grins to himself, twisting sideways, relieving himself from feeling the pain of her fist as it slices through thin air, whistling past his ear, taking a sidestep with his motion, successfully escaping her grasp, breaching her defense and exposing her back, ready to wreak havoc upon her, quickly unleashing his fist, aiming his knuckles to her spine.
The Blond convict line of thought is silenced by a sudden flaring pain, The ninja quicker than he expected, his blow missing as she turns sideways as well, her foot flying forth with extreme speed, thumping his skull with authority.
The pillow of Ibuki’s foot kisses his temple with deadly precision and might, his face whipping sideways violently, needles tingling in his mouth while Ibuki’s foot touches the ground silently, the Femme facing him once more, her impassive features mirroring his.
Cody regains his bearings quickly and crouches forth some, shaking his head once to stop the ringing and swat away the blur, licking the inner side of his mouth and gritting his teeth. His lips curl upward; both hands rearing upward immediately to cut her offensive short as her foot shoots forth once more, dangerously heading toward his nose.
The Former Metro City Hero fought with more ferocity and intensity than an average martial artist, this deriving from the fact that he was literally a street fighter, so while Ibuki might have some basic code of engagement in her fights, he does not.
Thus, he finds no qualms in using the long chain of his cuffs, tying it around her ankle before gripping it tightly between his fingers, thus gaining an even better grip on her limb. He then grins a bit evilly before stepping back while yanking hard, turning his body and tensing his entire upper body, picking her off her feet and beginning to spin around, while keeping her airborne all the time.
Ibuki yelps a bit in surprise as she loses her balance, “What the…?!” she mutters to herself as her world begins spinning, Cody twirling so quickly everything is almost blurry, Ibuki suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the contents her dinner as it begins going against traffic so to say.
The Crowd cheers as Cody roars with effort, letting go of Ibuki’s leg, sending her flying, for a few blissful moments floating in defiance to the laws of nature before reality intervenes and she plummets to the ground, crashing onto her back painfully, sliding against the sand some before her momentum is exhausted and she lies still.
Ibuki mumbles silently and swallows down bile and vomit with apparent disgust, before opening her eyes quickly, he wasn’t going to cut her no slack apparently. Ibuki forces herself into focus and reigns herself quickly, inhaling deeply and moves her slightly disgruntled body and rolls aside, thus avoiding Cody’s descending blow.
Cody’s fist sinks into the sand before his body follows, leaving a nice impression which would have no doubt done it’s share of damage, sending dust asunder as he follows her with his clear, Azure eyes, flexing his fingers, bones popping menacingly, his smile dark and threatening.
Ibuki ignores his façade and climbs back to her feet quickly, spiting sand, and inwardly complaining about the horridly annoying sense of the grains of sand between her teeth and touching her gums. Her lower back hurts and her leg was bleeding some from a cut caused by the sudden and violent motion that Cody used to launch her into the air.
Cody’s body comes charging towards her, his muscular form rushing forth like an angry battering ram, feet digging into the sand as he pushes against it hard, throwing himself forth, his lips curling into a smirk, face somewhat flushed from the cold around him, panting softly as he attacks.
The con’s fists rain down on her like lightning, velocity high and brawn mighty, aiming to pound her to a bloody pulp. Ibuki’s stance however remains solid as rock, steady as a mountain, deflecting and parrying blow for blow soundly, arctic cold eyes glaring into his own.
Cody gets an idea and takes a step back suddenly, pulling his fist back, reaching deep into his psyche and pulling upon his soul, blinded for a second by a haze of blue as his eyes flicker with his life force. He feels his heartbeat accelerate and muscles contract, lungs devouring air hungrily as his skin crawls, calling for upon his chi behind, his fist exploding into blue, a sapphire inferno enveloping his arm as he ducks some, the power roaring wildly.
Ibuki senses his power building and reacts quickly, eyes flashing in blue as well, her pupils glowing as tendrils of power expand across her cornea, obeying her as she calls forth upon her chi, a warmth spreading from the center of her chest outward, flooding her with violent waves of power.
The intoxicating taste of divinity pumping through her veins, her mind spinning, heart pounding, ears throbbing, body ablaze with pleasant tingles as she crosses her arms and commands her power to grow and expand, to encase her arms with a protective blanket of dense energy, swirls of chi churning around her limbs, a blue hue illuminating her body.
Cody grunts in pain, his chi covered fist colliding into her arms, the respective forces aiming to devour one another, crackling energy spreading across the connection point, their lifeforce flaring. Then a shockwave hits them both and a small explosion is heard.
The blond prisoner grits his teeth as her power shatters his own, the shockwave throwing his fist back and sending him stumbling a step back, electricity traveling up his arm shocking him and causing his muscles to tense hard, pain shooting through his knuckles, his skin singed from the contact.
Cody doesn’t have much time to think of the pain as Ibuki catapults forward, body seeming to materialize from the gloomy, cold night, hammers pounding onto his abdomens as her knuckles dig into his skin and flesh, each blow forcing him to cough out his air, pain visiting him upon each impact.
Ibuki watches as the Blue eyed warrior lurches back and tries to regain his breathe, falling to his knees and panting. She pulls her leg back, her muscles stretching, blood feeding it oxygen and nourishment rapidly, her foot poised to strike, then just as she is about to attack she cries out in surprise and pain.
The fallen ninja then stumbles back, her hands rising to clutch her eyes, shutting them tightly by instinct, tears welling up rapidly, drizzling down her cheeks as fiery agony stings through her fiercely closed eyes, dazed and shocked by his tactic and temporarily blindness, thus she is unable to detect his next move.
Cody gets back up, smirking and chuckling to himself, that trick always worked, dusting his hands from the sand and clocking Ibuki with a vicious kick to the face, his foot colliding with full force into her ear.
A battering ram crashes into her, causing her ear to ring and her head to swing sideways, her body following suit quickly as her footing was wobbly as it is, due to the surprising pain, crashing to the sand hard, stumbling to get back to her feet blindly, eyes blinking rapidly, tears still falling, the pain horrid.
Ibuki exhales and shuts her eyes, spitting some more sand and saliva and calming herself down, using her other senses to deal with Cody, doing so despite the burning pain in her eyes, needing an answer to his attacks until it fades.
She hears his footsteps thundering closer, feeling his chi signature growing stronger, he strikes, she hear the air retreating at his movement, feel his foot as it threatens her body. She turns sharply, taking a small sidestep, his foot missing her neck by inches; quickly flipping backwards to avoid the next roundhouse that would’ve sent her to the deck no doubt, pushing off the ground and back to her defensive stance.
The Street born warrior’s eyes narrow, impressed and at the same time delighted that she is still able to avoid him even in this temporary blindness, Ibuki proving to be ever more the challenge than he expected. This fact lifts the level of his anticipation and excitement as he tightens his fists and licks teeth, muscles bulging as he takes action.
Ibuki’s eyes then open, still unable to see his flesh and blood, scaring Cody a bit as her pupils are illuminated by a faint eerie blue glow, her eyes looking beyond his corporeal self and gazing at the flow of chi in his body, seeing his ethereal substance, running over the gentle tendrils of navy as they travel across his body.
The ninja’s hand darts upward, wrist colliding into his own, bone to bone, skin to skin, her momentum shattering his own, swatting his hand off course. Cody doesn’t let that discourage him and sends his other fist toward her in a blink of an eye.
Her free hand absorbs his fist, welcoming it like a mother’s hug, her fingers embracing the fist and holding it firmly, swallowing the bulk of the blow’s force and chewing on its momentum. He looks into her brown eyes with menace, watching as they narrowing with malice in return, the blue glimmer in her eyes waning away, replaced with angry flames of brown instead as her other hand joins the first, encasing his wrist with a vise like grip, her eyesight back and with it, her full capabilities.
The con exhales a bit sharply as without warning her fingers dig into his hand and wrist, carefully pressing against the nerve junctions under his skin. He gasps as blades of pain stab though him, daggers of punishment twisting in his flesh, waves of pain unleashing themselves up the length of his arm like an overflowing river finally released, a haze clouding his vision momentarily, accompanied by a sense of lightheadedness.
He doesn’t get time to weigh upon the torturous sensations as her other hand travels upward and encloses his elbow’s lower part. He then growls as her arm shoots upward, with one fluid motion the ninja twisting his arm in an awkward angle, excruciatingly forcing him to his knees as his shoulder wails at the horrid ordeal.
Cody struggles against her grip with no avail, feeling her breathing at his ear, so soft and silent “Time to eat…maggot man…” she hisses quietly, her words fading away into his ear before she shamelessly and remorselessly drives his face into the sand.
The collision painful and his mouth being filled with cold sand, dragging it a bit against the ground before letting go. The Blond sputters sand and coughs hard, shaking his head and remaining in a kneeling position once her restraining hand leaves him, “D*mn b*tch!” he thinks, enraged at her impertinence and daring, pissed off mostly as his ego is tarnished, swatting the sand off his face, only to replace it with new layers of the grainy substance.
Before he can get up to his feet something crashes into his side, he growls in pain, waves of heat and cold enveloping him, electrical jolts shocking him, the point of contact exploding with horrid pain, forced off his feet and sent rolling, the stench of burnt cloth and skin filling his nostrils along with tendrils of smoke.
Ibuki in her stance, a furious blue glow in her eyes dying down, the chi around her fists dissipating and returning to her body, her brown eyes calm and cold, stance solid and steady, hopping lightly on her feet, some blood drizzling down her face from a cut caused by the collision of Cody’s shoe with her head.
Cody holds his side and coughs, getting up to his feet, teeth grit hard and breathing slightly labored, everything was spinning, body protesting to his efforts, fire devouring his side, warm crimson flowing between his fingers, smearing his skin.
He chokes down the pain and reenters his stance, the cool gone from his eyes, now cold and controlled rage blazing, his blue eyes like a stormy sea, his jaw tense, planting his foot hard against the ground, spirit disturbed and angry, she was good, he owed her that much, but enough games, he would make her pay for that.
The cold empty corridors conceal the truth of their combat, the secret haven unknown to all but a few souls keeps the secret of their bloody bout, the two females dueling furiously, the one in black to escape, the one in green to destroy.
Shadows dance around them, the air whispering and cheering them on, blood pooling over the floor, screaming out to the heavens in demand for vengeance, attesting to the gory massacre the black clad ninja had preformed only minutes ago, the stench of sweat, blood and gun powder mixing in the closed space, making breathing a labored and unpleasant task.
Cammy’s exhales come out as vapor, sweat and blood drizzling down her face, her breasts pushing against the skin tight fabric with each labored breath, the moist and sticky material protesting and only making Cammy’s life harder, as she finds it difficult to move properly in the choking grip of the greenish body suit.
The ninja licks her teeth, left eye half shutting and teeth gritting as the British agent strikes viciously at her ribcage, fist smashing into her body, the force smacking her body aside, pain stabbing through her and lungs jamming, stepping aside and turning to her foe.
At the very moment, she manages to recover her stance Cammy’s boot kisses her cheek, the heavy article of leather sending her reeling, the metal groaning and voicing a thud as her body meets it, the momentum repelling her to an unsteady footing.
Cammy snarls some, fingers locking around her face, pinning her head to the wall while exerting pain from the ninja as she presses against her skull, her other hand gripping her shoulder, holding the assassin in place as she thrusts her knee into the woman’s abdomen with lethal might.
The Asian woman exhales sharply, feeling her entrails leap to her throat, bile and vomit threatening to spill from her throat, her eyes snapping open, lungs wheezing with labor, body aching and head spinning slightly, Cammy letting go of her shoulder so she can strike at her with her clenched fist.
“This one’s for…” Cammy hisses hatefully, unleashing her furious punch, willing to deform the ninja’s face with her knuckles, her blue eyes charged up with her indignation and rage at the lost of her friends, a dark glow of malice lingering behind her cornea.
However, the dark warrior cuts off her sentence, grasping the hilt of her Katana and thrusting it forcefully into the British woman’s diaphragm, force-feeding air into the woman’s body, scrambling the tempo of her breathing, pain and vertigo clouding Cammy, her grip on the ninja released.
“My turn…” the ninja thinks, a sinister flare swirling within her eyes, one hand lowered to behind her waist and holding the wooden hilt of her katana blade tightly, while the other timidly lies on the cool surface of the wall, readying herself. Cammy stumbles back as the springs off the floor, rising upward and forcing her knee into her chin.
Cammy recovers only to catch the glimmer of steel, hearing metal glide against the hilt of the blade, the ninja dashing forth, blade above her head and quickly descending in a wide arc, the air retreating before it’s sharp edge. Cammy manages to twist her body out of the way, leaping backward to gain a breather and some distance.
“Oh no you don’t gaijin…” the ninja mutters in Japanese, the blade’s descent stopped at waist level, continuing her sprint and reaching Cammy as she lands, striking once more in an outward slash. The Katana tastes flesh and blood, carving a long diagonal line from the left side of Cammy’s waist to under her right breast, her skin cut like butter, the well-made blade easily breaching into her body.
Cammy’s teeth grit, pain spreading across her body, warm liquid crimson spilling out of the breaching in her skin, her body suit drinking it thirstily, dizziness and nausea hitting her as she stumbles back once more, falling to her knees.
She hits the deck, the ninja’s heel colliding with her jaw, teeth rattling and cheek being forced to the cold floor, pain exploding, a splitting headache beginning to form. She spits blood and coughs hard, the murky liquid leaving a bitter iron taste in her mouth, her hand rising to clutch the new wound.
Cammy looks upward, seeing the blade being poised to kill, the now blood stained steel drizzling droplets of crimson onto the floor. Her ears throb and head pounds, the revolting taste in her mouth horribly annoying, body slightly heavy and body shivering from cold.
“One last chance…” she thinks and reaches behind her body, grabbing the hilt of her commando knife, always having it on her, strapped to her hip, mustering her strength and throwing herself forward, hand rising, blade hitting home, driving it all the way to the hilt.
The ninja’s eyes widen, body stiffening as the blade sinks into her body, piercing into her ribcage and easily bypassing her tender flesh, blood pouring out of the new wound, the ninja’s faltering and stumbling back, looking down at the knife now sticking out of her body
Cammy meanwhile crashes to the ground, panting hard, body so very heavy, limbs sluggishly wriggling about as she tries to rise to a kneeling position, this was her chance to finish off the black clad b*tch, if she could only reach her pistol.
The ninja meanwhile, pants, leaning against the wall, breathing in an irate manner and gritting her teeth hard, sheathing the katana and grasping the blade, shutting her eyes tightly and yanking it out quickly. A pained cry escapes her lips despite her attempts to choke it, crashing to her knees and trying to block the blood flow desperately, unnamed pain burning through her, eyesight hazing and refocusing, while moving one of her hands and the other hand to her hip.
Cammy grits her teeth and pulls hard, releasing her pistol, fingers gripping it tightly, the cold metal soothing the feverish heat of her skin, gulping down blood and bile she levels the gun to the ninja, only to find the ninja is leveling a gun at her as well, both ladies glaring one at the other tiredly and painfully.
The two climb to their feet, unsteadily and wearily circling one around the other, and their respective guns leveled and ready to shoot at moment’s notice. Stalemate, it would come to down to the more agile and accurate markswoman, their eyes locked in an intense glare.
The ninja’s eyes widen as she feels auras in the complex, she would be trapped if she didn’t do something, and do it now. She licks her teeth, cleaning the crimson off them and her gums before taking a gamble, leaping sideways, aiming low and opening fire.
Cammy tries to dodge while pulling the trigger as well, her bullets flying and grazing the ninja’s other side, biting into her body and leaving another blood-spewing wound in the weary ninja’s body. However, the ninja’s bullet hits Cammy’s leg, imbedding itself deep within the muscles and causing her leg to buckle under her weight.
Cammy crashes to the ground, clutching her leg, the ninja meanwhile picking up a black bag she had discarded earlier before fleeing like a bat out of hell, the only thing Cammy hears is the ninja’s half running, half stumbling footsteps as she disappears into the distance.
Cammy turns to lay on her back, moaning in pain freely as she is alone, shuddering and panting hard, shutting her eyes, her body shutting down from exhaustion, blood loss and fever, sensing the auras now as well, smiling faintly, blood drizzling down the corners of her mouth.
She would live to seek out that ninja and her employer, and there would be hell to pay once she does, those are her thoughts as darkness envelops her and faint voices disappear into the blissful gloom of unconsciousness.
Cody’s leg snaps forward, penetrating Ibuki’s personal space, his foot lusting for the feel of her body against it. It is deprived of its plight as Ibuki’s forearms take in the momentum and they deflect the blow, the ninja retreating two steps backward, Cody’s fist flying forth but is unable to reach her face, her nose just out of his arm’s length, mockingly lingering out of his range.
Cody snarls and lunges forth, exchanging some blows with Ibuki, both warriors striking and blocking punches and jabs with lightning speed, the blond con comes up with another idea however, tensing his lower body and waiting for her to strike in a manner that will give him the opening he needs.
Ibuki doesn’t disappoint him, but equally she doesn’t follow his plan, Cody grimacing as he steps back and grimaces, failing to dodge Ibuki’s retaliation strike, her sidekick hitting home, her foot slamming into his body and pushing him back.
He pants some “D*mn that woman’s speed…I’ll get her next time…” Cody reflects inwardly as he resumes his stance and patiently waits, dodging a few punches and then grinning and laughing inwardly, ducking a roundhouse kick, immediately leaping into the air, somersaulting and landing lightly on his feet behind her.
Cody turns around and tries to grab her neck, lifting his hands and utilizing the fact Ibuki is left vulnerable and exposed, her back to him, delighted at the chance to retaliate seriously. His aspiration is delayed, his line of thought cut short, eyes crossing shortly, spewing a pained groan as Ibuki sidesteps and strikes low, her fist bombarding his Groin.
It takes willpower of steel and endurance of stone to remain standing, his footing imbalanced at the torrents of pain spreading through his lower body, the former justice fighter inhaling deeply and growling in frustration “D*mnit, stand still woman!” he mutters under his breathe.
The Striped overall wearing man spreads his hands in opposite directions, the chain between them being stretched before quickly lowering his hands. Ibuki feels the steel against her skin, but it is too late, the chain locking around her slender neck, firmly tightened. Ibuki’s eyebrow ticks, the material too thin to grasp and remove, the frozen steel pressuring her windpipe and choking her.
Cody grins, yanks on the chains some, causing Ibuki to fidget, her lungs protesting to the dwindling in oxygen levels, her body equally hungering for the gaseous element of life. Ibuki gulps and releases the grip on the chain and moves her hands instead upward, one grabbing Cody’s nose, the other his ear and pulling back, causing Cody’s head to snap back despite his protests.
“Let…go…” the struggling woman warns him, beginning to get dizzy despite her ability to hold her breath for a long while, caught by surprise before and now her body demanding oxygen, limbs getting a bit heavy as her body begins to slow down and vision blur subtly.
The blue eyes prison fighter persists, not relenting his vice strong hold, grinning victoriously right before Ibuki decides enough is enough, stomping on his foot with her heel, Cody’s teeth gritting hard, and grip loosening some involuntarily, Ibuki then sends her head swinging backward, slamming it into Cody’s chin.
Cody’s head snaps back and his grip on the chains strengthens quite a bit, flustered at her, “Now…THAT…was….NOT friendly…” he hisses and pulls upward, making Ibuki’s footing difficult, the ninja’s head beginning to feel light and surroundings to dim.
“That’s…it…you asked…for it!” Ibuki thinks and opens her right hand “Screw your friendliness!” she says angrily, calling forth onto her life force, it obeying her command and rushing forth from her soul and through her body.
Thin tendrils of pale blue energy wrapping around her wrist and swirling within her palm, focusing all her attention to the summoning, trying out a technique she hadn’t utilized in a fight yet. The shadow child concentrates extremely hard, the building of the chi and remodeling of its currents and shape tedious, unbelievably difficult in her current situation, her grasp on reality beginning to slip, her body slumping some, and vision blurring, her body shutting down due to oxygen loss.
The street fighter curses audibly as pain flushes through his foot, looking upward while shutting his eyes tightly, Ibuki’s hand glowing brightly and a blade shaped chi formation now imbedded in his flesh, wave of heat and electricity coursing through his body, blood drizzle down a wound in his foot and soaking his pants.
The daughter of the Shadows then grabs his hands and pushes with the last bits of her strength, finally managing to break free, crashing to the ground heavily, panting hard, eyes a bit wide and lungs hungrily devouring the oxygen, trying to climb to her feet without avail.
The blond warrior is simply possessed, out of his way with rage, pulling his foot back and kicking Ibuki’s ribcage with such force it wouldn’t shame a world league soccer player, Ibuki grunting hard and being sent rolling sideways, lying on her stomach and still wheezing and recovering from the lack of oxygen.
The former hero clutches his foot and grits his teeth, mutters profanities colorfully, reaching for his sleeve and ripping it off, tying the cloth around his leg very tightly, blocking the blood flow and glaring at Ibuki angrily, the ninja meanwhile climbing to her feet at last, semi recovered from her near fainting.
The two warriors prepare to lunge toward one another when suddenly there is a bright white flash in the distance. The two warriors turn and look at it, it appearing again quickly, and then all hell breaks loose, the entire gathering of cons, wardens and guards turning into a cacophonic uproar. “It’s the press! Get’em back into the vans! And get that reporter!” Ibuki’s warden shouts.
Cody meanwhile grins at the chaotic turn of events, seeing a sliver of a chance to escape, catching sigh of a BMW model Z3 sports car, delighted that the car has the keys inside, the car belonging to his warden Robert.
“It’s been fun Hasigawa, next time we meet we’ll settle the score, until then, Sayonara babe!” he says and winks, waving once before turning and taking off, grimacing and choking down the pain from his wounded foot and running as quickly as his leg allows, leaping into the car and grinning.
“HEY! What’re you DOING?” Robert shouts “GET BACK HERE?!” he shouts and waves his hand, running after the car, in vain as it zooms off into the distance, the guards from Cody’s prison leaping into their vehicles scrambling to pursuit, leaving Ibuki with her own warden who frowns at her.
“Bah! You could’ve done better your good for nothing Jackie Chan wannabe! Get’er outta my sight!” he says and growls, going to his own car as the guards grab Ibuki’s arms. The shadow warrior is still a bit light on her feet and winces once she’s thrown into the prison van, hitting the bars within.
The other cons are either unconscious or pained, and all of them have learned the hard way not to make any moves at her. Ibuki sighs and tiredly folds her legs to her chest, hugging them as well and leaning head cheek to her lap. “That Cody is one cheapskate warrior…but then again, least he did give me a good battle despite his uncommon tactics, when and if I meet with him again, I’ll show him I can be just as cruel…” she thinks and frowns some.
“D*mnit…that freaking chain’s gonna leave a mark…” she thinks and rubs her neck, looking outside at the full moon as the car drives off into the desert, wondering when and how she will be able to see its beauty from another location rather than desolate plain of Nevada desert, hoping it is sometime soon.