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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
5, 8
Total: 13 (2-16)
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 Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:05 pm
"Sweet talker."
(Now if only Chel learned the same.)
When it became obvious she wasn't going to outright rush him, Jack moved closer. He had a few flashbacks to the first time they had ever fought, back in Bix's tournament. He remembered the way her knuckledusters bit into his legs and arms like angry bees, the quick way she moved, the old bluster he'd had the luxury of putting down.
The piece of concrete was smacked away, barely smarting his palm, before he swept down and grabbed a length of bent crowbar in passing. Peyton was right: he was on her in seconds, the rusted weapon aimed at her outstretched arm like a club.
He clicked his tongue reproachfully, like Peyton had been reaching into the cookie jar.
hp: 39
damage: 7
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Beejoux rolled 2 10-sided dice:
5, 7
Total: 12 (2-20)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:35 pm
Pounding footsteps on the pavement behind her sent adrenaline rushing. She saw him to her side, the twisted length of metal in his hand, a second before her brought it down, bruising bone that would otherwise have shattered under that sort of blow.
He knocked her off balance, into the half collapsed wall, and she dropped, cradling the arm for precious seconds, before planting both hands into the ground beneath her and kicking out with one small foot.
She aimed her heel for his knee, felt it connect, wanting that sick pop that would mean a painful dislocation, but even now, even without weapons, they were still tougher than human.
HP: 43
Damage: 6
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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
4, 1
Total: 5 (2-16)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:41 pm
If there was one thing he hated about being tall, it was that his legs would always be a vulnerable spot. He could count on two hands the number of times he'd twisted them during basketball games; he could count far more the number of times his knees brought him down.
He clenched his teeth as another incident was added to the list. Jack staggered back, smarting but finding that his leg was still alright to put weight on for now, though his knee popped. He swung the crowbar with less precision in retaliation, wanting her to stay down just as before.
hp: 33
damage: 0
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:45 pm
It looked like the verbal section was over, and it was on to the main event. For sass levels, she'd have to give it to Jack this time. He'd turned the limp comment around pretty neatly, if inaccurately. Training someone like Leslie all the time and having a boss like Sunny, though, it shouldn't be a surprise he'd have the upper hand.
Stryker was in agreement, though watching the two, was less than impressed by their handling of their improvised weapons. There needed to be more twirling and posturing, a thing he'd come to expect from Peyton and often pointed out to America as an example of what she should do as well.
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Beejoux rolled 2 10-sided dice:
3, 8
Total: 11 (2-20)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:50 pm
The pop was satisfying, but not so much as the impact of crowbar with palm as she grabbed for it, tearing it out of his hands as he swung at her, staggering. She wanted to bury the bend in his skull. The thought rolled up without any outside influence, almost startling, but she embraced it.
She had always thought, accurately, that violence begot violence. The bullies from her past, the ones that had made her life hell, they had threatened her and her sister, and she had retaliated. Cause and effect.
But was it? Was every school yard brawl a mission of defense? Or had she been picking fights for years?
Crow bar in hands, she rolled up onto her feet, bringing it around in a baseball swing against the side of his ribs.
HP: 43
Damage: 5
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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
5, 1
Total: 6 (2-16)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:59 pm
The sound of his own howl was foreign to his ears. The bruises hadn't had enough time to mend, even with Owain on the job, even with their close connection. In his room, melancholy and navel-gazing and brooding, the idea of getting something worse than mere bruises had been so appealing. Make an art out of suffering.
Now it just made him want to knock her down and crack her skull with the ******** crowbar, or a ******** piece of concrete, or his ******** fists, until everything beneath them caved in and he was knee deep in her blood and bones. But he could barely breathe at the moment, let alone any of that.
Gasping, Jack fell back and favored his other leg, tilting over the fresh bruise Peyton had struck. Every instinct told him to forget the rules and summon his sword. Break it over her head if he had to, just like the plate. Just like in the desert.
Rationale overrode Instinct. Back off. Reassess. Breathe. He took two steps back, knocking away a broken glass bottle and passing over several of its shards. He grabbed the bottle without taking his eyes off the Sun, narrowed and burning with more than just battlelust.
He dared to smile and spit at the ground.
hp: 28
damage: 0
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Beejoux rolled 2 10-sided dice:
8, 9
Total: 17 (2-20)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 8:15 pm
That howl of pain was music to her ******** ears. She could feel that cold, cruel smile stretching along her lips as she watched him back away, favoring his new injuries. Weak.
She watched the bottle come up, those jagged edges, and snorted as she brought the crowbar back again. This time she aimed for his hand, shattered the bottle, maybe bones. Taking away his make shift weapon in one hard swing before she followed through, twisted, and brought the curve of the bar around at his head.
It came back to her: the press of the sword tip between her breasts and the scold of hot coffee weeks later. The connection of knuckles against her jaw. The bite of nails against her skin, and the almost tender brush of thumbs against the back of her neck as he leaned into his hands, choking her, killing her.
The crowbar connected, she felt the impact all the way up her arms, into thin shoulders.
It wasn't enough.
HP: 43
DMG: 11
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 8:22 pm
Taking a sip of her beer, America had to admit, if only to herself, she was a bit jealous of how they went all out. Howling and full of rage. She wondered, briefly, what that shitty Famine creature was up to, and how long it would be until she met it again. How long until she could make it hurt. But even then, not quite the same as this, was it? And Lawrence wouldn't be nearly the sort of match Jack was.
Maybe she should find herself a truly fighty enemy, Pey seemed to really enjoy hers. ********, really enjoy. America grimaced and quietly gave points to Peyton.
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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
1, 7
Total: 8 (2-16)
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 8:31 pm
For a moment he swore his fingers bent the wrong way--and then the flash of pain righted his senses again as they righted themselves. A wonderful rush, but so brief, so very brief. Just like the shatter of glass. The shards cut through his skin and stayed embedded. His barrier was weakening. His weapon was gone. He felt alive as his heart beat in his ears and in his new wounds, trickling out blood.
Owain was silent.
He saved himself from a concussion by raising the same arm to dull the blow of the crowbar, for whatever that mattered; it still reverberated through his body. (Stay alert. Keep moving.) She was hitting pretty hard for someone even without her weapons--just like Chel had, it occurred to him, on the night he dragged her to the infirmary and began her incarceration. Thrashing. Screaming.
"You little b***h." He tasted blood with the word, with every gulp of breath. His good hand darted to wrestle for the crowbar. "Got promoted, didn't you. Thought it'd be <********' fun to mess with me now that you've got the upperhand?"
And why not? Hadn't she already proven it wasn't beneath her, when he had been just a burn victim, a weak hand at her throat, a hissing and snarling animal she cooed over?
"Here's a disgusting theory: you're still attracted to me."
(Maybe she was, to parts of him. Maybe this was better than sex in another life or with her ******** pansy of a boyfriend. He certainly hoped so.)
A glass-embedded fist went for her face.
hp: 17
damage: 2
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Beejoux rolled 2 10-sided dice:
2, 4
Total: 6 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 3:20 pm
A near inhumane snarl left the dainty hunter as he blocked the blow aimed for his head. It would still hurt, metal against arm, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. The cool smile remained, even as he grabbed for the crowbar, long fingers wrapping around it. A pale brow arched at his question, lost, momentarily, in the heady rush of violence, but as it clicked she laughed. "You haven't?" How long had it been, now, since she'd been promoted? Weeks, months, plenty of time for the Lifer to have caught up. It amused her that he had not, that he was still that same man that had so unwisely attacked her int he common room. The laughter continued, loud and unfiltered. "You're still intermediate?" It was ******** hilarious to her. "And here I thought you'd just lost your edge." No wonder he wasn't putting up as fierce a fight as she'd been expecting. It was almost disappointing. A blow to the cheek cut off the laughter, snapped her head to the side, and she could feel the bite of glass, embedded in his fist, scraping along her skin. It was countered with an almost causal back hand, and she jerked on the crowbar, trying to tear it out of his grasp. "Get up and fight!" HP: 41 Damage: 0
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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
6, 7
Total: 13 (2-16)
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 4:27 pm
It shouldn't have stung as much as it did: you're still intermediate? Like he had fallen behind an unknown learning curve. Like Peyton would know anything about the lengths it took him just to get to where he was now. But no snarky comment left him this time. His glass-and-bloodied fist connected with her struggling arm at the elbow. The crowbar was yanked out of her grasp— ( People don't change, he had argued with Owain, but maybe that wasn't true anymore. Finn had found himself something responsible and someone remotely steady, Ian and Shiloh were okay and even getting married, Chel, s**t, where did he even start, and even Abbi was an adult now. Things were different than they were a year ago. Maybe the only person who didn't and wouldn't change was him. One thing was still the same, though: Peyton was a ******** c**t and needed to shut the ******** up.) —and swung hard at her mouth. Her eyes. Her ******** nose. Her mouth again to stop the laughter. The manic energy from before was waning quickly, replaced by something colder and more methodical. It wasn't that Jack wanted her taken down anymore, it was that she needed to be. hp: 17 damage: 7
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Beejoux rolled 2 0-sided dice:
,
Total: 0 (2-0)
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 4:59 pm
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Beejoux rolled 2 10-sided dice:
8, 10
Total: 18 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 5:00 pm
Strength could only account for so much. His fist collided with her elbow, shocking her arm, fingers spasmed, enough for him to yank the crowbar out of her hand. But he was bearing down at her, finally, and that brought it's own dark rush as pale eyes tracked the blur of the bar as it streaked for her face. Too quick to dodge. Too ******** fast to throw up an arm like Jack had. It hit, tearing her lip, sent her spinning, and she hit the ground, hard, with a pained shriek and impact grunt. The taste of blood was old and familiar. Comforting, infuriating. He swung again, bringing that makeshift weapon down like he meant to split her skull, spill her brains against the road. It bit into concrete, hard, just missing her head as she rolled. This was better. Warrick growled, low and deep at the back of her mind. His rage like a simmering heat to warm her from the inside out. Again she struck at his leg, hooking the back of his knee to send him back on his a**, and when he fell, she was there, rolling up on her knees as small fingers closed around a length of rusted cable. She went for his wrist, looping it, pulling it tight, and yanking him forward onto hands and knees as she rising. It put his chin at the perfect height for her foot to connect. HP: 34 Damage: 12
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medigel rolled 2 8-sided dice:
2, 4
Total: 6 (2-16)
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 5:35 pm
For a moment he thought his anger had grown strong enough to physically manifest--then Jack realized he was literally seeing stars. His head had collided with the ground when he unceremoniously crumpled to the floor, his own yowls distant and muted in his ears. His knee didn't pop as easily into place this time, or as gently.
Before he could collect his senses, he found himself bound and immediately writhed and snarled in protest like a wild animal. He had been taken twice in the desert, he would be damned if she got to be the third. But the world kept spinning despite the very present grate of his body against the concrete and broken glass shards, and his legs wouldn't collect under him correctly; the only things he understood were the cable at his wrists and the blood pooling in his mouth.
He felt multiple somethings pop in chorus as her foot collided with his chin. The only thought he could form as he slumped to the ground was that at least Chris's bruise got a twin. Maybe it'd be symmetrical.
Consciousness didn't leave him yet, but he was growing limp. Nevertheless, Jack yanked at his restraints to try and tug her back, knowing and not caring that it was futile: he never gave up a fight, not when backed into a corner. "S'it worth it, ********> he hissed, spitting blood. "Beating someone not on your level? S'it make you feel like you're worth somethin'? Huh, b***h?" He grew louder, coughing and fighting for breath. "Make it fun f'your friend, show her what you're really like!" She'd already started doing so after all.
hp: 5
damage: 0
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 6:35 pm
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