Cinnabar tugged her jacket sleeves straight to a jingle of chains about her biceps and shifted where she waited inside the shadowed lee of the former hardware store. The lot before her was abandoned and demolished down to dirt and cast off rebar. It made for a decent place to meet the lieutenant she had called for at the ‘request’ of his newly promoted general. The light on the corner flickered, casting strange shadows over the man-made desolation and making the half-youma’s pupils flare wide and shrink again, her impatience buried under the duty to the Negaverse she was trying to foster. New years had been a disaster at the end… she had to remind herself that this was her penance for that, and for her flaw of Ambitious Pride.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Echoed through her head and she smiled, remembering. Loyalty could have its benefits. So could hard work. She could earn her place this time, if she could learn to deal with other officers to an appreciable degree. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen until her charge for the night showed up. Cinnabar wondered if she could punish him for lateness by making him run laps for her amusement… Authority was a new feeling, one she was learning how to appreciate.
The call came abruptly, and Umber fostered absolutely no recognition for the internal sensation of someone calling through their crystal system. It produced a pitched noise, high but recognizable - a piezoelectric effect would account for some of it, he knew. Without basic understanding of how the particular noise was telegraphed, he could only guess at a call producing pressure on the crystal while in subspace, and that electrical charge translating as some kind of a hum. The whole process endured its own analysis in his head after the transmission, which felt equally jarring.
The crackling, tinny voice stemming from the curious rock identified herself as one Captain Cinnabar, and rattled through her orders quickly and succinctly. Umber found no words beyond what was necessary - acknowledgement of ranking - but she hung up too quickly for him to ask about the location she mentioned. All he knew was that this plot of land was demolished some time ago, leaving spare scraps about but allowing for a great deal of space.
This offered no recognition for one who barely knew the city.
Hours were wasted in guessing at different areas, and later backtracking to expand his search further than before. He found himself venturing into the industrial area, deep beyond simple machinery shops and manufacturing hubs to actual warehouses, some burnt out and others abandoned, before he reeled in his search yet again to attempt different ground. Once again, he ventured too far into residentials, and when he finally reached commercial zoning, there presented another difficulty in weeding out all the hardware stores he could find therein, and then eliminating those by which lacked an abandoned lot near their location.
When he finally met the uncanny signature that accosted his senses, his hips ached with blatant protest for the injuries he nursed. As he approached, he disembarked the parapet that he walked and lit on a lamp post before descending to the ground fully, where he discovered the calling captain was not the entirely human type he expected - but she commanded similar presence.
“Apologies,” he greeted breathlessly. His respiration came through slightly parted teeth - evidence of his accelerated search as he drew close to lateness. This place was not an easy find.
A short nod of the head acknowledged rank without upsetting the damaged muscles around his pelvis. “You wanted to train me?”
The feel of an ally signature gave the captain warning someone was approaching and she chose to remain in her leisurely slouch against the side of the building, the length of her scaled tail curled around her leg by her ankle. Light caught on the scales, defying her attempts to keep a low profile. Not that it mattered here… this neighborhood was dying and few care to venture out into the darkness. The residents knew better than most what lurked here, having lived with it so long.
Maybe she should have given him actual directions to the cross street she’d told him over the crystal system… but she’d honestly assumed he knew where it was or how to go about finding it.
Red eyes lifted as she heard the scrape of boots and Cinnabar watched as a trim figure jumped from the roof to make its way to the ground, resolving into a younger man with unruly black hair and feathers on his shoulders. Her stomach rumbled and twinged with pain, but she ignored it as she gave him a long once over, watching him acknowledge her in a more or less respectful way. It could have been something to pull rank on him for, but the captain found less enjoyment in the petty things she would have enjoyed as a lieutenant herself.
“Umber, right? You’re under Xenotime.” The half-youma said as she pushed away from the wall suddenly, straightening up to her over-six-foot height. They might have matched fairly evenly, if she hadn’t had three inch heels on her boots… “Your general asked me to give you some instruction since our fighting styles are different. How much combat training do you have? Have you faced human or animal opponents before?”
His outfit was… different, but then she shouldn’t be so surprised by that. Everyone had a uniqueness to them, herself included. It looked vaguely tribal, which was probably more useful than the pencil skirt Galena had worn as a lieutenant. Short of breath… had he been running or was there a deeper problem behind that, she wondered.
The girl-creature that approached commanded quite a presence when not slouched beneath the cool darkness of a building. Her tail appeared fully articulated by how it unlatched from her leg and moved in an atypical manner - from that, he guessed she did not require its assistance in balance.
The rest of her appeared equally commanding, in how her uniform dispensed key strips of skin. It looked cocky, perhaps, or reckless, in how her femoral arteries lay completely exposed. Her forearms knew the same amount of exposure as his, though it seemed a much lesser issue. Only afterward did he consider that he had not yet witnessed bladed weapons in the hands of their opposition - so such taunts of skin may be conservative after all, even if unprecedented in this weather.
Her assertion of his name and commanding officer received a curt nod and nothing more. There must be some system in place cataloguing officers and their subordinates. Just as easily, Xenotime could have spread the word of her own accord. That information had to come from somewhere - Xenotime cannot be the only general with lieutenants beneath her. Or does corruption stemming from her add a discerning feature to the lieutenants she brings in?
Casting thoughts aside, Umber crossed his arms and explained his dismal lack of fighting prowess. "I have 'fought' very few things in the past. A hunter does not incite combat. But... I have faced animals unwilling to die on a few occasions. I've not fought anything human. Or half human. I had a brush with a youma, but that is the majority of any combat experience." I wonder if I am allowed to choose a better weapon. A compound bow seems much more useful than gloves.
"If I may, how did you sprout a tail?" He asked, plainly gesturing toward the scaled addition to Cinnabar's hide.
There was a flash of annoyance as he brought up her additions first thing, but it faded as quickly as it had come. Its not like it wasn’t blatantly obvious she wasn’t a normal officer and it was part of her punishment, to serve as an example to the lower ranks of what happened when you failed to follow the rules. She wasn’t trying to hide anything, it was only natural he take notice and ask about it. Not asking could have marked him as too submissive or fearful… initiative was better, in her mind anyway.
The lack of fighting experience was disappointing, but only mildly so. It was slightly better off than some they brought over, if he knew how to hunt and, she assumed, kill. Better off that Quartz, with his sniveling reaction to simply draining. Cinnabar wondered how this one felt about it. At least he was good looking, so dealing with him would have some pleasantness to it.
“Officers can not claim a youma for a partner until they reach captain rank.” She prefaced as she smiled, showing the tips of fangs. “Those who try usually end up dead at the hands… or claws, of the youma themselves. You also can’t command them, as you probably know from having run afoul of one.”
Reaching out as she bent forward in a lazy motion, hips cocked, the captain pressed a thickened fingertip under his chin to lift it, studying his facial tattoo with enjoyment. Kam had had tattoos down his neck and arm too… and she found herself thinking wistfully fondly of the beefy man from the gym. It would be a waste to glamour just to bang a guy, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about it once in a while. Her hand fell away as she straightened.
“I got eaten by mine, but the General-Queen saw a use for me still and gave me mercy. She gave me the power to fight it off and in the doing… I ate it instead. We share this body now and it lives… up here.” The captain tapped her temple beside the shiny red of scales, echoed down the back of her neck before disappearing under her coat. “Moral of the story, don’t go around breaking rules, Pretty Boy. Punishment is usually severe.”
Turning away to stalk towards the center of the lot, her tail swinging behind her with the motion of her hips, Cinnabar clapped her hands and rubbed them together.
“Okay, Pet, lets see what you can do. Come over here where we’ve got some room and show me a fighting stance.”
That explains why the youma never bothered to heed anything I said - though it chose to leave me be over killing me as she experienced. From her words, I wager she picked that fight, or continued to antagonize the youma after receiving a warning. Most civilians here foster a remarkable lack of awareness for animalistic signals. Maybe she experienced some of that same neglect.
The touch, while not welcome, wasn’t reviled either - Porsha herself was overtly fond of kinesthetic affections, even beyond her general garb. Idly he wondered if such shows of touch asserted dominance in the Negaverse’s realm. He found little reason to ask when the finger already drew away with easier gesticulations toward her temporal bone.
He took her gesture as a welcome to look her over blatantly, from the crown of scales surrounding her face to the fangs she so willingly flaunted, her ears that jutted to a tip like Zirconia’s, through most of her obviously humanoid body. Trunk, hips, legs all knew the same physiology familiar to the whole of their species, but her hands adopted strange changes that fostered black daggers for nails instead of the more typical and forgiving keratin. Initially he figured she painted them as most women did, but a second glance confirmed that the color penetrated far deeper than a simple top coat. I expect they might harbor some of the diseases endemic to any claw. If she is to train me, I should be careful.
Her tail was such a curious and unique addition to her body that he watched it attentively while it whipped about, following her stride. Only after she turned to face him and invited his presence further in did he bother to adopt a stance.
While he had little experience in actual combat, Shale spent far too many years climbing canopies, making use of agility to remain stealthy and balanced. He knew to keep feet wide apart for better maneuverability and shock distribution factor when taking a hit. His arms, however, found a considerably weaker position when balled into fists, showcasing his unfamiliarity with offensive action. His chosen pose flaunted his knowledge of defensive and reactionary situations, mostly, with attacking remaining an afterthought.
All these alternative names when she already knows my title. Obnoxious, but tolerable. She is above me - she can do as she pleases.
It doesn’t matter. It’s more important I maintain transparency if I want to make the most of this. “I’ve never attacked something that already knew of my presence before. The times where I defended myself, I had weapons. This is entirely out of my element. Advice is appreciated.”
She could feel his eyes and it put a bit of extra oomph in her sway and the way she bent forward to find her center, balanced on the balls of her feet with her hands up. She certainly enjoyed it when others looked, but following up on that would have to wait for another time… he was here to be trained, first and foremost.
His lack of experience was blatantly obvious, almost painfully so. Breaking from her stance with a click of her tongue and a curl of her lips, Cinnabar stalked forward to slap Umber’s hands out of the way impatiently, more to prove a point than because she wanted to move them.
“Protect your face. Hands up, stance loose. You need to be able to react and move in a variety of ways, both for offense and defense.” Grabbing for his wrists, the captain hauled them into position with a firm grip, making sure he was going to hold it before she let go. “After a strike, return to this position. Don’t try to grapple an opponent unless you have significant weight on them and even then, if you let them take you to the ground with them, you’re vulnerable from attack by nearby allies.”
Taking a step back, her hands up in a mirroring pose, Cinnabar settled herself. “Show me how you throw a punch.” She commanded. “You can’t hurt me, so don’t bother holding back.”
Deliberate she was, impatient moreso, but her transparency and to-the-point explanations felt all too relieving to the lieutenant, who already contended with Porsha’s impossibly vague instructions. She offered succinct reasoning for the changes she prescribed. And most welcome in her difference from Porsha was her lack of incessant touch to distract. Umber had only her to focus on, now - with nothing but desolation surrounding them and a flickering light advertising its own demise while coloring their landscape.
Another flicker and fizzle, and they found darkness. A click, and light returned.
A quick nod signaled his understanding for the subject matter. I would ask after ripping starseeds as a wager for grappling, but now hardly seems the time. Nevertheless, she can always say no. “If possible, I would like to learn about incorporating starseed ripping into combat.”
Umber retained the position suggested, even if initially it felt foreign to hold. Waiting until she returned to stance seemed a waste of opening but he needed the time to adjust to his new stance before he could potentially surprise her with any shots. Besides, she already pointed out that he couldn’t hurt her. He may as well take her up on the best strike he could manage.
From experience with animals, he found no point in going for the head - a punch offered very little chance of disorienting the eyes, and he would require far more force to jar the brain and damage her balance. Instead he closed the distance in a step and aimed low, swinging his fist upward to connect with soft abdominal muscles and the surfeit of viscera within - the exposed underbelly to all the quadrupeds he grappled before.
Red eyes watched him intently for when he moved and she was ready when he came at her, letting him inside of her guard to land his blow. She tightened her abs as she took it, bending her body to absorb some of the force, so the only sound that escaped was a grunt of impact before she swept her arm down and knocked his wrist away. Yes, it hurt… but it told her a lot about what he knew already. Clever, not to go for her face.
“Good. First, the basics. Try it like this.” She said, taking a swing at him that stopped short. She drew back and went through the motion again, slowly. “See here, and here… It’ll increase your force, get past their defenses…”
Her instruction continued as Cinnabar showed him how to throw a punch and how to deflect one. Different ways a hand or fist might come at him and the ways to respond to them. Most focused not on blocking, per say, so much as redirecting the blow and taking control of the other person as they were thrown off balance. It was all beginners stuff, the very basics. Some of it, in other fighting disciplines, would be seen as dirty fighting, but she taught it as though it were the logical and right thing to do. As far as she was concerned… it was. What mattered was not giving your opponent a fighting chance, it was winning the battle and taking minimal damage yourself.
She gave him plenty of chances to try out the moves on her, correcting him when he needed… though after the first mistake, her ‘corrections’ were rough, usually painful. By the time she called a halt to it, even she was breathing deeply, a sheen of sweat on her forehead and neck.
“Do you feel like you have a decent grasp on what I showed you, or do you want to keep going?” She said as she stretched her shoulders out, shaking her arms to loosen them. “I can show you starseeds next.”
Umber’s learning curve started slowly, but soon spiked as he grasps the fundamentals behind blocking and attacking. The instruction period yielded jabs uppercuts, punches, and an assortment of kicks to destabilize or injure the opponent, each practiced on or near her. Occasionally she retaliated of her own to test his defenses, always demonstrating a point in her maneuvers. Despite audacious appearances, Cinnabar was an instructor to be taken seriously, and thus her statements received no more than a nod to keep talking to a minimum. Actions led a greater example of his understanding than phrases.
After she ran through the gambit she planned for him, the break given was welcome. Umber doubled over shamelessly, panting to recover his oxygen debt while the cool February air wicked away some of the sweat worked up onto their skin. “I think I’ve got it,” he panted out while his breath plumed and billowed.
The mention of starseeds drew his attention immediately, and Umber shifted gaze from ground to cherry reds to search for a hint of intention. With only us here, it sounds like she intends to demonstrate on me rather than to me. Is it not outright murder?
Finally he straightened up and wiped some of the sweat beading on his forehead. His jacket was stripped off and tossed without a thought to the dirt, over one of the discarded rebar pipes. “How do you plan on showing me starseeds? I don’t see anyone else here.” Still wary, he widened the distance between them to prevent any potential for it beyond a lunge. Once already he knew the pain of a hand within his chest, and it was not a sensation he intended to revisit.
The tall woman laughed as she braced her hands on her lower back, bending to crack the vertebrae and loosen her spine. He learned fairly quickly, which was pleasing. It was nice to not have to show him things over and over, to have him fall into a rhythm and pick up new things even easier. And he didn’t argue with her, or complain. A model student.
There was no verbal praise from her, but there was approval in her eyes. She flexed her hand as she raised it in front of herself, black claws sliding in and out of the pads.
“I don’t necessarily need to touch yours to show you how to incorporate it. Any strike that lands in the chest or the back has the potential to be a grab for a starseed.” She pulled her hand back and went through a slow motion punch, like what she had shown him before, and stopped when her knuckles met unyielding flesh. “At this point, all I have to do is add a little concentration and my fist would slide into your chest. What was ineffective before becomes infinitely more so when you add a grab to it… the pain and violation of it is often enough to overwhelm the target just from the entry. Some have more mental fortitude than others, though.”
Cinnabar pulled her hand back and let it drop, rocking on the balls of her feet. “If you want me to show you a couple modified punches I can, I’ll just keep my hand solid and smack you in the chest instead.”
I’ll already have bruises. A few more won’t add much to the repertoire.
The touch of knuckles to chest received a mild recoil, but her respect in not going through his chest was well received. He relaxed marginally afterward. “So you essentially aim further and apply the energy to go through someone’s chest.” At that point it becomes a grab and pull game, provided he was in the right area. And if her words regarding the enemy blanching at the move alone held truth, then it seemed that starseed pulling proved an incredibly effective tactic when discouraging their opposition.
“That begs the question, does the Negaverse want senshi or knight starseeds? Are they of use besides the quota that used to be instated?” He finally straightened up afterward and thrust hands into his back pockets to crack the upper thoracic vertebrae. “From reading the training manual, the energy orbs are more a priority. There’s no mention of use for starseeds of our enemies.”
He considered her offer for demonstrative punching, then opted for a different pace. “Why don’t we have a fight instead.” It would cement better the information if I had cause to use it all at once - and rely on it. The pressure should assist. We are both worn down as it is; no great harm should come of it.
“What think you?”
”Yes, basically. Anticipate the lack of resistance as you strike.” Cinnabar rolled her shoulders and loosened up her neck. “The Negaverse, as far as I know, would like to corrupt our enemies as much as possible, because it adds to our numbers… however, corruption of someone who has already been awakened on the other side requires the power of a General-Sovereign, of which we have precious few. When an enemy can’t be corrupted, it is acceptable to kill them as an alternative. Kill or Corrupt is a common theme, you’ll find out.”
The captain pressed her hand to her chest, curling her fingers as though to wrap around her own starseed.
“Energy orbs do not kill the one you take from unless you pull too much. The ‘donor’ then recovers that energy and you can drain them again later. A starseed, once removed, means the host dies. That should be obvious enough why one is prefered over the other… one can be renewed, one can not. But, if given the choice between a dead senshi, and a dead senshi with their starseed in your hand… we would prefer the latter, for the energy it would bring.” She shrugged, falling back from him to put a respectful fighting distance between.
“We can fight if you want… I thought you looked a little tired, but if you still feel up to it…” She grinned, the stretch too wide with too many teeth showing. “I can give you some more bruises.”
Anticipate the resistance. It seems so quick and simple, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Part of hunting is learning to dispatch prey quickly, efficiently, and with minimal suffering. Taking starseeds meets all these requirements. Since I know of no General-Sovereigns or how to contact them, it should remain my top priority when dealing with the opposition. A senshi or knight’s starseed… I wonder what one looks like in comparison to the Dark Mirror that the one showed me.
“It’s a matter of gains over games,” he confirmed with a nod. But games have their place. Intimidation tactics can dissuade as well as wrenching the starseed out of someone if played right. But that seems a far more expensive investment over simple seek and destroy.
Umber retied his hair while she backed away, correcting the looseness that came with ample sparring. The unruly mass yearned to reclaim its freedom, but the lieutenant cinched it down to manageable levels. Afterward he adopted a more limber and practiced stance than his initial rounds with cinnabar. He nodded toward her once. “I think Xenotime would approve,” he added as he considered her state after returning from some kind of national fighting tournament. Covered with bruises she was, but so happily she implored him to go examine the other guy. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to do that.
After measuring up his opponent, Umber engaged her in one of many practice spars to come while the moon still reigned high in the sky. It would be another pair of hours before he returned home, battered and sore, yet relieved to know more.
”Whimsical Blue”
fin~
