Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was a decision every fairly new magical person had to make at 3AM in the morning when they had woken with a serious case of the munchies and had nothing in the apartment. Do you a) walk the necessary three blocks to the closest convenience store or b) senshi the heck up and run/jump/badass your way to the convenience store in half the time?

It was hardly a question you needed to answer because it was Centisima that was cavorting down the sidewalk and certainly not Jayce. He had money in his pockets and a craving for a pineapple slushie and corn chips that needed to be satisfied.

Unfortunately it turned out that he wasn't the only one out that night, judging by the Chaos aura that he was certain was coming from inside the exact same convenience store that he had chosen to visit at such an unholy hour and that was just not fair. All he’d wanted was something to snack on.

As the automatic doors slid open and Centisima stepped inside, a ding dong rang out, announcing his arrival. He reminded himself, with a little curl of his lip, that he’d told Sedna he was going to try talking to the next Negaverse agent he found. The thought had barely entered his head when he noticed the arm peeking out from behind one of the aisles. If there was someone dead in this store, he was going to be really, really pissed off.

Talk next time. Punch people today.

Centisima stood at the entrance the doors whooshing closed behind him. Beside him the unmanned counter and lines of aisles to his left. He was standing with his legs planted securely, braced as if about to be attacked. He really did half expect someone to just burst out, with some knives or a sword or whatever. Then the voice came, cutting through the hum of fridges and the Rolling Stones on the radio. Somebody was in the aisles… well, other than the maybe dead dude.

“Santa Claus, ho ho ho,” he called back and then couldn’t help but laugh. “Really though? Who’s there? Come on out and maybe I’ll be nice and introduce myself before I kick your a**.” Because there would be asskicking or at least a stern talking to. He’d see how well his new Negafriend reacted to threats of violence.

And there he was, leisurely striding out from between the aisles as if he was holding a hotdog and not a ball of stolen energy.

Centisima took him in. The dark hair, the dark clothing and the lethal gaze above the kerchief. If there was any uncertainty over what was to come, the senshi didn’t show it. “Not particularly. I don’t have any use for it… but that guy over there does. You should probably give it back.”

He made a show of looking the Nega up and down, unimpressed. “Still in a military goth stage, I see. That’s cool.” The way he said cool reeked of derision. “You do realize those buckles on your leg aren’t actually keeping anything up. It’s a pretty pointless accessory.”

You were always in more danger when confronted by a level-headed enemy. It was when they were angry that they made careless mistakes.

“Attacking my intelligence, how-” clever, his brain finished this sentence for him because his face was otherwise engaged with being punched. Even having been braced and expecting an attack, he hadn’t been expecting an attack quite so suddenly. It was his own fault of course, getting caught up in being a mouthy a*****e.

He was absolutely going to have a nasty bruise on his cheek and he tasted blood in his mouth when he bit his tongue, but the pain was mostly irrelevant. A partially stunned Centisima rode with the punch and rather than fall backwards, shifted his body in towards Wolfeite. He had an elbow out and was planning on using his weight to slam into the Nega’s solar plexus.

Centisima only had a brief moment to be proud of getting in a decent enough strike that the agent lost his breath over it. He would have smirked, if his cheek wasn’t aching like a b***h and he wasn’t still horrifically off balance from the first punch and his own awkward and semi-effective strike. He knew he had to find his footing and quickly, hit back again and get his momentum going but his effort was clumsy.

He saw the second punch coming and wasn’t sure he could avoid it, so he didn’t… at least not entirely. Centisima shifted into the strike, let the fist hit the side of his gut rather than the center and reached out even as he gave a gasp of pain and fought the urge to stumble backwards. This fight would be quick, gritty and violent. He knew this now. It was a street brawl, plain and simple, using every advantage you had at your disposal.

"Venom Claw!" He hissed out the words and struck as purple light coated his hand, aiming for Wolfeite’s face, chest or anywhere that would provide an advantage.

The rush that came from that solid hit was almost scary. He wanted to follow it up immediately, not just because it was a good idea to lay his enemy flat, but because he really just wanted to hit him again and win this. To prove right now that he was stronger. The purple glow faded away, magic spent and Centisima hoped he’d used it well because he wouldn’t get another ******** you too," he spat back and despite knowing he should move in, take the guy apart while he had the chance, he moved backwards instead and gave ground. His gloved hand brushed briefly against his stomach where he’d been hit. No point in worrying about that now. There would be time for aches and pains later.

"You done yet?" He sneered.

He really should have followed his own advice.

Centisima made a promise to himself as he stumbled backwards and once again a fist slammed painfully into his stomach, as he doubled over, as his lips pulled back in a grimace and he swung his elbow, equally blindly, at the face of enemy; it was a promise to never stop, not until his enemy as incapacitated at his feet. Show no mercy.

Centisima staggered after him, his elbow aching where it had connected into Wolfeite’s head. The pain was almost welcome. It meant triumph, it meant that the Nega was in more pain than he was right now.

No mercy. He repeated the mantra in his mind as he followed after Wolfeite, slightly off course so that his shoulder banged against the shelf, sending cans tumbling to the floor. "I’m going to make you done," he snarled.

Then he reached for Wolfeite, hoping to get a grip on his clothes and pull him into another punch, one that would hopefully finish the fight.