Description: AC/DC (1976). Lien's looking for leads on the Syndicate, and Elle's got the connections thanks to one of her more recent hires. The two women broker a profitable deal for intelligence, and then proceed to beat the stuffing out of one another, ending in a draw and mutual respect.
There are two simple rules to remember when you're a mercenary in Metro City:
1)Make sure you get paid everything up front.
2) Achmed's is where all the fixers hang out.
Sure, there are other places that cater to bounty hunters and other 'troubleshooter for hire' style dirtbags, scum, and amoral bastards that would shoot a teenager in the back for a nickle, but most of them are for the posers, wanna-bes, and newbies that infest the trade like so much flotsam and jetsam.
For the real action? Achmed's. No cute nickname, no real buildup... it's a simple lounge located on the outskirts of town, tucked away from prying eyes in the middle of a series of truck stops and weigh stations.
And inside this place? Men and women of reputation and education in the school of the mercenary. There's no strutting here. All that silly bluster and stupidity isn't welcome. Nobody is interested in bragging rights or how many marks you've brought down. The only thing that matters here is work, money, and the matter of mayhem for compensation. That being said, the atmosphere is quiet, reserved, and pleasant. Achmed has built the place to the exacting standards of his clientele.
There's a bar to the left, well stocked with exotic international ales and spirits. To the front is a series of tables and booths where a few mercenaries sit, talking shop and demonstrating that the dress code is extremely accommodating, allowing people to come as they are. However, the back is where all the real business is conducted.
Private alcoves for fixers. These valuable characters of the 'gun-fore-hire' trade are where all the information flows, where all the jobs come from. People who know those in the know and are able to get the knowledge out for others.
For a small fee, of course.
And it's in one of these alcoves Elle sits, alone. Her dress is more formal today. A red snakeskin pantsuit with a black silk blouse underneath, as she quietly sips her drink of choice. As the only fixer around, it's only a matter of time until someone steps in needing information.
The occupation of mercenary-assassin will more often than not pit you into the strangest of situations. Furthermore, this particular occupation will often place you into an assortment of colorful dives and holes in the wall, no matter how loved or frequented the establishment may be. Then there are the sorts of places which cater to people who are skilled, and the atmosphere caters to it.
Case in point: Achmed's.
While it may lack the hustle and bustle and general stupidity often seen elsewhere, its notoriety is still quite known through Metro, depending on who you talk to. Men and women who are more than capable come here for work. This is where the business magic happens, where one can get their hands on some useful information in relative peace and quiet and, more importantly, privacy.
The doors of Achmed part and another face walks in. A blonde woman with cold features, the curly-tressed blonde woman walks with a casual but confident gait, slender hands idly toying with the cuffs of a sharp charcoal gray blazer. It's a professional-looking number, coupled with a gray skirt and heels, and she plays it well. It draws a few errant gazes, but for the most part, Lien Neville seems to be mostly left to handle her own business.
Whatever her business here may be.
Dusky auburn eyes cast a glance across the bar, scanning from wall to wall the present patrons, from bar to alcoves. Her features are painted with an expression of composure, full lips pulled almost thoughtfully across her smooth face. Briefly, she tries to pin a few faces throughout Achmed's; unfortunately, she recognizes no one. But she's not here to visit friends or meet new people.
Like everyone else, she's here for business.
Her stride takes her through the bar, toward the alcove, where the fixers can be found. A few shady faces linger in the proverbial shadows, some attending to business, while others generally sit alone, waiting. And then there is Elle, who stands out amongst the assortment of faces gathered. For a moment, the Englishwoman seems faintly curious. Then she moves, heels clicking softly against the floors.
"Pardon me, miss," the woman remarks, slender arms resting comfortably on her hips as she offers the other woman a tiny grin. "I'm in need of direction. Do you think you could help me with my small predicament? I can pay you for the trouble, if necessary."
Elle nods once, motioning for Lien to take a seat. Per tradition, Elle's back is to the solid concrete wall, with free mobility to both sides, whereas Lien's back is left relatively open. It's an unfortunate setup, and it's more than likely that one of Achmed's regulars asked for it to be that way.
Direction she can provide.
Elle may be unfamiliar to Lien, but the same might not be true the other way around. The white haired woman is well known for her skill at making connections and having information on people far before she ever meets them. Elle's also known for her cold, almost mechanical demeanor, and she demonstrates this perfectly when her dull, lifeless eyes lock onto Lien's, her unpainted lips set in a straight line. She might be dressed in a flashy manner, but she's not a flashy person per se.
"Who, what, when, where, and how?" Is her response, her voice dry, cool, with a undertone of fatigue giving it a slight rasp. Like most things about her, her posture is nearly unreadable, and her face is washed out and dull, not through an kind of practice, but through sheer complete and total apathy to the human condition.
Elle may not be famous, but she knows the role and her position very well in such a short time. The mercenary fixer's glass clinks with ice as she finishes off the beverage, her hands placed flat on the table as she awaits both Lien's response and a waitress to attend to the newly formed business party.
Their gaze briefly meets, and Lien is particularly prompt in her approach. Unlike the other faceless finders out and about, Lien's interest in Elle likely stems from the air she holds about her. Though she may be considered cold and mechanical, it's precisely that which seems to exude an air of professionality. The Englishwoman wants her business done professionally and efficiently.
She can hope that Elle provides this service. For a fee, of course. Always a fee.
Taking a seat at the designated spot in the alcove, the blonde slides into the seat provided, slender hands folding neatly across the table. Unlike the raspy, cold tone which Elle employs, Lien's tone is calm and soothing, and by some standards could be considered arrogant, what with her English heritage.
Five needs are presented, executed with that raspy efficiency the finder is known for. Briefly does the Englishwoman grin, auburn eyes drawing to a thoughtful close as she considers this.
"I would like to find more information on the men and women in the employ of the Southtown Syndicate. It is of particular importance to me for reasons which I really do not wish to bring up. Regardless," Pausing, the blonde casts a glance over her shoulder, toward the entirety of Achmed's before she slowly turns her attentions back onto Elle.
"I realize that some of this is likely public knowledge, but I would like to find more sensitive information regarding these individuals. Where are they frequently seen? What business do they handle? Who are in their employ? What is their importance within the Syndicate; anything."
A hand lifts from the table, long digits idly running through golden locks before she tilts her head softly to the side and provides a tiny smirk. "This is likely one of the easier jobs you've been handed, I'm sure. However, as I frequently have other matters to attend to, it would be of considerable use to me to have someone who is particular more familiar and knowledgeable in the Southtown underworld provide it for me.
"Just name the price."
Thereafter, Lien's gaze briefly drifts again, long fingers folding neatly before her as she rests her elbows upon the table.
Did Elle ask 'why' in her short list of questions? Elle never asks why. There's a litany of reasons, but what it boils down to is that she frankly doesn't care. Never ask why when 'how much' is an issue.
Lien likely wants to kill them, but then again, who doesn't? Being a man or woman of power automatically brings scorn, even when they exercise their power fairly. That's the nature of power. The Syndicate, however, conducts themselves in the manner of a barbarian horde with Geese as the Khan.
"Detail depends on price. Drop me fifteen kay now, and I'll give you what I have off the top of my head. I'm talking names, ranks, duties, and relationships," Elle says, her face betraying not an iota of emotion. Most people would be jumping at the chance for 'easy money', but Elle doesn't dick around. Already her head is cranking out numbers and charting courses of action.
Hiring Leilani not but a week ago has proven to be very, very fortuitous. Nevertheless, there are particular precautions. Elle brings a laptop out and sets it on the table. With her NESTS connections, she can even take credit, and she also produces the card swiper. Thankfully, her reputation as an 'honest' businessperson is widespread. An anomaly in this otherwise cutthroat business.
"If you want extra, more personal details on the Syndicate, like what time of the morning they have a BM or if Billy Kane likes Tiny Toons, that'll be extra, and I'll have to call my specialist. You're looking at anywhere from thirty to fifty." That kind of info will likely require o a little creative finagling in order to get the information out of her newbie associate.
"If you want a detailed surveillance detail on one or more particular high-ranking individuals, you're going to have to come up with a lot more than just cash, though." The white haired merc finishes, as if she had just decribed what she was thinking of ordering. As if on cue, the waitress arrives to take orders. Elle requests another scotch on the rocks and a bowl of pretzels before turning the waitress to Lien and dismissing her after the Englishwoman makes her selection.
Whatever Lien's reasons, she's not telling. But, clearly, Elle is just fine with that - and likely, most in her position would be. Who cares about the details, anyway? Lien's business is her own, just as Elle's is hers. She's here for names and as much information on these men and women she can buy from the lady before her.
Shifting her weight and folding one leg across the other, Lien's features remain calm and cool as she sits there. Her response comes, and the terms are met with the tiniest of grins. "Fifteen," she states, eyes flickering briefly to the ceiling before she brings them back down, onto Elle. "Understood." That said, the woman moves again, but this time into her coat's pocket.
The modern world affords many delightfully modernized means of going about one's business. Fortunately for Elle and, perhaps, Lien herself, the woman has a laptop and, obviously, a card swiper for use. That noted, the woman's hand shifts, fishing around within the insides of her coat before she produces plastic. Her hand lifts, reaching for the swiper...
...but briefly she seems to hesitate. Not for the wrong reasons, however.
"Personal details are definitely wanted. I'm interested in what they do and where their favorite haunts are; anything I could pinpoint them at. A brief smirk crosses full red lips, but she lets it fade easily enough. This is business, after all.
"As for surveillance, that's alright. I can handle that myself." Pausing again, the woman's gaze briefly drifts toward the waitress, an order of their finest wine placed before the blonde lets dusky auburn eyes settle back onto the white-haired woman seated before her.
Then her hand lowers, swiping the card after necessary measures are taken on Elle's end.
"So, for now, what can you enlighten me with?"
With the swipe, numbers are ping-ponged all over the globe, to finally settle like a roulette ball into her company's coffers. She watches the money tranfer take place, unspeaking until everything clears. Once she's satisfied with the payment that's been made, Elle's eles flick back up to Lien. "Well, as you know, the Syndicate isn't your garden variety organization," Elle begins. "A lot of it is above ground and shuffled behind so many corporate names, it's impossible for even mee to root through all the data and try to figure out what their deal is."
Thankfully, the Syndicate's reach it pretty limited for the most part to Japan and some of the United States, and only just recently have they expanded down here," the informant continues. "In fact, the Syndicate's only been moving around in Metro City since the USPL invasion last year." Rolento's group had hired the Syndicate as extra muscle, and the stain has never quite left the city, much to Elle's disappointment.
"Geese mostly hires dumb brutes with simple tastes. All balls, no brains. He's a smart man, but he doesn't like to be challenged as far as I can tell." The white haired merc shifts in her seat as she gets comfortable, pulling the conjecture and intelligence straight from her nearly photographic memory, her fingers lacing together. Her eyes, however, never leave the woman in front of her.
"Geese's upper echelon is Billy Kane and Mr. Big. I've met Kane myself. Looks to me that he's a good guy in a bad situation. Problem is, I think he thinks he owes Geese something. Loyal to the death, and a son of a bitch to fight, if his public battles are anything to go by. Seems he can hold his own with the likes of the heavier hitters like Kyo, Iori, and Terry. He likes rock music. The louder, the better. Fastest way to get him out of hiding is to be such a pain in the ass that Geese's other soldiers can't get you. If you're gunning for him, you'll have to put some work into it. I don't think he does anything except catch bullets meant for Geese."
She pauses as the drinks arrive, and she reaches up to take the glass, sipping from the dark liquid before she places the glass on the table. Her fingers rest on the rim of the glass as she continues her information transfer. "Mr. Big is in charge of Southtown operations, which means he's all about running numbers, hookers and blow. He's a cocky, overconfident son of a whore and a complete misogynist because his mommy didn't hug him enough or something. Basically, he's a neanderthal that made good. He hangs out a lot at his private strip club. I'll get you the address."
"More on the street level, you got Raiden, Yamazaki, and Tony. Street enforces, basically. Raiden has an itty bitty brainpain, and he basically fights whatever crosses his path. Nothing complicated there. Yamazaki's more of a contract killer. Hangs out in Chinatown sometimes. He's a merc, but in pretty bad standing, since he has a bad rep of letting his employers drop dead ever since the Jin twins dropped dead. That being said, he's good at making people die and gets paid a shit-ton to make that happen. However, I think he's bribeable to some extent." Again, the merc pauses to take anotheer sip. "Let me know if I'm moving too fast."
The transaction handled, the Englishwoman does little more than let dusky eyes draw to a contemplative close as her hand snakes back, dipping into the confines of her blazer. Easily enough it is returned from whence it came, safely nestled there within the recesses of her attire. Comfortable once more, those thin hands rest upon the tabletop, fingers entwining as she offers the other woman little more than her eyes and ears.
And an earful it is. Each shred of information provided is carefully pondered over before it is stored in the recesses of her mind, for later use. Doing little more than offer a nod of her head, she's very much interested in what the white-haired finder has for her.
She pauses briefly in her silence to lift a finger, if only to ask a question. "If I may, ma'am," she remarks, letting those eyes narrow only a touch as she speaks. "Is it safe to assume that the USPL commander has offered himself as a muscle-for-hire for the Syndicate? I've had a brush in the past with the man, and apparently he claims bought loyalties to Geese." Furrowing thin blonde brows, the woman seems momentarily thoughtful before she grins easily and waves a hand gently.
"Please, go on."
More information revealed to the Englishwoman, Lien sits and patiently absorbs all that's given with a tiny smirk haunting her rouge-red lips. Geese and his Syndicate are clearly more detailed than she'd given credit for, at least the big man himself. "Billy Kane, eh?" she muses briefly, long fingers idly rubbing her chin before she resumes listening. "The address to Big's club would be appreciated," she adds swiftly.
Grinning easily once more, the blonde lets her eyes focus entirely on Elle. "You're moving at an efficient pace. Do not worry." Again, the woman shifts her weight, slender hands parting from the table top to rest easily in her lap.
"Are there any more men of note within the Syndicate?" she asks. If she's going to do some personal investigation, she may as well get all the names she can.
At the prompt, Elle continues. "There's a few more. Tony's sort of an expat. I tried to hire him in the past, but the man's too damaged for me to get any use out of. Last I saw, he was still haunting Thailand. He's stuck in the middle of the Shadaloo conflict... so he may be dead as far as I can tell." Her hand is shoved into the bowl of pretzels before she continues any further.
"If you can find him, though? He's had firsthand experience with a lot of the big noises, so I've heard. Since he's a small fry, he probably doesn't know much. Then again, he might know more than he lets on." She shrugs, chewing on her mouthful of pretzels. "Whatever the case, he's on their shortlist and he spooks easy. Doesn't look like he ever got the 'Biz'." She refers of course, to the largely immoral mercenary trade where human lives are traded like chattel.
As her thoughts turn to Rolento, Elle's eyebrow raises slightly. "The USPL is less of a mercenary army than it is a terrorist rabble. In fact, I have a job for you regarding the USPL you're interested in that. But if Rolento has an alliance with Geese, I don't know about it. Then again, Rolento's prone to spouting out bullshit. Given the way things are set up? I'd say the relationship is largely one-sided and on Geese's convenience. Geese has a new toy to play with, and Rolento gets to pretend he's someone important."
"Otherwise? There's not much more to talk about as far as the Syndicate proper is concerned. There used to be a few more street-level peoons they'd employ. Washed up boxers, that kind of thing. Recently, they've started to set up shop here in Metro, though," Elle says nodding towards the door. "They have a new project manager by the name of 'Duke'. Dunno much about him, though. Rumor has it that he's a vampire or a zombie or some sort of garbage." Elle's voice doesn't lend anything to indicate that these rumors are ludicrous or untrue, however, as she swirls her drink around. "He looks like a smart one, though. It worries me. If someone in the Syndicate has cajones AND the brains to back it up? We're all in trouble."
Again, Lien listens with the utmost attention, slender hands gently entwined upon her lap as she continues to regard the white-haired mercenary before her. The lower-lieutenants and those below Geese are all dangerous in their own right, she figures. But that's not any reason to stop her pursuits. She says nothing of her thoughts; instead, she offers a patient grin.
Nodding her head at the information, the blonde exhales briefly at the mention of Rolento. She's had a brush with him before, and it was close. However, "If he's brushing elbows with Geese Howard," she begins, lifting her chin a bit. "Then perhaps this would interest me. A job, you said? Do tell."
As for the others? Duke earns her a slight raise of her brow, but the woman does little more than purse her lips. Her encounter with the man is briefly reconsidered before she's simply shaking her head and offering a slight smirk. "Vampire or zombie or whatever, it wouldn't surprise me. However, if he's as intelligible and wise as you say, then there could be a problem, yes."
The otherwise forgotten glass of wine is taken in hand, and from it the Englishwoman takes a thoughtful sip, savoring the flavor before she drinks. Contented, she again shifts her weight and nestles her hands upon the table's surface once again, eyes focus on Elle.
"How long will it be before the information is fully gathered? And where would you like to meet up for the exchange? Here in Metro, or elsewhere?"
"Here is fine," Elle says flatly. She'll be in town for a while, since she has definite concrete business concerns to handle in this part of the world. "I should have it to you within the week. Just check this place, same time." She'll have to sit down with leilani for a chat about any more pertinent information. The former stripper and callgirl spent more than enough time shuffling the Syndicate's books.
But the immediate issue is the job. Elle taps at her computer, and brings out another periphial: a small printer no bigger than the cardboard dowel in a paper towel roll. The peice of paper immediately prints out the face of a boy. A rather young boy, in fact, dressed in a USPL uniform. "This kid's name is 'Nassir'. He's one of Rolento's boy soldiers, and one of the most visible members of Rolento's 'army'."
"USPL is floundering, and hard. There's nothing left but fragments. It never recovered after being kicked out of Metro," Elle says as she leans back, pushing the paper over to Lien. "Rolento has so many enemies right now, it's almost laughable, and information as to where they're hiding would be worth a lot to me. I think this kid knows where the old maniac is holed up, and I have clients that would pay big for that info."
"I want you to find him, and beat every last bit of info out of him. As long as I get what I need? I don't care what happens to him afterward. I don't want you to let him know who sent you. All I need is the data. Get that for me, and I'll pay you tewenty five, or I can float you a freebie if you need one," she says matter-of-factly. "Time is of the essence, though. The second word gets out that someone is looking for him, Rolento will beat feet like a scared schoolgirl."
"Noted," the Englishwoman remarks, letting her dusky eyes drop to the tabletop, briefly observing her fingernails before she again lifts her glass. "And within a week? Excellent. I'll be looking forward to it. Will you meet me, or will it be via an associate?" She presumes the former, but in some circles, the latter is common. Better to be clear than uncertain.
Those auburn eyes drift toward the paper as it is printed, however, eyeing the contents briefly before she offers a tiny grin. Reaching forward, she takes the paper in hand and lifts it, eying the print out before placing it on the table once more. "Nassir, hm? So he can provide me information in regards to Rolento?" And, in turn, provide Elle with information.
"I'll see what I can do. It shouldn't be too hard for me to come across the USPL commander. I've already run into him once before by sheer chance. Likely, if I give him a little bait he'll take it easily. However, I doubt the crazy commander would give you what you want. Give me some time, and I'll see what I can get from this Nassir chap." As for the deal.
"Payment is fine. I need no freebies, I assure you." She's the heir to her father's vast wealth, after all. Clearly, from their transaction, money is no real major issue for the Englishwoman.
That being said, the woman gives her body a gentle pushing, a hand reaching out toward the paper. She pauses briefly, long digits hovering over the paper before she offers a playfully coy smirk. "Mind if I take this?" she asks.
"I'll meet you myself," Elle says as she stands up, gathering her things. Looks like all the business she wanted to conduct has managed to get conducted today. "And I printed it out so you could have a copy. Go ahead and take it... unless you have a photographic memory for faces." Elle does, but it'd be foolish of her to think that of everyone else.
"By the way," the mercenary fixer says as she shoulders the instrument she had been keeping under her table. "I heard you were a decent fighter. I don't suppose you'd be willing to indulge me in a short match."
While Elle has nothing to really prove and has no real reason to battle Lien, it's always good to know who and what you're dealing with. The merc woman doesn't have any philosophical musings on how the art of combat reveals valuable information about a person's personality. She's more interested in seeing what the assassin can bring to bear for her own personal edification. After all, information is what Elle is all about.
Again, the woman nods her head, offering a small grin in response. "Very well," she replies, offering a soft nod briefly before she resituates herself in her chair. "As for the photographic memory, not so much." To emphasize the point, a slender digit rises, long nail gently tapping the side of her temple, the grin widening a touch. "So I thank you, miss." the Englishwoman is sure to add.
However, the ‘by the way' earns the finder a curious look, blonde brows lifting a touch before she lets her red lips pull into a coy smile. She's complimenting the assassin, and asking for a fight? Considering the words, Lien does little more than turn her gaze to the side, toward the bar proper. Only when she's had a moment to consider does she rise from her seat, giving her arms and legs a stretch.
"A spar, then?" she asks, tilting her head to one side. "I do suppose I have some time to kill, miss." Pause. Eyes flicker to the ceiling, before they fall upon the mercenary once more with another smile. "Very well. Shall we, then?" she asks, nodding toward the door. Whether she obliges or not, the assassin is making her way toward the exit, tucking the paper away in the depths of her blazer's breast pocket for safe keeping.
Making her way out into the parking lot of the establishment, Elle sets her suitcase aside and her boots chuff along the gravel driveway. Elle doesn't compliment as much as she parrots what she's told. She'll make her own evaluations. Once outside of Achmed's, Elle is already powering herslef up. The dour looking woman has a considerable amount of energy to throw around.
The white-haired merc moves back, letting the gravel crunch beneath her feet as a low thrumming noise rattles the area around her, causing the ground to vibrate slightly. What she's doing is really anyone's guess, but she falls into a loose combat stance, steadying her footing and reshouldering the guitary 'holster' along her back.
Her passing interest as to what Lien is able to do might serve as useful information someday. At the very least, knowing the capacity of someone that she might have to hire later makes things easier for the next time around.
COMBATSYS: Elle has started a fight here.
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Lien has joined the fight here.
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Lien 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Elle
Once beyond the threshold of Achmed's, Lien goes about the process of easily unbuttoning her blazer and peeling away the jacket. Folding it neatly over her crooked arm, she paces patiently toward an expensive-looking and well-loved car, tossing it gently atop its hood before pivoting easily on her sharp heels to face the white-haired mercenary once more. Just in time, too; it would seem she has followed her.
Lips pull into an easy grin once more, eyes hooding slightly as she watches the other woman. Whatever her interests are in seeing Lien in action is of no real concern to her. She'll just oblige the woman for a brief bit, then both will be on their way as easily as they came here. Business as usual. This is but one of many facets of it.
There are no words from the Englishwoman. Instead, an odd silence lingers about the woman before she tilts her head in a ghost of a nod. "Cheers," she idly remarks, before she suddenly leaps up and downwards, attempting to land on Elle's shoulders...
COMBATSYS: Elle endures Lien's Tisiphone!
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Lien 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Elle
Her purchase on Elle's shoulders is a briefly-lived stint at best. Utilizing her legs, the woman flips back and ultimately flips Elle into the air, high. Landing hands first, the Englishwoman handsprings back into a standing position, shooting a long leg out from her side, just as the mercenary falls into range. Snared by the Englishwoman's heel, the opposite leg shoots out thereafter, applying a fierce and particularly swift kick to send the other woman flying back and away.
The foot collides with Elle's stomach, knocking the mercenary backward. The powerful blow is enough to shake her senses and rattle her bones with the powerful sock... but Elle's well prepared to follow up after the heavy kick. Instead of pinwheeling out of control, Elle manages to right herself before she collides with the gound, her feet splaying to slow down her motion considerably, kicking up rocks and dirt.
She doesn't waste a moment. The second she comes to a halt, her legs are churning, hurling her towards Lien at a considerable clip. Already, her hand is reacheing behind her for the unconventional weapon that she's well known for. The guitar along her back is pulled free from it's holster, the metal plated instrement gleaming under the lamplights around the merc hangout.
Using the force of momentum, Elle leaps up and goes into a full body swing as she aims the metal plated monstrocity at Lien's temple, angling so that the narrow edge of the guitar will crash into the blonde with considerable destructive force.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Lien with Breaking the Law.
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Lien 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Elle
A blow for a blow. Kicked back, the Gorgeous Assassin simply stands there, observing the white-haired woman as she slides back and ultimately rises to her feet. Again, the woman offers the other a small grin. It's a spar, but there's no reason for either to hold back, she wagers. Thus, auburn eyes narrow as the woman rises and unhitches the guitar strapped to her back.
She's never seen that before. The smile on Lien's lips curls just a touch in amusement.
As the other woman comes, however, Lien attempts to employ her deft feet in getting her out of harm's way. Instead, the edge of the guitar suddenly crashes against her head, causing the woman to fly to the side, soaring easily through the air...
...until she corrects herself and lands in a three-point stance, her form skidding a foot upon landing. "Oh bother," she remarks softly to herself, long fingers rubbing her head gently before she offers a smirk. "That quite hurt." No matter, however; it doesn't hinder the assassin in the least. In fact, Lien suddenly lunges toward Elle, her body twisting as she attempts to deliver a swift, chopping blow for the woman's shoulders and neck with a loud kiai yelled.
COMBATSYS: Lien successfully hits Elle with Strong Punch.
- Power hit! -
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Lien 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Elle
Overstepping her attack in the follow through, what should have been an almost laughably easy to defend attack turns into a terrible mistake. Normally, Elle is able to mount a decent defense against most hand to hand attacks. The hands come down on an unprotected collarbone, and drives her to her knees in a single volley. That was a little bit stronger than she expected. Not because Lien is a woman... but because normally, Elle is almost indestructable.
She's forced to backpedal now, rolling backward along the ground before staggering to her feet, her weapon holstered as she attempts to compensate for the powerful attack. At least this fight isn't a life or death struggle.
This time, however, Elle's going to take the distance route. Her weapon is slammed back into it's holster, and she raises one hand, her fingers already crackling with energy. Using the distance between them to target the other woman, Elle's hand launches a torrent of electrical power, trying to barbecue the blonde assassin.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Lien with High Voltage.
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Lien 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Elle
As obvious as the attack may seem, the woman gains the advantage. Her strike cuts swiftly through the air and ultimately crashes against Elle, causing the woman to drop to her knees. However, as confident as some fighters may be in her position, the assassin doesn't gloat; instead, the woman takes a few strides back, giving the other woman some breathing room. It would seem the white-haired woman has precisely the same idea in mind. Her grin grows only a touch.
Eyes hood as the other woman readies her attack, those hands afire with energy. As projected as such a flashy attack may be, it would seem Lien's feet fail her again. That burst of electrical chi strikes the woman, causing her to stagger a touch, long legs struggling to keep the Englishwoman standing. The struggle for balance leaves her the victor, but only briefly so; a moment later the woman charges forward, closing the distance only by executing a flying-kick aimed for Elle's abdomen.
COMBATSYS: Elle endures Lien's Light Kick!
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Lien 1/---====/=======|=======\=====--\1 Elle
Tossing caution to the wind, Elle is full aware of the kind of power that Lien can bring to bear. Her body shudders under the attack, but the woman is just simply used to pain at this point. Once you've been through the kind of fights Elle's managed to cralw her way out of, it stops bothering you as much as it used to, despite the fact that it clearly knocks the wind out of her.
Still, what stomping right into the attack does give her leave to do, is pull her guitar down again, and slam her hand across it with a single stroke. A power chord, no doubt. Normally, something like that wouldn't be much more than an annoyance, especially since she's not plugged into an amplifier. However, Elle has another card up her sleeve: that being that she can control sonic energy as well as electrical power. With a single sonic burst, her guitar emits a massive sonic wave. The very air shimmers in a solid wall of disintegrating force as it attempts to simply annihilate the assassin where she stands.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Lien with Black Sabbath.
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Lien 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Elle
Tonight is clearly not the Gorgeous Assassin's night. Anoher surge of energy erupts from the mercenary's hand--more particularly, the guitar she wields, and that burst of energy which soars from it. Though she again tries to avoid the strike altogether with a hop and a handspring back, she is instead struck. Sent flying back, the woman lands, skidding a few feet before she comes to a stop.
"I must say," she remarks as she begins to pull herself up and dust herself off. "This has been particularly not in my favor. Wouldn't you agree?" Her lips curl a touch, eyes hooding as she sports a pleasant smile that is brief-lived at best. For she moves again shortly thereafter, charging forward with considerable swiftness before she hollers, attempting to strike Elle fiercely with another, far more deadly knife hand to the shoulders and neck.
COMBATSYS: Lien successfully hits Elle with Zaniah.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Lien 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1 Elle
It seems to be the night for trading hits. Again, the attack should have been slow enough for Elle to compensate for. Nevertheless, it would appear that Elle's reaction time is a bit off. Her initial reaction is to toss up her hands, but the angle of attack is odd enough that the strike hits her in the back, deadening her nerve endings and causing her to collapse to the ground heavily.
With a grunt, Elle kips back up to her feet. She looks healthy enough, but her body is telling her otherwise. It looks like she's going to have to end this rather soon, or else pretty much lose in trying.
Elle raises her left arm, and the electrical power boils forth from her arm, the energies ripping appart the jacket sleeve. Liek a torrential pillar of electrical power, the normally blue lightning glows a bright white as the long snakelike blast shoots forth from her plam to try and annihilate the assassin right out.
COMBATSYS: Lien fails to interrupt Whitesnake from Elle with Assault Type - Alecto.
- Power fail! -
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Lien 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Elle
COMBATSYS: Lien has reached second wind!
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Lien 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Elle
Striking the other woman with surprising force, Lien simply takes a few steps back again putting distance between herself and the white-haired woman wielding that particularly nasty guitar. So far, the two seem to be exchanging particularly lethal blows to one another with no real efficient results, but no matter. Winded now, the woman watches Elle with narrowed eyes, fiery auburn depths peering intently at the woman. She only needs a sufficient opening...
As that electricity is brought to life, the Gorgeous Assassin's eyes are mere slivers as it surges forward. Attempting to slide through it and deliver a punch, the Englishwoman clearly overestimates the strength of the chi; as result, Lien is sent flying back, rolling across the ground a few turns before she plants a hand. She's not down quite yet.
Slowly but surely, the woman pulls herself from the ground, teeth gritted as she rises shakily. "You're quite a handful, miss," she observes, offering a weak grin.
Elle's a mess on any kind of inspection, although her constitution allows her to remain standing, her booted feet providing enough stability. For all intents and purposes, that last salvo should have been enough to put Lien down. Smoke rises like tendrils from her arm, and she can barely move, given the nerve strikes and crippling blows the assassin has delivered.
Nevertheless, Elle's got enough frame of mind to focus her attention on Lien.
Elle's not much of a chatty type when it comes to combat, really, so when she starts to make her initial approach for the next exchange, she doesn't say a word. Her steps are quick, but obviously on borrowed time. Stumbling to a stop in front of the assassin, Elle swings one of her arms forward. Her palm held from the blonde's face by mere inches, she lets loose with a tremendous burst of sonic power as she attempts to drop the woman with a final burst of power.
COMBATSYS: Lien dodges Elle's Metal Health.
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Lien 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Elle
Like the guitar-wielding merc, the blonde isn't faring any better herself at this little soiree the two have arranged, however impromptu it may be. Regardless, the persistant and roach-like Englishwoman should, for all intents and purposes, remain flat on her back. Such is not the case, however; rising up, the blonde staggers a bit, but offers a friendly word to the woman before her. It's nothing personal, after all.
At the woman's approach, Lien does little more than stand there. The hand comes, but with a sudden dip and weave, the blonde avoids being struck with that awesome burst altogether. Instead of attack in kind, the woman does something else altogether.
She grins easily and says, "Let's call it a day, what do you say? No offense meant; if anything, you can claim a victory here, miss."
With that, Lien pivots on her heel and paces for the expensive car, on which her blazer lies. In the back of her mind, Lien is glad she parted with it, if only for the fact Elle's electric chi could have ruined her belongings contained therein. But no matter; easing it onto her form, the woman offers Elle a nod.
"Thank you for the fight. You're pretty tough, you realize? I look forward to our next encounter. Ta."
And with that Lien makes her way toward the street.
COMBATSYS: Lien takes no action.
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Lien 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Elle
COMBATSYS: Lien has left the fight here.
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Elle has ended the fight here.
Log created on 23:14:15 07/06/2007 by Elle, and last modified on 11:31:06 07/08/2007.