Description: Objective:Ongoing psion capture. Obstacle: A cunning, desperate Russian. Alias: None. Summary: The trap laid months before comes to fruition as Ayame manages to capture another weilder of that energy her employer is so interested in. Secrets are exchanged, missions accomplished, but in the end, the duplicitous rouge can't be trusted by /anyone/.
At long last the phone call Ayame was expecting came. Unlike most of the psycho power users the girl has found by running into in Southtown proper, Stasya had been a special case - found out via a SNF match staged in America. As a newcomer fighter, there wasn't a massive paper trail by which to find out more about Stasya like there would be on more recognized fighters. And so Ayame was left waiting for that call. Not to say she hasn't been busy with her tasks in the meantime, of course...
But the call came. Ayame was succinct on the phone, clearly not wanting to talk for long. But she did provide an address to meet at all the same. A cafe on the corner of a somewhat slow intersection on the outskirts of Southtown seems like a harmless enough place to meet. A small joint, there's not even really any seating besides the tables out in front beneath white umbrellas to provide shade.
Ayame has been there for a while, pacing back and forth just outside of the space occupied by the tables. It wouldn't take a psychic to see that she looks nervous about something, her hands clasped back and forth, her head bowed as if in thought. The time arranged is mid-afternoon and the cafe is nearly empty but for the owner napping behind the counter.
Several buildings line the road out here, but the area is definitely rural compared to the heart of Southtown. Back and forth Ayame continues to pace, occasionally glancing at a cell phone she has palmed in her right hand, checking the time even though it's still a little early for Stasya to have arrived.
Stasya is a punctual sort, precise and orderly in many things. Perhaps that is partly because of that unusual ability she has-- the ability to read the emotions of others, occasionally with pinpoint accuracy. For those who rarely have to guess about most things-- and emotion is such a large part of so many things-- approximates and more-or-lesses have very little place in the scheme of things.
She is also a careful sort. Hardly prone to take risks and gamble on chances, she had taken a while to resolve to commit to this strange offer of assistance. A number of recent factors-- her increasing dissatisfaction with how she always seems to come up short compared to her teammates, her concerns about her abilities, her desire for answers-- drove her to finally decide to meet. The fact is, Stasya is simply tired of always 'coming close' but never quite succeeding: tired of being uncertain of how much help she could be if someday, she was needed. Such occasions -will- arise. The latest debacle with Pacific Resistance and their lost member proved that. She just has no confidence she can bring much to the table, when those situations arise.
Moreover, if she gets anything out of this, she can tell Shurui something as well.
So she'd decided to go. To risk it, in order to see what she could discover. She'd left messages both with Tenma and with Shurui, telling them when and where she'd gone... she had not, in an uncharacteristic move, mentioned it to her parents. She shows up at the appointed time, like clockwork, looking much the same as she did that day she and Ayame first met. She spots Ayame immediately-- a blond in a neary-empty cafe is hard to miss-- but for the immediate moment, she neither calls out nor attempts to draw Ayame's attention. Something is clearly troubling her.
It's in the midst of pacing that Ayame's attention comes to rest on the new arrival and the girl stops short. Brown eyes widen slightly, seemingly mixing surprise and relief at once. But rather than approach Stasya immediately, she glances back and forth, then over her shoulder, eyes coming to rest on the napping proprietor of the small cafe, before she finally moves toward the Gedo student, her steps hurried.
Coming to a stop just short of Stasya, Ayame leans to the side slightly, peering behind her before shifting her focus back on the other girl. "I'm glad you made it here. Do you know if anyone followed you?" Stepping to the left, Ayame gazes past the noteably taller girl to check back the route she came. "It doesn't seem like it, but..." Attention snaps back to the Russian, "I should have warned you about being followed when we talked, but I didn't want to alarm you. It's just..."
Another shifty glance cast toward the napping shop keeper, "Nn... come on, let's walk a little ways." she encourages, turning to begin striding along the sidewalk, outside a number of ordinary looking buildings lining the road, only pausing if Stasya herself doesn't follow.
That troubled look on Stasya's face breaks finally as Ayame hurries over to her, the girl catching a whiff of the other blonde's preoccupied furtiveness near-instantly once she gets in range. Some of her concerns swim to the forefront of her mind at that, others receding to a low hum. Stasya watches Ayame's expression carefully both with her grey eyes, and with her empathic sight. As usual... she finds herself unable to read anything of her beyond the obvious.
This would normally not disquiet her, but somehow in Ayame, it does. "I don't think anyone followed me--" She glances over her shoulder as Ayame steps over and casts a look down the road. "I notice that sort of thing more readily than most normal people."
Still. To be so concerned about being followed, watched... Stasya follows Ayame, but it is warily. "Why such concern? Is there something dangerous about this? What you intended to be telling me?" Staying a pace or two behind Ayame, she casts a slow gaze around as she talks. "One would not think there would be such risk in knowledge..." she comments, a bit bitterly. But it is, she finishes wearily to herself, a fact of life. One she knows intimately from her experiences growing up.
"No, no," the strawberry-blond corrects as they walk along, slowing her pace and finally stopping to stand next to Stasya, her mouth a faint frown as if struggling to find the right words. "It isn't what you are going to know, it's what you are." She turns to face Stasya directly, brow furrowed a little, "I'm glad you weren't followed. You see, it's that... Well, lately, there's..."
The girl buttons up, looking pensive, turning away and starting to walk along the sidewalk slowly once again, hands clasped in front of her as she bows her head slightly, "You see, lately, there's been problems. Ah-, I mean, rather, people like you, that have, you know, your kind of abilities... lately they've been getting attacked, some of the many I know here in Southtown... I don't know what's happened to them, they've vanished."
She pauses her steps and turns to face Stasya, her expression markedly somber, "That's why I was worried when you didn't call after so long. I thought maybe..." She lifts a hand and waves it slightly, "Well, now you know." She manages a faint, forced looking smile, the concern in her eyes still every bit as real as possible. Any attempts to discern duplicity in anything she's said would be met with the same absense of confirmation anything else Ayame has ever said to the girl.
"You haven't noticed anything strange lately, have you? Felt like you were being followed or the like? I hope you were discrete in who you told about coming to meet me? Not too many, yes?"
Stasya is silent as Ayame clarifies it's her -kind- that are in danger. She hadn't been aware of the disappearances of her fellow psions-- she barely knows of any of the others who exist, beyond Shurui and Miu, and through Shurui Alma and Rose-- and the revelation sets her to frowning in alarm. This was the sort of thing her father had been afraid of, when they left their last home in Russia. The special focus people place on those who are different. The tendency people have... to -use- those who are different.
Disquieted, she kind of wishes she could discuss this with her father right about now-- but simultaneously, she is afraid to tell him. What if it prompts him to pack up and move yet again, running to hide in some far less conspicuous place? What if they leave? She's grown to like this city-- to like her friends on the team-- far more than she usually does. To leave...
Stasya doesn't discuss her trepidations. She just turns those frowning grey eyes on Ayame, concern written in the part of her lips. "Disappeared. I had not known. I would have been..." A long pause. "...more careful. Then again, it is always those most different who must be most careful."
She really can't tell anything untoward about Ayame's emotional signature-- and besides, the surface facade Ayame offers is convincing enough that Stasya mistakes it for the surface emotions she might glean from anyone else. She does not yet suspect, and her empathic scrutiny begins to relax. "I did not tell anyone beyond those I could most trust," she replies, her tone attaining a certain short gravity. "But I had not noticed anything unusual. No."
Of course, the whole spiel seems to play right into that paranoia, it's almost as if Ayame was able to figure out just what might make a girl in Stasya's shoes worried. The thought of being singled out for being a rarity, an exception to everyone else. Would come as no surprise that there would be those that were seeking to exploit that difference, right? Ayame's words come naturally, the girl a gifted con and not all together sane. Profiling Stasya has been easy for her as so many others.
"It only started recently," Ayame remarks softly, clasping her hands behind her back as she continues walking slowly alongside Stasya. Though the route seems unimportant, she is selecting the occasional turn down one street or another here or there. "I'm glad," she continues as Stasya comments on her discretion.
And then she stops again, turning to face the Russian transfer student, "Stasya, I..." She frowns faintly, standing up straight, unclasping her hands, "The reason I know so much about what is going on with people with your special gift is because of who I work for; people invested in protecting and helping people like yourself." She smiles faintly, looking a little sheepish. "So, I guess, I mean, it is my job. But I don't want you to think that means I'm any less sincere about wanting to help you any way I can."
The girl turns to the left, glancing down the street, then to the right, peering in that direction likewise, before turning her attention back to the Russian, "I'd like for you to meet my boss." the girl continues. "If you want information, she can help you. Under her guidance, I can help you meet others dealing with the same things you are. You don't have to be alone with this..."
Stasya is indeed one of those who is afraid of being singled out. Of being different. But the reasons for her fear are quite different from the usual reasons any girl her age might feel apprehension at her deviance from the norm. Her reasons have to do with her past... a past which has remained secret to all save those in Stasya's own family. Not even the other Guardian Kings know.
And it's that knowledge that those who are different are often just the first to be exploited which makes her so wary: even of seeming altruism like this. She nods absently to Ayame's quiet words, processing without much understanding... that is, up until the other blonde's tone sobers. At that, Stasya turns her gaze on Ayame, sensing something is about to come out.
And something indeed does: the truth, or what Stasya at this point in time perceives to be the truth. Ayame begins to talk about those who employ her. So strange, the idea of a group of people devoted to this marginalized and unheard-of group of people. It's like something out of a comic book. She slows a bit in contemplation. "Tell me about this group. How much do they know? How do they find people? What do they do for them?
A long pause. Eventually, Stasya resumes a more normal pace, keeping up with Ayame. Her gaze tracks back to the girl's eyes. "...I will meet her," Stasya replies. "Where?"
The shifts from mode and tone are subtle, precisely calibrated to test the waters, to make sure she doesn't just scare Stasya off with too much at once. She took a chance with the last bit though. It does sound rather fantastical. A little far out there. But in this world, is it that hard to believe? It seems the Russian is willing to entertain the idea at least, and Ayame's expression doesn't shift a bit as she waits for her to answer.
When the questions come Ayame looks away, glancing down the street again, as if constantly worried about being overheard or spotted or something else entirely... "It's an old organization. People with abilities as different as yours have been around forever. And for as long as they have existed, other groups, cartels, and governments have tried to take advantage of them. Centuries ago a foundation was established by those who wanted to make a difference in countering the black market exploitation of your talents. There's... a lot to what you can do, after all, that makes you more than simply a fighter."
The girl turns to walk along slowly, gesturing with her hands as she continues, "You can sense things about people, right? Honesty, deception, details people might want to keep hidden beneath the surface. Imagine what a powerful tool that is when it comes to bartering negotiations if you have someone at your side that can tell if the person you are dealing with is lying to you? As you get stronger, your ability could even get stronger... going beyond simple intuition... If you know what I mean."
She pauses for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "A lot of time we find people like you quite by accident, just like I found you. As for what they can do to help, that's entirely up to what sort of help you want to receive. Nothing is going to be forced on you, Stasya."
The transfer student says she'll meet Ayame's boss and the strawberry-blond brightens, "Great! We actually have a building nearby. I wanted to meet here for that express reason. Come on." Her pace quickens, the girl turning another corner in the quiet commercial district. "I've wanted to get back in touch with her to find out if she knows anything new about the others that have gone missing..."
The target seems to be a fairly non-descript white building. Nothing makes it stand out from any others around it. Perfectly ordinary and uninteresting. Ayame pauses at the plain white framed, glass door, hand resting on the handle. "All right, come on inside," the girl states, pausing for an instant before disappearing within the building.
With a self-conscious sort of disquiet, Stasya watches Ayame's continual wariness. She isn't sure what to make of it. Is there some sort of danger that threatens them other than the mysterious forces behind the psion kidnappings, and if so... what is the nature of it? Is the world really so predisposed against those with psychic ability? Perhaps she should not try to discover more about it... but then, to leave it alone and remain ignorant, might that not be even more dangerous in the long run? Stasya certainly seems more convinced of the latter.
"...You seem nervous," she eventually comments of her companion, her voice carefully neutral. She's trying to clamp down on the anxiousness that's bubbling up in her own emotions, induced by the prevalent edginess in the other blonde girl so close by. "But then, am not entirely surprised. Especially considering what you said. It is truth. My family... we fled Russia running from the possibility I would be exploited. There are many things that would want to use such talents-- that would be using any means to get them."
But candid as she is about -that-, she doesn't really answer Ayame's question about the other things she can do beyond fighting. Her grey eyes skate away a little, that troubled look back in them as she reflects on her ability. It's been getting more acute, ever since she began paying attention to it in an attempt to hone and refine it. And giving her worse and worse headaches when she overextends herself. But the fact remains; it is not really something she wants to reveal at this juncture. She'll talk more about it-- hell, she'll talk more in general-- once she knows more about who she might be -telling- these things to.
And in that vein...
Carefully-- but with increasing confidence as more and more uneventful seconds tick by-- Stasya follows Ayame as she approaches that nondescript building, entering just a few paces after the other blonde girl.
Nondescript.
A one-word summation of this low-rise white office amidst the larger commercial park district. The neutrality of the building's facade can be understood with certain building codes and rapid construction of what was once a burgeoning economy two decades ago. The bland interior, however, is another matter entirely.
Its as if someone hired a professional decorator to craft the single most plain and unremarkable office the human consciousness can conceive of and immediately forget about. The air holds the scent of recent paint and fresh carpeting. The spartan-ly arranged office furnishings indicate the domain is barely in use, or just started out.
That, or someone runs an extremely tight ship.
At the moment, there doesn't seem to be terribly many others in residence here. The lights are on and several of the main hallway doors are open. The sounds of quietly humming computers and shuffling of desktops and chairs make themselves known here and then, but there can't be more than a dozen individuals all told. Possibly less. All of them in hiding.
The ultimate destination of the pair is the head office of the location at the end of the hall. The translucent, frosted glass of the door betrays only the vague shapes of a desk and drawers within. The name plate on the door? 'Head Office'. Further testament to the originality that went into designing this place. An effort that certainly smacks of purpose..
"Come in!" A jovial, feminine voice emanates from behind the closed door, muffled only in part a mere second before a hand touches the door handle.
The view within, not unexpected.
An elegant, beautiful woman is seated at the desk. Dressed in business casual with a black-colored blouse and long cuffed sleeves. Her hair arranged in a neat bun, held in place by a pair of golden pins. Bangs framing her slender glasses, fitted over violet eyes and a cheery expression. The charming woman turns her gaze from a monitor on the desktop as she politely rises, "Ah! Ayame dear. You're right on time as usual. Ah! And is this the one you told me about?" Moving from behind the desk, absently smoothing her knee-length skirt over her thigh as she bows in brisk formality. Quite excited to meet this new arrival indeed!
As Stasya comments on Ayame's nervousness, the Asian teen merely grunts, nodding slightly. "Don't worry about it, we're not far, then there will be less to worry about." A smile is offered, supportive, faint, a hint of optimism and comfort offered in a trying time. She's quiet as Stasya speaks about her family fleeing Russia due to fears about the very sorts of things she's been saying to get her to come along. Of course she didn't know that ahead of time, but... well, it works out for her story, doesn't it?
The foreign girl doesn't answer her question about the extent of her powers, but the teen's gifts in reading the subtlties of expressions makes it easy for her to know when she's touching buttons close to the Gedo student's heart. But she says nothing, merely locking away the knowledge in the back of her mind as she continues quietly.
The tour through the building is as uneventful as the building's interior itself. Ayame seems to know the way easily enough, guiding Stasya along wordlessly, her feet striding along softly over the generic carpet. Finally they reach the door and Ayame pauses, brown eyes narrowing slightly, but only for an instant - a momentary lapse in her nigh impenetrable mental defenses; the slightest touch of uncertainty, as if what was beyond the door paled in comparison to the nervousness she was exuding outside.
It passes in an instant, however, the rogue's mouth curling into a faint smile, looking toward Stasya with a slight nod, "Well, here we go. I promise she'll be able to help you." And with that lie the girl continues to chisel her seat in hell, one unrepentant strike at a time.
She makes Stasya step into the room first, just ever so slightly positioning herself behind the other girl to make sure she makes no sudden movements in the wrong direction. And then she follows her on in. Toward Marise Ayame offers a very formal, respectful bow, before standing up straight. "It is. I've told her some things... she deserved to know before making up her mind to come here..."
Stasya follows Ayame in silence, not really noting a great deal about the building or its scant few occupants. As a seeming afterthought, she reaches quietly for her cell, seemingly intending to text Tenma... anything could stop her, however, whether a cautionary word from Ayame, or something as simple as the building blocking reception. IT's eerie enough a place for that; at first glance it seems nondescript, at first feel... innocuous. Incredibly bland. Stasya pulls back her senses after an initial exploratory regard of the place, almost disquieted at how pristine its contours feel.
And then, there they are. Stasya glances at the door, but can perceive nothing-- whatever is on the other side is too distant. She lets her head dip slightly in thoughtful, troubled acquiescence to Ayame's words, and makes no objection when the girl opens the door.
Stasya's first impression of Marise is no different from how an average person would see the woman. Stasya's senses are not like those of others, which perceive the world before ever mundane sight manages to kick in; they take some concentration, which the girl is not possessed of a the time. At first, she takes Marise as she appears-- a woman seeming to fit the unremarkable, cold setting. She tilts her head faintly, politely, to Marise's greeting, still a little awkward about the traditional Japanese bow.
Likely, she's also still a little at a loss as to how to take this entire endeavor. One could excuse her her apparent reticence; Ayame's told her all sorts of troubling things in the span of a very short time, after all.
It's not until she's settled a little that she tries to invoke her abilities, attempting to perceive anything she can of the surrounding emotional landscape. Ayame has proven herself able to dissemble so thoroughly as to escape this perusal, but remains to be seen what might happen with Marise.
Certainly, for a secretive underground railroad for psi-actives the headquarters seems unforgivably blase. Indeed, at a glance this woman seems most unoffensive. She's unusually tall for asian stock, which is most evident as she smiles down to these recent arrivals. Otherwise, this executive seems to take Stasya's ackwardness in stride. She's seen her kind before, after all. Unsure of herself, her place in the world. How her own body and mind seems to rebel against her. How others fear her and how much she should allow others to know.
...SssshhhhOhGodHelpMePleaaaa.....
"Would you like something to drink? I made some coffee earlier.." The woman gestures to a small counter-top along the wall. Meandering in that direction already as she otherwise insists to the Russian, "Its a little cold but I can add some hot water if you'd like? Please. Make yourself comfortable and have a chair, I'm sure you must be brimming with questions!" Turning her glass-hidden gaze to Ayame with a dazzling smile. "Oh good good, I'm glad. That always makes things easier, dear. Thank you for bringing her in. Would you like coffee as well?"
...SssshhhDon'tCutAnymoreDon'tCaaaaaaaaa...
As the busy lady fiddles with a small electric kettle, pouring a cup or two of water within the open lid from a pitcher she begins to converse without looking behind, "You can call me Satsuko, hon." Turning then once finished with her brewing endeavor, dusting off the particulate sugar from her fingertips, "Sorry if I seem in a bit of a rush, but these days there's never enough time! Surely you must understand.." Her head tilts to the side in a curious gesture, "Your name is Stasya, am I correct?"
..Snippets. Pieces. Bits and bites. Hundreds of little incomplete emotions.. dizzying.. dancing.. twisting.. screaming.. begging.. pleading.. pain.. pain.. horror.. pain.. blood..
A choir from the pits of Hell. Warbling raw, chaotic madness.
"Hmm?" Satsuko repeats again, curious gaze turning to Ayame a moment before looking back to the new guest. Wondering what seems to be distracting the Gedo student so..
Ayame makes no move to block Stasya from sending her text message. Maybe she doesn't want to fish up a story as for why she shouldn't tell her confidant where she is. Or perhaps, in Ayame's mind, it's fairly irrelevant. The location is unimportant as its interior decor would suggest it might be to those who own it. It's... temporary.
With her mental defenses back in place, Stasya will find her as consistant as she has always seemed to be. No clue to be found in sensing Ayame's intentions. And of course Ayame knows nothing of what one might pick up from Marise but what her own personal experiences have shown her of the woman in the recent past. There's very little the runaway truly fears. Being controlled; being locked away or forced to live a way she doesn't want to... and whatever passes as a life this woman posssesses form the very small list of things to put her on edge. But for now she masks it well, smiling politely, seemingly naturally.
"No, I ate at the cafe," the girl remarks, turning down the coffee with a slight shake of her head. A side glance is cast Stasya's way then she looks toward Marise again, nodding faintly. That's her name she confirms only out of habit, as if Marise didn't know every important piece of information about this capture in progress.
But seconds are ticking and while Ayame is confident in her ability to deal with the unique gifts Stasya has discovered in her life, she knows, also from experience, that her benefactor is not so capable. She could see nothing of Jesen's psycho power. She heard nothing of his telepathic broadcasts. Even the aura around him was invisible to Marise's golden eyes. What then of Stasya and her talents, undeveloped as they might be at this stage?
"Always in a hurry," Ayame states with a quiet smile, brown eyes studying Marise intently. "But, really, we have no choice but to be..." She takes a step backward, "Well..." she continues, the word hanging in the air as she moves behind Stasya, placing herself in the way of the doorway. "If you don't need me for anything else..." Someone has to block the doorway; to obstruct the only way out of the room. And that someone is going to be Ayame as she interposes herself between Stasya and the sole exit. Stasya is going to figure this out before long, the charade can't last forever...
Stasya isn't given much more time in which to regard Marise with any kind of innocent appraisal. Her senses, once extended, do not lie to her. The truth comes out with the silent, eerie transience of a fish's back breaking black water. Like a bystander watching a trainwreck, Stasya focuses more closely, and the hum of the background noise soon overwhelms most of what Marise is saying. That undercurrent of agonized reality grinds into her unnerved senses, hitting her like a dirty windshield that just barreled through a cloud of flies. The snatches of convulsing emotion she catches certainly twitch like so many smashed insect bodies.
"Questions," Stasya repeats dully. The back of her throat feels dry and burned. Sandpapery and raw. Like she just swallowed dry ice. "Yes. I have some questions."
She doesn't sit down. She doesn't move from her position. She just watches Marise move with the kind of glazed-eye look that suggests she isn't seeing a thing her eyes are settled on. Her gaze looks distant, like she's no longer listening to anything on this plane. This goes on for several moments, even when she's directly prompted with a question.
But eventually, out of some reflexive sense of self-preservation, out of some incredible ability to dissemble that is born only out of living much of her life in isolation, uncertain surroundings, and unspoken danger, Stasya... snaps out of it. She smiles, faintly. "Excuse me. I forget myself. Yes... I hoped you could tell me what it is you do." She moves a little farther into the room, for appearances, but she does not sit. She is buying time, time in which she can get her wits and try and think what is going on.
But Ayame? Ayame hears something a little different. Stasya talks straight into her head, curt and cold, demanding answers. The sound of her telepathic voice is crackling and disjointed, cutting in and out, like a bad radio conveying equally bad news. '...What did you bring me to?! What is this feeling?'
The kindly woman nods to Ayame's polite decline. She expected the girls to already have covered refreshments before arriving, but it is customary of the host to offer after all. Nodding again as Ayame wordlessly confirms the name of her escorted charge, the be-speckled lady smiles warmly to the Russian. Meandering towards her desk once more as the liquid within the kettle slowly turns to a boil, "Hurry, yes. Always a hurry.." Her voice trails a moment as Stasya's glassy stare becomes only more pronounced as moments pass. The woman's cheery expression never leaves her as she crosses her arms lightly over her waist, leaning her hip against the desk beside her as she intones, "Actually dear, could you stay a few moments? Perhaps you could help me explain.."
The woman tilts her head just a fraction, enough for the light to reflect upon her glasses and hide her eyes from view. A certain ... tension lies within her. Nervousness, perhaps? Apprehension over how best to explain this girl's unfortunate circumstances?
Rage. Anger. Growing rage. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
"By all means.." Gesturing to the seat near her, even as the girl refrains from partaking of it. Completely cordial and patient as she laces her fingers together, "Ah! What we do. Well.. We study those like you, dear. We help them to understand themselves and to shelter them from those who would use them. Hopefully my associate here has informed you of some of the basics.." The woman nods to the girl at the door once again in wordless thanks.
"As you must know.. power like yours is in great demand by many, many unsavory individuals. Personally.. I'm just glad we could get to you first." The researchers smile wanes, gaze drifting downwards, "So many are captured and taken in by terrible organizations, you see.."
The voice in her head. Stasya's. Ayame pauses abruptly. Ah, yes. The girl is quite capable of presenting the personalities she wants those with that special gift to see deeper to see. She can even just block them out entirely should she so desire. But she has too little experience with those who can speak without making a sound - words whispered across the space between them to be heard by none other. If she could block Stasya's cold, demanding questions, she would. Oh, she definitely would.
Brown eyes scan the other girl, taking in her expression, her distance. This farce can't last for long. Not with her perception. Surely the Devil woman knows that by now, Ayame ponders, glancing toward Marise briefly, staying between Stasya and the lone door out of the room. To the blonde's questions echos a single word in Ayame's mind, the girl's face paling just slightly. 'Prastite.' Sorry.
Ayame tenses, her back to the door, glancing back and forth between the well dressed woman who, on the outside, seems as normal as can be. But Stasya can see deeper and Ayame knows that full well. "Nn," she voices absently as Marise speaks. A token sound to show that she's listening when she really isn't at all. A deep breath is taken, the girl closing her eyes. How long must she suffer the creature's presence? Suffocating in the company of Marise is supposed to be the burden of those she captures, not herself. Right now she very much wishes to be away.
Stasya's expression twitches slightly, her psionic senses working in overdrive. Having established one point of connection to Ayame's mind via that accepted telepathic transmission, she is just barely able to catch the word the girl thinks back; and though the fact she can hear it at all is evidence her efforts to improve have paid off, she still cannot receive thoughts any more than that for the time being. She snatches the response, but drops it equally quickly, as though it were a scorpion.
A parasite. And what is it exactly she wants? To drain her power? To take it from her? Stasya has to wonder, briefly, if she would miss it at all. In the past she would gladly have given it up; in the past, she would have considered herself freed of a burden. But now that it's brought her to meet the boys she calls friends and given her current life-- one which she's only begun to explore-- she realizes that she -wouldn't- part with it.
Of course. Mere extraction might not be all Marise has in mind. And Stasya knows she is not in a position to argue much with anything these two have in mind.
"And how is it you 'study' us?" Stasya steps forwards a little, bristling slightly. She is unnerved, and becoming aggressive because of it; or maybe, she's just feeling and reflecting that 'woman's' rage... that everpresent tense frustration laid like a stiffening corpse under Marise's skin. Her eyes narrow slightly. Her suspicion is becoming hard to control. The heat of the emotions smoking their unseen fury in the air around them is affecting her judgment. "How do you help?"
'And how,' she adds, attempting to speak now to Marise's mind, unaware that her efforts might well be entirely fruitless, 'do you expect to hide what you ARE?'
Rage.
The hidden Devil is blind to this girl. The Kinmagan, her precious technique that pierces stone, body and flesh to reveal all secrets to her.. Useless. Foiled by a slip of a girl who has no idea the of the birthright that was handed to her. To her.. She is a witless gaijin. A stupid -Russian- at that, the same stock her people trode upon to begin their Imperial destiny so many years ago. Back when her people was not a race of whipped cowards.
Fury.
This insect, this insignificant nothing, can see what thousands of slain victims could not. Masters and Saints alike died never seeing through the Devil's masterful disguises. No art, no power, no technique has ever been opaque to her. And that this simpering worm can hide her secrets within her barely pubescent corpus fills the monster with more burning frustration than she has felt in.. A very, very long time.
A problem that will soon be remedied.
But for the moment, the seemingly gentle woman turns her gaze to her ally, seeing her expression pale and falter beyond the Russian's shoulder. The stilted, forced tone behind this impudent cretin's voice becoming impossible for even her to miss.
As the psi-active weakly reaches forth for this woman's mind.. The sensation is not unlike placing one's hand within a festering cesspool. A filthy.. horrid place. Whatever this.. thing is.. it cannot be human. Not any more. No living thing can be this wretched, this hideous..
So filled with little bits of pained emotions.. hundreds of them.. that are clearly not hers.
"Well.." The woman's voice gains a certain edge of its own. Apparently unable to hear that telepathic message, as she does not acknowledge it. A mind so damaged.. so utterly soulless.. this creature has nothing left to talk to.
"..I believe.." Calmly reaching up one of her folded arms, fingertips pinching the bridge of her glasses as she tilts her head forth. Lips twisting downwards just a fraction as she slowly removes those shining lenses, "..We can arrange a very personal demonstration."
Only then does the hidden show itself, reflecting what Stasya's screaming senses have already told her.
As this 'woman's eyes return to her, her irises now glow a dim gold. Pupils slitted in the manner of a serpent's, wicked and monstrous.
"Ayame." A single name, a single order. She expects no hesitation from her minions.
The tension mounting in the room is palpable. Ayame can feel it now, radiating out from Marise. That seething fury. It doesn't take Stasya's gift to feel the chill hatred which courses throughout the moderately sized office room. Yes, how do you study them, Marise? Ayame ponders. She was there for the examination of Jesen. But the rest she's dropped off for Marise's 'project' she has maintained a fair amount of distance from. After all, they all arrived unconscious. Stasya's delivery was a bit more involved and so it would seem her participation in Stasya's capture continues to be more involved beyond simply escorting her. She figured as much.
She pauses as Marise begins to speak. Her voice has changed. The mask is coming off, the true creature revealed. Ayame can sense the moment coming. Tensing up, her right hand reaches up behind her head, fingers clasping on the black ribbon that adorns her long hair. A strong tug and the large bow behind her head comes undone, the ribbon slipping into her hand with ease.
Marise calls her name and Ayame snaps into action, darting forward from behind Stasya. The intent is obvious as she reaches out with her left hand, attempting to get a grip on Stasya's right forearm and pull her backward hard. If she gets that hold, the ribbon will be wound around Stasya's right wrist tightly before Ayame will reach for her right left hand in an attempt to continue securing the girl completely. A long fight she is /not/ seeking here.
No pretenses, no attempt to shield her aura or personality from Stasya now. The girl is cold inside, mean spirited, angry at the world. And while she really bears Stasya no ill will personally, she doesn't seem reluctant to carry out her act in this plot as she has from the moment they met so many weeks ago. If she actually manages to get both of Stasya's arms restrained, the girl will simply trip her to the ground and drop on her back with her knee to hold her down.
COMBATSYS: Ayame has started a fight here.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Stasya has joined the fight here.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Stasya
COMBATSYS: Stasya blocks Ayame's Savage Combo.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Stasya
Marise doesn't hear it. And moreover--
Stasya flinches back visibly as she touches on Marise's mind, and realizes the reality of it. It's like she placed her hand straight into the gut-wound of a rotting corpse. Trying to banish the disgusting feeling, trying to wipe away the sensation that leaves its filthy prints on her own mind, she backs away a step. Then another. Stasya lets go a long breath, that exhalation mixed with a long and snarling string of what is doubtless... very profane Russian. She needs her mother tongue for -this-.
She knows now what kind of creature this woman is, to feel such a thorough and all-consuming rage. This woman is something inhuman. She knows nothing of that fury's specifics, but the anger is so palpable it seeps into her own thoughts. It poisons her own feelings.
That's why, when Marise makes mention of a demonstration and Stasya feels Ayame's emotional signature twitch to something almost as ugly behind her, the girl is quick to defend herself rather more violently that normal. Still reeling from what she felt from Marise, her arms are snared without much incident, locked behind her; the girl is driven to the ground, but she controls herself to hit on her knees instead of her face. With a sharp burst of hard-edged psi, Stasya severs through the ribbon snaring her-- attempting also to prick Ayame's hands as a deterrent-- and twists away from the other girl.
'I can feel how nervous she makes you!' Stasya transmits, loud and angry, to Ayame. In the past she'd never been able communicate like this so extensively... but something about the stress she's under and her increased psionic reserves-- the way they've recently begun overspilling and consuming her-- gives her the fortitude to maintain such mental contact. 'I can feel you don't enjoy this at all! That you are afraid! Why stay? Just because you're angry at someone? Something?.' She trails off abruptly, her mental voice exhausted: she continues aloud. "I do not want to -hurt- you--"
She lunges forwards, a sharp burst of psi lancing down her arm; she spears the energy at Ayame in a straightforward thrust. "--but you will leave me little choice."
As the illusion is shattered, only then does the Devil's true expression rise to the surface. Lips, once full and beautiful, twisted into a severe frown. Wicked eyes narrowed to glimmering slits as she watches the ordered violence unfold with satisfying alacrity.
Of Ayame's loyalty, the Devil does not question. The girl may not know precisely what she is working for, she understands the rewards well enough.
Wealth. Power. The strength to carve out her own destiny with her own hands. Blackjack offers these things to her, and Marise is half of that nest of mercenaries.
The darker half, perhaps.
The girl is kindred to the Devil, and the monster takes care of her own. As long as they do as they are told. Unlike Elle, Marise brooks no failure nor does she treat her people well should they defy or fall short of her expectations. Fear is what keeps operations running smoothly.
And Ayame knows just enough of this woman to feel plenty of that.
And fear.. is precisely what keeps Marise from joining into the unfolding melee before her to assist her ally. To her golden eyes, the fallen miko's ribbon is slashed by nothingness just a few inches beyond Stasya's fist. No crimson emanations greet the Devil's gaze. No wordless communications heard and nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. It is, to her, the raw essence of the unknown obeying this Russian's will and turning it against her enemies.
The woman slowly edges away from the brawl, tilting her head back.. ever observant.. even as she fades against the wall.
Besides.. This is why Ayame is here. The Devil has faith in her little starlet of carnage. She's seen the girl crush many foes in the Circle. Her power has grown steeply and few can resist her strength.
Strength that comes in very, very useful.. As the little maggot Russian is soon to discover.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Stasya's Halteclere.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Stasya
Stasya's statements are not missed by Ayame. The girl can't block her out. Telepathy is just not somethign she's had the practice with defending against. Manipulating the energy of psions and sending it flying right back at them? Not a problem. Confusing their empathetic senses or deeper sight with false signals? Something she's got a natural talent for - it comes with being slightly unhinged. But she can't block out Stasya's words for all her desire that she could. She doesn't want to hear the other girl. She doesn't want her to so accurately describe how Marise makes her nervous or afraid.
But there is one important talent Ayame has developed from repeated exposure to fighters like Stasya. The ability to sense the build up of energy that Marise can't even /see/. The ribbon is cut and the Russian girl freed, getting back up to her feet swiftly. Ayame holds her ground a moment - she can tell there's more coming. And there it is, the spear of energy lancing out toward her. It is with a twist to the side that Ayame manages to not only avoid the energy but whirl her way in closer to Stasya in the process.
"This is my job," Ayame replies to the girl, answering questions Marise wouldn't have even heard spoken. "It is the path to get what I want." Marise knows what drives the girl. Her greed, her manifest destiny... Unfortunately, as they say, a few eggs have to be cracked along the way... a few people sacrificed so that those with the power to decide can get what they want.
Ayame hops back in the end, rather than aggressing, placing herself between Stasya and the door out of the room. "You're not getting out of this. I'm sorry... you're just unlucky. Life is like that sometimes." As she speaks there's something else too. A swirl of energy, it starts out small, faint around her feet, dark blue in color... but the energy builds up around her, spiraling, becoming lighter around her waist then shifting to a dark purple by the time it fades out near her shoulders.
There's no mistakening it. The girl is clearly building up for something big. But it takes a fair amount of effort from her, her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed. Marise might be interested in the display - Ayame has exhibited fine chi control before, but she's never quite drawn so much of it into her at one time in the past...
COMBATSYS: Ayame focuses on her next action.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Stasya
Breathing hard, Stasya narrows grey eyes on Ayame and watches the girl with more than just her eyes. Ayame's emotions are fugitive things, here one moment and gone the next; it's hard to pinpoint them, and soon enough that snatch of fear Stasya had gleaned from her mind slips away, fading into relative obscurity. All that's left is that cold emptiness, a resolution that bars Stasya's senses from penetrating that unhinged mind.
But ultimately, she will not be above fighting with all her power to escape. It may ultimately be futile. It may all be for naught. It may be as Ayame says-- she's just unlucky, and she won't escape this night. But that won't stop her fighting with all she has to get away. "You seem to having bad taste in jobs," Stasya observes aloud, her hands winding shut in anticipatory wariness. "And I do not think I want to know what it is you want that you can get through this kind of thing."
To Ayame's apology, her assertion that life is just like this sometimes... Stasya, somewhat unpredictably, just laughs a short little cynical sound. "I know more than most how random is life," she retorts, but she doesn't bother to elaborate. Her unusual abilities, her childhood, the world she saw once her parents stopped hiding what they were and let her look into the life they knew... all have hardened her to that one immutable fact of existence:
Sometimes it really just isn't fair.
And that upbringing she's had-- that life devoid of real moral guidance-- a practical upbringing, one entrenched in the maxim of 'doing what you have to do,' leads her to her next words. 'You have skill,' she abruptly sends in that unspoken voice, her 'tone' changed; her words 'quieter.' Stasya steps closer, her stance opening, her body tensing, but she doesn't yet move. 'You have ability. Is she so much stronger than you? If she frightens you, you could surpass her. Take your own path. It is not,' Stasya fudges a little, eyes narrowing, 'like she is not afraid, herself. I feel it. Maybe it is of you.'
And on the tail of her words, she lunges forwards, leaving the ground, letting her body snap parallel to the floor. She scissors a sharp kick at the other girl, trying to impact her horizontally and get Ayame -out- from between her and the only door in the room.
COMBATSYS: Stasya successfully hits Ayame with Light Kick.
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Stasya 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Ayame
As Stasya comments on Ayame's job, the girl laughs lightly, shaking her head, "Yeah, tell me about it." There's really no denying her last string of jobs have been less than honorable, pleasant, or decent. Compared to her days of mugging every sucker to wander down the wrong alley, though, it's definitely treating /her/ better. "But it pays the bills. You probably have your father taking care of that, so you wouldn't understand." she remarks matter of factly.
Her smile fades as Stasya mentions the fairness of life, or lack thereof, and nods her head just slightly. But then the exchange is taken to another level. One Marise wouldn't be privy to. Thoughts, unbidden by the mercenary girl, fill her mind. The Russian's telepathy provokes a slightly greater scrutiny by Ayame, the girl holding her ground as the foreigner starts stepping forward. Marise. Afraid? Yes... of course she is. Stasya is a threat to her, just like the boy Jesen was. That's what this is all about, after all.
'Her? Someday I will have no need of /her/. But no... It's not me, it's you.' comes the single pointed thought back at Stasya. Marise knows Ayame too well. Knows what compells her, what she seeks. The Asian teen has discovered, by happenchance, what really scares the yellow iris'd woman. That energy at Stasya's beck and call. And for some reason, Ayame has no problem sharing that deadly piece of information with the girl. It doesn't change the facts, after all. It doesn't change that she's going to beat on her until she can fight no more and take her to be locked up with the others.
The kick comes in at the same time Ayame is reaching for her pouch, slipping her collapsed staff into her left hand, the glinting metal expanding swiftly outward with a hydraulic hiss. At full length, it reaches taller than the girl by around a foot. But as swift as she is to prepare the weapon, she doesn't get it in the way in time to keep from being struck. The power behind Stasya's kick is enough to send the girl sideways, Ayame losing precious ground to keep her trapped in the office. It serves as a painful reminder of the strength behind the Russian's strikes. She may not be the speediest opponent Ayame has fought, but she can definitely dish it out. Not that she can't handle the fight going elsewhere. She's very good at pursuit...
All of that chi she was building up comes into play in the next instant, channeling down the girl's arms into the metal weapon, her staff coated with a thin, earthly green aura, the light weight titanium suddenly weight significantly more as Ayame jams the staff right back out, attemping to return the favor by slamming Stasya backward toward the desk Marise had occupied moments ago.
A second spin for a follow up bash toward Stasya's stomach will attempt to finish the job, the chi itself flaring up at any points of contact.
COMBATSYS: Stasya fails to interrupt Requiem For Fallen Blossoms from Ayame with Angurva'del.
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Stasya 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
Stasya falls deadly silent at the mention of her father. The fear which had been banished from her mind in the past few moments, displaced by the desperation of her situation and her furious thought as to how to escape, returns full force, slamming down her spine, giving her momentary pause. She wishes he was here. That her mother was here. She wishes she had said more to them before she left, and she wishes she had more time to think about her memory of their faces.
But she hasn't got time. Ayame is retorting to her words, throwing back a thought across the brief connection that flickers between their minds just before that contact fades out. The reply causes Stasya's eyes to narrow, her mouth thinning into a line. So this is the real reason psions like herself are being taken. This woman fears them, and people destroy those things they fear. They tear them apart looking for their secrets, hoping to find ways to protect themselves in the revelation of what makes those feared others tick.
Stasya has no intention of being rent apart. She lunges, slamming that kick home, driving Ayame aside with that surprisingly heavy blow. But as she lands, Ayame recovers, thrusting an attack right back; Stasya hardens herself, bracing grimly as she tries to slam -clear- through Ayame to get at the door she's almost opened a path to, but she's instants too late and that staff increases Ayame's reach too much. Slammed forcibly back against the edge of the desk, Stasya coughs a pained bark that soon turns into a harsh breath of aggressive frustration.
'There is,' she finally admits, her stance hardening to something more grim as she straightens back up slowly, 'no talking to you.' Ayame has obviously already set her mind; Stasya can feel the immutability of her thoughts.
The staff strikes delivered, Ayame stops short, leaving Stasya trapped between the desk and her, the door seemingly further from obtainability than even before. The green chi coursing over her weapon fractures and falls in pieces, as if a thick shell gone brittle, the flakes vanishing before they hit the ground. The bruise she'll have from that solid kick is nothing to slow her down for now, and it seems that while Stasya managed to weather her crushing blows well enough, the other girl must be starting to the futility of trying to beat an opponent like Ayame, or so figures the girl.
'You seem to have nothing to offer me,' comes the silent reply, the stawberry-blonde's brown eyes focused intently on Stasya's greys. Pausing, she taps her staff against her shoulder, "Ready to give up and save yourself some misery?" She pauses, eyes flickering toward Marise, the subject of much debate in Ayame's mind. "On second thought," she continues, her eyes back on Stasya, "If I knock you out cold I'll be doing you a service..."
That staff comes swinging down off her shoulder then, attempting to swipe Stasya to the side in a bid to simply keep knocking the poor girl around the room until she submits!
COMBATSYS: Stasya endures Ayame's Medium Strike.
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Stasya 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Ayame
'What do you want?' comes the possibly rhetorical question in response to Ayame's thought, Stasya pushing off the desk and coming to a careful stand. She gauges Ayame carefully in the aftermath of that inquiry, her grey eyes level and flat. She does not entertain illusions about being able to give Ayame what it is she wants, and even if she were capable of HELPING the girl achieve such... she isn't sure, knowing her true nature, she would -want- to. But that doesn't mean asking the question isn't entirely without its uses...
Regardless of whether Ayame answers, Stasya starts forwards, stepping cautiously: moving like an animal eyeing its trainer while judging the distance to the open cage door beyond. Ayame swipes at her and Stasya just bolts -into- the blow, letting it slam her back. She seizes control of her backwards momentum, turning it into a sharp backflip; psi lunges off her leading leg as she whips it in a scything kick, the bladed energy lancing towards the other girl on a vertical axis. Landing almost against the far wall, she pushes off it to cut a horizontal kick, another wave of energy slung at Ayame, this time parallel to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Ayame parries Stasya's Chandrahas!
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Stasya 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ayame
'I want to beat you without getting hurt as much as possible.' Ayame states the moment her staff comes crashing in toward the Russian. Stasya barrels into the strike, making the choice to change the positioning of the two fighters enough to make her escape a remote possibility instead of a distant dream as it may very well be right now.
'I want to take the money I'm going to get paid for this little job and go have a nice expensive dinner. By some stuff. Maybe finally invest in a new place to live. I'm moving up in the world, all thanks to you and others like you...' As the backflip comes in, Ayame spins out of the way of the first chi laced strike comes dangerously close to catching her. Her staff stabs outward through the back of one of the chairs she and Stasya were meant to sit in while Marise inspected her latest prize, skewering is way through with a few splinters.
'I want to have all the power she does for myself someday. An empire to call my own. I'm gifted, you know. Better than so many people in this world. I deserve so much better than I've carved out of life thus far. Someday... that will change.' Swinging her staff forward, Ayame spins in toward Stasya again, the chair hefted up off the ground and directly into the path of the Russian's chi, the cheap furniture exploding on impact but leaving Ayame unscathed as she comes out of her spin, her staff in her left hand, out to her side, her right hand slamming forward, directly toward Stasya's torso. 'I want you to give up.'
From beneath the cloth wrapped around her right arm, the sound of metal against metal can be heard just before a two foot long, narrow metal blade comes stabbing out toward the other girl, attempting to pierce right through her and skewer her to the wall. 'You have no hope.' Along the blade courses white chi, crackling about the metal almost like eletricity might, attempting to jar the other girl with a powerful explosion should contact be made.
COMBATSYS: Stasya blocks Ayame's Dream Crushing EX.
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Stasya 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Ayame
Stasya listens in silence to Ayame's words, watches her move with a blank sort of look. It's not the deft, skilled way Ayame handles her attack that makes her blood go cold; it's what Ayame has to say. The words are vaguely familiar, and the chill tastelessness of the sociopathic void that is Ayame's emotional presence is also no stranger to the girl. She has felt and heard such things before, from the hardened criminals her father met. She felt it in her father, and only the fact she could feel his love as well kept their bond strong. She has felt it from the disillusioned and the angry, who feel they are owed something and that they deserve to take it by breaking the backs and lives of others.
Adrenaline hums in Stasya's veins, mingling with the psionic power she can harness, stress making a fine-tuned machine out of her and all-consuming fear pulling harshly at the bounds of her potential. It blanks and opens her mind, relaxing old restrictions that were mostly self-imposed, making it possible for her to receive every last one of Ayame's projected words: a feat she had never been able to manage before. She shrinks from what she's hearing internally, even if she forces herself to stand steady on the outside. She shrinks both because what she hears is abominable... and because she recognizes a path she herself could have traveled. She could have done so many dark things in those years she thought her own parents were monsters. She could have abandoned principle entirely, gone even deeper than her parents into that dark life. She could have taken her own extraordinary gift as a manifest destiny to crush others for her own purpose.
Yes. The more she sees of the other girl, the more she is afraid of her. But she feels something else, also, besides that keen fear; something it is far easier for her, as an empath, to feel than it is for those not so intimately acquainted with the spectrum of human exultation and loss. Something it is far easier, as a girl who grew up knowing the hearts of a man and woman who made their lives by crime, to give.
For a moment, it looks like Stasya -has- given up. She doesn't move appreciably as that vicious blade cuts straight towards her. But in the last instants, a flare of brilliant red psi sheathes her arms, the girl bracing as she slides to one side and defends against that violent blade with only her hands and arms to protect her. The blade tears through both liberally, but the pain is nothing compared to what she would have felt had that strike landed clean.
Exhausted, Stasya nonetheless still forces herself to move. She seems to have no intention whatsoever of going quietly, the girl pushing herself far beyond the limits of what is wise. She cuts towards Ayame, her lacerated hands attempting to shut on that staff-- trying to get enough purchase to use the weapon as a levering point to smash its wielder into the closest wall. 'And you have...' Stasya grits without voice, the blood drooled from the ugly wound on her arm hitting the floor in that brief space between her words, '...my pity. You had no one and nothing-- look what that has made of you. If not for circumstance, I could have been no better...'
COMBATSYS: Ayame interrupts Quick Throw from Stasya with Harvest's Reaper.
[ \\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Stasya 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0 Ayame
Reaching for the staff is a mistake. A mistake made often enough much to Ayame's joy. She's gotten so used to others reaching out in a desperate attempt to put a stop to her use of the bludgeoning weapon that she's perfected techniques for reacting to it. The instant she sees Stasya reach for her weapon she simply lets the girl get a tight grip...
And in that instant she pulls back hard, with jarring force, yanking Stasya away from the wall and out into the open... which is precisely where Ayame wants her. It's hard to go all out with a staff when one huddles close against the wall. Oh, sure, it's still possible to strike, but her options are more limited. In the open though, that long, titanium pole becomes an instrument capable of inflicting pain from so many directions it becomes nearly impossible to mount a defense.
Instantly her staff flares a bright, violent, angry red, even as the girl's face seems as calm as someone reading a somewhat dull book. Her foot comes up and shoves Stasya back to complete the job of prying her weapon free from the soon to be captured girl. 'Save your pity for yourself.' comes the callus reply as she steps forward into a slam toward Stasya's side, from low to high. From both ends of her staff, the red chi seems to blur behind it in motion, extending out almost like the sharp blades of a scythe. And it is with those ends of the weapon that the girl slashes into Stasys's torso from the right. Stepping forward into a spin, she brings the deadly weapon around for a follow up slash from the left before finishing with an aggressive leap forward, bringing her staff crashing down toward the top of Stasya's head for one final impact, a small explosion of that excess red chi accompanying the blow.
"This is finished," she states with finality, the chi on her staff begins to run along its surface, like liquid, dripping from the low end of the weapon like blood descending from a used hatchet, only to vanish before ever reaching the floor. "You're /her/ problem now." Then she pauses. She can sense it - the build up. Unlike most chi users, she has, through repeated exposure, developed the ability to sense that other power like Stasya controls, able to detect the deadly surge. It won't catch her unaware, but what of her boss? 'If you do it and she dies, I have no reason to keep you.'
She doesn't even /glance/ in Marise's direction. The woman hasn't been privy to their exchange. Her voice sounds... climincally neutral, as if she doesn't care either way. If Marise dies, the girl has to go free, Ayame wouldn't hold a grudge. If the devil woman comes out of this alive, well... Ayame is happy to continue pursuing her path with her.
Still, she does have a financial interest in Marise getting out of this alive. Her brown eyes shift to meet Marise's yellow irised visage, "Watch out." comes the warning for the devil of Koga's sake.
Quiet.
Very quiet.
As the two continue trading blows, the object of their traded thoughts stands silently in the furthest corner of the office. Her beauteous expression dour, a fraction beneath a scowl as her emotions betray her own thoughts.
Nothing. Yet nothing. Even as the Russian's kick somehow, invisibly, destroys the furnishing that her martial ward hoists in its way. How Stasya continues to confound her, even in such plain and obvious combat, brings no end of frustration to the monster.
But what really annoys her is that she -knows- they are speaking to one another, somehow.
If there is one thing she's learned in the modern age.. Fighters have this amusing predilection for banter and dialogue while beating one another close to death. A vice she, herself, cannot claim total innocence of.
Marise cannot read voices, but she can read eyes. Lips. Expressions. Ideas are being exchanged. While Ayame's expression is as poker-faced as ever, Stasya clearly experienced several revelations as the battle ensued. Ones above and beyond the initial betrayal.
The Devil had considered fleeing the office completely, but a few moments watching Ayame at work was enough to tell her she's perfectly safe. The girl has grown in power, oh yes. Months after months of brutal combat in the Circle has made her into a warrior. An instrument of destruction. Above the petty urchin and thief the Rock Tyrant had discovered long ago. She is becoming something far, far more than that. Intelligence. Cunning. Strength. Ruthlessness.
The stench of her heritage is washing from her little by little, quickly becoming something the Devil can truly respect.
However, as the battle begins to reach its resolution, the Devil's head tilts patiently. Beginning to step forth from her corner as what seems to be the deciding blow landing hard on Gedo's token foreigner. Now that this little cretin is subdued she can-
-What?
The Devil's gaze instantly snaps to Ayame as she blurts that hasty warning. For an instant, a split instant in time.. A trace of true terror reflects in those inhuman eyes. Twisting her lovely face with a hiss as the creature -vanishes-. Taking a single step back as light itself looses its grip upon the dark creature, leaving only silence in her wake..
A mere fraction of a second before--
Stasya makes that mistake so many before have made; and the instant Ayame suddenly interrupts her, reeling her in for that punishing assault laced with that hated chi energy, Stasya knows she's been taken in. The first blow crushes and lacerates into her left side, the second mutilating her right; the last slams her, finally, down to hands and knees on the floor. Too injured and exhausted now to immediately reply that simple phrase, Stasya simply slants a steady gaze up at Ayame through the blood coursing down her face. Her long blonde hair slowly mats with red from her wounds, but there is still very little hatred in those grey eyes. Just the kind of piercing understanding one could only get from a psion of this empathic sort.
But that will not stop her from fighting until she physically -cannot- anymore... and as it stands, she is not quite done. Especially when Ayame slips her that private little admission. Kill her and you are free. Stasya isn't stupid enough to swivel her gaze to Marise and give herself away, and she isn't foolish enough to waste time. Just as Ayame indifferently tosses Marise a languid warning, Stasya abruptly bursts straight up from the ground in one ripping, agonizing movement that strains every complaining muscle in her. Simultaneous with that sudden movement, bladed psi unsheathes in a whispering refrain from her entire body, pouring and overflowing from her skin like molting feathers.
The girl does a full backflip, attempting to slam a psi-laced flash kick into Ayame. But that is only the preliminary, the distraction from what is to come. Landing several feet back in a shaky stand, skidding painfully as her momentum dies, Stasya abruptly slams both hands towards the ground... and then, exhausted, just collapses the rest of the way, hands and knees hitting the floor.
All that prodigious psi energy focuses abruptly and vanishes into the floor. There is a few moments of humming, electric stillness. Then, vicious blades and spearing lengths of pure red psi impale suddenly, with a sound like swords unsheathing, from all four walls off the room, transforming the office into a thrumming Iron Maiden of killing energy. The forest of piercing energy tears through everything in its path, shredding through the mundane material in its path.
The only untouched space lies in a circle around Stasya's still form, the girl having exhausted the last of her strength. She lies there unmoving, blonde hair pooled bloodily around her, unconscious to the fact she missed her true target by mere instants.
COMBATSYS: Stasya can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Ayame 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Ayame stops Alkonost from Stasya with Midsummer Fantasy.
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Ayame 0/-------/---====|
If Ayame is wise to Marise's frustration, there's no way anyone would be the wiser. The girl is cunning, crafty, malicious at times, and brutally efficient in executing her duties. She's also a risk to deal with. Loyalty only skin deep, and only for as long as she sees a clear profit in it, she is a viper waiting to turn at some point given the right occasion for it. This is not to be that occasion, however.
She's seen many a remarkable attack from so many fighters over the last half a year since she became an active participant in the Saturday Night Fights and the Seventh Circle blood sports. Exposed to all kinds of enery manipulation, elemental chi, psycho and soul power... the girl has seen it all. She's never... quite seen an attack like this, however.
At first she expects all she needs to do is defend herself from Stasya's direction. The incoming kick is handled by the girl twisting aside, still perfectly healthy on her two feet, having conducted herself almost flawlessly through the battle, she's quick to re-orient herself facing Stasya, raising her left hand in front of her, her right hand gripping her deadly staff. A barrier of swirling red energy appears in front of her, a preemptive measure to defend herself against Stasya's power. She's seen it from other psions before. A last ditch explosion of power outward from the body...
But as the power drops into the floor, she realizes that her predictions are not completely accurate. And suddenly from every direction bladed psi comes piercing out from every direction. Ayame prefers fighting outdoors, where she can engage in her blade and staff dance without walls or barriers in the way. She hates fighting inside closed quarters like this office. While she can clearly handle it, she has her preferences. Dealing with killing WALLS drops 'fighting indoors' down a few more notches on her 'things Ayame enjoys' meter, to say the least.
Whirling around to face the nearest wall, the girl hefts her staff up, channeling all of the rest of her strength into it, forming a rapidly growing sphere of that red chi of hers. It collides with the blades closing in on her at the last second, holding them at bay as she grips her staff with white-knuckle tightness.
The assault passes and Ayame is unphased but for the sheer amount of strength that took from her. It's good the Russian had hit her limit, because the weapons maven drops to her knees immediately after letting the barrier collapse, catching herself with her right hand, her left hand still gripping her staff tightly, gasping for breath in the aftermath of the poor psion's final chance.
Such destruction. Such force.
If only the Devil could see it.
Instead, as the creature reappears on the opposite side of the room.. closer to the door.. she strides amidst the ruins of the office. Not an inch of the total surface area of the once painfully drab room lies unbroken.
The woman's expression, completely passive. Her left arm remaining at her side as her opposite hand rests on her hip. Inhuman eyes surveying the damage in a slow, sweeping panorama.
A mere cub. A slip of a foreign bitch could do all this. A neophyte, hardly aware of her power. A power that can read minds and destroy at a glance? Without years of training or mastery of arcane arts?
Intolerable.
The Devil's eyes turn to the fallen Russian then. Gazing at her crumpled, prone form for long.. looong moments. Perhaps to make abundantly certain she's unconscious, the tall woman saunters over to carefully poke the tip of her heeled shoe against the Russian's temple. Jostling her blonde locks as she shoves her head as one might callously examine a corpse.
"..Ayame." Marise's stern voice rings out then. The coldness in that tone fills the air as a palpable thing. That there was mischever and guile exchanged there where the Devil could not hear.. Marise knows.
Keh.
How adorable.
"Excellent work as usual." Slowly turning a widening smile to the recovering warrior, "You'll find the reward for bringing this one in to be quite generous, yessss."
Waving then with her right hand in a dismissive fashion, The Devil adds in a pleased tone, "The clean up crew can take it from here. Go on and rest, dear. We still have much work ahead of us."
Her head tilting back slowly as her eyes narrow to golden slits, attention following the contours of those flowing flaxen locks sprawled around her feet, "This one may awaken the hornet's nest very shortly.. I do believe."
Exhausted by hardly wounded, Ayame is slow to push herself to her feet, breaths coming hard at first but calming gradually. She's in great shape, nearly every day a constant battle for the young rogue that can't seem to stay out of mischief even when money is in abundance. Marise praises her work and the girl gives the devilish fiend a sharp bow of respect, hands at her side, her metal staff in need of cleaning one end, the tip coated with the blood of her hapless opponent.
"I'm sure it won't be a problem," the girl states, brushing her free hand against her blouse, glancing toward Stasya. "I think she might have told friends about this place thought." she does mention with a shrug. Not that it matters. With Blackjack's resources, this building is as disposable as can be.
She whirls on her feet, long hair trailing behind her by a second as she tightens her grip on her staff. "Well, I suppose I'll go see what other ones I can get for you. There's tons of them out there... Eventually someone is going to get wise." One can't keep abducting psions off the street forever, after all. Eventually one is going to be bait for a trap.
Lifting her empty hand up at her shoulder, Ayame waves it absently before striding toward the door, stepping out of the office as a piece of the ceiling comes collapsing in behind her into a pile of plaster on the floor. All in a day's work - as long as she keeps getting paid.
As Ayame ever so calmly remarks that the girl may have told her friends where she went to, the Devil replies with a soft 'hmph' and quiet nod.
The Devil is aware of the Gedo children. 'Guardian Kings' they're called or some similar drivel. Elle has lengthly files on those children, as well as witnessing their antics first hand on the Suiryuu not long ago. Inevitably they'll find their friend missing. Of course, as Ayame surmised, this location will be long gone by then.
As for the others? "No matter. Soon.. I'll have what I need of these wretches and then they'll be disposed of." The Devil sniffs, already looking forward to flaying several of these children for their effrontery. That Shurui child comes to mind.
However, as Ayame's slight frame slips away from view, only then does Marise's eyes slowly turn in her direction. The physical barriers between them no object to the Kinmagan, as the Devil clearly sees the girl's pulsing, glowing heart floating amidst the ocean of the ambient breath of the world. Her passive expression remaining for several moments longer until that flame of life wanders just beyond even her range and clearly out of ease dropping and sight..
...Only then does Marise finally allow herself to collapse in agony.
The Devil swallows a scream as she falls to her knees, her right hand clutching at her limp left arm.. Which was carefully eclipsed from view while she had yet held audience with the street fighter.
No, the Devil did not escape the destruction of Stasya's desperate act as well as she wanted Ayame to perceive. A blade had caught her arm, just a second before she was able to retreat fully out the door. And that mere cut, hardly an inconvenience to many.. Was more than enough.
Marise's lips tremble, pressed together with force as the corners of her eyes water. Her shaking good hand slowly pulls back the sleeve over her wounded arm to reveal..
...An withered, ancient limb. An arm that could only belong to a hideously decrepit old woman.. Or a corpse that has been long, loooong dead and entirely too horrid to stay that way. The dead thing simply hangs from the sleeve. Its image forcing the Devil to shut her eyes and clench her teeth.
"...S...Still laughing at me.. Hanzo?.."
Slowly, the monster's other hand clutches her withered bicep. Concentrating and forcing herself with all her might with the effort drawing blood from the corners of her lips.
Surely, that limb begins to renew. The crone's flesh shifting and expanding, slowly shaping itself back into the outward semblance of the achingly beautiful woman she presents to the world. Vitality returning to the limb a little at a time, until finally her fingers flex with regained mobility.
"..You won't laugh for much longer."
Nails audibly snapping out like shrieking knives as her eyes descend slowly to the fallen girl before her.
"..And you will never laugh again."
Log created on 21:33:01 02/24/2008 by Ayame, and last modified on 03:30:17 03/12/2008.