Description: It was supposed to be business as usual for Shihong Mao: meet the customer, get the goods and deliver them. But what was meant to be easy money for the Syndicate woman is soon compromised by an unexpected force to be reckoned with, her freedom swiftly compromised by sharp skill and strength...
When the sun sets, the harbors of Southtown really come alive.
The day has since drawn to a close and, with it the majority of legitimate business comes to an end. Most of the warehouses close up shop, honest workers abandoning the shipping yards for home. The area grows dark as the sun sinks in the horizon, long stretches of road and sprawling buildings dimly lit by flood lights.
It's about then that the city's unsavory folk come crawling out of the woodworks.
Around ten in the evening a large van pulls into the far western half of Southtown's harbor. Immediately the van dies, the engine killed and lights cut off as a few large, burly men of Russian descent emerge. Without a word they move to the back of the dark-colored van and wait, arms folded over their chests. One carries an assault rifle in his hands.
Moments after another man emerges--a well-dressed man in white with a long Cuban cigar in his mouth. Standing in the company of these three large men, he removes a cellular phone from his coat's inner pocket and dials a number. A minute passes before he speaks quietly into the receiver.
"The goods...da. Da. ...Warehouse fifty-three. Da. I will be waiting." Click.
Roughly ten minutes pass thereafter, no signs of activity from all directions of the warehouse. But fifteen minutes later a sleek-looking black Sedan roars into the dockyard, tires loudly grinding against concrete as its driver hits the brakes hard. In an impressive turn its bright halogen lamps shine on the cadre of Russians, the rifle-toting guard immediately raising his weapon and training it upon that vehicle. The well-dressed man shields his eyes and strains to look beyond the obnoxiously bright lights threatening to blind him.
A car door opens, and out steps the last person anyone would suspect in a place like this.
A woman.
"Well, well, Sergei, it has been some time," the woman calls, rouge red lips eased into a thin but demure smile across her pale face. A collective breath of relief escapes the men--particularly 'Sergei' as they realize it's precisely who they were expecting to be here. It would seem that their deal will go off without a hitch.
"You nearly scared piss out of me, Shihong," the man replies, pacing forward to meet the woman halfway. When the two meet, she shakes his hand, still grinning in amusement.
"Sorry," she explains. "It's a bad habit of mine. Anyway,"
It's on to business as usual, as her dark gaze slides over to the guarded van. "I presume you want something delivered?"
"Da, and postage office, it not want to deliver these goods."
The two move toward the van, the well-dressed Russian's hand reaching up and slapping the back doors of the vehicle before he smirks broadly. "You are the woman for the job, miss Shihong," he states confidently, peering at the woman several feet away. Her expression is thoughtful, long arms folded neatly over her chest.
"Mn, I see. Remember--when this is delivered, I want the second half of my payment. I can't do you anymore favors, Sergei."
"Da, my word is as good as gold. Promise."
It was two hours ago that Whip received orders from Ikari, and she learned that the company has just been contracted by the Japanese government. They asked the Ikari to investigate recent transactions made by the Russians with an international criminal ring known locally as 'the Syndicate'; the goods themselves are a big unknown, since the Russians cleverly like to ship it in through disputed waters. Of course this soldier has enough years under her belt to make an educated guess. No doubt drugs. Weapons. Chemical WMDs would be a long shot, but still within the realm of possibility. Persons trafficking may even be likely. Never quite know when you have Russian involvement.
Back at the apartment, it's clear that work has come knocking. With her gunnysack of weapons and thirty-pound haversack of mobile survelliance tech missing, and no note left, the Ikari mercenary has gone to earn a commission. And it's two hours later that Whip has made a little home out of the roof of Warehouse 51, dressed for combat and armed with many of her little friends. Hidden in the dark, she's well prepared for a stake-out. Some missions have required her to remain still and alert for dozens of hours, watchful for the littlest itch of activity.
Tonight is a unexpected delight. Whip doesn't have to wait long. The initial van pulls up and she animates, adjusting her mobile amplifier dish and segueing the rough coordinates into her computer. In the next ten minutes it takes that vehicle to idle, she is a flurry of a hundred different movements, from trying to read and relay the license plate back to homebase, to turning on and fighting the correct visual channel for her trusty NVD.
Then the sedan pulls up. For the first time, Whip looks away from her laptop monitor for more than five seconds, her attention neatly bisected when the dark, half-shadowed figure of a woman steps free from the car. From over the edge of the warehouse roof, the scene is a few hundred feet away, but her sharp eye can make out what's most important. Rarely do you ever see a dame like that in a place like this. She pulls on the NVD, going straight to night vision, and places one hand uselessly, automatically over the headphone on her right ear, picking up the distant conversation through the dish.
It immediately makes her eyes travel back on the van, settling it with a thoughtful look. Bingo. Whatever they've brought over, it's all there. This makes it easier. It's times like these where she is required to make hasty decisions, and once she chooses it she can't go back. Does she stick with surveillance, or continue on with interception? Whip guesses it will depend on whether the woman likes to travel light.
Operations are always as a risk of compromise. Southtown is a hotbed of illegal activity after all, what with various well-known and powerful criminal organizations running out of the bustling metropolis. Most notable is the Syndicate--and world-over numerous agencies have had their eyes and ears to the walls of their activities. And then there are the vigilante types out there...
But one cannot continue to operate for fear of being taken out or destroyed. Really--can these agencies and vigilantes really stop such well-oiled and influential machines of the city's seedy underbelly? Simply cutting off the tail won't destroy the beast. But they're all welcome to try.
Tonight, it would seem that the Ikari Warrior Whip will not go without. Below, a small hotbed of activity erupts, with the noisy arrival of the Syndicate enforcer and transporter, as well as her Russian colleagues. Unknown to the men and woman below, the dangerous soldier woman watches, waiting as they carry on business as usual.
"I hope you're not blowing smoke out of your ass this time, Sergei," the woman replies coolly, black eyes surveying the outside of the truck. "You're already collecting quite a debt for yourself, and I fancy myself a rather greedy woman."
The man in white nods, exhaling a puff of smoke from his cigar before drawing it from his lips. "Da, worry not, pretty one. You will have your money. Just do this favor for me and I promise you will have all I owe you. No debts." The cigar finds itself back on his lips shortly after.
Moving forward, the woman all but ignores the hired muscle as she approaches the van proper, still studying the reinforced doors. "Well, fortunately this will be an easy job," she muses to no one in particular. "At most it should only take about thirteen to fifteen hours, give or take." Jerking a hand absently, she signals for the doors to be opened.
The men reluctantly move, unlocking the doors before swinging them open. Inside are an assortment of black cases, varying in size and length. To the trained eye, they almost look like weapons cases. A light whistle escapes Shihong's red lips.
"Hello lovelies."
Stepping away, she gestures again, the opposite hand fishing into the inside pocket of her black blazer. Withdrawing a sleek alarm, she pushes the button, two sharp chirps squawking from the Sedan. "Put them in the trunk and fold down the back seat," she instructs, tucking the object away before she fishes out a small, discreet phone.
"Once they're loaded you can get out of here before we draw any unwanted attention."
Sounds like they're playing her song.
Whip takes seven seconds more to communicate her next intention to Ikari command. Her laptop monitor is silent for a beat. Then the screen scrolls. She's been issued clearance.
Silently, and in a practised way, she closes up her laptop and pulls away the earphones from her head. Rolling up to a crouch and reaching immediately for her gunnysack, Whip makes a quick recount of the bodies below. There's too many of them to even consider rehearsing negotiations, and she's in no mood for any of it. She's been craving action. It's time for a blitz attack.
As if on cue, but heartbeats after Shihong's last reproachful remark, only the sharpest pairs of ears could make out the next sound. It is a distant, hollow smack of metal on concrete, an innocuous sound as any in the industrial side of the harbor, but it is a sound not easily forgotten. Those who have heard it before know what it means. And it means to close your eyes and turn away -- right NOW.
Out of nowhere, a flash bomb falls and detonates brightly right in the middle of the exchange, a blinding flare of light burning blindness into all unprotected, unaware eyes. An instant later, a second something clatters to the ground, rolling harmlessly before it splits itself open to exhale thick, heavy smoke. Riot control tear gas. Whoever's on the offensive, they certainly are out to attack the eyes. If the first searing burn of light didn't hurt enough, breathing in the veiling walls of smoke will reduce any healthy man into coughing, stumbling, blinded compliance.
Hoping to expect exactly that, it's at that moment a new figure injects itself into the scene, moving darkly and formlessly through the rising, blanketing coils of smoke like someone's escaped shadow. It -- no, she -- is diguised in dark clothing reminiscent of SWAT teams and special ops, decked in holstered weapons and a breathing mask. Her goggles mirror the looks on the faces of those she first hunts down, going for the armed men by the van to try to disarm and dispatch of them with a brutal series of strikes. Her compact, surgical movements scream of military efficiency.
As far as Shihong Mao is aware, business is essentially done, and she can be on her way.
A few hitches aside--namely whether or not she'll actually receive the promise payments and debts from her Russian 'associate'--it has been a good evening. More importantly, nothing has gone horribly, terribly wrong. No vigilantes, no rival gang ambushes, no attempts to thieve the imported goods; nothing. Boring though they may be, it's a comfort nonetheless.
Still unknown is the x-factor hiding on the rooftops, receiving clearance from her superiors. For now, the mysterious Ikari 'Whip' remains unknown to the likes of Shihong Mao, a woman she has never met and likely will never meet. But with one official go-ahead from her superiors, all of that is about to change.
As the woman begins to march toward her car, a distant sound catches her ears. Blinking once, her features twist into a baffled expression, black eyes flickering the faintest hint of red. Part of her mind goes on the alert. Wait--she knows that, doesn't she? She's heard it a few times before. Her eyes draw shut as she turns her back, not bothering to warn the Russians.
Then, boom. A flood of horribly blinding white light fills the darkness, drawing startled grunts and cries from the men caught unaware. They flail lightly, the assault-rifle carrying Russian immediately groping the sleek weapon and blindly trying to trigger off the safety. 'Sergei' drops the cigar from his mouth, a loud guttural yell breaking the silence as he screams 'Ambush!' in his native tongue.
Shihong, however, remains quite calm, all things considered around her.
Whip continues to remain unseen and undetected by the woman, though she is certainly aware that someone HAS been watching the entire transaction. Frowning lightly, she finally opens her eyes and glances back. That's when she spies the swirling smoke rising from the canister, thick hazy smoke and gas flooding the area and devouring the blinded men that flail. Almost instantly they begin coughing. Shihong takes cue and moves as quickly as possible, a hand snagging from her pocket a handkerchief and placing it to her mouth and nose.
Damn it damn IT.
But her movement stops--something, SOMEONE is there. Pivoting on her heel, the Chinese enforcer glances over a shoulder, helpless to watch as man after man is taken out effortlessly with practiced skill and ruthless efficiency. This is no ordinary vigilante. This is someone who knows what the hell they're doing. "R" maybe? Shadaloo? No way, not here. Then who?
The woman turns suddenly, making her way toward her unlocked vehicle. She needs to get on the horn--fast. Someone has to know before she's possibly taken out of commission.
One by one, armed men drop like flies. Systematically they are removed of their weapons and viciously rendered unconscious, only handfuls of seconds spared between each of them. One man's face takes out the back window of the van before he eats pavement. She uses both doors to close on the arm of another in time to break about seven of his ribs. She opens them and lets him go, then slams both van doors shut, turning the key in the lock then snapping it off in half. While she busily secures the untouched load of weapons, another man manages to smash his elbow into this silent, nameless interloper's face; he gets a broken leg for his trouble. She hooks the heel of her boot down on his head and he crumples and goes still.
The tear gas still wafts ominously in waves past the parked vehicles, its stirred movement revealing a mattress of unconscious Russian bodies cushioning the ground. It cannot be seen, but two dull, brutal thuds of bone on flesh later, and Sergei's angry yells go quiet.
The next sound is the last body -- his body -- formlessly hitting the dirt. Someone's boot kicks his weapon casually away. Smoke churns, and through a coil of it, the dark figure rises to her full height. Her head turns, registering one last flicker of movement. Her mirrored goggles reflect double images of Shihong Mao, intelligently retreating back to her car.
The next ten seconds are a blessed silence for the Syndicate enforcer. No one is following her. No one is seeking her addition to the pile of unmoving bodies. The tear gas is slowly dispelling, wafting away into the strong winds that billow in from the open sea. All seems well.
Until, reaching through the last plume of smoke, something CRACKS to life. The sharp end of a whip snaps forward through the darkness, attempting to catch the woman around the leg.
COMBATSYS: Whip has started a fight here.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Shihong has joined the fight here.
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Shihong 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Whip
COMBATSYS: Shihong blocks Whip's Strength Shot - Shouri.
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Shihong 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Whip
Without looking back, Shihong abandons her contacts. They're not worth it--especially if this man, woman or whatever is taking them out so easily. They have the tools of the trade and skills that show they are quite capable of getting this job done in no time flat. She can't AFFORD to look back; all Shihong can do is find the car and get her phone. She won't run, but she'll definitely not go at this alone.
Her body flops against the boot of the Sedan, her free hand clumsily flying outwards and planting atop it. She supports herself, staggering along the side through the smoke that makes her eyes water and throat burn like fire. It's awful--just awful. But she has far more dire concerns at the moment. She needs to get into her vehicle.
But curiosity gets the better of Shihong. Slowly, she glances over a shoulder...
And spies every single man down.
Immediately pale features twist into a distant look of anger, black eyes narrowed as she focuses on the unconscious bodies piled up near the van. Granted, they were just hired muscle and a man who hides behind his illegal wealth, but still. There were five of them and one of...whoever. Shaking her head, the woman pushes the handkerchief closer to her face, her one free hand guiding her to the passenger side door.
She needs her phone now..!
The eerie silence which follows is a disarming godsend. It brings an off sense of comfort that sends a chill down the woman's spine. She can feel a set of eyes watching her from that gassy haze slowly beginning to taper off. Slowly, with the door half-opened, the woman looks back one last time. Is it...safe? Her eyes narrow at that wispy darkness...
And then, without warning, SOMETHING breaks through the shadow, the familiar whip-crack of leather breaking that off silence. The end cuts forward and wraps damned painfully around the woman's leg, and briefly she finds herself being tugged on with considerable force. She stumbles once, twice; three times before she manages to brace herself, reluctant to fall to the ground. Moment after her heels plant she hurriedly grasps the whip and begins untangling it before letting it drop to the ground.
"So!" the woman calls into the darkness, finding confidence despite how unnerving it all is. She narrows her eyes, desperately trying to focus on the dispersing gas and whatever figure may or may not linger within. It's her only, real hope.
"Are you with "R?" You certainly seem to have the training of an "R" mercenary. Or maybe you're a vilgilante? Government? Who ARE you and what business is my business to you anyway?"
COMBATSYS: Shihong focuses on her next action.
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Shihong 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Whip
The attack stopped, that strange, blue-coloured whip unravelled and tossed aside, its length heaps harmlessly along the pavement. Then, out of nowhere, another sharp crack of leather echoes off the walls of the encircling warehouses, and the weapon suddenly draws back. It is caught in mid-air by a darkly-gloved hand, the endless coils of the whip hanging from someone's tightening fist.
It takes time, but the pressing sea breeze pushes away the last rolling remnants of the cloudy tear gas, pushing that stinging, choking smoke away from the fray to disperse it harmlessly into the night. Two figures are left standing, and Shihong Mao can finally the person with the designs to make her night a living hell. The figure stands a good hundred feet away, and though its goggles and breathing mask render it almost faceless, it's rather obvious that it's staring straight at her.
There's no one else left.
But that dark figure seems to wait with infinite patience, though a threatening clench of its hand over its unusual weapon serves to warn the woman away from her car. It does not want her to leave so rudely. It watches in a thoughtful, almost predatory silence, and doesn't even move until she decides to speak. When Shihong calls across the darkness, demanding identification, it merely tilts its head.
Then, one moment later, it finally moves one free hand, not to strike, but to remove the breathing mask from its mouth, revealing a pair of sternly-frowning lips.
"I am Ikari," the figure announces in a voice that quickly, almost startlingly reveals her. It is a she. And though her voice is dark, and brooks no argument, it sounds no older than Shihong Mao is herself.
Still, she continues in that steely, authoritative tone, "And I have been hired to make your business my business. This transaction is now property of the Japanese government; any subsequent purchases will have to be negotiated with them. I'm taking you into custody. Place your hands on the car and this can be done painlessly." Those lips smile. "You don't want to be in pain when it's time to discuss the details of your business."
COMBATSYS: Whip takes no action.
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Shihong 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Whip
The woman startles slightly as the whip suddenly jolts from the ground, slithering hurriedly across damp concrete toward the smoky shadows and that odd, black silhouette behind. Who uses a whip in this day and age, the Syndicate woman wonders, a single brow lifting ever so slightly on pale features. Her thoughts dismiss easily, black eyes turning back onto the shrouded figure. Slowly and patiently Shihong waits, watching as the salty breeze from the ocean forces away the gas.
In the light, the mysterious figure becomes quite visible. It's doubtlessly a lot smaller than she'd figured it would be, but that makes it no less a threat. One glance to the figure's side reveals as much, the unconscious, aching Russian bodies stacked like morbid flapjacks. She's not sure if they're alive--not that she really cares.
Her question breaks the silence, the figure tilting its head curiously. Unexpected is the response she receives--that thing is no man, it's a woman. A trained Ikari woman who seems unimposing and even more harmless than she figured.
This could be bad...
Shihong lets a smirk cross her face, rouge lips curling like a Cheshire's grin as her gaze remains fixed entirely on the Ikari woman. "Really now..? What business is something like this for Ikari, anyway? Has it been THAT slow back at HQ for you guys?" Her business is Shihong's business now, she warns, the very comment drawing the faintest scowl over her pale face.
"If you think I will give in so easily,"
Fingertips twitch at Shihong's size, a spark of vermillion red energy dancing over her pale fingertips. They grow as the seconds tick by, sparks becoming flames that dance furiously along her arms, growing in strength and intensity, turning the darkness around her an eerie shade of rich red. Stretching her arms out before her, the flames suddenly roar, their intensity doubling by the woman's very will before she swings one arm back and around, the other moving a half-second behind. Her lips twitch into a wry smirk.
"I think you are SORELY mistaken, Ikari!"
Lifting a heel, the woman stomps her foot down hard, just as her arms jerk forward, thrusting outwards toward the Ikari. Those odd, Psychic flames leap from her arms and body, sailing in a large gout right at the whip-wielding woman, twisting and spiraling vaguely in the shape of a serpent with its mouth wide and fangs bared.
COMBATSYS: Shihong successfully hits Whip with Coiled Dragon EX.
Glancing Blow
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Shihong 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Whip
Though the action remains unseen, eyes widen behind those protective, night-vision goggles. There's a flicker of movement that crosse the Ikari agent's dark form, her limbs tensing the instant energy pulses to life at the Syndicate woman's fingertips. Fearing chi, or perhaps something worse, her guard reflexively raises all the more, and her stance spreads immediately into the defensive.
Her mouth twitches at one corner.
Then, as Shihong Mao unleashes a psychic torrent down on the Ikari mercenary, its dragon's mouth hungry for flesh, the dark figure moves fast -- but not fast enough. Her skilled footwork saves her from the brunt of the attack, but she can't escape the peripherals of that storm of energy. She doesn't have enough time to brace herself on the spot, and the soldier knocks backwards, her lean body tumbling against the ground before it collects itself into a controlled roll. She pushes herself up to a crouch, her heavy layers of clothing singed by the strike.
She's staring at Shihong now, breathing heavily, duskily, before her lips crease back into a humourless grin. "Good," she says. "I was wondering how far the bar had dropped for the new Syndicate hires. I was starting to get bored."
Sharply, the Ikari Warrior pushes forward, hissing out as she forces her body into a sudden clip, closing on a full splint towards the woman, dead set on distancing her away from that dark Sedan and herding her for somewhere where a takedown would be more manageable. She lunges forward, leaping one foot off the front wheel of the car and arrowing forward attempting to bear sidelong on Shihong. In mid-air, her gloved hands change weapons, and in place of a whip suddenly glints a long, serrated blade of a wicked hunting knife. Her arm snaps quickly, trying to swipe the blade across the sciactic nerve in her closest leg.
COMBATSYS: Shihong interrupts Medium Strike from Whip with Savage Tiger.
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Shihong 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Whip
The fiery release flies, roaring along and brilliantly illuminating that hazy, foggy darkness between the two women. Its intended target in sight, that flaming dragon has every intention of devouring the Ikari Warrior in its maw. The Chinese woman is sure, in that moment, she has the woman. This will end swiftly, she decides. She cannot let this woman get her hands on Shihong.
From that whip's strike alone she knows the seemingly unimposing young soldier has more than enough strength on her side. And judging by her attire, there's no telling what weapons or other trinkets she has at her disposal. As it stands, Shihong Mao is sorely outgunned here. But she won't be afraid of this woman--she refuses to be.
That fiery dragon draws upon the Ikari swiftly...but she moves. While some of the wide projectile's psychic flames singe and sting her, the full-on blow sails harmlessly past, where they inevitably disperse and vanish into the ether in wisps of rich red. Black eyes hood ever so slightly, discreetly glaring at the woman as she tumbles and rises in a crouch.
The humorless expression on Whip's features is only returned with a vague expression of annoyance masked by sardonic humor on her pale face. "I've been in this gig for a while now, thanks," she replies coolly, black eyes flickering the faintest hint of red. "And a word of advice? It would be in your favor not to underestimate the Syndicate."
Her expression falters slightly as the woman suddenly pushes forward, sprinting swiftly for the Syndicate enforcer. Beneath her Shihong's feet stir, her stance widening as she squares thin shoulders. The Ikari Warrior suddenly leaps, utilizing the Sedan's wheel before drawing a blade and brandishing it, daring to slice the woman's leg deeply should she time this very poorly.
Do or die, the woman decides.
Letting out a sharp cry, Shihong twists her body, letting the knife slice along her leg, the serrated edge cutting past fabric and skin, a nasty burst of red erupting from the vicious wound. But she doesn't THINK about that--instead, Shihong lets her arm snap out, catching the knife-wielding arm in her grip before fingers curl, clamping down with unyielding force. A sharp twist and turn follows, that arm seized and locked into place.
"Then let me entertain you my dear, if you're so bored," she hisses.
Holding onto the mysterious interloper's arm, Shihong's legs erupt with energy as she leaps upwards. Steel stiletto heels dig into the Ikari woman's chest, one step after another as the Syndicate woman literally scales Whip, each step marked with a burst of psychic flame. At the shoulders Shihong pushes upwards, a brief leap that draws her above the woman before that arm of Whip's is painfully wrenched, followed by a sudden stab of her legs into the woman's upper shoulders, a nasty burst of Psycho Power erupting, to drive her forward and face-first toward the ground. And once Whip hits, another, subsequent burst follows, giving Shihong the momentum necessary to leap off and flip, landing several feet from the Ikari Warrior in a deep crouch.
Only then does she slowly rise, dark eyes trained upon the other woman's form, her gaze distantly curious.
"Give up yet?"
That knife-wielding arm is stopped an instant before its hand makes a decisive twist -- which was aimed lethally for a major artery. The Ikari looks up, surprised and drawn, those dark goggles of hers revealing nothing. For Whip, the Syndicate agent's reprisal is brightly revealed in infrared.
She doesn't have time to reply, not even to let out a startled hiss; the soldier is only awared the split second to grimace before Shihong surges forward, seeming to ignore gravity and physics alike to scale the shorter, leaner young woman like the rungs of the ladder. Her stance staggers under the weight and detonations of psychic energy, and she cries out in pain when sharp heels icepick straight into the muscle of her shoulders. The last explosion rocks her forward, rolling against the pavement and leaving behind an angry smear of blood.
It is only a moment she spends vulnerable on the ground, before her gloved hands flex and push against the concrete. She tosses her head suddenly to one side, her dark hair winging as she narrows a sharp look up over her punctured shoulder. One lense of her NVD is cracked. With a twitch of her mouth, she reaches in to yank the goggles off, casting them dismissively to one side. Stopping only to spit out a mouthful of blood, the Ikari pulls herself moodily to her feet. When she turns on Shihong, her face in its entirety is finally revealed.
That dark, commanding soldier looks no older than she is. She has hard, dark eyes that carry their weight in wisdom, but her frowning face still has a distinct teenage softness to it. She's probably no older then twenty.
For a moment, she stares coldly on the Syndicate enforcer, watching her -- gauging her -- with a surgical soldier's eye. Then her smile returns like an incurable infection, turned on the woman without an ounce of kindness. It is thin and predatory, and with a distinct, serrated edge of competition. "Hmmf," she replies, amused. "Hardly."
Then, belying her natural patience with sudden swiftness, that blue bullwhip suddenly cracks to life inside her right hand. With a sharp hiss of exertion, Whip turns it sharply at Shihong, the painful CRACK of the sound barrier broken bouncing echoes off every warehouse in the harbor. That whip snarls towards the woman, trying to cleave an agonizing groove down her body; however, the attack doesn't end there. Should the first strike hit, the Ikari mercenary is twisting her arm a certain way, and the whip returns like some faithful animal, trying to repeat the first strike in a perfect harmony. Only then, it will seek to try to snag Shihong by the arm, where Whip would be reefing on the line, revealing an absurd amount of strength to try to throw her against -- or through -- the first wall she sees.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Shihong with Boomerang Shot.
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Shihong 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 Whip
Leaping off the prone Ikari, there's a sick sense of satisfaction on the woman's pale face as black eyes fix on that smear of red splashed on the concrete. She hopes the woman felt that, and felt it good--Shihong Mao does not particularly fancy others meddling in her professional affairs. As far as she can tell, this operation is already compromised--she may or may not get away here, but the deal is undoubtedly a bust.
Cursing inwardly, the woman's gaze not once leaves Whip as she pulls herself to her feet, ripping the goggles from her face. The sight that greets her is a flurry of contradictions--she is young but looks wiser than she appears, her eyes unrelenting and professional. As far as the Syndicate woman is aware, this 'Ikari Warrior' girl is nothing more than a kid.
She honestly expected someone who appeared a lot more...experienced.
Whip's reply earns her a wry grin from the Syndicate woman, black eyes flickering a brief shade of red as they hood. "Really? Good; I was hoping you weren't going to give up so easily." Her stance lowers a little, shoulders squared as she tenses her long legs beneath well-pressed black slacks. All she has to do is exploit this girl's openings and this will be in the bag, and then she can be on her way.
But the sudden crack of that odd-colored whip startles Shihong, her eyes widening as it soars at her, right for the chest. Before she can even get her arms up to intercept the blow it cleaves its mark, a nasty slap of leather on flesh and cloth that shreds her blazer's front and leaves a bloody mark on bare flesh. It sends her reeling, a foot stumbling back as she tries to stay balanced; but a moment later that whip returns, biting into her AGAIn before she's grabbed and hurled painfully through brick and mortar, straight through the side of Warehouse 50.
For a long few moments, there is no movement.. .before a hand thrusts upwards from the bottom of the open hold and grips onto busted bricks. Pulling herself from the debris, Shihong's expression is a spiteful one, lips pulled back over blood-stained pearly whites, her face cut and scuffed, coated in brick dust. "S-saucy bitch," the woman hisses as she stands, staggering like the living dead as she emerges and slowly paces forward.
Her pace becomes a sudden sprint, Shihong's efforts fueled by pure adrenaline as she attempts to close the gap between herself and Whip before delivering a side kick aimed for the Ikari's throat with a loud cry.
COMBATSYS: Whip interrupts Medium Kick from Shihong with Strength Shot - Chikara.
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Shihong 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Whip
The woman makes a new door in the side of Warehouse 50. Whip just smirks at it, pausing only to spit a second mouthful of blood, her left eye creasing with annoyance as she tongues a split in the gum over her molars. That's gonna hurt like a bitch to get fixed. She hates dentists.
Soon enough, she stalks purposefully after the Syndicate operative's trajectory, winding that whip of hers back up to loop over her less-injured shoulder. "Don't say I didn't warn you about the pain," Whip is calling after, her stern voice silky with a strange, perhaps violent sense of humour. She seems to be liking this fight. A lot.
With the month she's been having, Whip has her fair share of rocks to get off.
"Don't worry none, miss. I won't cripple you yet. I need to leave something intact. Helps having something left to break when I interrogate you." Her eyes narrow. "And you will tell me everything about who you work for."
Whip is very persuasive. Her stalking step pauses, however, when Shihong Mao rises back to life with a look in her eyes like the fight's far from over. The Ikari watches her closely, already mentally reviewing her opponent's stamina. Her raised guard stays where it is. Looks like it's going to be a long night.
Good.
At Shihong's hot remark, Whip's mouth pulls into a crooked, bastard's grin (something she's recently picked up from a certain, errant brother) and the look on her face is an encouraging one. "You don't know the half of it."
She tenses when the Syndicate enforcer moves, her thoughts immediately snuffing themselves out. She hasn't time to think with Shihong moving that fast. Whip falls back on old, second-nature conditioning, letting muscle memory guide her how to receive the recoiled attack. She can see the kick coming... but just as well, she can see an opening coupled in that attack. She decides to gamble, trusting her body to weather one hit well enough to inject her own. The Ikari soldier lets Shihong get close, and when she's not moving even as the woman's powerful kick snaps down... it becomes obvious that Shihong Mao has been led into a trap.
Driven off by the force of the blow, Whip skids sharply to one side, but her weapon is unleashed into the air, her momentum snapping it instantly to its full length. She drives it forward where Shihong is not protected, cutting her off with a few brutual, stripping strikes of her weapon at her head and upper torso.
The girl is getting arrogant--and she has every good reason to be. She's strong, and she's quick. She cannot underestimate this little soldier woman at all--if she does, she'll pay dearly for it. Already she can feel her body aching in a few places, namely the ribs. There's likely a few busted after that particularly nasty trip through the warehouse wall. She'll be feeling that one in the morning.
"The pain isn't what I am worried about," the woman offers, smirking. A trail of red oozes past the corner of her dusty mouth, but is swiftly dismissed by a pale hand. "I'm far more concerned about whether or not I can hold back and refrain from killing you, interloper."
Her threats earn her a soft 'tch,' Shihong's head tossing arrogantly to one side. "Idle threats," the woman calls back. "You'll get nothing. I'm a bottom feeder. I don't even know WHO the head of the Syndicate is." Lies. "I just do what they ask me to do." She doubts the girl will buy it.
Though for her attempts to try and forcefully encourage her to buy her ploy, the Ikari Warrior breaks her assault with a painful counterattack of her own. Almost suddenly the woman moves and again unleashes the whip upon Shihong, repeated blows lacing across her body and leaving nasty welts, skin split and an angry shade of red as the Enforcer is once again sent reeling, stumbling clumsily about.
Finally, though, her feet skid to a halt, a racking cough escaping her lungs. Glancing up, the woman sports a bloodied smirk, a hand reaching up and again smearing blood across her dusty face. "Are you sure you're some soldier girl? Because I can almost swear you're just some weirdo who gets off on whipping the shit out of people."
Her words buy her some time--she needs it. If she can get a good, deep breath or three, maybe...just maybe she can hit the girl where it hurts and make her escape before things get really messy. "If you're lost I can direct you to a few 'special interest' clubs in town."
COMBATSYS: Shihong gains composure.
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Shihong 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Whip
"Bottom feeder?" Whip echoes harshly, an impatient clip infecting her voice. Calling back her weapon with a pull of her arm, she stands straight, still rubbing dully at the side of her neck. The protective collar of her armoured uniform didn't quite soften the sting of that last kick. Strong as she is, resilient as the Cartel tried to make her, her throat is going to be little more than a sick black smear in an hour. Still, she continues, grinding out in her gravelly tone, "Don't insult my intelligence. You're pampered." Her brown eyes fix the Syndicate enforcer with an assessing stare. "I doubt there's a single split hair on your head. Someone pays you well, and I don't think it's to stand around and look pretty."
From a careful, ranged distance, she watches as Shihong rises again to her feet, reticent to follow-up her last attack. Whip still isn't aware of the full berth of power that woman contains, and she hasn't completely acquainted herself to her fighting style. The Ikari, herself, is a defensive fighter. She has the patience to be. So, for now, she's happy to trade words instead of fists.
"And no thanks," she continues, ill-humour darkening her voice. That smirk of hers dusts thinly across her mouth. "Clubs are fun, but I have work to do. Business before pleasure, right? Though I think I'm a little stung that you're -- what? Holding back?" Whip's softly-featured face gentles into a surprisingly expressive look of hurt. She advises sulkily, patronizing, "Don't let the pretense of an ethical dilemma stop you, miss. If you can kill me, by all means."
Her eyes sharpen. An instant later, she's lunging forward at Shihong, beelining straight towards her. One gloved hand shuts into a tight fist with a telling creak of leather. She recoils her entire right arm. "--In fact, allow me to inspire you!" Whip cries as she tries to level a vicious punch straight at the woman's face.
COMBATSYS: Shihong blocks Whip's Strong Punch.
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Shihong 1/-======/=======|======-\-------\0 Whip
"What?" the woman replies. "Did you not hear me clearly? I said I am nothing but a low-level member of minimal importance to the Syndicate." A helpless shrug follows after, dark eyes drawing shut as the woman casually exhales. "Whether you believe me or not is your problem. I'm just warning you ahead of time--I'm not going to give you any information worthwhile. Really, you're wasting your time."
A smirk tugs at the corners of Shihong's thin lips as Whip observes her, eyes narrowing in amusement. Pampered? Paid well? "Of course I'm paid well," she replies easily as she tilts her head, arms folding casually across her chest. "It's better than working some dead-end job in the city, or whoring myself out to the military." Pausing, the woman tips her chin slightly, eyes drawing closed. "And do you really think the Syndicate would pay poorly? They wouldn't be able to keep people in their employ, now would they?"
Exhaling a burdened sigh, Shihong shakes her head slowly as her eyes open, a grin haunting her pale face as she regards the Ikari woman. "But if you continue to insist I'm of great importance within the Syndicate, go head. It's flattering."
The expression falters somewhat as the girl retorts and insists she's holding back. Surprise bleeds into a mildly annoyed look, black eyes narrowed discreetly as she stares the whip-brandishing mercenary a heated glare. "You really think I'd let myself be burdened by an ethical dilemma? No, I'd quite enjoy hurting you. A lot, I think."
So Whip wants to inspire her? "Really, that's okay," the Chinese enforcer replies, grinning slyly. A fist sails for her face, threatening to break her nose in half--but doesn't reach its mark. Instead, the woman intercepts, catching the leather-clad fist in her palm, the sheer force behind Whip's blow drawing a light grunt through clenched teeth and sends a terrible ache down her arm. Christ, she hits like a freight train.
Fingers curl, gripping into the mercenary's hand before she draws her other arm up and applies a forceful shove backwards. Immediately the woman hops away, landing in a slight crouch. The smirk on her lips broadens a bit, as vermillion flames flicker to life under her sharp heels. "I don't need the encouragement, my dear."
With a spring forward, the woman throws herself at the Ikari with a nasty flying side kick, to close the distance between both women...
COMBATSYS: Shihong successfully hits Whip with Kirin.
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Shihong 0/-------/-----==|=======\===----\1 Whip
Landing the fiery blow, the driven heel delivers a short burst of energy to numb and stun the woman, as Shihong lands before the Ikari in a low crouch. Eyes--now red--snap up, glaring at the woman with the faintest of smirks haunting her porcelain-white features. A beat, and the woman's legs tense, her form snapping into action as she springs upwards and flips her body, legs aflame as the toe of her Prada drives a nasty blow into the woman's jaw, a vicious burst of energy--more than before--to send the young woman airborne.
Again, Shihong lands, but wastes no time. Crouching low again with her arms stretched at her sides for support, the Syndicate woman suddenly leaps upwards with impressive speed and height thanks to a burst of psychic flames beneath her heels. Her leg snaps out, her heel extended as she drives a flying side kick into the woman, a flicker of vermillion flames reaching out and through the woman before they explode in an impressive display, to jar the woman inside and out.
And when all is said and done, Shihong Mao lands with a dainty click of heels, her shoulders sagging deeply. All but gasping for breath she keeps an eye on the soldier girl, watching and just waiting for her next move. It will come. She knows it--the girl won't hold back, surely.
Her fist stopped, Whip's dark eyes flicker dangerously. She steels her jaw, an angry breath hissing free from her grit teeth. She doesn't like losing, especially when failure translates to another criminal set free to the streets. She has a job to do, a mission to complete, and she doesn't expect to leave without the unconscious, and possibly broken body of this woman under her custody.
Released and forced backwards, she tries to regain her balance, widening her stance and shouldering back into an immediate offensive. Whip is no longer thinking so defensively, and therein lies her first mistake. Shihong presses forward suddenly, swiftly, with an attack of her own, and the Ikari takes too long switching guards. She too clumsily tries to weave out of the trajectory of the first kick, but she's too late. That energy courses through her, the painful, foreign body of it hissing through her not unlike a strange sister to electrocution that agonizingly tenses her muscles and numbs her extremities until her knees buckle and she can no longer feel her hands. She's not sure if it's chi.
Whip hates chi.
But her body betrays her long enough to be a perfect victim to that second brutal strike to the jaw, the force behind the blow snapping her head to one side with a sharp, pained cry. Her momentum doesn't stop there, as psycho power detonates to send her airbourne. Her flightpath caught, Whip is painfully flyswatted straight back to the earth by another ruthless kick, and if she doesn't lose some ribs to the coiled power in Shihong Mao's leg, something definitely snaps when she collides back to the cement. That psychic fire lights up in a brilliant display all around her unmoving body, disappearing the young Ikari soldier in its deadly grasp.
Moments later, she is returned to the world in a dishevelled mess several feet from where she first hit, lolled to one side and bleeding in several areas. Her military enforcer's clothing, all thick, knife-proof, fire-proof fabrics, are torn and gutted. Whatever skin is exposed is greased with blood and bruised. One side of her jaw is swollen and blackened, and blood drools from out of her mouth.
Then her lips move, and sudden life forces itself back into her body, a distant, unforgotten conditioning forcing Whip to move even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. She's not even thinking as she pulls herself mechanically to her feet, and when her eyes level darkly on Shihong, moments pass that Whip fixes her with a blank look. Then memory returns. She breathes in and out, slowly and raggedly. She has a job to finish.
At least now she's stopped smirking. Stopped speaking. Whip has returned to that silent professionalism that she had possessed when she first imposed herself on the scene, all her pretense for conversation and traded barbs over. She is back to her faceless business, which is to apprehend that woman at all costs. Her gloved hand tightens down on the handle of her whip.
Surging forward, Whip doesn't hold back at all. She's crying out with the sheer pain and exertion it takes to move this fast, this powerfully straight at the Syndicate enforcer, snapping her arm to one side to try to pull the length of her weapon in a stinging swipe against her body. If that first strike connects... there are many more to follow. With no mercy, she tries to level strike after brutal strike upon the woman -- five, ten, twenty -- her face reflecting little but a professional execution as she attempts to cleave her whip at every last vital inch of her body.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Shihong with Sonic Slaughter KW.
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Shihong 1/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Whip
And much like how Whip has the burning resolve to see justice brought upon the Syndicate woman, so too does Shihong Mao have the resolve to get out of this unscathed, both figuratively and literally speaking. She has every faith in her skills and abilities, but this woman...has pushed her considerably, testing the Chinese enforcer's limits. So she has to strike back with equal ruthlessness. It remains in her best interests.
So the Syndicate enforcer drives repeatedly into the Ikari woman with relentless power, each kick laced with fiery psychic flames to add insult to injury. Tossed about the woman seals the deal with one last strike, to let the soldier fall helplessly to the ground, looking a terrible mess and leaving Shihong all but gasping for breath like a fish out of water. It took a lot from the woman...she's not sure how much longer she can keep up with the Ikari Warrior.
Maybe, if she's lucky...she won't get up.
But it would appear luck is not on Shihong Mao's side. Bloodied, bruised and thoroughly disheveled, Whip rises from the ground a mess, and in that moment what color in Shihong's face flushes. She thought for sure the girl was out. Wide-eyed, the Chinese woman shakes her head slightly in disbelief before, swiftly, her black eyes sharply narrow. She meets the girl's frighteningly dark gaze without flinching, her jaw set and teeth clenched.
This woman...is a definite problem.
"Give it up!" the woman calls, as the Ikari woman tenses her body. "You'll accomplish nothing!"
But Whip is no quitter. She rushes in with a blood-curdling cry, her whip brandished and swinging wildly. Too fast for the woman to parse, the whip cracks across her body, drawing a cry from the woman as she reels to the side. But it isn't just one attack--no, it's several relentlessly cruel blows that cut over and over and over again through cloth and flesh. With each blow the Syndicate woman is forced to reel and writhe as the bullwhip draws blood, making a fine mist of coppery red across Whip's tattered military fatigues and the concrete below. Will it ever end..?
With the last crack of the Ikari's whip across flesh does Shihong exhale, a ragged and wet-sounding breath. Her knees give out, her form collapsing toward the ground as she lets her body succumb to the agonizing pain left in the wake of the soldier girl's assault. Her vision is blurry and hazy, her ears ringing sharply, deafened by the constant cracking of the bullwhip over her body. Her clothing is positively ruined, her blazer mere tatters, barely clinging to her body as she struggles desperately for breath.
She can't lose. She can't let this girl get the best of her here. There's no way...not now.
Gasping loudly, the woman forces her body to its feet, black eyes wide as she stares at the Ikari Warrior. How dare she come here and impose on Shihong's business? How DARE she make a fool of Shihong Mao? She won't forgive her for her meddlesome behavior. She swears, as her body struggles to stay conscious, she will not be taken alive.
With a loud cry, Shihong drives forward on pure adrenaline, her body leaping off the ground and form and twisting, landing in a handstand before she pushes off and springs heels first toward Whip. Should her heels connect with the Ikari's face she'll land, using her momentum to flip a second time, her legs coming down upon Whip in a staggered pattern, one leg after the next...
But her body betrays her. She staggers upon landing a second time, stumbling backwards in a clumsy display before she hits the ground in a sprawled mess, hands barely providing support. Damn this woman...damn her meddling...
COMBATSYS: Shihong can no longer fight.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Whip parries Shihong's Raiding Falcon!
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Whip 0/-------/------=|
Whip only has moments to move. She does not even think about it. The reflex occurs in her as naturally as breathing, and without batting an eye, without even twitching a finger, she swiftly strafes to one side, sliding out from the path of Shihong's kicking feet. She does not take her eyes off of her.
Even as the Syndicate woman eventually falters, that inky smoothness of her movements finally smearing under the weights of pain and exhaustion, Whip does not let her guard down. Shihong falls and hits the dirt, and the Ikari waits in the resounding silence with a timeless patience, wanting to make sure that the woman is not going to get back up. Soon enough, after many minutes pass, she finally narrows her eyes and steps forward. One booted foot taps firmly on the enforcer's side, hard enough to hurt. She's out of the game.
Whip lets a long, deep breath go that she didn't realize she was holding. Her shoulders slump a little. She turns her head to either side until the vertebrae in her neck crack. Then, quickly, efficiently, she lowers herself to a deep kneebend at Shihong Mao's side, reaching in to slip a pair of plastic handcuffs around the woman's wrists, tightening them quickly, harshly. She's not in the mood for any sudden and rejuvenating reawakenings, at least not until she's been long processed into custody.
Still kneeling, the soldier mechanically pulls a mobile communicator from one pocket on her pants, bringing it close to her mouth. It turns on with a mechanical blip.
"Clear," she speaks shortly, facelessly into it. "En route to TOC, please provide numbers." The communicator makes another tinny sound, and the young woman pulls it back to read a six-number string that appears over its monitor. "Copy. Estimate twenty klicks. EPW in delivery. Whip out."
Pocketing her communicator, the Ikari sighs deeply, reaching up one gloved hand to paw through her uneven bangs. They fall back down to frame the amused set of her dark eyes. She smirks thinly down at the unconscious Shihong Mao. "Looks like we're going for a ride."
Perhaps. Or perhaps not.
Whip has barely finished speaking before the faint sound of an approach begins to echo down the rows of derelict buildings. The distinct purr of a motor grows louder and louder, dopplering closer, until a beam of light can be seen sluicing through the darkness: its slender length pouring forward from between two buildings. That beam flares brighter and brighter... and then, it cuts out like its source has just pulled a sudden turn. The sound of the engine fades to nothing.
Southsynd rarely carries out an operation without designating some sort of backup to finish the job should the first group be apprehended: an occurrence which is, disturbingly enough, becoming common in this city full of vigilantes and watchful eyes. The moment Shihong's group started to go down, tonight's backup was called... and she's arrived as quickly as she can.
Now, only one question remains. Where is she?
Silence dominates the little area which Whip has carved out all for herself. Nothing moves in the dark to betray who it is has come to relieve Shihong Mao. No flicker of movement tugs at the corner of an eye; no, the first indication that some other living thing perches in the dark with Whip comes in the form of a sound.
A thoughtful rasping slices into the silence unobtrusively, the long, whispery-steel sound of a blade unsheathing seeming to drag on forever. A quiet, amused voice rides on the edge of that sound, balanced perfectly, its dulcet tones somehow simultaneously polite and rife with threat. "My associate won't be going anywhere," the female voice notes. It draws closer as it talks. "At least-- not with you."
Bloodied, battered and thoroughly bruised. This was NOT how Shihong envisioned her night.
As wily as ever, the Ikari Warrior jerks aside as Shihong lets her body just move, long legs and dangerous heels missing the brunette altogether. Inwardly the woman hisses in anger, but physically she's too damn tired and exhausted to move anymore. She staggers upon landing, legs buckling before she just hits the ground, exhaling loudly. This bitch...she did it. She's going to ruin all the hard work Shihong Mao has done for herself all these years.
Shuddering and struggling, the Chinese woman curses her body to move--but it won't listen. Feebly her hand reaches out, pale fingers desperately reaching for the open vehicle door several feet from her. If she can there, she can get the hell out of here--
A booted foot suddenly prods the woman, drawing a pained hiss through clenched teeth. Slowly turning her head, Shihong's pale, bloodied face glares up at the Ikari woman, a solitary, now-red eye angrily staring at the woman. And soon enough, Whip is moving to fasten the woman's wrists together. "D-don't touch me, you dirty soldier b-bitch..!" she hisses, futilely struggling against her hands. No, it can't end like this.
She can't lose now. She can't watch her dreams and ambitions crumble so pathetically.
This is...humiliating.
A tired gasp escapes the woman's red lips, her forehead resting against damp concrete. But then--something. A hiss of steel. A voice--a familiar voice.
"N...nakatani," the woman utters, a weak but pleasant smile on her face as she slowly turns her head. Eyes blurry, she desperately tries to make out the figure of her cohort, but the darkness shrouds her well. Exhaling again, the exhausted and bloodied Enforcer just closes her eyes.
She's going to be okay. She doesn't need to worry now. Her ambitions are safe.
"Shh," Whip is asiding softly down to the felled Shihong Mao, her voice couched with fake diplomacy. "You'll want to be saving some of that cheerful disposition for later. You're gonna need it. If you're lucky, I'll be questioning you myself. And let me tell you," she reveals, feeling every one of her broken ribs with each painful breath, "I can be one gracious hostess."
Hooding her eyes darkly, she pushes one hand against her knee and rises to her full height, staring down on the woman. Whip looks inclined to kick her in the head to knock her out. One boot draws back...
And then someone speaks. Almost instantly, the soldier is back on full alert, her guard up and her gloved hands shut tight. She looks rankled, mostly at herself to have been caught unawares, and a deep frown grooves across her mouth. Her dark eyes narrow, quickly and efficiently searching the darkness that houses the silenced harbor, and for now it feels uncooperative to show her anything. She longs for her broken NVD.
One hand clenching down on the handle of her favourite weapon, Whip pulls it in to loop over her right shoulder. The leather of the bullwhip burns against the puncture wound from Shihong's expensive heels, and the old pain reminds the Ikari soldier of the bad mood she's supposed to be in. Looks like she's far from finished here. She doesn't know how much she has left in her... she doesn't know if she could take down another Syndicate enforcer of the previous woman's calibre. But it's not like she's been given any choice.
The mercenary just settles her weight back on her heels and looks vaguely bored. "Christ almighty," she gravels back at that disembodied voice, sighing into the open sea air. "You Syndicate kids keep popping up like ticks on a dog. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is."
COMBATSYS: Suzume has joined the fight here.
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Suzume 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Whip
"If you insist."
That tone never varies from its polite, precise tones. Not even when its owner looks at Shihong, and feels a pang of concern at the soft sound of her voice trying to call her name. Shhh, she thinks towards Shihong, her eyes threatening to soften at her cohort and friend; and then, her attention reroutes straight onto Whip. This girl, young as she looks, took out Shihong and the rest of these men by herself. She's not to be underestimated.
A slight ringing of steel is all the answer Whip receives after that first mild reply is given. At least-- at first. But then, with an abrupt pale flash of movement, Suzume arrows down from the roof of a nearby building, the long black cloak worn to obscure her white clothing streaming in her wake. She descends towards Whip slashing-blade first, but the downswing of her weapon cuts far wide of the other girl.
It soon becomes clear, however, that the physical strike was not the one meant to cause the damage. It's the flare of energy that suddenly crackles to life in the wake of that swing, slicing outwards in a razorlike afterimage of the strike, that is meant to hit; and the scythe of force swings outward -towards- the Ikari, not content to remain in the trodden path already walked by that thin sword.
COMBATSYS: Suzume successfully hits Whip with Hikanzakura.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Suzume 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Whip
Movement flickers against her peripherals. Already forgetting Shihong, Whip turns in time to see a figure descending upon her, her dark eyes widening when they notice the familiar glint of unsheathed steel. Her lips purse.
She moves quickly, swiftly removing herself from the reach of that blade. And, darkly, arrogantly, the soldier is sneering, "You're too sl--"
BOOM. The Ikari wasn't expecting that. The sudden, hurtling energy shadowing the cut of Suzume's sword slams straight into the young woman, hitting her with all the force and blunt trauma of a Mack truck. Smacked backward as though she weighs no more than a pillow, she launches through the air, stopped only when she's caught by the front of the Russians' van, breaking a headlight, denting the hood, and making the grill look like someone's broken braces. When Whip rolls free, she leaves a dark smear that shines wetly in the low light.
She collapses straight on the spot, sitting down like the wind has been kicked out of her, and her dark eyes stare sightlessly forward. They blink a few times. Blood gouts heavily from the back of her head.
Still, a moment passes, and the Ikari is pushing herself back to her feet, visibly staggering and swaying like a drunk. She's having a difficult time staying upright, and the paling of her skin betrays the rate she's losing blood. She doesn't have much more left... if anything at all. Finally, her gaze turns and sharpens, and she fixes the cloaked image of Suzume with a glare is as much surprise as it is angry recognition. And, while she can still see, the soldier lets her anger get the best of her.
Hissing words that don't seem to make much sense, she reaches for her shoulder holster and draws one motherfucker of a pistol, her shaking hand trying to line to sight of her monstrous .44 Magnum. With neither pause nor mercy, she just starts unloading the entire cartridge.
COMBATSYS: Whip can no longer fight.
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Suzume 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Suzume slows Super Blackhawk EX from Whip with Yaezakura.
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Suzume 0/-------/-----==|
Hissing out a sharp, vicious breath, Suzume straightens up from the crouch she's landed in and surveys the Ikari passionlessly. Moonlight gleams off pristine steel as it turns slightly, ready and waiting for whatever reprisal the woman might manage in her state.
Eventually, as Whip finally manages to pull herself to her feet, the kunoichi turns defensive. Her body angles, and that long blade glides through the air to softly resheathe itself in its scabbard. The weapon clicks home quietly, sword and scabbard coming together to form a sturdy means of defense, and Suzume prepares to use her weapon to defend against that nasty-looking whip she can see coiling around the soldier's arm.
She's caught by surprise when the girl abruptly heads for something else instead. And that something else is a huge motherfuck of a gun. Eyes widening, Suzume's hands release her sword instantly. It swings down at her side and out of the way, as the kunoichi prepares to do... something patently odd.
With a sudden flick of her wrists, she shakes the cascades of bangles she wears off her wrists and into her hands. With one powerful, flashing flux of chi, she abruptly -reshapes- all that jewelry in her hands, the circling steel straightening out into vicious blades and sharp points. The resultant handfuls of needles and throwing knives are arrowed straight at Whip just as the young woman pulls the trigger.
The newly-transformed projectiles still retain some of the energy that reshaped them... and so, when they meet the hail of bullets, they -explode-, the force of the detonations sending weapons and bullets alike haywire. Some of that barrage still gets through, tearing into the kunoichi, staining her pristine clothes red... but for the most part, she manages to scatter that gunfire before the bulk of it can reach her.
In the aftermath, a ringing silence descends. Suzume looks over at the silent Whip, frowning intensely, and shakes blood from her hands with a sharp tsk. "...I liked this outfit."
Moving swiftly, she heads first towards Shihong, checking to make certain the other woman is all right. Smoothing a cool hand across Shihong's brow, she makes a brief attempt to rouse her with a flicker of soothing chi: she waits a moment, and then regardless of her success, she rises and turns back to the Ikari. She considers a moment, and then-- decision made-- she steps back towards the girl.
Quickly and efficiently, she turns Whip to her front. And then, she begins to bind the girl with her own beloved weapon: a look of amusement haunting her gaze.
COMBATSYS: Suzume has ended the fight here.
The incredibly short exchange between the Ikari Warrior and the Syndicate kunoichi go unnoticed by the Chinese woman; barely conscious, she's since slipped into a twilight state of consciousness. Words and sounds are there, but her mind cannot parse them properly. If anything, it serves as ambiance to a woman bleeding on cold pavement, distantly cursing her luck.
But the sounds...stop. With one last, ferocious crack of a bullet leaving its chamber, the fight between Suzume and Whip ceases, with the swift-bladed Suzume victor. It would appear that, yes. Shihong Mao's selfish ambitions will continue to thrive. Now, it's simply a matter of shaking off the humiliation.
Her disorientation breaks at the touch of a cool hand upon her forehead, black eyes dimly blinking before she turns her head to the side. She makes out a familiar face through the haze of consciousness, bloodied lips moving slightly before she offers a weak and thoroughly exhausted smile. "I...o-owe you one, N-nakatani," the Enforcer replies before she slowly struggles to sit upright.
As Suzume parts the woman finally manages to sit up fully, breathing raggedly as she watches the woman go about her business. A smirk cuts over the Chinese woman's pale, bloodied face, eyes narrowed spitefully as she observes the woman being bound by her own whip. However, she says nothing; instead, Shihong struggles to pull her body from the ground, shakily rising onto her feet before supporting her weight on the hood of her Sedan.
"Do w-with her whatever you...want," Shihong remarks, hands groping along the car's side as she struggles to reach the driver's side door. "She's...yours as far as I'm c-concerned." Slipping clumsily into the driver's seat, the woman slams the door shut, the window rolling down. A glance is spared, black eyes curiously observing the kunoichi before she grins, a touch sincere, as she says, "You're a life-saver."
With a groan of rubber on concrete, the car makes its way out of the dockyards, Russians be damned. What a damn night.
Whip's dulling eyes barely even recognize the way her bullets get stopped as quickly as they are fired. She doesn't even seem to care. Her finger just presses the trigger, again and again and again, long after the cartridge is empty. Soon, the large, smoking revolver gets too heavy for her hand. It lowers. She lets go, and the gun clatters hollowly to the pavement.
One moment later, the Ikari follows suit. Collapsing to the ground, she lies askance, the last bit of fight sighing free from her lips. Blood pools from under her head. Her eyes gaze upwards, blinking slowly, dreamily as they slowly unfocus. She knows she should be getting back up. She can't stop now. She has a mission to complete. She can't fail. If she closes her eyes, her assignment is forfeit -- her life is forfeit.
As Suzume is stepping close, the Ikari soldier is writhing on the spot, trying to brace one hand against the ground to push her body up. Her teeth are grit, her eyes are steely and tenacious, and she lifts her head to fasten the woman with a disapproving look. More blood rains from the open split in her head. Her eyes roll. The spirit is willing, but the body just gives up.
The night is kind. Kind enough that Whip is unconscious long before Suzume turns her over, and she is forced to suffer the worst indignity of being tethered by her own weapon, her own namesake.
She'd never be able to live that down.
A gentled expression crosses Suzume's face at Shihong's words. "Think nothing of it," she offers, with a faint smile, before she straightens and moves back to take care of the unconscious Ikari.
She only pauses in her ministrations when Shihong abruptly speaks up, telling her the girl is hers to do with what she wishes. The thought sets her to pursing her lips, her lashes fluttering a little lower in the wind of Shihong's departure as she considers. Perhaps she should call Ryouhara, see if he might have any use for an Ikari... but no. It's unlikely he'd bear any interest in that mercenary group; their methods don't run parallel to his own.
No, this woman interfered with Syndicate business tonight, and she's certain Geese will have more interest in her. She'll bring the Ikari back to Geese Tower, and there submit her to whoever Geese tasks with her interrogation. Perhaps Kane, or that thug of a criminal, 'Big.' Or maybe she won't be so important to command their attention, and she'll simply serve as a lesson for that scrap of a white-haired brat he fancies as a student. Or-- well. No. The Ikari'd have to be useless for Geese to simply feed her to that -other- one.
She doesn't occupy her mind too much with it. What happens to her isn't her concern. But, she thinks, as she lifts Whip to carry her back to her motorcycle, maybe she'll still call Ryouhara afterwards, just in case...
Log created on 16:32:47 09/21/2008 by Shihong, and last modified on 17:57:28 09/24/2008.