Description: "No... h..help me.." pleaded the mortally wounded Wakamoto, "I'll.. I'll make you a rich woman..." His words fell upon deaf ears. Next to him stood the tattered, broken, and bloody form of one Juri Han: The Spider of SIN, and a ravenous murderer who stalked the island killing for sport. She kneeled beside him, reached out to him, and for a moment their frantically beating hearts pumped in unison. By the time the roar of a VTOL engine was heard neither heart was moving. Good End? (Y:N)
Juri remembers ... falling.
Burning, stabbing, tearing.
The blessed numbness induced by the Sealing Sword gave way to endless agony, and all at once the boiling rage within her returned. Those pent up emotions were released in an explosive tempest of searing violet light! Hollowing out of the endless swarm of firey birds ... a brief reprieve for the ravaged body of one Juri Han.
The landing was not very kind either. Acrobatics are almost useless in the face of relentless gravity. Shifting her weight, spinning through the air, and changing her momentum only reduced what would have been a lethal fall into one that she very well might wish was lethal. Her impact is slowed by crashing through a ruined building: Several walls giving way to her incredible inertia, and in exchange breaking (but not shattering) bones and bruising (but not rupturing) organs.
When the Spider of SIN finally came to a stop she was on the very precipice of death. Were she anyone else the internal and external injuries would have killed her instantly. Something primal brings her back from the abyss.
"I ... will have... my revenge."
She hisses these words through bloodied teeth as she pushes herself up slowly, agonizingly into a sitting posture. More, fresh blood pours from between her lips as she does. All she can see from her left field of vision is a notification of how badly broken her body is, that she is bleeding out, and that the emergency beacon has been activated. Just as well though: The Feng Shui Engine hanging out of her left eye socket and would only give her a lovely view of the ground as it swings lazily back and forth.
Broken and mangled limbs be damned, Juri stands again. The very same Psycho Power that keeps her from death wills her unresponsive body into action: No, there is something left to be done. And so, leaving a trail of blood in her wake she makes her way across the wasteland.
Was it chance or fate then that she should stumble across another broken body? This one of Wakamoto. At first she did not even know him to be alive and continued along her way. That is until, of course, his hand grips the tattered remains of her pants leg. It is hard to say who looks worse for wear. Wakamoto probably as he lay impaled on a piece of lamp post and unable to do more than plead to the woman's burnt and mangled form.
"Heh... one more..."
Her right eye lights up as she descends suddenly to kneel next to Wakamoto. A ghastly grin splits her face nearly in two as she raises her hands to his throat. He will soon have his last words choked from him: Cracked purple polish flaking away as her nails dig into his trachea. Juri's one eye stares directly into his. She wants to see all of it: The horror, the pain, and finally ... the passing.
By the greatest irony Juri knew not who he was, nor in fact that he was the person she was wanting to see. The man whose minions had claimed wanted her dead. The man whom she wished to torment now lays dead before her. Her broken body shakes with hideous laughter, "Ahhhh... money, was it?" Hands withdraw from Wakamoto's throat leaving a smeared, butterfly-shaped blood stain. "Idiot."
Several minutes later one of Shadaloo's Stealth VTOL aircraft arrives and finds the body of Wakamoto. Still kneeling beside him is Juri's battered form: Unconscious, cold, and not breathing. Fearing their lives should they fail, the peons of the medical team quickly resuscitate her and move her on a stretcher into the plane's specialized medical bay.
For but a moment though Juri touched death. And within the dying recesses of her mind she found herself confronted by the vengeful memories of those she had snuffed out during her time in Taizhou. Perhaps they were demanding a reason. Perhaps they were demanding she suffer alongside them. Perhaps they were merely shadows kept forever crystalized in the lovingly recorded memory of an immoral psychopath.
Regardless the response was the same: "Well, I had fun."
Log created on 21:55:07 09/12/2010 by Juri, and last modified on 22:11:51 09/12/2010.