Description: After liberating Iraq, Leona and Whip recuperate at Ikari Base--in Ikari Fashion. Naturally, this means a fight.
'All the leaves are brown... and the sky is grey...' o/~
Life as an Ikari has been liberating for Whip, for the most part; her time spent among the troops treated of late almost like a holiday from the difficulties of attempting to discover a 'real' existence among 'real' people. Family is something she can't adjust to having - and employment... even as a professional fighter it's too foreign a concept to sit right in her gut. Life without purpose is life without meaning. The uncharitable might say she has an attachment to killing, forged by the rigours of training in NESTS' facilities...
But that's not it. She's just incapable of being like others. Incapable of being mundane.
'I've been for a walk... on a winter's day...' o/~
Which doesn't stop her from enjoying some of her life's teenier pleasures, and at this moment she can be found lazing in the undergrowth off the main training ground of the mercenary group. As soldiers train fifty yards away, shooting at targets and working their hand-to-hand skills on dummies and one another, the former assassin is resting off her exhaustion and injuries in the jungle fringe. She's not even in full uniform; beside the headphones currently blazing out a hard rock covers album, she is clad in a simple white tank top half soaked through with perspiration, and a pair of beat-up old fatigue pants that wouldn't pass muster.
Like this, her bandages are visible around midsection and broken shoulder. She's been through a war.
'I'd be safe and warm... if I was in L.A. ... o/~
But haven't they all? Life is war. It's the only way she knows.
She's slumbering fairly peacefully despite it all, lips tweaked into a smile and eyes lidded against the light. It says a great deal about the person she is that basking in the fiercely warm jungle heat, with noise erupting all around her and the trappings of aggression just a stone's throw away, is the perfect idyllic situation for the sort of rest she doesn't experience for weeks - even months - at a time. Logic be damned, Whip's... happy.
'California dreamin'... on such a winter's day...' o/~
Being unlike others is a trait that the Ikari seem to favor, even more than others. The truth is, it takes a certain type to perform, in this sort of pseudo-military organization--not an actual military, if only by dint of the lack of a supporting nation--a certain trait of desperation, or simply wildness, that imbues one with the edge necessary to take on such a life. Heidern has it; Ralf and Clark have it; and Whip and Leona definitely have it. And so, too, do most of the men (and women) working under their command.
Since arriving from the mission in Iraq, Leona's been bandaged up, but, having taken somewhat less injury than Faolan or Whip, jumped right back into duties--such as supervising training. Which is what she's doing now, her shock of blue hair immediately distinctive out on the training grounds, correcting form. Her voice never raises much above conversational tones--but her words are heeded.
Finally, though, she steps away from the training ground... and walks towards Whip. She looks cool--partially due to the black tanktop and green fatigue pants, her everyday uniform--and partially because she just doesn't -not- look cool. And the first thing Whip might sense of her is her shadow, falling across the relaxing Ikari.
Relaxation is a state of mind that comes with surprising ease when you've seen the horrors of the world, let alone been raised as one of them. Or been born one. The mundane trials and pleasures may be difficult to grasp, but so are the accompanying concerns; none of the Ikari worry about their job security, about money or bills or which schools to ship their children off to. Detachment is simple when the only thing you have to detach from is something every fibre of your being-- as a human, as an animal - tells you is wrong.
But being used to that wrongness also means you're ready for the worst. By extension, for everything.
As the shadow falls across her, Whip's smile grows a little wider. In spite of the audible hum of her music, she could hear Leona's approach; the far ear only partly covered by the foam pad of her headphones. They all know each other's footsteps, as they know voice and mannerism and even scent, because they're trained to. One false step in the field, one duplicitous enemy, one breach in security can end a mission like *that*.
Besides, everybody learns to recognize those they love the most.
"I know what you're going to say..."
Her voice is soft, but she doesn't drawl, alert in the moment she wants to be. She makes a show of waking slow, though, easing herself up with a sigh and stretching her arms out before her as her eyes open and she looks up at the older girl. Only when she's settled in a new position, hands crossed in her lap, headphones around her neck and legs crossed loosely to one side does she finish, tipping her head back with a wrinkle of the nose.
"I shouldn't be letting my injuries linger, I should be keeping up with my training. The worst thing for me is to let my body stagnate. 'Course," she glances to one side, toward the grounds where men still drill ceaselessly. Discipline may not be their most famous trait, but the Ikari don't lack in dedication. That's why they're so good at what they do. "You know that I know that. So maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you just missed me."
When she look back to Leona, she doesn't bother hiding her cheeky grin. They're beyond that.
Leona's arms are crossed, but her posture--rigid and severe as it looks--is not that way at all. She's as relaxed as she can manage. She has to maintain control--she *needs* that control--or the specter in her head will engulf her. But Whip? She can probably tell, Leona's lips relaxed fractionally, not pursed in the manner that indicates displeasure. Throughout the little speech Whip gives, Leona merely waits.. and when it's done, she bends forward, fractionally...
... and offers Whip a hand up. "Cooler in the mess," she notes, offhandedly. If Whip takes the hand? She'll be dragged up and then Leona'll turn towards the mess. If not? Well then Leona'll just turn and head that way. Either way, she expects Whip to follow. Not because it's an -order-... but because they're... friends.
And who would have thought that? The word amongst the recruits is that Leona doesn't have -any- friends. It isn't word spread widely, because loose lips' flapping is easily heard, but it's a common belief. And that Leona has heard.
If the assertion bothers her, well, she doesn't show it, not that she would. It's the way she is. And the recruits are just recruits, not true Ikari Warriors yet... and certainly they haven't earned the right to be cared about by Leona as anything other than fellow soldiers.
Inside the mess--where it is indeed cooler--Leona is taking a tray and filling it with... well... raw vegetables. Grape tomatoes, broccoli, carrots, snap peas, and one container of white ranch dressing. Snacktime.
Whip doesn't miss a beat, doesn't bat an eye as the hand is extended. Grin still upon her lips, she simply takes it and allows herself to be hauled up - also putting effort in herself rather than make Leona do all the work though, emitting a little 'hup' as her legs extend and she bounds onto her feet.
"Cooler," she comments then, pausing to blow a sticky strand of hair from the side of her mouth, "Sounds great." A glance over her shoulder confirms there's a large and very visible patch in the damp undergrowth where she's been lying, "I was starting to become one with the earth out here..."
Tarrying only long enough to adjust Voodoo remains in his essential position upon her right hip, she makes several quick strides to catch up to Leona and then falls into step beside the older girl. And yes, they're an odd couple; the solemn, taciturn colonel's daughter and the relaxed, sociable former assassin. Least of all due to the circumstance surrounding Whip's introduction to the group - though few know she was planted into the Ikari ranks by NESTS, it's another rumour that's gotten around. There are a lot of rumours about Whip.
For her part, she's not bothered by any of them. As they continue past the training grounds she flips a few casual salutes, waves, and shares quips with several recruits. She's not so outgoing as she often appears, of course; Leona knows that, one of the handful who would think to look away from the madding crowd for Muchiko. They share an enjoyment of their own company, and ultimately a respect for each other's boundaries. Even if they don't share... quite everything else. Where Leona takes a health option, inside the mess hall her friend is quick to scoop up a robust plateful of greasy meats and heavy carbohydrates.
When they sit down, she's already got a mouthful of hot potato, breathing through it to try and cool it down.
"Shoh," she begins immediately, her table manners awful as always. At least she breaks off to swallow, having the grace to look bashful about it as she looks at Leona over the formica, still sucking her thumb dry as though this at least were perfectly acceptable. "How're they shaping up out there? I haven't heard quite so many grown men crying out in pain today. Not sure whether that's a good sign or a bad one."
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Leona works her way through several baby carrots, only minimally using the ranch dip--got to make it last, after all--before even thinking about her response. But she doesn't have to think too hard about it. "Mostly adequate," is her initial analysis, delivered almost immediately. Two sweet, small grape tomatoes later, "... two or three might turn out to be soldiers." Really, it's hard for her to just -vocalize-, not because she can't, but it's just awkward for her. Much of her life has been lived in a military fashion--terse, brusque, to the point. Brevity is encouraged in orders and communications.
"Couple... could use your help. Firearms." Not her favorite subject or her best. And none that are ready to learn the Heidern way of combat--even if she were allowed to teach them that. But they'll probably learn from Ralf or Clark eventually, anyways. She works through yet more of the vegetables she got, looking dispassionately at the potato and meat thing. She'll -eat- it, at mealtimes, but it's not her favorite.
"After we're done..." She inclines her head back towards the door. "Get you back on your feet?"
There's no expectation for more - Leona wouldn't be herself if she broke into long, trailing soliloquys at every bidding. Whip's own chattiness has evolved from a culture so clinical and uncaring that she had to find respite somehow, and it was encouraged by those not given to the common chill of assassins and geneticists alike. Despite their nature and goals, NESTS is a bastion for the quirky. Just look at Angel.
"It only takes a handful of men to save the world," Whip offers in response to Leona's summation, rolling a shoulder before she takes another vast mouthful of chicken, balancing heaps of it on the edge of her knife and sliding it wholesale into her mouth. Chew, chew, chew. Nom. Then she's reaching for a glass of milk to wash it down, swallowing the whole mulchy mess with one giant gulp. "Mm, good," she surmises with a nod to what passes inbetween, "Target practice I can do. I'll hit up the stores later, see what we've got spare."
The war effort's taken a lot of resources, but there's always something lying about. She doesn't need to say that not a man-jack of them will be laying a hand on her own personal armoury. That part of her upbringing remains strict - weapons are an extension of the wielder. You don't lend your hands to another, or your mind.
"I'll have them hitting the broadside of a barn in no time." A grin flutters across her lips as she prepares another mouthful, scraping up potatoes and a small selection of damp vegetables; they're part of a balanced diet, but she'd let Leona keep them all if it wasn't so. Vegetables are boring. "And what, pray, are you implying? Even with one arm and half my abdominals I'll be the one keeping /you/ on your toes." They've gone back and forth a lot, even if there's no doubt who's better in what areas, and there's a whole history of sweepstakes in the barracks over which of the prodigious Ikari women will come out on top next. "Or have you forgotten what happened last time you thought I was too weak to run the obstacle course..."
She's teasing, of course, but there's a spark of competitive spirit in her eye. She might accept losing, but she'll never accept not trying her damnedest to show the other girl up in front of the men; it's what keeps them both improving, every week, every day. It's what makes them good soldiers.
Vegetables are safe. She doesn't look at a vegetable and occasionally (very occasionally) think about taking it down in the field, tearing it open bare-handed... and in any case, while pulling a carrot from the ground is as surely deadly to the carrot as would hunting a rabbit would be to the rabbit, there is somewhat less mess involved. Leona is just about done with her meal, leaving behind only a couple pieces of vegetables--and most of the ranch dressing. Stuff's good, but probably not the greatest when you're about to enter combat, sparring or not.
Gloved hands slide her tray aside, and she rests her chin on steepled fingers shortly thereafter. "I remember."
There's just a hint of smiling challenge in her eyes. "But one victory isn't domination." Smoothly, she slides off the bench, and picks her tray up. It's just three or four steps towards the trash receptable, and she leaves the tray there... and without a second look heads back out into the blistering jungle heat. Already, she's preparing, mentally. No matter whatever words are said... she knows that Whip will be the most equal opponent she can find, in the Ikari. Her greatest test and... her greatest partner. They complement each other, in personality, skills...
And they'll keep each other honed and ready.
"You keep telling yourself that," Whip chimes in response, wrinkling her nose as she plucks a potato from her plate with two fingers and flicks it up to catch it in her mouth with a snap of the jaw. She chews that more swiftly as she moves to stand as well, her own tray still half loaded - but rather than deposit it wastefully with the others she pauses at one of the other tables and questioningly hefts her burden, burling an eyebrow at one of the man sat there. When the robust soldier flashes her a grin and a nod, she plops it in front of him and throws out a thumbsup from one hand while licking the fingers of the other.
A moment later she's out behind Leona, glancing with a critical eye at her injured midriff. A cursory poke of the finger, and a gentle caress that has more to do with checking her meal's sitting okay than worrying about her condition - squaddie's manners or not, she's still a /girl/ - and she seems satisfied. A smile buoying her along, she follows her friend to the training ground as she unfurls Voodoo from her side.
*crack*
The whip lights the heated air, instantly attracting the attention of the nearby men. Chuckles and jeers of encouragement form almost immediately to fill the backdrop, while the foreground is turned into a broad expanse of rough dirt empty of bodies. Even the rookies have learned from experience that you make way when two of the Ikari elite want to battle; especially when it's either of Ralf and Clark or Leona and Whip. Rivalries keep them all sharp, and the contests can escalate quickly, injuries or no.
Whip shows no sign of her own beyond an initial gentility as she assumes her stance. Honed she might not be, following the action in Iraq and her brief foray into China before returning home - but she's ready, always as much as she can be no matter the circumstance. Voodoo's coils are quickly looped about her hand once more, held prepared at her side as the other extends, palm out and facing downward. Her neck rolls briefly to the side, as she directs a half-smile sidelong to the older girl. Her heart's beating a little faster already.
"I think it's your turn to start us off. No going easy on me, now. Wouldn't want the man getting ideas."
COMBATSYS: Whip has started a fight here.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
Leona is sure that money is passing hands, bets being placed. She ignores it. These are rough and ready men; things like this are second nature to them. And, hell. It's easier to fight when there's something on the line other than pride. As she walks out to the strip of cleared ground, she's peeling away her bandages, her gauze--revealing mostly-healed markings. That's one thing--she heals very well. Once she reaches what she considers her 'starting point', she stops, and turns, standing straight and rigid.
Blue eyes fall upon Whip, for a long moment, and she simply nods. There's no salute--this isn't an 'official' fight and, in any case, they're roughly the same rank anyways. So she relaxes her parade rest into her stance, right foot forward, left foot back, hands up, loose, curling from loose fist to straightened hand, bobbing slightly on her booted feet. A hush falls, or it seems to--even the raucous, least-aware men falling mostly silent as they sense that the excitement is about to begin.
And it does--as Leona charges forward, exploding off the mark with her typical smooth motion, testing Whip's reflexes with a quick series of ridgehand chops from her right hand, aimed first at temple height, then at Whip's side, just above the hip.
The moment she explodes off the block? The men start shouting and cheering.
COMBATSYS: Leona has joined the fight here.
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Leona 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Whip
COMBATSYS: Leona successfully hits Whip with Quick Punch.
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Leona 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Whip
Thump, thump, thump. Through the tightness of bandages she can feel the pulse quickening as Leona comes on, quick and graceful in that approach - intense too, as she always is. There's nothing about her technique that suffers through emotional inadequacy, the former assassin's eyes unable to find particular weakness to exploit. But the blows are designed for speed, not punishing weight, and she tries to match it, shifting her body to sway aside from each in turn; darting movements, almost furtive, perhaps too much so.
The first catches her skull as she twists, a grazing strike that does the job it's supposed to. Her stance is faltered, the second able to hammer home before she can readjust. It stings, sending a shockwave through the abdomen to her gut wound, but there's no need or desire to linger upon it. Whip expels the pain with a soft grunt, already dropping to throw out her countering motion. Her raised hand seeks to deflect Leona's striking one as she falls to a crouch, keeping a wary guard in place as she sweeps out with the right leg. Voodoo is held chambered; there's nothing more fancy than the kick, hooking inward to take the knees from behind.
It's unusual for her - she's keeping Leona close rather than forcing her back. Fighting a different game.
Neither of them learns if they're predictable.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Leona with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Leona 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Whip
And unpredictability serves Whip well. Leona is caught more than off-guard; she falls, hard, onto her face, but is quick enough to turn it into a forward roll, pushing off mid-way through to tumble back up to an on-foot stance, though ducked low. "Good," she says, her cheek smeared with reddish-brown mud. Good? Well, in the context of training, that is. Crouched for just a moment more, she pushes off, leaping into a low arc--and then flipping forward, tucking, her arms crossed.
She is just a bit above Whip's position, and just a bit forward of it, as she unleashes her attack--her arms whipping forward and down, fingertips trailing blue, as, with a sound like the high, singing scrape of honed metal on honed metal, she unleashes her chi, a blue-edged, white-bodied cross of razorlike energy hissing out and down for her target.
Is it modified? Only slightly--Leona is restraining the attack only slightly. Fighting 'for real' is the best way to wring the best out of an opponent... training or otherwise.
COMBATSYS: Whip dodges Leona's X-Calibre.
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Leona 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Whip
For all the pleasantry she exudes, Whip isn't entirely without hubris. As Leona tumbles and rises, she's met by the more casual return to form of her training partner, swinging her striking leg beneath her and shifting easily back into her stance in one smooth motion. The faint smile on her lips says, 'I know', even if she goes wordless for the moment. She's not given to her usual idle chatter in battle; at least, not often.
Focused instead on the movements of her opponent, her brown eyes are filled with a keen regard as she shifts lightly in place, keeping her hips loose as she just softly gyrates - it's almost unnoticeable to those who don't know her style, but she's in that state an instant before displaying her enviable speed. Just on the cusp of motion she waits, until the last possible instant, when her hand tightens about Voodoo. Energy sizzles, homes with perfect aim toward her waiting torso, and as suddenly as it comes, she is gone.
"Close," she breathes, as much to herself as Leona, as she comes around in a flip, now placing herself above the older girl. Her knees tuck up toward her chin, left arm out for balance as the right is already striking forth - a crack of the whip heralds her incoming flight. With a tight outbreath she flies toward the anchoring point as Voodoo wraps tight about one of the many wooden posts dotted about the training ground.
At the moment she seeks to intercept, a bare couple of feet above the ground, her legs kick out for Leona's midriff.
She's not holding back, either; it's fast, but it's strong, too.
COMBATSYS: Leona fails to interrupt Hook Shot from Whip with Moon Slasher.
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Leona 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Whip
It's a testament to how closely these two are matched--the momentum swings back and forth, not quite like a pendulum, but can be held by either party. In this case, Whip. The move -is -fast, and Leona finds herself with a pair of boots in her gut--just above the lingering mark of a bullet graze--even as she's responding, and blue energy trails uselessly off her fingers as Whip's attack takes her off her feet.
Her landing isn't graceful--she bounces once, off her left shoulder--but she manages to once again save the landing, actually adding to her spin in mid-air and landing in a skid, a roostertail of dirt flaring up as she slides, on both feet and her hands, for a short ways in the dirt. There she stays, for a moment, before rising back to her feet, impassive, ignoring the bruise already purpling on her stomach. It looks ugly, but Leona isn't concerned with looking good. (Though she does.)
Whip's landing is... a little better, by grace of that momentum, though less apt than it might usually be. She's weathering her injuries well-- but a broken shoulder is exactly that, and snapping Voodoo out with her right arm has aggravated it enough that performing the opposite motion sends a sudden twinge through her torso. Her legs spread as she drops to the ground following the kick, churning up little mounds of dirt to either side as she falls halfway toward a gymnastic split, her left hand going palm down to steady her.
Her precious weapon, meanwhile, is coiled back around her right forearm, held awkwardly against her side.
Brown eyes track the earth to Leona, watching her through the dissipation of electric, cerulean energy. She pauses for a moment herself, not pressing the advantage as they both would were blood involved-- were it life, and death. Not pulling blows is one thing, but this rivalry's friendly. It's not just politeness though, but genuine care that settles beyond the focused veil of the former assassin's gaze.
She might be certain they'll continue, but that doesn't preclude caring.
"Why do I feel," Whip murmurs as she finally snaps her feet together, lingering only long enough to draw a breath before she starts forward - her turn to charge, to breach the first motions of renewed battle. "Like I'm walking right into your trap?" Her words don't distract her, and neither does the smile on her lips, as her boots tear the ground quickly. Voodoo is raised now, held out to the right flank as the left arm pumps in tandem with her feet. She accelerates to a flash and then swings to that same side.
Wary she might feel, but she doesn't show it; the left hand bringing up a palm toward Leona's face, a sharp exhalation accompanying the blow that... never reaches its target, for even as she's twisting into the right hip, she's bracing to reverse her momentum, bringing the weighted hilt of her weapon up to slam into the back and pitch Leona forward. If /that/ works, she'll find a third rotation carries a swinging roundhouse from the left leg directly into her already-tender abdominals, punctuated with a sharp kiai from the younger girl.
COMBATSYS: Leona blocks Whip's Medium Strike.
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Leona 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Whip
"Not a trap," replies Leona, tersely, as she waits, bobbing... for that attack. Recognizing the feint, she pivots smoothly, and the weighted hilt of the weapon slams into her forearms--as does the roundhouse, Leona dropping low to take the impact on her shoulder--tender but reinforced with tense, solid muscle. She kicks out with the leg opposite to the impact, not at Whip but bracing herself against the impact.
And from there she rises, swiftly--and as she does so, grabbing for Whip's unbalanced leg. It's a relatively complicated move--using her right arm to trap Whip's kicking leg, and her left to sweep the ankle Whip is standing on, looking to dump the younger Ikari on her butt. At least the dirt will blend with the fatigues, sort of.
"Tactics," she finishes, tersely, using the rise to flip herself backwards, one rotation, putting herself at what looks like to be the perfect range... for Whip. A challenge?
COMBATSYS: Whip blocks Leona's Quick Throw.
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Leona 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Whip
There's time for complexity-- Whip walked into it, ran even. A grasp is secured easily enough, eyes widening as the motion falls into the blind-spot created by the sharp swish of her damp hair. There's really no way to /avoid/ what happens; Leona chose her positioning wisely, created the circumstance she needed to drive the move home, but their even footing will always mean they're beside each other in this game. Strategy itself is enough sometimes, but too often the deciding line is speed and instinct...
Occasionally, it's even plain old luck.
This time, Whip is just ready enough to roll through, toned muscles in her back bunching against the packed ground as she flattens instaneously; then lifts both legs, kicking them out from Leona's control and thrusting with her arms as she reverses her position. A handstand carries her up and around, heels snapping tightly together once she's righted. Equally complex, equally effective. And she's still in striking range.
"Nice!" She offers by way of compliment and kiai combined, Voodoo slipping from his position about her forearm to reach her calloused palm as the limb unfolds toward her friend. It's a hefty slash that follows, the crack almost deafening at close-range as the weapon snaps out. The darting blue tip flies just wide of the neck, seeking to curl around to procure a viciously firm grip around the throat. Whip's smiling again, the expression almost sinister as it curls up into her cheek, creating a dimple that's too childlike for the flash of her eyes-- and the move that follows is where half the rumours come from. She enjoys this a little /too/ much.
"Get over here," she murmurs if she can find that grip, wrenching back on Voodoo to haul Leona into and along the ground. A bootheel is raised and ready to press down on the side of her neck, one final harsh snap of the arms sending a shockwave through her injuries - but also around and throuth the throat. It's something she has to hold back on, in training; in the field it can be deadly, as it was meant to be. As she was trained to be.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Leona with Strength Shot - Shouri.
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Leona 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Whip
"HGN," is Leona's comment, because it's -hard- to talk when your throat is being choked and you're getting a faceful of dirt. Much more when your neck gets stomped. She knows Whip kept it from being lethal... but it didn't stop it from -hurting-. But that's okay. Leona is familiar with pain. Pain reminds her she's alive. It isn't a sensation she seeks out; nor is it a sensation she runs from. It just is.
Freeing herself from that weapon's grip, Leona remains close in, an attempt to deny Whip that range--and an attempt to 'get back' some of her own. She uses the momentum and power of her rising to power a heavy, high roundhouse kick--a risky manuever, to be sure, but if it hits? Well, Whip will have quite the bruise to contend with, to say the least.
She can feel her blood pumping hotter, harder now, as she gets more into the fight, but it only shows in the crisp, sharp action she takes--her expression is still as composed and stone-like as ever.
COMBATSYS: Whip interrupts Heavy Kick from Leona with Boomerang Shot.
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Leona 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Whip
Proximity isn't something Whip tends toward; preferring to keep her opponents at mid-range, open for the cruellest lashing of her namesake, or gunfire in a pinch. Habits are easy to fall into, bad ones especially, which is why she's been willing to keep this fight relatively close... to push herself, to have Leona push her in a situation where the older girl normally thrives. So it is here; that kick is fierce, powerful.
But she's had time to prepare. As it sweeps up she's recoiling Voodoo almost unconsciously, hand spooling her oldest friend inward as a detached, distant thing. That kind of instinct leaves her mind free to operate, her other muscles free to retract and tense where needed. She actually allows the blow to strike her - at least partly, falling as Leona rises, eating the upward momentum of the blow open her chin and cheek as she twists. Ready for it, she allows the force to propel her into a short slide, a foot or two; just enough.
*crack*
Voodoo is out in another instant, wrapping once around Leona's waist - trapping her raised leg, keeping her off-balance as the subsequent tug comes, Whip's left foot turning outward as she continues her slide's momentum into that hip. With physics on her side, it's natural to turn her second slash into one that brings her opponent with it. Voodoo's grip unfurls to send the colonel's daughter hurtling across the training ground, men backpedalling to make space for her eventual destination perhaps a dozen or so feet away. It'll be a hard landing - but they're hard women, both of them. Whip straightens with a sigh, pulse pounding, spooling Voodoo once more as she runs the other hand back through her hair, pushing it away from her face.
She doesn't say anything, she just watches, ready to meet Leona's gaze once more.
Ready to be pushed again.
Tactics include calculated risks. Leona knew that taking the hit was a possibility. But she is, somewhat, heartened. Whip was skilled, yes, when they first found her, but it was an open question as to whether she'd have the killer instinct... and it is reinforced that she does. That's good. That's necessary. Leona goes tumbling, again, and murmurs are going around the men. That the blue-haired woman isn't invincible. But it's a valuable lesson. The men ought to know that their skilled commanders are only human. They are not cyborg killing machines, as good as they are.
Leona Heidern, adopted daughter of Commander Heidern, drives herself tirelessly, without regard for injury, and that trait of hers is seen here, as she rises to her feet and... crouches. She's down for a moment, and then she leaps high into the air, angling almost lazily towards Whip... until she reaches back, and then her trajectory is entirely different, her right hand glowing with orange-red power as she slices down towards her friend.
Should she strike, she'll cut one diagonal line of energy, and then, sa she lands, spring up and away and cut another line... and then there'll be a detonation as a bomb, as Leona twists in midair to land facing her friend--her current foe.
COMBATSYS: Whip blocks Leona's V-Slasher.
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Leona 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Whip
'Almost lazily'. One word is key in that. Because there's something to be said for that sort of telegraphing, when you're as unpredictable as Leona; the attack she brings to bear could be one of several things, or it could be none of them. They may share a great many traits, but they have their separate strengths after all, and Whip's mind is not so intently analytical as her friend's-- she can't be /sure/, until the moment she hears the hissing of summoned chi, even until she notes the colour.
Voodoo is unfurled with an abrupt *snap*, hilt in one hand and tip in the other as Whip extends her namesake before her - redirecting the striking hand, jarring it aside enough that she takes only the onrushing energies upon her person. It still hurts; she's driven back by the explosion when it comes, twisting into an horizontal spin to keep herself upright at all, ochre energy rippling off her injured shoulder, coating her torso briefly before it's flung away into a dissipating cloud. Whip releases a held breath, weapon still before her.
"I never get over how much that stings," she comments, lips tugging to a rueful half-grin for a second, gaze meeting Leona's across the battlefield. To either side, rattled cheers ring out as bets renegotiated. Both women are looking a bit more ragged now-- and a few are willing to take up late gambles. The former assassin is more cautious herself, taking a few steps in a gentle arc around the older girl, before finding her spot...
"Your turn!" She utters as she strikes, sweeping Voodoo low then high with that telltale cracking, aiming a swift but stinging blow toward the other woman's shoulder. She's not trying to drag her close this time - back to her usual ranged game, maintaining distance and keeping aggression at bay.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Leona with Snap Lash.
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Leona 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Whip
Whip is doing -very- well today. But Leona won't say that. Fading back from the attack doesn't work--her twist too late, the snap of the weapon throws her further off-balance. It takes quite a bit for Leona to maintain her standing stance, and yet she does, somehow. Whip has done very well to maintain the proper range for her weapon--and it is a distance at which Leona is disadvantaged, to be sure. There's the thinnest hint of a smile on Leona's lips, possibly detectable only to the senior Ikari and Whip.
But, she's not willing to give things up just yet. With another moment, she's steadied; in another, she's taking off, that low rush of hers eerie, almost silent but for the impact of boots on dirt. And then her attack, a stabbing of the fingertips for Whip's midsection, her right hand used, combined with a sweeping slash of her left, diagonally, from her left, high, to her right, low... and a final attack, a swift, thrusting kick to the midsection again.
COMBATSYS: Whip fails to interrupt Combo Attack from Leona with Strength Shot - Chikara.
- Power fail! -
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Leona 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Whip
Sometimes, a perceived advantage can lead to quite the opposite. Her strike landing, Whip recalls her weapon and sees the opening almost immediately; her forearm lashing out as quickly as it was chambered, the slight tweak in her shoulder only throwing off her second strike to a level she believe she's accounted for... but she over-extends, the seeking tip of Voodoo flying wide, and by the time she recovers it's too late.
Leona's first blow grates across rumpled bandages, tearing them open, drawing a slender crimson line across the injured girl's abdomen; an inch or so from the initial wound. She doesn't look angry, or particularly pained, suppressing it with a held breath that does her greater disservice. The second and third blows power through an entirely lost guard, the kick falling into place with a gutwrenching slam that sets off a few nearby cringes.
Whip hits the ground a second later, tumbling onto her good shoulder, Voodoo's coils tangling about her body as she rolls through the dirt. The wind gone from her lungs, she comes to a halt face-down but for a desperately raised forearm, inhaling with a squeak as she lets the hair fall across her vision. She takes several moments to recover, blinking her eyes as she finally gets up. Though hardly on the verge of consciousness, her cheeks are flushed and she's tiring suddenly - that took a lot out of her.
"Well played," she says softly, falling back into her stance, gaze focusing tightly.
It can always turn on a dime-- the pendulum never stops swinging. They both know it.
Leona likes to fight calm, controlled, tactical. As befits a soldier. She is -not- a berserker. But the truth is...
... even she follows instinct, more than she would like to admit. Then again, what is instinct but conditioned response? At least for martial artists. Thinking can be as dangerous. She finds herself pursuing her friend even as she registers the hit, but it's too late to not go for it--and to pull up short would be madness. She might've scored a good hit, but one good hit isn't going to finish this.
So it's with no apology that she kicks outwards, a high simple front kick, aiming to put booted toe onto Whip's chin. The reversal of fortunes, while not complete, has some men cheering, some looking worried--those who bet for and against their respective champions--and the din of shouting is incredible.
More men are pouring in to see the end of the fight, some watching with bloodlust in their eyes--others with calculating, observant gazes, taking note of what's happening. Some, Leona will praise. Some, she will punish. But that's later. Much later.
COMBATSYS: Whip blocks Leona's Light Kick.
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Leona 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Whip
Instinct. It's all there is, in moments like this; Leona is still coming on, and before the calm words have fully left her throat there is need to register more motion. More thought. More action. Whip's arm is already extending to re-establish her stance - and that's important. It may be lucky, it may be tied to the pulse and rhythm of the fight, but it's ready for the incoming strike. Hard boot is met by rigid forearm, palm out-turned as Whip meets her friend's eyes over their collided limbs.
In that instant, something flashes in her own gaze.
"Hngh!" Suddenly she's thrusting her arm out, seeking to drive the other woman back a half-step - maybe more, if she can - just enough to allow for the outward swipe of her free arm, the one attached to a broken shoulder. Voodoo's crack is slower than it should be, this time, but the extension of the whip doesn't carry the opening to what follows. This time it's for show, a distraction, as that blue tip lashes the air to Leona's flank.
Real danger arises from the weapon's butt, brought up toward her jaw with a direct, upward thrust.
"HAAAA--!!" Whip's coming on directly behind it, using the thrust of her back leg to drive it and her subsequent charge, giving those watching quite a show as she launches into an assault unlike any she has exhibited thus far today. Less controlled and calculated, more approaching the berserk fury that neither has brought to bear, the initial blow is followed by a reversal of the same arm. A backhand, looping slash from Voodoo is the first of many - strike after strike aimed to wrack Leona's body as she is driven back.
The former assassin keeps coming up until she's exhausted, or the assault's been broken, seeking to end the back-and-forth fight with every bit of energy remaining at her disposal. It's a risk-- letting Leona get so close was a risk to begin with, doing it as many times as she has is downright reckless. But there are many facets to combat, infinite stragems. It all comes down to who's best on the day; who does the unexpected, who adapts and who survives. Win or lose, they'll all learn something today...
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits Leona with Red Whip Genocide.
- Power hit! -
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Leona 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Whip
Leona is caught in the storm of Whip's.. whip. If it looks unpleasant to the men, well, she can definitively say that it -feels- unpleasant. But, as Whip finishes it, Leona isn't quite out of fight. Not quite yet. The final strike hurls her back and up... and she flips almost completely around... and lands on her feet.
She looks steady for all of a second, but her run is half-run, half-stumble, as she seeks to grab Whip by the shoulder, with her left hand... to plant her right into Whip's stomach, releasing built-up energy in what can only be called a chi bomb. The explosion, if it happens, will take Leona off her feet and knock her out for a moment; if it doesn't, she'll slump against Whip, defeated.
She doesn't, in either case, tell Whip that it was a 'good fight'. Not only does she not subscribe to the the 'fighter's' code that seems to permeate the culture, but it just wouldn't be in her to -say- it.
COMBATSYS: Leona can no longer fight.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Whip dodges Leona's Rebel Spark.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
They're together in that stumble; when she comes through the other side of her onrush offensive, Whip's down to fumes in the tank, breathing deep and hard through her nose as she winds Voodoo against her hip. She's half-buckled, abdomen raw with the fresh cut and vision blurring slightly, sweeping around to focus on Leona. But it's not sight that clues her in - and makes her move - it's the sound.
She can hear the music of her headphones in her ears as the most recent memory of those footsteps cuts in, and it's with eerie calm that she turns to face the striking hand. The hand; not the grip upon her shoulder. That's disregarded, allowed to happen as her left palm tracks across, guiding Leona's hand away until it embeds only in the air beside them both. Released chi dissipates with a gentle warmth that feels far hotter as the fatigue of battle settles at last upon the former assassin's shoulders.
The only reason she stays standing at all is because Leona falls first, and she tenses quickly, catching the older girl with the weapon-bearing arm. Only then does she kneel, guiding them both to the ground as she draws recovering breaths. A smile creeps onto her lips, words set aside as the cheers of the men explode around them along with several more disgruntled sounds; more than several. They're always divided, and many bet on Leona. Arguments give way to good-natured ribbing, the men focused on themselves as Whip...
Well, there's one person she cares about a lot more than any other, here.
As the others go about their business, she rests her chin atop that blue hair, almost resuming her pleasant doze from earlier as she just holds the other girl until she stirs anew. Nothing's said, verbally, but as chatty as Whip can be, some things are just better said without words.
COMBATSYS: Whip has ended the fight here.
It's only a moment. A moment that Leona allows herself this comfort. And it is comforting. But comfort has no place in an Ikari's life. So, without being rude about it, she disengages from Whip, turning away from her. It was an invigorating fight--but also painful. She hadn't -quite- healed from her wounds from Iraq. She gestures to Whip.
They'll hit the medical tent together, get their wounds dressed... and life will go on. Comfortable? In an Ikari way. It's what she knows. And what she wants. There's a limp in her step, but the muscles will heal soon enough. And when they do... "More training," she murmurs, to herself. More training for all, like a terrible Christmas in Brazil. A Christmas of bruises and pain and toughening up.
Log created on 12:50:28 03/11/2012 by Leona, and last modified on 22:48:17 03/11/2012.