[05] Mountain Sector FIGHT

[DA 2009]

MOUNTAIN SECTOR FIGHT

(1) Sophia vs. Alexander Trafford

(2) Sage vs. Tamsin

[Alexander Trafford]

“Can’t a guy catch a break around here?” Trafford asked rhetorically, his voice hardly rising above a whisper. He had not been given the opportunity to sleep in days, and he had just barely found the time to eat – although it had not been much. A fresh, juicy pear and a slice of bread was all he managed to scoff down during his short stay in the bunker. The worst part was, however, that he had just turned on the shower when he had been whisked away – a shower that he had desperately needed.

And now he was here, back in the mountains of this shit-hole little island. Without giving his location much observation, he tossed his Armani suit jacket onto the hard earth beside him, along with his now-button-less white oxford. He simply could not fathom that anyone, regardless of how unhygienic said person might be, would dress themselves with such fine garments in a state such as this. And it was not as if his suit and shirt were particularly clean either – they weren’t – but his torso was covered with dirt and sand that had latched onto the drying, matted blood which had flowed so readily over a vast majority of his chest and abdomen. Even his hair, his beautiful, orange locks, carried a revolting appearance. It hung together in concentrated clumps, cemented together with baked sweat and crimson ooze.

In the distance, lying in the space between Alex and the rising sun stood the silhouette of a young woman. Trafford cocked his eyes and peered across the desolate plateau, utilizing his hand as a visor in an attempt to block out the golden sphere’s magnificent rays and view his opponent, but his efforts were in vain.

“Hmmm,” He hummed as he contemplated his options. The young psychokinetic had never fought a female before, and he was not so keen to start now. But, really, what other option did he have? The damned courier from one of his earlier fights had attempted to ‘stick it to the man’ and play the pacifist, and that had certainly not ended well for him. All his strategy had achieved was earning him a Desert Eagle slug lodged in his shoulder.

No, he would have to enter into battle with this woman. That much was certain. Perhaps, he wondered, he could end the fight quickly and efficiently, and, ideally, from a long way off. He could not imagine undertaking in fisticuffs with a girl.

After checking to make sure that his twin, gold-plated Desert Eagles were securely tucked into his waistband and adjusting them so that they were not too uncomfortable against his lower back, Alex began walking towards his opponent. And, he quickly noticed, she began to approach him. Maybe this would be more interesting then he originally predicted.

A cool breeze swept against his naked torso and licked at his open wounds. It stung, as the air was cool, but he did not flinch in the presence of the pain. Foremost in his thoughts, especially since he was once again involved in combat, was the knowledge that he had acquired in his previous fight. He doubted Alice would come to him now, when his situation was not as desperate, so he kept her advice close to his chest. Only through struggle would he find absolution, and only through pain would he find his answers.

With every step he took, his enemy’s figure became more clear, and, consequently, he began to, once again, doubt his actions. Two men had died as he stormed along his soul-searching path, burning and razing everything that he encountered. And now he was going to fight a girl . . . wonderful. Even though desperate times called for desperate measures, he never thought that he would arrive in this place. He always heard that ‘the night is always darkest before the dawn,’ but, with an eternal shade slowly swallowing him, he was beginning to doubt if daybreak would ever come.

“That will be close enough,” Alexander stated. His volume was such that his opponent could hear him. The woman allowed herself a few more steps, seemingly challenging him with her disregard for his words before she slowed to a stop.

Neither combatant made a move, nor said a word. He assumed that she was sizing him up, and he figured that she presumed the same thing. But, in truth, Trafford could barely make out any details about her face or her figure. The dawn’s magnificent and intense radiance shined so bright behind her that she appeared to be little more than a shadowed silhouette. His eyelids encroached upon his hazelnut irises as he narrowed his vision, peering out at his opponent and trying to ascertain a better image.

This helped, but not to the extent that he had hoped. He could tell was that she had relatively good fashion sense, mixing some normal, respectable clothes with some vintage armor – classy and refined, yet original. And he noticed she had blonde hair that bounced slightly over her shoulders. Alex even caught a flash of his opponent’s brilliantly blue eyes. She seemed rather attractive, had the circumstances been different he probably would have flashed some zeni and had his way with her. She did not seem like that type of girl, but, then again, everyone has their price . . .

And that was when it hit him. He gasped before his lungs gave out and his feet staggered backwards uncontrollably. His heel glanced off a rock and nearly sent him stumbling to the ground. She was beautiful and proper, with blonde hair and blue eyes. From everything that he could gather, she looked exactly like her . . .

“Alice?” Trafford spoke. His body leaned forward, trying to peer into her face and determine whether or not it was really her. He could feel his heart leap, and then skip a beat – it was almost as if she was telling him that this was not an illusion. But, with every step he took towards her, she nervously took a step back. “Is that really you?”

“What?” The woman in front of him answered. Her tone was riddled with confusion.

He was certain it was her. It had to be her. She had been with him during his entire fight was Belle, and, on an island where the arctic tundra could exist beside a humid forest and mountainous peaks, was there any reason that thiscould not be possible too?

Perhaps this was compensation for his suffering, and for his pain. He had overcome so much, and he had struggled through so many obstacles. His hands were stained red with blood. The payment for absolution had come at such a high price, not only for himself, but also for Vad Zulenka, and Belle Hibiki. Was it finally here, had forgiveness come? Solace, coupled with the woman he loved, regardless if her presence was permanent or an illusion, was worth all the blood in the world.

Was that happiness? He questioned the emotion that coursed through his being. It had been so long since he had felt such a joy, pure and true.

He continued to walk forward, and she matched him with a panicked, retreating stagger. She seemed nervous, afraid even, but that was alright. Alex was nervous too. With his longer strides he quickly began to close in on her. But with every advancing step he took the sun’s rays began to part as her head slowly eclipsed upon the titanic, golden sphere. His realization was inevitable.

It only took two more fully-extended paces before the giant source of burning light became completely shrouded by her figure, and, consequently, her facial features were no longer hidden.

Trafford stopped dead. This was not Alice.

“No . . .” Alexander muttered through clenched teeth. He clenched his eyes shut and his chin dropped against his chest. All the hope, the excitement and the love that had sprung to life inside him in the last few minutes vanished. Every hint of solace, of absolution was whisked away; all things good were broken down and hurled into the brewing hurricane within his soul.

Sensations of heat, and of chilling cold, spread through every appendage, and through every extremity. His body burned with malice, and with anger, yet froze with miserable realization. He felt numb as the harsh truth collided with his senses. Alice was not here, and she was not anywhere. She was dead, buried beneath six feet of cold dirt within the confines of a cemetery in West City.

He did not know what to do, how to react. Realistically, he knew, there was only one thing he could do. His shaking hands slowly reached behind his back and clenched the cold steel, withdrawing his high caliber handguns from the security of his tightened belt. He lifted his eyes from the ground and stared into the sharp, blue irises of his enemy. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. Trafford leveled both barrels at his foe.

“I’m sorry,” The heart broken young adult groaned. His voice was low and without emotion, and it seemed to pierce his opponent with its cold depression. “This is not your fault.”

He violently jerked back both triggers, a broken man screaming at the heavens through sobs and a stream of tears. What could he do? What could he possibly do without her? Because, he realized now, she was gone, and she was never coming back.

Maybe that was the truth that he had so desperately sought. Perhaps what he needed to confront most of all was his inability to let go and move on. His hatred for his father, the immense guilt he felt in regards to Alice’s death, and the self-loathing that had followed – what if these were the demons he had sought to confront?

Only through struggle was absolution possible, and only through pain would he find his answers. He thought he had already faced the worst in his path, but he had been wrong. The fight with Belle had only been a precursor.

These thoughts would never cross his mind, however, and he would not have cared much either way. He simply clenched his teeth and continued to pull back the trigger.

What else could he do?

[Jesper]

Her experiences during Dante’s Abyss seemed to start taking on a bit of pattern. Sophia, naturally, failed to notice this until her collar beeped at her again, interrupting her hope filled fantasies of eating or taking a shower or both, if the correct situation presented itself. However, things had fallen back into the mundane—the combat day was upon them once again, and once again, fear and panic streaked across their faces as the realization began to dawn upon them that the moment they shared before they were taken away could be their last. The deaths were fake, Sophia had gathered, but the spirit was all but the same. Blood, digital or otherwise, was to be on their hands. It already was.

The teleportation happened unassumingly, as it always had. One moment, the ice hybrid sat before her, smiling at her in her own bashful way, and the next she was staring straight at the sun as it rose to take its rightful place overhead, beaming down on what could very well have been her last breath in this life. She recoiled, her blue eyes forced to roll back into her head as the dazzling blaze burned its image into her eyes, at least for a time. Squinting, she turned back around, hoping that her eyesight could recover before the fight was to begin. Through the colorful haze that the sun’s light pierced into her vision, she saw a figure standing across from her.

It was…odd, to say the least, what he was doing. Although she could only see him outlined around the colored splotches in her vision, she could tell that he was basically stripping right in front of her. She frowned and raised an eyebrow at once, pondering the reasons behind such an action. It was true that the game had offered its fair share of strange actions and reactions, and it was equally true that she had her own strange tales to tell from her experience. But why anyone would start taking clothes off when staring danger in the face was beyond her comprehension at the time. Maybe he was just dirty—looking at her own clothes, either tattered from wear or muddied by the elements, she wasn’t much of a prize herself.

Her vex had faded, and sight slowly weaved its way back into fully working function. The man’s feature’s became more apparent: locks of reddish-orange hair fell down past dark eyes, and the way he slouched and brooded belied a surprisingly fit physique. Her eye slits tightened as she examined him more closely—perhaps this man was in need of a shower even more than she had been, judging by the variety of scrapes and bruises, as well as blood and mud stains, that speckled his body. When her eyes finally met his face once again, she found that he was examining her as well, though likely in a very different way judging by the sound he had made.

Suddenly, his entire countenance—his facial expression, his posture, everything—changed as he fell to his knees and cried, “Alice!?”

Sophia blinked. Peculiar, creepy, and crazy. Wonderful. If she was following a three-strikes-and-out rule, then he was most definitely “out.” He inched his way closer, leaning in as his eyes desperately scanned her own, trying to determine something that he hadn’t thought of before. He seemed inexplicably happy upon seeing her, for some reason, as if his second examination of the priestess had been his first. She knew she was good at lifting people’s spirits, but she didn’t know she was that good.

Then, another change occurred. He didn’t look quite as happy.

“No…” he said through clinched teeth. In fact, he seemed pretty angry about something. He shook his head violently, shaking as he flexed every muscle he was aware of, and reached behind his back. What an odd man, she thought, though all speculation was dashed as she realized what the orange-haired man had actually reached for. She was now staring down the rather long barrel of a pistol, and for a time, she didn’t know what to do. Nobody had ever pointed a gun at her before, and though she knew that a well-aimed beam of ki was likely more a threat than a bullet, she froze in momentary fear. The healer saw his finger tighten around the trigger, and, unaware of any other valid reaction, ducked out of the way. The pistol recoiled in the wake of a deafening bang, and a bullet whizzed by her head, singeing a few stray blondes from the top as it spiraled by.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed as he raised another gun towards her. “This is not your fault.”

“What the heck are you talking abou--…” she was cut off by a barrage of other bullets as the man became trigger-happy, squeezing each trigger as if bullets weren’t even coming out. Sophia barely had time to react, and fell to the ground. A few pieces of ammunition clipped her on the sides of each arm as she plummeted, though any damage she received was purely aesthetical. Tears were streaming down his face at that point as it was obvious that he was just venting his frustration on the world—or, more specifically, Sophia.

The man was obviously insane, and the chances of her getting out of the fight lessened with each round he fired. Her heart sank as she looked upon a face that bore so much sorrow, so much shame, so much anger. She knew that his heart had been broken, and there was nothing left for him to do but fight, to cast himself into battle to either win or be beaten. Sophia closed her eyes as the loud blasts faded to dull clicks—the man’s situation wasn’t so far off of her own. With Kaden gone, there was little else for her to do but to just carry on until her time in this life had depleted. Knowing what that felt like…Sophia felt an obligation to the man.

They had to fight.

The orange-haired man stared into her eyes; they seemed hollowed out and empty. As the healer scurried to her feet, her opponent flipped the weapons in his hand so that his fingers were wrapped around the barrels. He wound his arms back and threw them like knives, end falling over end as the metallic objects spun their way towards her. Sophia’s eyes widened as she narrowly dodged one of them, but took the blunt of the other as it crashed into her shoulder blade. A sickening thud ensued, and her entire arm went numb.

His arms were still extended at this point, still moving around as if he was holding something. The healer almost overcome by confusion—it wasn’t beyond the realm of comprehension that he had just lost it and was making motions at random, perhaps fighting off invisible enemies. All the loose ends tied themselves together as she looked behind her shoulder to see the two guns still floating around, still under his telekinetic control. She shook her head—maybe she was in too deep. Powers like that were far more dangerous that most of what she had encountered in the past.

It simply came down to how hard he had to focus. Sophia had been static the entire fight, frozen in place as she tried to determine what the best course of action was. She needed to be on the offensive, although that was not something she had been used to. Clinching her fists and hoping that she was faster than his control.

It turned out that she was not. The pistols easily caught up with her, though her only saving element was his lag in reaction time. The weapons fell to the ground as the healer’s fist slammed into the man’s face, a quick jab that wasn’t powerful enough to floor him, but sufficient enough to stagger him. She moved quickly onward, placing her feet in-between his, and grabbed his throat. A familiar sensation flooded over her as his ki began to drain into hers. However, due to his fairly large supply, or perhaps overuse of her absorption ability, she was forced to stop before any meaningful harm was done.

The man punched upwards, forcing her hands from his neck, and kicked outward. Sophia skidded backwards and nearly stumbled backwards onto her backside. Her inability to finish at a crucial time was, to say the least, not pleasing. She wasn’t too good at being creative, but her dire situation forced her hand. Closing her eyes, she began to ponder her options. She couldn’t draw in enough energy to drain him, and judging by his ki supply and the power of his kick, she wouldn’t be able to out-duel him, either. She couldn’t draw energy in or out, but…her eyes snapped open.

What if she could do both?

She darted towards him again and swung wildly. Her fists missed their mark every time as his crazed eyes figured out their course long before they arrived. However, connecting was not the point—she needed to get close enough to touch him. Sophia lunged forward with outstretched arms, and grabbed him in a hug.

“What the hell is it all for!?” he suddenly cried, forcing her backwards. Tears had not stopped streaming out of their respective ducts since his breakdown. Sophia sighed—she knew that voice. She understood where it came from. The pain of loss was easy to recognize, and hard to forget. It always seemed so easy to just stop trying, to get away for a while and forget about what might have come from it. She glanced at the ki-draining seed she had planted on him as he reached into his pocket to grab more bullets and picked up his guns. That was her last ace up her sleeve—if that didn’t work, then her victory would be left up to chance. Neither of them could lose, though neither of them seemed to have anything to gain.

“Don’t give up,” she whispered. She could practically see his mind racing as it searched for a meaning.

[Tamsin]

Like the fights that were occuring within Dante`s Abyss, the mountain tops were merciless to those who dared to spend any time there. With no obstacles such as trees to dissipate it, the wind remorselessly cut through anything in it`s way and chilled the few beings located there to their very core. The rest of the weather conditions were not favourable either, grey clouds dominating the sky and looming over the landscape. But like the air currents, the contestants were unabated by the conditions and combat on the towering landmass proceeded with full intensity.

At least some of it did. On the other hand, the fight between Tamsin and Sage was going nowhere, having never commenced at all. With neither of them holding a particularly great desire for hostility, the two females merely observed one another with bated breaths, the resulting vapors lightly vanishing into air.

As the prodigy maid observed the hybrid doctor, her mind felt incredibly weary. Although she desired nothing more then to have some time to gather her thoughts, it seemed like the idea did not sit well with the organisers of the bloodsport. Ever since she and Maleficus got seperated, she had been thrown into fights with little respite. Even as she barely arrived at the Mountain Sector bunker to recover from her encounter with the stuntman Hollywood, her collar began it`s usual combat song and she was thrown into yet another random location. The irony this time, however, was that her opponent was the blue-haired woman she had shared a bench with mere moments before the fight began.

The adolescent closed her eyes, attempting to concentrate on her present situation. The worry over her master, her unknown potential, the fights she had endured....all of it left her incredibly distressed. Yet, although she desperatly just wanted to just sit down and get her thoughts together, she knew that it was neither the time nor the place for it. Although her opponent did not attack her, she could not be certain if that would remain the case. If nothing else, the dome surrounding their location forced them into the encounter. Suzaku opened her eyes.....or did she?

Although her eyelids definitely did raise, the darkness around her remained. The cold wind, the stone beneath her feet, the half-saiyan girl....all of them had disappeared. Although she turned her head around, her gaze caught nothing but pitch black. But no sooner that the shock began to set in that a figure appeared right in front of her quite literally out of nowhere. It was a young man....a type of man she had never seen before. Although he looked similar to a human, his almost greyish skin tone, unusual ears and mane of deep white were like nothing she had ever seen before. His clothing of lose crimson and the two curved sabres on his back only served to add to his threatening appearance. As his fiery-red eyes gazed upon the girl, a light smile crept onto his sharp visage:"Tamsin Suzaku...we meet at last...."

Taken aback by the fact that this stranger somehow knew her identity, she fearfully asked:"Who are you? I have never seen you before."

"I would be suprised if you did," replied the Elf, who was used to looking alien to the majority of people he had encountered. "My name is Myroto Enroshia. I suppose you can consider me an..."associate" of the grim reaper Retane. I am sure Maleficus Nova had mentioned him to you at least once."

Although she was not certain at first, the silver-haired girl suddenly remember the mercenary`s confession in the Mountain Sector bunker. The irony of the fact that she was now "fighting" in the same sector Nova had revealed his past was lost to her as she recalled how Retane called his only offspring...Respawn. Focusing on the Elvish warrior once again, she inquired: "Where...where are we?"

"Oh, this? This is nothing more then a immaterial plane of existance. Since you attempted to relax your thoughts, I was able to enter your mind and get in touch with you," explained Enroshia, a devilish smirk still playing on his face. "But should you really be worrying about that right now? Correct me if I am mistaken, but you have a...very real fight on your hands."

The warrior`s reminder was well placed, her encounter with the medical doctor completely escaping her mind for a few moments. However, the elf`s knowledge of Mal restrained her from thinking about it. Hesitating for a few seconds, the adolescent could not help herself but to ask: "Where is Maleficus?"

A piercing laugh resonated through the darkness, having originated from Myroto:"Do I even need to respond to that? I am sure you have had suspicions by now. Afterall, you looked for him and he was nowhere to be found....does that not give you at least an inkling of what might have occured to him?"

The blue-eyed human pondered on his words. She had indeed look for the Namekian in various sectors and their respective bunkers and she had yet to discover his location. But it was impossible that the rogue had just disappeared. He was determined to win the competition, so she was certain he would not have willingly left Dante. Anything that was on the planet had to be somewhere...unless.......Her eyes widened in terror and she took a step backwards. The truth in the words of the crimson-clad warrior became increasingly apparent, the possibility she had long pushed aside becoming the only true explanation. In one final act of desperate denial, the girl muttered under her breath:"Noooo...."

"Yes," Enroshia spoke once more, his visage becoming grievous and solemn. "Maleficus Nova is dead."

Tamsin began to tremble as her eyes became watery and tears trickled down her gentle cheeks. As the revelation began to fully set in, her face grimaced in sorrow. She could not bear the shock of the warrior`s words, yet could no longer deny the truth. As despair took hold of her, her spirit was finally broken as she fell onto her knees, weeping hopelessly in the process.

As individual drops of salty water fell into nothingness that surrounded her, she called out for her master....the way he wanted to be known:"Mal... It was her fault...she had promised to protect the Namekian, to help him achieve his goals....to help him become great. It was for that reason that she joined the bloodsport with him, that she determiningly attempted to pass every obstacle in their way. But Maleficus Nova was gone....and she was left, lost and alone, in the middle of the Abyss.

As the teenager sobbed, Myroto quietly observed her grief and malevolently smirked. Suddenly, he disturbed the adolescent: "And do you know who is responsible for his death? That blue-haired girl, the one that calls herself Sage. That is right...the very woman standing right in front of you killed Maleficus Nova, sealing his fate in a sheet of ice."

Raising her head, tears still streaming down her visage, Suzaku looked at the warrior: "What am I supposed to do now?! Where am I supposed to go?!"

"The way I see it, you have two options. You can give up and press that little button on your collar once you enter a bunker...or you can kill the woman responsible and avenge your master`s death," the elf told her. He could not help but grin at the word "master". The amount of obedience the human girl showed towards Respawn never ceased to amuse him. "Now I must depart as I can no longer maintain this link. What choice you make....I leave up to you."

With that, the elvish warrior`s figure vanished the same way it had appeared. The darkness that had enveloped the girl also began to lift. One by one, the features of her previous einvironment began to appear. The rock beneath her, the brutal current of air, Sage...everything had returned to how it was before Mykoto entered her mind. The only difference were the tears on her face, the strong wind cooling them in quick succession.

The maid looked at her foe. The doctor continued to quietly observed, with the suprise on her face the only difference from before. To the half-Saiyan`s understanding, the girl started to cry out of the blue and she attempted to comprehend why it was so. But before she could think of a suitable reasoning, the prodigy stepped forward. She raised her fists, her body increasingly trembling....but not from the bitter wind. Gathering herself, she asked: "Did you kill him? Did you kill....Maleficus Nova?"

"W...who?" the black-dressed woman asked sincerily, unaware of who she was refering to by that name.

"A tall Namek in a orange uniform...Did you kill him?" the human asked vigorously, her hard gaze observing her opponent unabatedly. After some more contemplation, Sage realised whom she meant and a gasp escaped her lips. She covered her mouth as horror filled her rose-tinted eyes.

"TELL ME!" Suzaku refused to yield, making a demanding step forward. Sadness and compassion drew on the visage of the young woman, not immediatelly responding to the maid`s inquiry. Hesitatingly, she stuttered:"...Yes.....I am sorry...:"

The human girl found herself shaking uncontrollably once more, sorrow and hatred brewing in her very being. A fresh batch of tears appeared on her face once more, her navy blue eyes staring accusingly at the person in front of her. In her own defence, the half-Saiyan spoke out: "But...but do not worry! None of this is r-". Before she could continue, a strong gurgle in her throat interrupted her. The extremely long-haired female tried speaking again, but the guggling persisted. It was only then that she realised what was going on...someone was intentionally interrupting her, to keep her opponent in a killer mood.

Tamsin`s emotional rampage was disturbed by this bizzare occurance and she looked at her foe curiously for a moment. The same thing happened to Pierre when he attempted to tell her something....But before she could ponder on the issue, an abrupt ray of light hurt her eyes and she shielded herself from it. The sun randomly peaked through the clouds, illuminating the mountain top the two were located. As her burning eyes slightly adjusted, the maid looked at the sun rays. Suddenly, she was reminded of her stepmother Amaya, who had met her fate in the hands of assassins. Back then, she learned that the assassins held no personal grievance towards the guildmaster and that her stepmother was merely a coincidental victim of it all...that just like Amaya, they were only doing their duty. In light of this, could she really loath Sage? Afterall, she did not kill the Namekian by choice....she was forced to in order to survive.

The rays also reminded the maid of something else.... the golden locks of the priestess Sophia. Her elder peer was once in a prime position to take Suzaku`s life, to fill her body with venom and end her fight in her victory. But Sophia did not do so. She spared the maid, giving her a chance to live. Knowing that the only reason she was standing was beacuse of someone else`s mercy, could she really be merciless to the half-Saiyan?

Turning once more to her opponent, the prodigy maid quietly watcher her with watery eyes. Then she adressed her:"I...I want to resent you for what you have done, I really do....But I can`t. Beacuse....I know you only did it to defend yourself. But...you have to understand that I have to win this fight. That I have to move on no matter what."

With suprise drawn over her face, Sage merely nodded, not sure if she could speak again. Meanwhile, Tamsin began to draw her knives and placed herself in a defencive stance. All of a sudden, Enroshia`s play of words came to mind: "...sealed his fate in a sheet of ice." That most likely meant that the half-Saiyan had a hidden power of her own. If the maid was to survive, she needed to unlock her own hidden potential...her own hidden weapon.

As the doctor prepared herself for the fight, Tamsin felt more determined then ever. She remembered Maleficus`s determination when they arrived at Dante. Her master was gone...now it was her turn to pick up where he left off and complete what he seeked to accomplish. She was going to do it.

She was going to win Dante`s Abyss in his place.

[Sage]

God DAMMIT!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of adversity after adversity, Sage had managed to pick up the shards and forge some kind of nearly sane mosaic from them. She was sitting at a table with a friend and just talking. No fighting or stabbing or explosions or running for her life. Even Alexander’s obvious anger was welcome, because it didn’t escalate to violence.

Of course, that mosaic basically exploded - or at least fell apart - when the girl was teleported to some random, barren looking place, under the unfriendly dome of yet another stasis field. Teleported against her will, Sage angrily protested. She almost felt if she thought hard enough, she could somehow telepathically yell at the bastard who was pulling the strings.

The girl with the silver hair and the bright blue clothes, the one who asked to sit with her and Sophia, stood across from her, warily eyeing Sage. She didn’t seem... menacing... in the way that the changeling or namek had. It was difficult to say what she seemed like, half-in-a-stance and just carefully watching, her hand gingerly gripping a series of knives.

“I... I’m... sorry,” the older of the two declared. Significantly older, Sage realized. This girl couldn’t have been have been any more than sixteen or seventeen, tops. What was a kid doing in a bloodthirsty contest like this??

“I told you, I understand why you did what you did,” came the reply. The child spoke through clenched teeth.

Sage let herself relax, and then looked around herself. They were standing on a fairly steep incline. It was like the battlefield had tilted over, hard. She sighed. “We could still ruin Damon’s combat day,” she thought that’s what they were called, anyway.

“Don’t you think he would be upset?”

“Yes,”

“He would eliminate us,”

Sage contemplated the thought for a moment, and shook her head. She sighed. “Maybe. I... don’t know.”

“I already told you. We’re going to fight,” the youth replied, violently shaking her head. “I have to win in place of my master.”

The blue haired girl almost laughed at her, as horrible as she knew that was. So they were both in this for somebody else, and neither one wanted to give up the chance to find them. Or, in the silver haired girl’s case, to avenge them.

Sage recalled what she said to the youth. ‘I’m sorry.’ Yeah, some apology. ‘Hey, sorry for killing your friend. We’re cool, though, right?’

The worst part was that the girl wasn’t even insulted. Or at least, she didn’t seem to be. Was she so... cold? No, distraught, maybe. Maybe there just wasn’t any way to cope. It must have been so ridiculously unreal, so unrelateable. ...Not to mention, Sage’s fault.

The ‘ice witch’ nodded to herself. Appropriate title, she thought with bitter mirth. Her powers had caused unbelievable harm to people many times. Mercifully, she’d sworn them off for so long.

What good was that hiatus now that she seemed to be more dangerous than ever?

It didn’t help that Damon was clearly interfering with her actions. Preventing her from being able to tell the truth to the girl was disturbing enough. What if he forced her to act, like he had done to Kaden?

“M-My name is Sage,” she declared. She didn’t know why, but she felt she had to at least introduce herself.

“Tamsin,” was the reply. A pretty name for a pretty young girl. A girl who should have been in school, not risking her life in some barbaric tournament. Sage closed her eyes. Fake barbaric tournament.

Tamsin sank into a combative stance. Sage just nodded, and did the same. Sort of. Sage moved into a clearly uninformed approximation of a fighting stance. Her fists were up, at least. Uncomfortable. She didn’t want this. Tamsin was a child.

A child who wouldn’t actually die after Sage killed her, she reminded herself, doing her best to steel her nerves.

It. Was. Not. Real. It! Was! Not! Real!

Before Tamsin could throw her first blade, a wall of snow came rushing up from behind Sage. The child’s eyes widened as the wall enveloped Sage and raced past her. The girl braced herself for the sudden chill, but wasn’t expecting the snow to- to hurt!

As the painful revelation washed over her, Tamsin desperately swatted at the snow and covered her face. She didn’t panic and flee, much to Sage’s surprise, but she had been distracted long enough for the princess to form her Chillrend claws and duck behind a large boulder.

The plan was to jump out just as Tamsin rounded it, to catch her by surprise and take her quickly. Maybe she would be so shocked, she wouldn’t even have time to experience fear. Fear of death was something she’d seen in the eyes of her patients so many times. But she’d only ever lost one.

Now she would be forcing a life to end.

Sage’s eyes closed as she leaned against the rock. She took a calming breath as the flurry died away. Tamsin would be looking for her any second now. She had to be ready. There would only be one chance.

Oh, God, why does this have to be so hard?

The girl pressed her back against the boulder, watching her left side intently, absolutely sure Tamsin would come from that side. Sage raised her right arm, claws pointing the way she was looking. It would be like stabbing with five stiletto knives all at once.

She should have just poured all of her energy into one killer wave right at the start. Sheer overwhelming force. But she didn’t. Something kept... pulling her back. Why couldn’t she just clear her mind and set her sights on winning the tournament?

Sophia... Ashe... what do I do? What would you do? ...What can I do?

And then the maid came around the corner. From the right side. She hadn’t even noticed Sage, but the doctor panicked and shouted, giving herself away to the younger girl, before lashing out and raking her claws across Tamsin’s face.

She only grazed her; the cuts would heal. But she still had four bloody scratches across her delicate, young face. Sage only had a moment to feel her heart break, because Tamsin kicked with her shin, and smashed the hybrid in the face, tossing her off her feet.

The quarter saiyan stared up at the sky as blood ran from her nose. She had to roll out of the way quickly, though, as a fistful of knives came sailing down at her chest. Tamsin was out for blood.

Clambering to her feet, Sage instinctively slashed at something the girl threw at her. Her eyes widened as she realized she had literally clawed a knife out of the sky. A knife intended for her face.

The schoolchild launched herself at the doctor, but Sage managed to keep her at bay with a few swipes of her claws. The hybrid was having trouble taking the fight seriously, and was doing little to act aside from defending herself. It just seemed so absurd. She was fighting for her life with a high schooler. This wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible.

She left herself open long enough for Tamsin to land a boot in Sage’s gut, before punching her in the cheek and sending her sprawling to the ground. The ridiculously long haired Valium addict got to her feet, stumbled, and shook her head.

Already, Tamsin was upon her. Blades gripped between her fingers swiped at her, narrowly missing her brand new clothing - and her flesh hidden just behind it. Sage rapidly backpedaled, narrowly evading another wide slash from the smaller woman. Schoolchild or not, if Sage didn’t do anything soon, she would kill her.

With a wave of her hand, Sage sent another Frostbite blasting at Tamsin, giving her the chance to retreat. Breaking into a full sprint, the girl raced away from the momentarily disabled youth. Clearly, the maid had the upper hand in close quarters, and Sage had to break away.

Finally, the princess halted, and spun about on her heel, just as Tamsin sent a knife sailing after her. Wide-eyed, Sage raised her hands and shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut as she cowered at the incoming projectile.

...But it never came.

Hesitantly opening one eye, Sage’s eyes both went wide as she saw the knife floating harmlessly, only a few feet from her. She let her arms drop, and the knife dropped along with them, clattering uselessly to the ground.

She looked at Tamsin, and saw the same confusion scrawled across her face. It didn’t stop the youth from hurling another knife. And then another. Sage dove out of the way, narrowly evading the deadly blades, but already, Tamsin threw a second pair.

In desperation, Sage formed a pair of icy spears in the air above herself, and telekinetically propelled them at her opponent, hoping to at the very least create a breather for herself.

The spears did their job, forcing Tamsin to throw herself to the dirt to avoid them. But Sage was already on the offensive. From directly beneath the youth, a spear smashed through the dirt, and Tamsin only just rolled away from it, as it shredded through her cloak. She was so close, she could feel the Frostroot against her chest as it curled up into the space she had just been in.

Sage wasn’t done yet. A half-dozen more spears had materialized over her head, and launched themselves one after the other at young Tamsin, while a quartet of Frostroots burst from the earth at the same time.

Expertly, the Servus maid twisted and weaved around all of the deadly stabbing instruments as a wall of fog rushed at her, consuming the battlefield in obscurity. Looking up, Tamsin saw Sage’s silhouette rushing her in the fog, arms wide open with claws outstretched.

She threw her knife, and it passed harmlessly through the shadow, before it broke up and vanished. Another came charging at her from her right, and Tamsin attacked it the same way. Again, the shadow was unfazed by the weapon, and simply faded away.

Suddenly, two dozen or more Sage-shapes materialized all around her. Some were walking in no particular direction. Others ran, but not all toward Tamsin. Still more sat or leaned against objects obscured in the fog, while a few more seemed to be attacking the nothingness all around them. Confusion and fear settled in as Tamsin realized she was caught in her very own horror movie, in a glittering fog with a woman who intended to kill her.

[DA 2009]

SAGE VS. TAMSIN

Amazing how much things change, the more they stay the same. At the very core, the two young girls could never be anything than what they were at heart. Despite the desires that drove them, Sage was no cold-blooded killer, and neither was Tamsin. The irony of the fates that had befallen them was not lost on either woman. The difference simply lied in what was stronger: fighting for another, as Tamsin was doing, or fighting for yourself, as Sage was doing.

Tamsin doggedly tried to regain control of her composure, panic filling her lungs and spurring her heartbeat to an almost painful staccato. Sage lurked about somewhere in the mist, like a beast in the bushes poising to strike its prey. Perhaps one thing that would be lost on both of them was the tainted innocence of the opponents. They could truly see it in themselves, the horrible monsters they’d been molded into, but could they see it in the other? Tamsin gripped the remainder of her seemingly unlimited supply of knives, knowing that throwing them at this point was a foolish maneuver. Not only would she likely miss but she would have a much more difficult time locating them once they left her hand. Still, the advancement of her skill in such a short amount of time felt almost incredulous.

Sage stood on the edge of the mist, hovering just out of Tamsin’s sight. She watched as the illusions and sparkles danced before the Servus maid, somehow unable to push herself over the edge and commit to the kill she knew was hers. The situation simmered thickly with irony as the ice witch painfully recalled that the employment of this method merely repeated the manner of the master’s demise. Was it the means that mattered, or the end? That struggle continually raged within the doctor that had given her oath to save life, to protect it.

Tamsin settled herself, bringing about the calm instilled in her mind just before her mental visit with Enroshia. She set her eyes towards each illusion of Sage, fighting back the horror within. Any one of them could be the mistress of cold, and she couldn’t afford to be taken off guard at such a crucial moment.

Sage allowed her Chillrend to recede. Even if it wasn’t real, even if Tamsin would be alive at the end, she couldn’t do this. Not if she ever wanted to put the mosaic back together again. Instead, she allowed the ice encasing her badly burned hand to dissipate, and hissed a bit as the sensation of pain returned to the horribly injured extremity.

The maid’s eyes caught a sudden movement seconds before a flash of blue hair and gray sweater collided with her. She flicked her knives up, but before she could inflict a deadly or even wounding strike, Sage’s fingers enclosed about her wrists. Tamsin gasped; they were like ice. Sage flinched, feeling indescribable agony shooting up her arm as her burn became aggravated by contact with flesh. A chill crept up Tamsin’s appendages, and the skin around her wrist quickly reddened. Her fingers grew numb, trembling, until the knives fell from her loosened grasp. Tamsin struggled, valiantly, but could not break the hold. It was so cold…so cold…

Eventually, the reddened skin turned to black, and spread to the girl’s hands. Eventually, she couldn’t feel anything past her elbows. At last, Sage released, stepping back into the ether. The icy mist dissolved, leaving a clear mountain background once again. The maid’s arms fell uselessly to her sides; the level of frostbite on her hands and wrists ensured that she would never be able to use them again. Bits of skin had actually loosened as Sage’s fingers let go. Fairly soon, infection would set in. The doctor already knew that the extremities would have to be amputated. Sage stared into the girl’s eyes, and Tamsin suddenly realized what she knew.

“I’ll die,” the maid said matter-of-factly. “How can I defend myself without my hands? Even if you spare me like Sophia did, the next person might not be so nice.”

She didn’t even know why she was saying this. After all, they’d been trying to kill each other, and both had sworn to win.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sage replied clumsily. The hybrid’s thoughts quickly collapsed into relenting her decision; after all, she did have the power to heal. Sage formed a protective brace of ice around her burned hand once more, and moved towards Tamsin to correct the damage she’d done. She didn’t even know if she could reverse the serious level of necrosis, but she could try…even if she fainted in the process.

Tamsin, however, interpreted her actions differently. She saw them as hostile, the blue-haired woman coming to finish what she’d started. She remembered her knives still on the ground, and knew that now was her chance—her only chance—to tap into her power. The servant didn’t need her hands to finish the job. Tamsin willed the knives into the air, a puppeteer perfectly controlling the strings. Her elation at finally using her technique nearly eclipsed her desire to win. Sage saw the threatening motion and stopped.

“Don’t,” the doctor said, warningly, pleadingly. “Don’t do it.”

Tamsin sent forth the first knife, so fast that Sage couldn’t even stop it as it buried into her shoulder, soaking her brand new turtleneck with a stream of blood. The second knife launched in a similar fashion, the point just inches away from Sage’s heart. The doctor’s torso encrusted in a layer of ice, proving just barely enough to deflect the pointed weapon as it shaved off a few chunks before clattering harmlessly to the ground. Once more, her reflexes proved to be stronger than her own will, and a web of Frostroots erupted from the ground. They didn’t miss.

Tamsin felt herself being lifted off the ground from the force of the impalement, and couldn’t even formulate the words to describe the sensation of death as it slowly took its toll on her skewered body. The last words to escape her lips were…

“I’m sorry, Maleficus. I tried. I really did.”

[DA 2009]

SOPHIA VS. ALEXANDER TRAFFORD

Here they were, two completely broken people on the side of a mountain located God-knows-where on the planet of Dante. Amazing how the collars seemed to select the perfect opponents this round, matching up those who felt the same pains, yet had to be the ones who walked away.

“Don’t give up?” Alexander laughed bitterly, raising his palm and alighting a nearby boulder with a golden sphere of energy. At first, it seemed as though the word Sophia had spoken would soothe the savage beast, or at least give him pause to contemplate their meaning, but Trafford was lost to his inconsolable rage. “That’s funny. I want to give up. But I can’t. Belle thought he understood, but he didn’t. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t know.”

The addict grunted, moving to launch the now psychokinetically charged rock at his opponent. It could, after all, prove more effective than it did against Zulenka. Suddenly, however, the strength left him, and the golden lining around the chunk of earth dissipated; the rock fell short of its target. The Leech Seed was beginning to take effect, but the street entertainer didn’t seem to notice.

“I know,” Sophia said, her empathy almost causing her tone to mimic his own. “I know what it feels like to lose somebody. To have them be the reason you’re even here, and then one day they’re gone, and you have nothing else to live for.”

In her case, those words could almost be taken literally.

“And something within you…something inside…it just…dies,” he sobbed brokenly. He closed his eyes, and whispered desperately to himself, “I want to see you, Alice.”

But she would not come. He could not summon her from within, as he had realized before. So instead, he summoned his pistol. As it touched his fingers, he squeezed the trigger repeatedly, firing at the woman who reminded him so of his lost love. Had he even loved Alice? Had he even known her long enough? He must have, or his heart wouldn’t be broken this way.

Sophia dodged a widely aimed array of bullets, of the normal variety. She ducked behind the boulder, which had conveniently fallen into place and given her shelter from his maniacal assaults. The bullets, devoid of any psychokinetic influence, shattered harmlessly against the thick skin of the rock, sending sprays of rubble and debris in all directions. Finally, the priestess heard a series of empty clicks, indicating that the clip had expelled its last projectile. All that the healer had to do was wait for the Leech Seed to take full effect…and stay alive until it did so.

Hearing Trafford speak only reminded Sophia of her own loss. But, her situation was ironically reversed. Alice floated somewhere on the spiritual plane, and Alexander was trapped in a mortal body. Sophia was relegated to the afterlife, and Kaden unable to ascend beyond the living. She wouldn’t want him to, either. She didn’t wish death on anyone, not even Tempo. For a moment, for a brief fleeting second of hope, the healer wondered if the tournament really was real. If it was as Sage said, she’d go back to King Kai’s, as she already had resigned herself to. But if it wasn’t…if it was real, then that meant Kaden was dead, and maybe, just maybe, she could meet him when she crossed the threshold of death once more. Did she dare to hope?

“No, don’t think like that,” she chided herself. She had to stay alive, as long as she could, because this opportunity, as hollow as it had become, would never come again. The great divide that separated the pairs stretched out agonizingly before them, and there was no bridge. Sophia simply had to accept it, although she could fight it as long as she could.

“COME OUT!” Trafford suddenly hollered, causing her to flinch from the sheer torture in his voice. “I have to finish this!”

“Yeah, me too. Me too,” Sophia said quietly, too softly for her opponent to hear.

Trafford shook, barely able to hold the pistol straight as his world became a watery blur of what it once was. His face was streaked with salty tracks, his eyes puffy and crazed. “If you don’t come out, then I will make you,” he threatened in his wavering tone. With his free hand, he exerted his powers once again, this time to lift the boulder.

Sophia squeaked as her source of refuge against his relentless assault was picked up and thrown from the path. She turned around, standing jerkily on her feet, knowing that the seed hadn’t quite finished its designated task quite yet; she needed to stall for more time.

“Don’t lose yourself to this,” Sophia said, forcing a fake grin. “You have to just keep smiling, you know?”

She must have been out of her mind, trying to console him while he had gun pointed to her chest. Perhaps better than any other player in this tournament, Sophia was the only one who completely understood the demons that deviled Alex. He had given in to them willingly in search of absolution, while she resisted. That strength alone was what separated the two. Alex began to stagger drunkenly as his energy sapped away; still, he did not once suspect the source.

“I don’t have anything left to smile about,” he slurred, trying to keep his concentration on the attractive girl in armor. “I killed them. Killed them. They’re dead.”

Her concern only increased twofold with those words.

“They just got in my way, and I had to kill them,” Trafford rationalized. “You’re in my way.”

Sophia could easily put two and two together. She couldn’t blame him; hadn’t she done the same? What she didn’t know, couldn’t possibly know, was that she finished what Trafford started in Tempo, a strangely binding link.

Alex summoned his other pistol, aligning their sights together and letting fly a fresh salvo of bullets. He no longer had the strength to consistently sustain his psychokinesis. The girl dodged, moving closer. She figured him weak enough to be able to inject a source of venomous ki to accelerate the process. All she had to do was get close enough to touch him. Somehow, though, things went terribly awry. As soon as one of Trafford’s clips emptied, he dropped the gun, and stopped firing the other. He reached out his hand, grabbing a loose collection of rocks and charging them with his last bit of power. They exploded at Sophia’s side, grazing her body as she spun around to avoid them, tripping over her feet as she stumbled.

Sophia hit the ground on her knees, using her palms to stop her fall. Alexander walked over to her, solemnly raising his last pistol and aiming for the back of her head. He grabbed her by the shoulder, lifting her up until she was on her knees.

Now this scene was familiar…

Alex swallowed hard, his mind nearly breaking in half as he realized where he’d seen this before. Only then, it had been from the other side, where he’d watched as Alice was executed right in front of his eyes. His chest heaved up and down as he began to hyperventilate.

“But you’re not her…you’re not her…you’re not her,” he repeated over and over again, chanting the mantra as if to hold the painful memories at bay.

“I’m not her,” Sophia agreed, hoping it might help her cause.

The gun trembled, and finally completely fell from his hand. He dropped to his knees, full blown sobs erupting from his throat. He buried his face in his hands, and couldn’t stop crying. Sophia’s first instinct was to back away and let the Leech Seed take him, put him out of his misery. She realized, though, that he wasn’t the same as Tempo or Tamsin. He didn’t need a mercy killing. Instead, she turned around, and hesitantly put her arms around him, withdrawing the sapping seed. Trafford didn’t resist, and the two just sat there until their collars finally separated them.