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Post by Delilah A. Black on May 7, 2012 14:51:16 GMT -8
The redirection of her jab as he spun on his heel took her off balance, pulling her forward slightly. She responded to this by relaxing her lower body into the form of a roll to get her footing back.
Too late did she notice the elbow flying towards her head, she couldn’t drop fast enough. She only leaned her head just enough out of the way so that his elbow connected painfully with her shoulder, the one she had dislocated earlier in the week during a fight. The blow jarred the limb in its socket and she cried out, twisting to avoid hurting it further as she was already mid-roll. The second she was on her feet, she lunged at Stu again, her left hand and her right shoulder throbbing painfully, seeking to tackle him in mid-air as he kicked off away from her, an act that would send them both tumbling into the sand should it connect.
If Stu managed to avoid the tackle, Delilah would roll gracefully as soon as she hit the ground and would come up on one knee, gathering a handful of sand as she did so and flinging it in a cloud at Stu’s face. Whether or not that was sufficient enough to distract him, Delilah would leap above and towards him on powerful legs, aiming a drop kick towards his chest.
However, if the tackle did connect, she would wrestle with him in a losing battle of strength, what with one of her key limbs already injured. Instead of outwardly wrestling him, Delilah would aim her hits for his kidneys, his liver, his spleen, the pressure points on and around his neck, with everything at her disposal in an attempt to equalize the difference in their strength, to make him weaker. If she happened to find an opening, she would throw a fast punch for his face and then attempt to gain the superior position by straddling him and then proceeding to continue to try and punch him in the face.
((OOC: Edit. Hand. Left hand and right shoulder is throbbingin pain. Not the left shoulder. That one is fine. Just to clarify.))
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Post by Stu Pott on May 7, 2012 15:00:13 GMT -8
Stu was gone almost as soon as the hit connected, and as he twisted in the air he saw her coming at him, just as quick as he was. His foot hit the beach and skidded, then slid out from under him, throwing him up short as she rolled at him. She was much more graceful than he was.
He was picking himself up just as the clump of sand clattered into his face. His hand shot upwards, but too late as the fine grains tinked off the sunglasses he was wearing. Ahh, thank god for eye protection!
However, Stu was not going to let this advantage to get away from him, so he immediately mimed it up, both hands covering his face as if he was blinded, crying out in pain. He watched through the gaps in his fingers as she charged forwards, flying into the air with a drop kick. He twisted again, this time to his left, his right hand lashing out and grabbing onto her leg.
With all his might he pivoted again, and to someone watching from far away it must have been quite the sight. His grip firm, he hurled her as hard as he could, using her momentum and centrifugal force to transform that momentum into his own, summing every ounce he had to throw her away.
As she careened, he'd immediately set off towards where she landed. The throw wouldn't hurt her that much; they were on sand. However, the impact would kick up quite a haze of the tenacious granules that would get into every pore and orifice. He stopped about ten feet away and rolled his shoulders, watching her get up. He fell back into a fighting stance, awaiting her to come at him again.
He knew it wasn't over.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on May 7, 2012 15:22:50 GMT -8
The unfortunate thing about anger is that it rarely leaves the option for advisable practices. Throwing a drop kick with both legs from the air is one of these unadvised techniques and was dealt with using the most effective solution. The counter should have seemed obvious to Delilah. But there were no thoughts in her mind, no plans. Only reactions.
When he grabbed onto her one leg, she reflexively lashed out with the other to kick the sunglasses off of Stu’s face as he swung her with the momentum of her kick. Then, suddenly, she was in mid-air, hovering roughly ten feet above the beach before plummeting to the sand below.
She had to do some pretty fancy rolling to carry her momentum from that one. Twisting in the air like a cat trying to land on all fours, Delilah connected with the sand in a plume with her hands braced below her to prevent her from jarring her spine as she rolled forward. Planting her right hand as her legs kicked over her head, the momentum continued to carry her backwards a little until she planted her feet in the sand. She sustained tiny cuts to her face and arms from the sand, and some had worked its way into her wound, but she hardly felt it. She was livid.
The sand that had kicked up from her impact had not quite settled yet, and without thinking, she threw herself through the falling curtain of sand in what she thought was the general direction of Stu.
In reality it was a good guess, but not quite close enough. She would appear to miss the grab by a couple of feet to his left. She recovered by pivoting on her hip and sending a knee at his waist level into his floating ribs. The second her leg came down, her left arm came up to jam him across the neck in an effort him back, like a clothes line. Her right arm would attach itself in a close guard diagonally along her body, her hand carefully guarding her neck and ribcage.
If her knee was unable to connect, she would drop her leg just behind his on the inside. Should he try and strike her from there, she would grab the offending limb and pop the back of his knee out with the front of hers in an attempt to throw him off balance and use the momentum from that to throw him over her shoulder and onto the sand.
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Post by Stu Pott on May 7, 2012 15:38:06 GMT -8
She popped out of the air like magic, flying through the sand and dust kicked up like a madwoman. She hit the ground and he was already focused on her as she wound up the knee. His own leg came up and deflected it away, using his own leg to smack it away as opposed to following through on anything. Her attack continued as she placed her leg down behind his while simultaneously throwing out a clothesline. Both hands up to catch her arm, he bent backwards, knees bending as well as his waist.
Honestly, it looked he was doing the limbo. His hands latched onto her arm as it passed over his head, as he immediately felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg. Her knee missed his, but instead it impacted on his calf almost immediately knotting the muscle.
Stumbling, his left hand let go of her arm. He twisted as he turned away from her, his wrist pivoting with his body to twist her arm behind her, much in the way how a police officer would hold a perpetrator's arm.
However he knew she was as adept at submissions, and knew he would not win in that sort of contest as she was as spry as a ninja. Hell, she probably was a ninja. He knew that she had some serious training, but they had never really gotten deep into their fighting past. Their relationship, until this point, had been one of gentle love. But everything always changed over time.
If she managed to twist herself out of the straight arm-bar, he would instead jerk her arm to the right while letting go of it, throwing her off balance. He'd jump away at the opportunity to retreat. He didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on May 8, 2012 7:28:26 GMT -8
As he twisted her left arm behind her, Delilah would do one of two things.
The first, if this was an improper hold that simply locked the arm behind the back with one hand and had no hand on the locked shoulder, it would be simple for Delilah to pivot her body to the left so she would wind up facing Stu by moving in the direction that the hold was weakest. As she would do so, she would lightly grasp his wrist with her own bleeding palm to prevent him from gaining distance again, turning his wrist over into a painful “ura-gyaku”(inside wrist-lock) while seeking the pressure point in the centre of the back of his hand with the momentum of his would-be throw. She would lift the hand up while bending it down by the fingers to the ground, locking up the wrist, elbow and shoulder against the spine as she did so in an effort to make him submit. If he was resisting (which would be painful as the joint advantage was Delilah’s), she would aim several knee strikes to the outside of his thigh to equalize the difference in their height, as well as his mobility by giving him a charlie-horse.
If, however, he was doing the arm lock correctly by holding her shoulder in place to prevent her from moving with his other hand, she would be unable to move as indicated above. The only way to get out of a submission hold of any kind, whether it was a choke, an arm bar, a bear-hug or a grapple technique was to go where the hold was weakest. In this case, that would be backwards.
With both of Stu’s arms tied up, she would send a sharp elbow back into his ribcage, followed by three quick heel strikes to his shins. The second his hold loosened on her, she twisted free, only to be thrown to the right and off balance. That would have confused her had she actually been thinking at the moment, but Delilah was operating on pure instinct and was unable to see that Stu didn’t want to hurt her. She recovered her footing quickly without having to roll and would round on Stu again quickly, snapping off a quick roundhouse kick to his face, only to tuck it back in a moment before impact. A feint. She would then drive in quickly to get in close, throwing a quick left jab and a right cross into his ribs before throwing a tight hook into his liver, ensuring that every time a hit landed (or missed) that it was back in a close guard before the her other hand stuck out at him.
By now, her breathing was starting to become a little heavier than it had been before. Normally, she lasted quite a long time in fights without losing her breath, often outlasting opponents by means of sheer endurance. But right now she was not fighting smart; Delilah was attacking full out every time she moved and it was starting to wear her down a little.((Edit/OOC : More images for visual reference. 12)) |
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Post by Stu Pott on May 8, 2012 7:56:23 GMT -8
He thought he had her, a chance to maybe make her submit while getting her to calm down and understand that this entire thing was just a misunderstanding. However, he would never be that lucky.
He held on, for dear life as she tried to twist away, but his raw strength was enough to just barely grab on. Unfortunately, that first elbow cracked against his ribs and he almost immediately let go, instead bringing his right arm back to block, the next two elbows. Then, the feet started lashing out, trying to hit him in the shins.
ENOUGH!
He raised his leg as the third shin kick came, and planted his foot squarely in the middle of her back. As he jerked and let go of her, he kicked forward, propelling her away from him and down the beach a few feet.
It wasn't enough.
She came at him again, this time in a flurry of punches. She fought without a pattern, but this only helped Stu; he was a street boxer, a brawler, used to fighting people who had never had a day of formal training, or if they did, it had been knocked out of their heads long before he ever got to them.
Her punches came at him wildly, and he blocked them much how a boxer would; bobs and weaves and the occasional arm block. The rocket of a fist came at him then aiming for his liver, and he saw his opening. He tensed his body and let the hit come, immediately regretting it but relishing in the pain.
Down deep, somewhere, something rustled. The beast was truly awakening now. His eyes set into a more firm obsidian, a bottomless pit of darkness that pierced into her eyes, time slowing as they met as she hit him.
His hands lashed out, simultaneous with the punch landing on his side. They would coil around her neck and he would push his arms out to as far as he could, and he would lift at the same time, pulling her into the air if they connected.
They would start squeezing then. Knuckles going red then white as blood was pumped through and then squeezed out. His heartbeat could be felt in his throat, and his sides both ached from the two hits. His left side was on fire, and this pain only fueled him to grip harder.
His eyes seemed to suck in all the light around them, his face growing bleaker by the second as his eyes pierced hers, held aloft and in his hands. Finally, something snapped inside, and he yelled even as the world around him seemed to warp. The air itself bent, like something out of the Matrix, and something, an unseen force, would impact Del. At the same instant, he dropped her, stumbling backwards a few steps.
If Del tried to activate her Qi, she would soon find that nothing would come to her. It was temporary, obviously, but now his own breathing matched hers, though his came not from physical exhaustion, but mental.
He had only just barely brought himself back from the edge. The beast inside him had almost crushed the life out of her, snapped her neck in two and cast her away as it had so many others. The Qi release had been the effort necessary to throw that beast off balance and capture it again.
He looked with a pained expression, one hand holding his left side where he had been hit the hardest. That pain wasn't for the injuries, it was for what he had almost done.
Regardless of what she did, he would turn from her and start walking down the beach. Whatever happened here this day was done, in his mind. He couldn't even bare the thought of facing her. It curdled his stomach to think of what he had almost just done. This fight was her win, even if he had been more fit after.
Nothing was worse than losing almost losing a fight with yourself, except for actually losing it. And he promised that would never happen again.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on May 8, 2012 9:16:36 GMT -8
When her hit connected with his liver, her knuckles edging in just so through the floating ribs in order to connect with the large organ a faint alarm bell sounded in her mind, but too late. Too late.
His hands were suddenly around her neck, strong and vice like, not unlike her own. She immediately put both her hands on his in an attempt to get him to let go, to be free, blood from the open wound on her left hand running down his arm. She gagged, gasping for breath and was hauled into the air, kicking out at his arm, his face, though it was all for naught. She wasn’t struggling to attack or fight him now; she was struggling for life. His arms rigid and steady, she coughed and hacked and a faint memory flickered before her eyes.
And just like that, Delilah was back in control.
The anger left her eyes and held nothing but sorrow and not a small amount of fear as Stu’s fingers tightened around her neck. But she had stopped struggling, her air almost completely gone save foe the hands that were pressed on top of his in an effort to keep herself up. She continued to look down into the flat blackness of Stu’s eyes, impenetrable on the best of days, with nothing but sorrow and regret.
Her vision started to blur and her strength was failing.
Her lungs were on fire, but that was nothing compared to the pounding of blood in her head.
Can’t think. Can’t move. Can’t…breathe…
She felt an impact ripple through her body and she choked violently as she lost her grip on his hands and dangled there in the air in front of him. Black spots swam before her eyes and she closed them, unable to hold them open any longer.
Suddenly, the ground was beneath her. She fell gracelessly into the sand, coughing, blood speckling the grains beneath her.
AIR!
MIRACULOUS AIR!
She forced herself on her back her chest hitching as she inhaled air like it was going out of style, coughing bits of sand and blood every so often. She focused on that for a moment, on being alive, before turning her head to find Stu.
He was walking away from her, down the beach. That sent a thrill of panic through her, followed quickly by a helping of shame. She had completely lost her head and attacked Stu. She didn’t deserve him.
But she couldn’t let go of him now. She might not be able to move to England for a chance at a better life, but she certainly wasn’t about to let this ray of happiness escape her as quickly as it had found her.
She tried to call out to him but wound up coughing again. On a hunch, she raised her blood streaked left hand and made three fluid signals with them, hoping they were being watched, and struggled to sit up.
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Birch, Nigel and Sergei had been watching the events preceding with great interest. Here was a man who was more than a match for the woman who trained them, or at least it appeared that way. The First Crow’s ferocity was something that they would remember for the rest of their lives. The former two had been called for back-up as Sergei painstakingly tailed Delilah and the blue haired man, whom she appeared to know. Mostly he had been watching out for Barker patrols or anything that could hurt his boss. But he had been genuinely curious about the man whom his boss held close, had kissed and looked at adoringly.
It was a side of her he was pretty sure didn’t exist until today. The others just had to see this.
By the time Birch and Nigel had arrived, the lovey-doveyness was over and they were talking in serious tones. They watched intently as Delilah got more and more agitated and erratic. Sergei frowned as the other two chuckled and talked about what was going on with each other in low voices. Something wasn’t right.
Then the blue-haired-man said something that completely made the First Crow snap, lunging to attack this man. The fight started a moment later.
It was all over fairly quickly, but by the end of it, all three men could say for certain that they never wanted to fight either of these crazy people.
The choking had worried Sergei and Birch to the point where they wanted to intervene, but Nigel held them back, looking on with a curious interest and an assurance. “Just wait a little while longer. This is her fight. Just watch.” his deep bass voice rumbled.
So they waited.
And waited.
Before long it became quite clear that their leader was going to die if something wasn’t done soon. But before they could spring into action, the blue haired man yelled and then dropped her into the sand. Even as far away as they were, they could hear the resonation of Delilah coughing and everyone let out the collective breath they had been holding. Then she fired off three quick hand signals and the three men moved quickly up the beach towards the blue-haired-man.
They came up behind Stu quickly and would surround him, Nigel in the front, Birch on his left and Sergei just off to his right. All three were armed with a pipe, a spear and a knife respectively. All three looked fairly serious and ready. But none would make a move towards him. They were only supposed to prevent him from moving on.
“Did you really think it would be so easy?” Delilah coughed from behind the men, her question directed at Stu. She was pleased to see that there were three of them out here watching her back. It didn’t even matter to her that they had seen her at her most vulnerable. She was barely sitting up, listing to the left to prevent her injured right arm from bearing too much weight. “Did you think you could just walk away after…that?!” She struggled to her feet, slipped and fell back into the sand again.
“M’lady, you really shouldn’t be moving too much right now.” Birch chided, his normally jovial tone replaced with one of genuine concern.
Delilah ignored him and struggled to her feet. Everything ached. Her head was pounding. She took a lurching step forward and stopped, looking straight at Stu. “You come here looking for me and you tell me there’s a place where we can be safe. And then we fight and you want to walk away?! That’s the same attitude you’re holding with the world right now!”
“If you walk away now, then you’re ending it. Us. And I’m not about to let that happen. I’ll fight for us until the day I die, and I’ll fight you again if I have to keep it that way. But I’m not going to do that while I’m running away from the problems in my life.
You deserve more than what I can give you. And I’m sorry if I cause you pain. But you are not leaving me again, Stu. Not like this.”
She took another step, fumbled her footing and fell into the sand on her knees again, still breathing shallowly. She reached up and gingerly touched the places on her neck where his fingers had been, finding the area tender. She smiled to herself. More bruises.
I think I’ve deserved the right to be selfish…just this once.
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Post by Stu Pott on May 8, 2012 9:44:29 GMT -8
As the three warriors burst onto the beach, quickly going to secure the safest positions around him, two behind and one to the front. A delta formation, one that Stu wasn't surprised to see them know. He had no military training, but he knew how group fights worked; get the opponent to focus on one guy while everyone else hit him from everywhere else.
A simple equation.
The air around him rippled again, this time smaller as he threw his arms forward slightly, rolling shoulders again. His neck popped as he turned it to either side, and the beast broiled under the surface. The men fingered weapons and watched him carefully, their eyes never leaving his face.
He was about to set upon the one in front of him, to teach him a lesson about interrupting where he wasn't wanted, when he heard her voice. He wasn't the beast, so there was no sudden epiphany of her voice; he merely didn't explode forth, his foot moving slightly to gain better balance, turning his head back to face where she stood.
And then she began.
The chewing out didn't last very long, but it was poignant and brutal. However, Stu had heard something much like it before, and had been hearing it his entire life.
Stop running away. Stop doing what you're doing. Stop. Stop.
No one ever told him to go. His mother had asked him to stop the strife. He did. His father had asked him to stop the destruction of the company. He did. Del had asked him to stop worrying about seeing her to safety.
He couldn't. He physically couldn't.
Her words about not losing him settled in and he relaxed. She wasn't here to fight anymore, thankfully, but he felt bad that he had let himself go. He had hurt her, even if it was to stop her from hurting him, and it this day would continue to be a black mark on his soul, a stinking rot that would fester and pain him for the rest of his existence. He hoped someday to excise it, but he wasn't hopeful; his soul was already charcoal due to the other black marks.
"I'm not walking away from you. I'm walking away from this. This-" he motioned to the beach, pockmarked by their footfalls and impacts. A small crater stood where Stu had held her aloft, one side collapsed where she had fallen onto it, the opposite side also in ruin from where she had crawled through it towards him. "This is not what I came back for. This is what has happened to people. This isn't your fault, it's this place's fault."
She took another step forward and began to fall, but Stu grabbed her. He was furious, both at her for reacting negatively and himself for creating the situation. It was not something that needed to be discussed in their first moments together.
He picked her up gingerly, holding her close to his chest, a movement that was easy considering their size disparity. He nodded at the three soldiers around them.
"But enough of that. You need rest." He didn't apologize for what happened. It would've come to this at some point, and he was happy to have it out of the way. This girl was going to throw some serious wrenches into his plan.
Which figures. She is a mechanic.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on May 8, 2012 10:46:55 GMT -8
He picked her up in his arms, holding her bridal style against his chest. She offered a token of resistance, insisting that she could stand. She gave that up quickly however, resting her head on his shoulder and throwing her arms loosely around his neck. She caught a glimpse of her popped stitches and grimaced at the state of her wound, now the blood now dried and starting to scab over. She turned her head to look at the three men standing there, who stood at attention as soon as her eyes connected with theirs.
“Sergei.”
“Yes ma’m,” the short Scandinavian man stood with his hands behind his back, his short, curly black hair and a large scar on his right cheek that stretched from his jaw to his temple.
“Get back to the nest and prepare a meeting room for us. Find “Unfettered” and whomever else he thinks should be in on this and tell him a room has been set up for him and that we’ll be arriving shortly. Birch.”
As Sergei gave a quick salute and sprinted off along the beach, the overly attractive man grinned dashingly at the two, winking suggestively at Delilah. “At your beck and call, M’lady~.”
She frowned openly at him, but spoke as though it didn’t bother her that he was making eyes at her. Again. “YOU get to go find Dora. Just let her know that I…exerted myself somewhat and may require a new set of stitches.” she winced as she said it. The cut from Kiyoshi had been one thing, but this she had done to herself.
Birch let out a low whistle at the thought of walking WILLINGLY into Dora’s domain with bad news. The woman was a very scary lady. He liked scary. “She’s gonna staaab yooooou,” he said to Stu, grinning wolfishly. She might also stab Delilah for being stupid, but that was probably not as lethal.
“Get going.”
“If she kills your lover boy, does that mean I have a shot?”
“Ich werde dich töten!”
<I will kill you!>
She started coughing the moment the German words left her lips, her body jarring painfully. She smiled lopsidedly up at Stu. There was not even a trace of ill-will on her face.
Birch opened his mouth to make another smart remark, but he wound up having to duck a casual swing of Nigel’s crow bar. “Boss told you to git, so git.” he growled.
He stuck his tongue out at Nigel, but started backing his way up the beach. “Fine, fine. Don’t have to speak German at me. Jeez. You guys are no fun,” he sighed. He wiggled his fingers at Delilah and her Stu and started after Sergei, who was long gone up the beach already. Nigel drew himself up to his full height and set his shoulders back, his eyes level with Delilah’s.
She nodded her thanks to the brawny black man. “Nigel…eh, fuck it. Just lead the way.”
He nodded curtly and turned his eyes towards Stu. The big man even towered above Stu’s lanky height. He had almost been attacked by this man not minutes ago, but he had not moved to counter him. He had watched this man fight earlier and knew he was not to be contended with. He inclined his head ever so slightly. “My name is Nigel Wright of Crows. If there is anything you need from us, just ask.” his tone was neutral, his voice deep. If he showed any emotion at all, he seemed somewhat bothered by the state his group leader was in, almost...disgusted. “If you have no objections to my accompanying you to the base, we should proceed right away unless you need a moment to recuperate.”
Depending on Stu's answer, he'd either set off without another word or wait patiently until they were ready to continue.
Her orders relayed, Delilah allowed herself to relax against Stu and closed her eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The incident of only a few minutes before had already left her mind. She was not sorry and she knew he shouldn't be either. She just let it go, as she always did. It had been a mistake on both their parts, but she wouldn't let that ruin what she had with him. There was a bigger picture, after all.
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Post by Stu Pott on May 8, 2012 11:21:21 GMT -8
Stu watched in rapt fascination as the love of his life immediately went into leader mode, and he had another new found respect for her. He had no idea she was this important. These men respected her implicitly, as if it were nothing more than how they lived.
The small one was curt and to the point, and Stu appreciated that. He also looked like he had seen some shit.
The handsome one was an asshole. Stu sort of wanted to punch him out, but he also knew that the act might take his head off. It didn't seem to be screwed on too tight, with how much that mouth ran.
The big one spoke to him, and was also the one Stu immediately took to. He nodded back, his face still grim, but he smirked a little as the man spoke. Stu shook his head and let him lead the way. He thought that he would be able to have a good time with this one. A little strict, he'd be fun to poke holes full of.
Stu shifted her weight gently, and followed Nigel. Their walk would lead them through the city and to the crows, but Stu only looked at Del. He felt awful, but he had had to do what he could to stop it. He should never have let out the beast.
The walk was far, so they had plenty of time to figure it out. Plenty of time.
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