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Post by Lucien DeChain on Dec 31, 2013 14:28:07 GMT -8
Lucien sighed through his nose, assessing Bastille. What was there left to do?
"I want to help you. In whatever small way I can, I want to help you realize that life isn't something you should throw away. It's the ultimate good."
He didn't break eye contact, moving closer and putting his hand on her shoulder. His face turned more caring, and though he hated the physical contact (ew, gross), he knew it would help.
"How can I help, Bastille?"
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Dec 31, 2013 16:52:14 GMT -8
Actually fun fact- it didn't. She turned to look at his hand and just raised a brow.
"Oh-kay..." She said finally before looking back at him and immediately throwing up her hand and making a move for his throat, her qi activated at 40 charisma- the molecules just and inch and a half away from her skin moving so fast that they could cut most earthly substances. It was her qi- the one the normal Bastille refused to use even in the face of mortal peril. Molecule acceleration. If her hand landed, he would immediately begin to feel the layers of skin begin to tear away- that is, if it landed or got within an inch of her hand.
She would just stare at that moment, and brace for a rebuttal.
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Post by Lucien DeChain on Jan 1, 2014 13:29:15 GMT -8
It was fast, and sudden, but Lucien was not unprepared for the attack. Or, so he thought.
As he saw the arm shoot toward him, he would lean to the side and raise up his fist, aiming to slam a backfist into her forearm. While doing that, the hand that was touching her shoulder would clench tightly, grabbing clothes and skin and holding them tightly.
"You don't have to do this!"
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 1, 2014 13:58:50 GMT -8
"As a slight matter of fact" She said her eyes narrowing as she was going for human contact. Any contact would get him in contact with her qi and she just needed to cut the skin away close enough to one major artery.
"She wants to, you couldn't have been oblivious to the fact that Bastille, while married to one still detests the dragons." She said calmly, pushing forward again trying to get closer- maybe if she focused the center of her qi forward and out it would expand past an inch and a half from her body.
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Post by Lucien DeChain on Jan 2, 2014 16:27:34 GMT -8
Lucien screamed in pain as he realized that the skin on his hands was being eroded. Letting go, he stumbled backwards and tried to get away from Bastille.
"What the FUCK!" He spat. With that, he tore off the choker around his neck, hands spewing blood. And, as he did, he felt the electricity flow through his body, and out, extending into a ball around himself. An electric barrier, about a foot out from his body. Anything within that would get electrocuted.
"You're not Bastille. So, whoever the fuck you are, get out of here right now or else. This is your one warning."
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 2, 2014 22:15:49 GMT -8
Bastille smirked.
"News flash dummy, this is her...her body, her mind, her thoughts, her actions."
She sighed, looking around as she reached into her pocket and looked around.
"Lucky for you....I dont feel like fighting completely, since I've got a schedule to keep. You can go ahead and fight this instead." She said as she walked towards the door to the place, backwards. She kept her eyes on him as she opened the door and began to slip out. Then without much effort, she withdrew a very old can of mustard gas- nazi made it would seem.
"Shame, it was from my private stash..." She put her hand to it and tore a hole in its side before quickly throwing it into the room and slamming the door.
It would seem however that when the canister fell into the room, the gas coming out was nothing more than highly expired hair spray. Seems the old Bastille was conscious for long enough to replace the label. Bastille would of course, be gone by the time Lucien would be able to figure this out- off to find her next target.
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Post by Lucien DeChain on Jan 3, 2014 0:45:48 GMT -8
"NO!" Lucien would cry as Bastille tore the hole open in the canister. But, the can fell to the ground, spewing smoke, and the door was slammed.
Lucien had to act fast. Dropping his shield, he would reach for the balaclava that hung around the base of his neck, pulling it up and over his face. But that wasn't a permanent solution. He had to run through the smoke, and quick. But if it was poisonous, and he went through with an open wound... He quickly started to prepare an impromptu dressing... Then Lucien noticed the smell.
"That bitch." He spat. Hairspray.
Lucien lowered his mask and stepped through the smoke, and out the door. On his way out, he would notice that Bastille had left her sword behind. Grabbing it, he looked around. Of course, he knew that Bastille would be gone by then anyways. Trying to track her was useless.
From across the street, three figures appeared from the shadows. Lefty, Bret, and Eyes hurried over to Lucien.
"Boss! You didn't give the signal, so we...-" Lefty started.
"Nevermind that. Eyes, did you get a good look at her?"
Eyes nodded. "Got it - Sir, you're bleeding profusely."
Lucien looked down and saw the blood. Grabbing a flask of water, he opened it and poured it over his hands. The wounds started to close, but they were still fresh.
Holding up the sword, he inspected it closely.
"...Sir?"
He lowered his hand. His gaze was downcast.
"Let's go home."
/thread
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