Delta vs Echo

[Dutch]

A newly built mansion on an exotic resort moon. Built on a floating platform above the rest of the city it's in, the sounds of a holiday's party in the city masks any noise of a more interesting type of party. Sentients of all sorts of species mingle in tight and revealing clothing, most younger in age, and none below the norm in physical attractiveness. All furniture has been moved, many rooms filled with massive pillows instead. The party is in full swing, and the heat is rising. Many rich and soon to be influential types have made it to this party, and with all the people in it, makes this party a recipe for attempted assassinations and other exciting features...

Delta vs Echo
Assassin vs Assassin

Seven rounds, Delta, you go first.

Fight!

[Dire Wolf]

Blue eyes scanned the crowd of party goers from his perch on the balcony as the mind behind it tried to remember why he was on that Force forsaken world. Granted, above the world would have been a far more accurate term to use in that particular instance, but terminology mattered little to the tall man that leaned on the railing. Finally, it came to him: he was there for Green Meadows. Certainly not on their behalf, but rather to find out more information about them and what they do. Believe it or not, it was incredibly hard to find any information whatsoever on the corporation, and it was eventually concluded that it must have been a front for another. Likely a lie or a simple spoke in another, much larger, umbrella corporation.

His head shook lightly, those oceans scanning the crowd for his quarry. Right. There was a man he, Echo, and November had contacted. Apparently he knew far more about Green Meadows than the trio could imagine... it was likely a trap. Delta thought for but a moment longer. No, it was a trap, but it was worth the risk. Even if this man was a simple hired hand he could give them a single morsel of information. Even if that morsel was barely enough to keep going the risk would be worth it. A heavy sigh caused the big man's shoulders to slump down, it just didn't seem possible to find the contact... despite the fact that he had exact features and characteristics.

It didn't take long for the impatient assassin to push himself off of the railing and worm his way through the crowd. Eventually he managed to slip through to the stairs, quickly finding himself on the ground level. Deep blue orbs scanned each of the dancing faces, each and every one more beautiful than the last, as he moved through the crowd. Again, he sighed.... the contact wasn't around. It was very likely that he would find an entire cadre of guards when he left, which immediately shot his thoughts over to Echo. What would happen if they were to get in a fight and the fiery haired woman was shot? Or worse... killed. His mind shuddered at the image of Echo splayed out in his arms and in a pool of her own blood that he received from the bouncer on Ruusan.

What if he was mistaken? What if the architecture wasn't that of Nar Shaddaa, but rather the same planet they were on? Water soon welled up within his eyes and threatened to burst from them like the rush of water from a dam. Delta's gaze quickly shifted about the room, he tried desperately to find the red head that he called his own. In this temporary bout of panic he didn't notice that a Zeltron woman took particular interest in him, and was making her way over to his position.

"Hey there," she said, her eyes scanning up and down his body, "you got a name?" It wasn't long after her question that she got uncomfortably close to the man, pushing herself against his large and muscular frame seductively. Delta was nonplussed, however, he simply pushed her away and said, "not interested." She persisted, however, and he was terribly close to grabbing her by the throat and pushing her back when she did something... interesting.

Delta's reply only piqued the red skinned woman's interest in the man that stood before her. It was quite obvious to the woman that anything she did or said would have little to no effect on the man, save one thing. It was the one thing that her species had over every other one, a power... and she certainly wasn't shy about using it. Her pores barely opened to allow a quick wisp of pheromones to escape from her skin... this wisp would only effect those close to her... very close to her.

The tall man shook his head and blinked slowly, almost as if he just woke up from a ridiculous dream. His perception of the world was certainly altered, the whole world was blurred... save one entity: the Zeltron. For some odd reason, the woman looked considerably more beautiful... almost like Echo with red skin and purple hair. No.... she was Echo, only with red skin and purple hair. All of a sudden he was considerably more susceptible to her, though not in a way that she intended. A deep fire kindled within the man's cheeks as he gazed down at the Zeltron woman, who only offered a light smirk of victory in return. "Well then? What's your name hun," she asked. It took a moment for the betwitched assassin to reply, "Ummm... Del-," he realized just how ridiculous the name was... and paused only to think on a new one, "Delen."

That smirk only grew in size as she gently took his hand and lead him out to the dancing floor. Dancing. It was one of the few things that the woman actually enjoyed, besides the usual hedonistic activities that Zeltrons were known to be into. Though this dance was not going to be a clean one, it was going to be rather... dirty. And afterwards? Well... that was when the real fun would begin.

[Squee]

It was as if she were attending a masquerade and being the only one wearing the mask. She was in her lovely party outfit with her red hair done flowingly. Often Echo raised a hand to one her shoulders, trying to push the loose straps back up to cover nakedness. However, the strips of clothing would fall right back to the middle of her bicep, letting the bareness of shoulder and neck be revealed to all party’s folk. She was mingling among bodies that were just as clothed as she, or bodies that sported more skin than clothing. Echo had ignored seeking hands touching her hip or rear. She had created her mask tonight to be oblivious to slippery fingers gliding over her thigh as she weaved herself around interlocked people by lip and dance. The only thing that had startled Echo tonight was a female humanoid approaching her, snaking an arm around her hips, and purred how the heeled, knee high boots accentuated the even smallest curve of her bottom.

Sea’s gray pebbles blurred perspiring figures and dreamy and/or lustful glances from several male specimens. Her computer like brain was humming with life, working to keep the image of a man lit up on the monitor. A man she and Delta had to find and would enjoy interrogating about Green Meadows, whatever that exactly was. Echo paused momentarily in a strange spot clear of people. Her pose exhibited nonchalant apparel; her face managed and conformed to mild interest in her surroundings. She blinked once, running a camera’s point of view across the wall of bodies before her. Turning a slight degree, Echo tossed her ironed straight hair across her shoulder as she lifted her chin upward and ran her gave across the railing above her. She spied Delta, leaning in an easygoing fashion on the rail, his eyes scouting the throng. From his expression, he wasn’t finding their target either. There was a small flare of frustration in Echo, who leveled her head and took smooth motions forward again.

“Little lady, little lady.”

She was attending a masquerade and the only one wearing a mask. When the large hand plucked up hers, she tensed imperceptibly, and she forced her head to rotate at a mere startle. The hand elevated her arm and gently pressed it in a twisting circle, and Echo complied to spin once. When she completed the spin, a second large hand took up her other hand, levitating it parallel with her other arm. A lanky man stepped closer to her, lacing his fingers over her hands. His head loomed over hers, smiling widely.

“Are you so alone tonight?”

She was the only one wearing the mask. She made sure she smiled back, and let her muscles become a tough liquid beneath her skin, barely prepared. His foot slid forward, pressing against her foot until she stepped back. He followed, other foot touching her other, making her back it up again. In that sing-songy voice of his, he asked her if she even knew how to dance. Still then, his foot was pressing hers back and turning them in a circle. Echo let this pass for a little. She was at a party, and part of her cover was to attend as a party goer. The best way to keep up the guise was to pretend to have a little fun. She allowed the man to spin her in several more circles and come close to her. She cut it off after her dipped her backward, an exercise of her flexibility, and then pushed him away.

Echo made herself scarce, and within moments, she watched as the handsome man snatched himself another girl. She scoffed and headed further into the crowd, halting only once to see if Delta was still by the rail. He wasn’t. Echo passed on, no longer searching for their quarry, but rather Delta. She meandered her way into the kitchen, through the kitchen, waving off offered drinks. There were many bodies of what would have been a living room, people kissing and pressed against each other. Still no Delta. The heeled boots clicked a little louder as she exited the living room quickly, finding herself within the dancing space once more. She lingered around the small outside edge of the space, flaunting a dismissing hand from flirting young men.

When she finally found him, he was dancing, if grinding motion can be categorized with cha-cha, with the devil in disguise. That surprise realization that Delta was dancing with some red-skinned Zeltron dropped the guise. She had been attending a masquerade and she had been the only one wearing the mask. Now the mask was gone and Echo was pushing herself forward. It didn’t matter if people got in her way as she strode forward. Her body manipulated around those in her way, or she carefully directed them to one side. She kept her eyes on Delta and the Zeltron, ready to stone the woman with the rocks that made her eye.

A deep feeling began to culture in short time, brooding. A tooth egg tapped delicately at the fragile shell, ready to break. Her head burned, flames sprouting from her scalp and flowing just behind her. The muscles of her right arm began to quiver as she bunched her hand into a clench. Anger grew, anger at Delta, and anger at the Zeltron. The emotions she had, so far tonight, been able to moderately control were contained in a small egg. Tap, tap, tap, the tooth egg tested. Echo found herself withholding the hatching of the creation, of the ugly monster, like that of someone not yet ready to be a mother.

Her left hand snagged a bottle from a random dancer, snarling at him as he produced an outcry. Echo stormed around the last pair of fools to reach Delta. That arm that had been clenched rose up, the fist now loose. Echo didn’t stop walking. The egg tooth finally broke, and with an outraged shout, Echo brought her fist forward. Her body momentum was transferred into the punch, and the sudden clench a split-second before connection caused the Zeltron woman to shudder as she was contacted. The fire-headed woman’s fist had crushed into the woman’s ribs. The bottle shattered into the back of the Zeltron’s head.

A vehement hiss punctuated past Echo’s teeth, putting out a hand and catching the woman by the wrist. Within close range, an audible pop could be recognized as Echo thrust her now free hand against the Zeltron’s armpit, dislocating the arm. Echo then cranked the wrist back, making it break with crackles. By now the Zeltron was shrieking. Then, using that broken and dislocated arm, Echo took a wide step backwards and dragged the female downward; the toe of Echo’s heel made the Zeltron trip and Echo ground the Zeltron’s face against floor and glass.

Echo rounded on Delta, anger etching every feature. She stepped over the Zeltron’s limp, whimpering body and drove palmed hands Delta, determined to shove him into the swaying crowd. “The HELL are YOU DOING!?”

She was at a masquerade and had lost her mask. It lay on the floor in a pile of broken glass with a dislocated arm and broken wrist.

[Dutch]

Round 1

Delta
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail:5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Bonus for describing the Zeltros pheromones.

Squee
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 2/2
Comments: Bonus for takin' that hoe down XD

Total:

Delta: 21

Squee: 22

I'm starting to wonder why I signed up to mod a duel between two lengthy writers ><

[Dire Wolf]

Everything since the Zeltron woman smirked and took his hand lightly was a blur, to say the least. He remembered touching, lots of touching... grinding, and the pink feminine face of a woman brush her cheek against his as she purred soft words into his ear. He found it hard to think, the oppressive will of the pheromones made it hard to not simply rip off the woman's clothes and begin a primal and carnal act at her purring.

The pheromones started a chain reaction in his mind, one that would utterly confuse even the smartest of scientists that were in charge of cleansing the pesky memories of the past assassinations from his mind. This reaction produced a chemical in his mind that was working rapidly to restore the lost memories to him, starting with the most recent to the oldest. Incomprehencible images flashed infront of his mind's eye far too fast for him to understand what they were, and his eyes closed tightly at a newfound pain that crept within his skull. Suddenly the world around him was a little more than an afterthought as his consciousness shifted over to the images in a vain attempt to understand their meaning.

By then Echo had reached them, and utterlly ruined the hedonistic Zeltron woman that had ensared him within her pheromones. He noticed none of it... until he felt the sharp palm against his sternum push him back into the crowd. What came next could be described as a muscle memory reaction that was brought back due to his mind's distressed state. His weight rolled with the push, and he quickly found himself rolling backwards in a sommersault. The stopped moving sharply as his weight and momentum rested a single knee. In a flash of motion he threw back a light jacket that was worn for the simple purpose of carrying a blaster pistol in a belt holster without drawing much attention. It was less than a heartbeat later that he had the bottom of the grip of the pistol pressed up against his pectoral muscle, blasting out bolts of plasma with each pull of the trigger.

Delta was no longer Delta. He was an animal of proactive reaction, one that believed its survival could only be accomplished by the death of the one that pushed him backwards. It wasn't long after that he rolled back into the now scattering crowd and executed a crouching run away from the red haired devil killer that had threatened him. His hunched form dodged around the now scattering crowd as best as it could while still staying low in an attempt to lose the furious woman.

More flashes.

The flaming haired woman was in every single one. Fighting some man that was obviously his enemy as well, as there was a rifle pointed at the woman's combatant. But his mind did not believe the image in his mind. She tried to hurt him for a reason, and that was to kill him. Once around the corner he stretched his body out once more and backed away from the corner. He quickly lined up the sights on his pistol to about abdomen height and switched it to stun... he wanted to know why his former comrade now aimed to kill him. Granted, interrogation was never his forte... it was still taught to every assassin.

They'd be laughing about this in a week... right?

[Squee]

There wasn’t a facial reaction to her. Nothing twitched, and the eyelid hardly flickered in a blink, leaving his blue eyes simply staring. He wasn’t seeing her, wasn’t registering that she was there. Blankness. Blank, vacant, cruel stare of ice. The mesmerized glint took but a second to shut off, and Delta suddenly reacted beneath Echo’s finger tips.

Echo’s fast-paced and hyper-speed eyes flickered across his face, his shoulders. She had become consciously aware she had struck her partner in the chest. Her own mind raced to deliver the consequences of the action. His eyes were taking a long time to comprehend, and therefore this reaction was second memory. His physical self would respond and keep him out of danger despite his lethargic mind not being presently present.

He dropped backwards as Echo stopped pressing forward. She stood there, her action on pause, blinking as she watched Delta roll away in what seemed to be slow motion. As he came up, head jerking to turn bear blue eyes on her form, Echo noticed Delta had pulled his hidden blaster from his coat. Natural reaction struck Echo as the muzzle of the pistol glared at her. It came back and all Echo saw next was brightly colored plasma streaking toward her.

That wasn’t good. The thought barely whispered across Echo’s brain. In an instant, Echo was on the ground, her legs falling into the forward split with the ease of cutting butter. Her palms were pressed against the floor, making the impact with the floor less painful. Echo didn’t sense the pain even as she leaned forward, her chin hovering over her knee, and the plasma bolts soared over her head. Her consciousness hardly regarded the burning smell lingering in the air as she swung the front leg behind her and started back up onto her feet. Her right hand grasped at one of the many ridges in her belt and yanked one off. With a flick of her wrist, the knife’s blade snapped open, a glint visually announcing its presence.

Unfortunately, as she brought it up to her head to throw it, Delta was running through the startled crowd at a crouch. If she threw the knife now, there was a higher chance of hitting a spectator than him. With her index finger of her right hand, Echo snapped the blade down and ducked to the side. The crowd was beginning to scatter, beginning to leave. Part of Echo wanted the crowd to be there, to prevent Delta from gaining a clear target of her. Another part wanted the crowd to be gone so they were not harmed in the process of catching up to Delta. Echo weaved slowly in the crowd, most of which just following where the mass was. They didn’t know her face and so she snuck easily toward the corner Delta, using the people as shields, being extremely wary that Delta had the blaster.

It was highly probable that Delta could shoot her first before she threw the knife. In every situation like this, Echo against some long-ranged combatant, odds were against her until she was closer.

She was closing in on the corner, and the throng was thinner here. Echo forced the blade back out, jamming the lock with her thumb. She flipped the blade, fingers catching the end and she selected her point on the wall to throw the knife. Echo’s intentions were not to harm Delta, though he had already shot at her. Those kinds of reactions were bad. In much of what Echo could remember, their reactions toward one another hadn’t been that severe. If every thing was as normal, Delta would not have fired the pistol. This time, to Echo’s worry and curiosity, he had fired as if he would an enemy.

Echo stepped around a person and threw the knife, sharply, with control, jerking her wrist to send the blade flying true. As the point of the knife embedded into the wall, Delta was backing away from it. Echo’s left hand was already snapping off another ridge on her belt. Click, the blade was out. Jam the lock. Flip the point, and throw. This time, she aimed it past Delta’s head. The knife would be thrown far enough out to count as a warning throw.

“Now, wait a minute!” she called as the pistol lined up on her. If his finger even twitched, she was going to move. No harsh feelings, Delta, but I’m not going to stand here and let you shoot me.

What in devil’s name did that bitch Zeltron do to him?

[Rugs]

Alright, Max has asked me to take over this duel for him, so here we go....

Round 2

Delta
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail:5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Haha, very nice set up with him being put out of whack by the Zeltron's pheromones. I liked it quite a bit.

Squee
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Poor gal... Doncha just hate it when your friends go loony because of those crazy space sex pheromones? Happens to me all the time.

Total:

Delta: 42

Squee: 43

Good stuff, people. On to Round 3 we go

[Dire Wolf]

The look on Delta's face was one that someone would expect on a surgeon as he cut into his patient; cold, calculating, and meticulous. His lash didn't bat a micrometer as Echo threw the first knife, which strayed far from his flesh. Whether that was on purpose or not was lost to Delta, though he wasn't entirely sure why she'd purposely miss him. At that range the probability of him hitting the woman that stood before him was about 82%, given his skill with a handgun. Her chance of dieing from that shot after considering that he'd forgo aiming properly however, was considerably less. Which meant that she'd likely have a few mo-

Another knife flew by his head, this time it was obviously meant to be a warning throw. “Now, wait a minute,” she called shortly after the knife dug into the drywall. So she wanted to talk, eh? Probably just to drop his guard long enough for a knife to fly into his skull plate. He wouldn't let that happen. The gaping maw of his blaster pistol slowly angled towards her upper chest, making it more likely that she'd try to dodge the bolt the same way should he fire again.

But he couldn't open up just yet. Without missing a beat, the man gave some ground to his would-be killer... but only enough to grab one of the throwing knives that she hurled at him. Those blue eyes set in his head didn't unlock their gaze with her hips as he reached his free hand over to the handle, yanking the blade out with a solid arm. He now had a defensive weapon to go counter his offensive firearm.

Why his gaze on her hips? Granted, he was still under the effects of the pheromones, and no small part of him wanted to rip her clothes off, but a larger part wanted to survive. And that part knew that her hips would tell him where she was moving before she actually twitched. Delta promptly whipped the knife around so that the blade pointed towards his thumb and pulled his gun hand back towards his body. This made it considerably harder to take his ranged weapon without getting a few stab wounds first.

The man's form stood up somewhat, taking on a hunched, but balanced form. The voice that rumbled at his vocal chords was not one that the red head would expect from him, as it was cold and harsh. Like a winter on Rhen Var, "speak." At this distance and reflexive shooting position Delta had about a 69% chance to hit the woman, far less to actually kill. But, as said previously, he wouldn't go for a killing shot. Just a crippling shot.

Not only were the pheromones working through his system rather marvelously, he had to discover the name of her employer. Amongst other things. Without warning, Delta's face scrunched together tightly and a light whimper burst from his mouth. It felt like someone skewered his brain with a spear before setting it ablaze. Correction: before detonating it with thirteen pounds of plastic explosive.

It didn't take long for his balanced stance to roll backwards so that he was now on his arse. Yet... he still managed to put all of his strength into clutching onto the grips of his pistol and knife, they were his lifeline... and his only hope for survival. Now, naturally, as his whole hand clenched around the grip of his pistol a florescent bolt flew out of its maw, but the stray shot flew up into the ceiling.

Memories. More of them. They flashed before his mind's eye far faster than he could comprehend what were in the images. Hundreds. From what little he could make, they were violent. Bloody. Painful. This incomprehensible slide show culminated with the single image of the red haired assailant's upper torso as he held it, his vision blurry with tears. A pool of blood had formed below him, and dominated his vision of the ground.

What struck him most was not the image, but the emotions behind it: Pain, loss, heartache, anger, and sadness. He felt all of each one just as much as the last, yet he felt nothing. A great void. Like his life ended with that very image. But it couldn't have been true, she was standing right in front of him, throwing knife drawn!

His will power forbade him from moving either hand to clutch his head, and ordered his eyes open. It would be fairly easy for her to take him in this position, and while his mind throbbed so. With a shaky sigh, and pained tones in his voice, the man spoke once more. "Wh-what... what are you waiting for?"

[Squee]

There was one thing all red-heads had in common: anger. It boiled and raged furiously just as any anger, but the red hair seemed to strengthen that sort of emotion. The red tint flowing around the head like a mane seemed to punctuate anger with a little extra “oof” to it. Echo was simply a volcano, her emotional anger like trapped magna that burbled and fought to spill out. Hair spewed and flowed like lava down the sides of the mountain that was Echo’s face. Hot, choking ash made up her eyes. Every motion was an explosion, disturbing the air and making the ground quake.

This means some minute organism was suffering every time Echo took a step forward to keep up with Delta. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him grasp the knife. He was forcing her in a precarious situation. Echo was piecing together, more and more despite not wanting to accept it, that she was going to have to strike. That was before he got a chance to shoot her. She didn’t want to end up with stab wounds either. She really didn’t want to bring Delta bloodshed, so she thought as her thumb stroked her third throwing knife. She had only brought six knives, meaning that her ammunition was now half spent. Her resources were low and options for taking Delta down had shrunk severely when he had taken up an abandoned knife.

If Echo stayed back, he was going to shoot her. If she went in for the blaster while he was this alert, she would end up taking a stabbing. If she aimed for the knife, he could turn the blaster and put a burn hole in her. Echo knew for a fact that she couldn’t hope to take both at once. Delta may be slower than she but he was a hell of a lot stronger than she was and would easily be able to overpower her. Echo blinked once with realization that by training with Delta and working with Delta, he would know her normal tricks; therefore able to counter her well.

This sucked.

Echo found herself gritting her teeth at Delta’s icy tone at her. Something went crazy within her, rearing its nasty head into violent shakes, jowls flinging molten material against the inside of Echo’s chest. She felt ready to scream. All she could think of was,” HOW DARE HE!” and, “SPEAK MY ARSE!” She almost lunged right there, eyes blazing with internal heat.

Those eyes swiftly became satisfied. Delta was suddenly hit with an invisible force, so it seemed. His face twisted into a mess and his balanced, sturdy stance tipped and his large form began to topple backwards. The whimper that parted his lips rang true in ears of Echo’s mythical, internal beast, and it howled with savage joy. In slow motion, Delta’s form fell until his bottom hit the floor, and Echo hardly noticed his off-gaze before her lucid muscles propelled her forward. She was going to take the initiative. Whatever was distracting him was giving her an opening. That beast within Echo was screaming victory before she had even completed her second, bounding leap toward him.

Within her mind, she tracked and monitored her footsteps, timing it just right that she’d careen into Delta, right knee preparing the batter his chin. Deft fingers worked the clutch of her belt. Less than a second later, her belt was on the floor and she leaving the rest of her knives in the dust.

Her monster was right on her heels, momentarily left behind in its victory cry and the second it took to make calculating corrections. As it let loose a feral snarl, Echo’s lip curled. Her throwing knife had been deserted. Mere seconds from disastrous contact, Delta’s panged voice chilled her ears.

"Wh-what... what are you waiting for?"

It was enough to shut the beast up, make it tuck its tail between its legs, and then run off whimpering. It jarred a section of Echo; a fresh section that was only recently being renovated. And that section hated this. It was dreading what the next second; what it would cause, what it would do, what it would possibly mean to Delta. It wanted nothing more than for her to stop. It bled with aching compassion.

As Echo’s knee smacked under Delta’s chin, the action would not nearly as devastating as it would have been if the beast still had control of Echo. Nonetheless, it would be deafeningly powerful, weakening, and stunning. The momentum would send him sprawling. It would be at this moment that she would plant her foot on the elbow of his blaster arm and grab at his knife hand. Dispose of the close ranged weapons first. Chances of him thinking to use a long-ranged weapon in close combat would hardly occur to him if he was the average joe. Delta wasn’t average, but that didn’t mean he would think to twist to blaster to shoot her in the leg. By the time she did away with the knife, he could be regaining his senses as she went for the blaster. He couldn’t stab her with a blaster, but he could wrestle her for it.

Things didn’t go quite as planned.

She had misplaced her foot and lost her balance. Her toes snagged against Delta’s leg, and there was a flash of alarm as she realized her drastic error. Her mind had been expecting one thing and her body was falling out of alignment. Instead of a knee-crushing knock-out as she had hoped, Echo found herself merely crashing into Delta’s large frame, limbs flailing. Her heart hammered wildly and her blood pulsed at dangerous speeds as her mind frantically engaged into a computer-like memory, searching for a way to solve the virus and get on with the program. Echo became squirmy soon after impact, slithering madly to rush and go for the knife.

Her chest crossed over Delta’s, hands latching to his wrist and nails prying for his thumb and pinky finger to crank a painful lock that would help her twist the knife away. She needed that knife gone! The blaster, the blaster, the blaster! Her mind screamed red alert, warning her about the blaster arm. Echo swallowed, this mess was making her uneasy. Three quarters of her thought processes redirected to the blaster arm, located down near her legs. What was she supposed to do? One cannot choke an arm into releasing its weapon. Echo grunted, annoyed at this predicament.

Her fingers had a hold of his thumb by now, and quickly wedging themselves around his pinky finger. The inside of his wrist was facing away from her. Echo swung a leg across Delta’s body, then hopped and/or scooted forward to sit hit on Delta’s chest. She yanked Delta’s hand toward her while settling her knees roughly into a weaker part of the upper arm, closer to the elbows. This was an attempt to keep him in place. While it likely wouldn’t keep Delta down forever, she was hoping that it would make getting up a bit more difficult. The fleshier, softer points her knees were digging into him might make him think twice. It was merely something Echo had experienced herself: attentive to pain. Whatever Green Meadows had done to her had dulled pain experiences. Without Green Meadows, pains were more acute. This may be different for Delta; Echo didn’t quite know his pain threshold.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snarled down at him, now starting to bend the pinky finger. She twisted the appendages, keeping an eye on the knife as she expected for his grip slacken from it. “Why did you shoot at me?” Echo was in such a position that if she felt even a twitch in his arms, she could drop an elbow into his face. She may have to let go of the hand, but she was confident that she could stun him back to some sort of submissiveness. As she stared down at him she felt something else tug at her. It tugged from the bottom of her stomach, wrenching and twisting in a sort of burning, paining feeling that for some reason did not make Echo angry. It upset her, disturbed her in a way she hadn’t thought. She was hurting over him. She was confused by a specific action he had done, and it hurt her. Before she had compiled a conscious question, words were spilling from her mouth:

“Why were you dancing with that woman?”

[Rugs]

Round 3

Delta
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail:5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Interesting play there with him suddenly collapsing. Can't say I was expecting that.

Squee
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 0/2
Comments: Not a bad post, but it seemed a bit... slower, perhaps? Not in terms of action, or things happening, though. I dunno. Just didn't grab me like the earlier ones did.

Total:

Delta: 63

Squee: 62

[Dire Wolf]

Just after the whimpering question to the strange woman left his lips a flash blinded his mind's eye once more, diverting all attention to it. The level of its brightness seared his minds eyes, and didn't allow it to see anything but its white light for far too long. It hurt. The pure white light within his mind's eye caused a dull, throbbing pain to creep up within his brain once more... and further debilitated any possible counters he could have to Echo rushing up towards him. He couldn't think, couldn't act, couldn't move, not without forcing his body to shift against its wishes.

It was just after Echo's fumble caused her body to crash into his that the searing white light faded away. The image of snow white was replaced by one that was considerably darker: it was the cockpit of The Deliverance. Everything, every object, was painted perfectly within the man's mind. The rusty orange color of Commenor hanging like a jewel in teh black of space was the first thing to catch his eye, and then the next were the myriads of silver points that were strewn about the black canvas behind it. Then the bright red face of Echo as she stared somewhere below his field of vision, presumably his chest, was the next object to seize his gaze. Blue eyes narrowed at nothing as the mind behind them tried to discern the importance of the position of her eyes, and the hue of her cheeks.

According to the galactic basic dictionary, a blush was, "to redden, as from embarrassment or shame." Delta blinked, which was his only physical response to Echo completely pinning him to the ground. Why would she be embarrassed to be staring? Again, he blinked, the grip of his hands slackened subconsciously... allowing her to steal his only means of self defense from him. How did a blush apply to her staring at him? The red headed woman's questions rang into deaf ears, simply because the man's brain was trying to work through the terrible puzzle. It was obvious that she didn't want him dead - he'd be dead already if that was the case - so what did she want?

"Why were you dancing with that woman?"

Those words, however, broke through the barriers between reality and Delta's thought processes. Blue eyes danced along the woman's face during the long silence that he took to fully examine the situation as a whole. Firstly... she didn't kill him when she had the chance. Or maim him. She simply pinned him to the ground, giving him the (slim) chance of recovering to kill her. Secondly, the image of her blushing as she stared at his bare chest. Thirdly, her face as she asked why he was dancing with that woman. What did those three facts point towards?

She was likely attracted, possibly infatuated with him. The memory of her sprawled out in his arms bleeding out, and the emotions attached, pointed towards the fact that he likely returned her sentiment... while in the right mind. "I... don't know. The woman was a Zeltron," his voice was cold and calculating, "so it was very likely that she was using pheromones, or her emotional projection on me. Quite possibly both."

[Squee]

She had twisted his hand enough that his grip was loose around the knife. In swift motion, she snagged it and then tossed it away. A moment later her mind registered the clatter as the weapon hit the floor. She completely released his hand, eyes down and studying Delta’s face. He was pretty still; not countering her motions or attempting to sit up. In fact, he hadn’t really fought back at all.

Was that a good or a bad thing? She wanted it to be good. She wanted to be looking down at his face and see that he recognized her. There was ice in his gaze and she wanted it melted. She wanted his brow higher, his face softer, just as it had been since the day after they’d left Green Meadows. Echo felt overwhelmed. She was drowning in clear desperation. She was clawing for the surface, searching for an answer, a solution, something. What would make Delta normal again? What would return him back to what she knew to be true since their escape?

She blinked as the efficient assassin within her crept back. Echo kept switching between the distraught woman and the assassin, like a viral glitch in a computer system. The stream of numbers ran smoothly until it scrolled over that equation that had inserted itself and disrupted how the electronic worked. It was unhealthy and it was dangerous. That feminine appeal was the virus and it caused extreme disturbance in Echo’s assassin computer functions. It brought in confusing numerals and icons and blinding pop-ups that severely distracted the secure killer.

She didn’t want to kill Delta, though. Just hold him hostage until she coaxed what information she wanted from him.

Of course, the information would relay back to the virus and feed it. It was the feminine part that wanted the answers, not the assassin.

So the virus had complete control over the computer already! It would use that computer to obtain its answers. Would it be satisfied then? A virus was never satisfied. It only wanted more until the computer finally shut down, gutted and beyond hope of repair. And then the computer would shut down. With one last, dying cough, the screen would fade to black, and without skillful hands it would never be revived.

Echo ground her knees into the points in Delta’s arms as she gnashed her teeth. Assassin. Feelings. Cold-blooded assassin. Feminine feelings. Computer assassin. Viral feelings. Computer. Virus. Back and forth, it was all so confusing and oh so frustrating. Echo didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think as she sat on Delta, waiting for his response.

"I... don't know. The woman was a Zeltron, so it was very likely that she was using pheromones, or her emotional projection on me. Quite possibly both."

His voice! His voice! Oh how WRONG his voice was! The virus invaded again, slamming against crumbling defensive walls and slipping through the cracks like hot blood over a grate. His voice was a cold dagger, stabbing at the virus, so hard that it shrieked and fled. It only wanted shelter. Yes, that was why it was attacking the hard drive. But, by having it in, it brought such pain. So much pain…

Her vision was blurring. What? What was happening? Before she could answer that question, a strong impulse overcame her. Without thinking about it, her hand coiled back and struck, smacking Delta right across the cheek.

“Stop it!” she screamed before she knew she had. “Just stop it! Delta… Delta…” She stopped when a lump lodged in her throat and her blurry vision suddenly became clear again. Something rolled down her face and she could feel the detachment of the water. Echo saw the tear drop fall and splash against Delta’s forehead. She lifted a hand to her face, aghast when she found the wet trail the tear on her face. To her horror, another was falling from the other cheek. To prevent it, she swiped it away with the side of her hand. More were coming, out of her eyes. No! No, no, no, no, no!

She reared back, knees lifting from their resting places, and sat hard on Delta’s abdomen. There she covered her face, where she could hide away this shame. She couldn’t stop them from coming. Why couldn’t she? And what was this sick aching in her chest?

“Delta… where… where did you go?” Echo was speaking between gasping breaths and through the ball wrapped around her vocal cords. “Return… please, please return.” As she sniffled, she decided it was the most repulsive sound she’d ever made. “She took you away. I want you back… Come back.”

He still had the blaster. Her computer was too corrupted to act on that information. The virus simply didn’t care. He could do what he wanted with it.

“Come back… I don’t know how to fix you…” Such irony…

Her fingers separated, letting her peer from between the small sliver of space. Was his face going to change? Was the solid cold gone from his eyes? Or was he still steel?



Nothing’s what it seems to be,
I’m a replica, I’m a replica!
Empty shell inside of me,
I’m a replica, I’m a replica of me…
Are you gonna leave me now…?

((Replica lyrics, Sonata Arctica))