06-21-2018, 08:26 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-21-2018, 08:31 AM by PepsiWhirda.)
Whirda's victorious grin faded as a familiar tug on her navel heralded her transport from the arena. Through a whirlwind of color and sound she tumbled, before arriving on unsteady legs in the familiar corridors of the Syntech facility she now called home.
“One step closer,” came again the preternatural rasp of her shadeborn alter ego before its presence faded. With its exit, so too fled the adrenaline that had sustained Whirda through the battle. While not seriously injured, a profound fatigue seeped into her very core—a callous reminder that victory against any opposing Prime came at a steep cost.
She replayed the skirmish in her head. Their opponents, in defiance of Whirda’s sharp instincts, had proved formidable indeed. There was no doubt she and Yuuka had been their betters, but the battle had pushed even mighty Whirda to the precipice of defeat, forced to rely on her foul counterpart to complete the vicious business of their victory.
Yuuka. The reminder of her companion’s reckless tactics called a scowl to Whirda’s sharp features. In many long minutes of relentless combat, the most stinging wounds Whirda had sustained had been at the hands of her own ally—not their foes. And on top of that, she had been forced to expend monumental energy coming to Yuuka’s defense when the young magician had unleashed her most potent attack.
As if in response to Whirda’s heightening anger, a flash of light delivered a charred and limping Yuuka to her side. The woman seemed not to notice her at first. One eye had swollen shut from the impact of her staff-wielding foe’s final assault. Petals from the wildflowers still limning her battered form drifted to the floor at their feet, torn and smoldering.
The Youkai noticed Whirda then, a weary grin creasing the mass of bruises that had once been her delicate face. “A fine fight,” she said, “you are—”
Whirda seized Yuuka by the collar with one hand and slammed her into the wall, blasting the breath from her lungs. A cloud of sickly sweet aroma filled the air, dizzying Whirda, almost as if the very flora wreathing her green-haired companion had risen to Yuuka’s defense. Whirda brought her face up close to the woman’s, the sheer intensity of her gaze sending a shiver of fear down the normally unflappable Yuuka’s spine.
“If you ever strike me again, in error or otherwise,” Whirda warned coldly, “it will be your final mistake.”
“It was necessary,” Yuuka protested, despite her better judgement. “You were outnumbered, your reactions magically slowed.”
Whirda did not relent. “I feared them not,” she spat. “The only attack I fear is the one I cannot anticipate—the one that came from your weapon.”
Yuuka opened her mouth to reply, but before she could a swarm of people came around the corner and surrounded them, all talking at once. Some of them held devices like the one Whirda had seen in the Syntech tent in Costa Del Sol, while others thrust unfamiliar weapons—short, mace-like things with meshed metal orbs at their tips—into Whirda’s face. Instinctively, she flinched back and relinquished her hold on Yuuka, drawing her daggers in the face of what she perceived to be new foes. If anything, her actions only intensified their rabid glee. They crowded in closer, their voices blending together into a single unintelligible blur.
“They are microphones,” Yuuka said gently. “To record your words.” Whirda did not reply, but slipped her daggers back into their sheaths.
A woman’s voice emerged from the cacophony. “Whirda Windstrom! Becky Mills, Omniverse News Network. Huge fan. Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions about your big win?!”
Whirda fixed the woman with a stare so chilling it would have set a seasoned Prime back on their heels. But Becky Mills was a journalist, not a Prime, and the stare only heightened her enthusiasm.
“That’s perfect,” she gushed. “Try to look into the camera, so the viewers can enjoy that classic Whirda intensity.”
At a loss for words, Whirda glowered at the spectacle. She turned and shouldered past Yuuka roughly, stalking down the corridor toward her quarters. The green-haired Youkai watched her go with a troubled frown. She wondered, and not for the first time, if her partnership with the brooding Prime was a blessing, or a curse.
“One step closer,” came again the preternatural rasp of her shadeborn alter ego before its presence faded. With its exit, so too fled the adrenaline that had sustained Whirda through the battle. While not seriously injured, a profound fatigue seeped into her very core—a callous reminder that victory against any opposing Prime came at a steep cost.
She replayed the skirmish in her head. Their opponents, in defiance of Whirda’s sharp instincts, had proved formidable indeed. There was no doubt she and Yuuka had been their betters, but the battle had pushed even mighty Whirda to the precipice of defeat, forced to rely on her foul counterpart to complete the vicious business of their victory.
Yuuka. The reminder of her companion’s reckless tactics called a scowl to Whirda’s sharp features. In many long minutes of relentless combat, the most stinging wounds Whirda had sustained had been at the hands of her own ally—not their foes. And on top of that, she had been forced to expend monumental energy coming to Yuuka’s defense when the young magician had unleashed her most potent attack.
As if in response to Whirda’s heightening anger, a flash of light delivered a charred and limping Yuuka to her side. The woman seemed not to notice her at first. One eye had swollen shut from the impact of her staff-wielding foe’s final assault. Petals from the wildflowers still limning her battered form drifted to the floor at their feet, torn and smoldering.
The Youkai noticed Whirda then, a weary grin creasing the mass of bruises that had once been her delicate face. “A fine fight,” she said, “you are—”
Whirda seized Yuuka by the collar with one hand and slammed her into the wall, blasting the breath from her lungs. A cloud of sickly sweet aroma filled the air, dizzying Whirda, almost as if the very flora wreathing her green-haired companion had risen to Yuuka’s defense. Whirda brought her face up close to the woman’s, the sheer intensity of her gaze sending a shiver of fear down the normally unflappable Yuuka’s spine.
“If you ever strike me again, in error or otherwise,” Whirda warned coldly, “it will be your final mistake.”
“It was necessary,” Yuuka protested, despite her better judgement. “You were outnumbered, your reactions magically slowed.”
Whirda did not relent. “I feared them not,” she spat. “The only attack I fear is the one I cannot anticipate—the one that came from your weapon.”
Yuuka opened her mouth to reply, but before she could a swarm of people came around the corner and surrounded them, all talking at once. Some of them held devices like the one Whirda had seen in the Syntech tent in Costa Del Sol, while others thrust unfamiliar weapons—short, mace-like things with meshed metal orbs at their tips—into Whirda’s face. Instinctively, she flinched back and relinquished her hold on Yuuka, drawing her daggers in the face of what she perceived to be new foes. If anything, her actions only intensified their rabid glee. They crowded in closer, their voices blending together into a single unintelligible blur.
“They are microphones,” Yuuka said gently. “To record your words.” Whirda did not reply, but slipped her daggers back into their sheaths.
A woman’s voice emerged from the cacophony. “Whirda Windstrom! Becky Mills, Omniverse News Network. Huge fan. Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions about your big win?!”
Whirda fixed the woman with a stare so chilling it would have set a seasoned Prime back on their heels. But Becky Mills was a journalist, not a Prime, and the stare only heightened her enthusiasm.
“That’s perfect,” she gushed. “Try to look into the camera, so the viewers can enjoy that classic Whirda intensity.”
At a loss for words, Whirda glowered at the spectacle. She turned and shouldered past Yuuka roughly, stalking down the corridor toward her quarters. The green-haired Youkai watched her go with a troubled frown. She wondered, and not for the first time, if her partnership with the brooding Prime was a blessing, or a curse.
![[Image: drink-pepsi-cola.jpg]](https://lph5i1b6c053kq7us26bdk75-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/drink-pepsi-cola.jpg)