06-21-2018, 06:59 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-22-2018, 05:36 AM by Bandit With No Name.)
The woman awoke in the flash of light, immediately thrashing up from her back, her arms whipping around violently as several burly men moved in to restrain her.
With a sweep of her arm one of the thick, bald men slammed into a nearby wall, and a firm punch to the ear with her now free arm crumpled the other.
Her wild eyes darted about for a moment before she realized where she was and fell back into the hospital bed with a pained sigh.
Noticing she was holding something, she lifted her hand to see a still clenched fist in it, severed at the wrist. A black glove was wrapped around it, and she immediately recognized it as Makoto's. “Heh. Nice,” she said, sweat beginning to roll down her pale forehead.
She shifted slightly, then winced as the bedsheets caught something and twisted it about in her ribs. Reaching down she pulled free the foot long dagger from her side, instantly feeling a warm flow gush forth from within her. “Probably should have left that in,” she rasped.
“Probably not, you were technically dead for a few minutes already,” a doctor said flippantly as she speed-walked into the room, the sound of a chaotic ER roaring behind her before the door shut. “We're busy enough with the end of the first round, you shouldn't make it any harder for us.” She held a large pad up and tapped a few parts of the screen. “Looks like you've got about three minutes until your heart stops, so please place your toys in a tray and we'll get to work.”
She looked up to see the nameless woman already unconscious, her arms look at her side with a trophy in either hand, a dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth.
---
Kerrigan lounged in a seat on the periphery of the nexus of the facility, idly observing the primes and spectators rush from room to room with an elbow planted on her crossed legs.
More than a few of the interviewers had come to see her, asking their inane questions, and she had gotten all that she wanted from them. Fans bustled and snickered from afar, but her commanding presence and even more commanding expression of disinterest had kept them at bay.
A blob of bright pink hair elbowed it's way through the roving masses, and an n irate voice shot, “Excuse you!” but the person who owned it didn't seem too invested in their complaint.
Caret sprinted up to the titanic woman and there her arms out to hug her, only to halt her advance in the knick of time. Balanlara followed after her, weaving through the crowd with the faintest of a smile on her lips.
“THAT WAS AMAZING!” Caret screeched. “You were like, ‘Hahaha, you weren't expecting THAT, were you?’ and then you were all BWUAAAAAM and threw all that stuff at the guy and then he was like, 'HIYAAAA,’ but YOU were like, ‘You think I didn't expect that?’ and then you had your crazy snake things be like, 'HSSST,’ and shoot him with a bunch of crazy needles?” Each one of her elaborate recountings was punctuated with a dramatic gesticulation and thematically appropriate face, her voice twisting into poor impressions of each speaker.
Kerrigan started at the bouncing mechanic and perked an eyebrow. “Indeed,” she replied with all the enthusiasm of a lounging cat.
“Anyways,” Caret sheepishly replied, now ashamed if her childish enthusiasm, “it was really cool.”
The Eldar stepped up to her side. “It was quite an engaging match,” she said with a silken tone that bounced through Kerrigan's mind in a way she couldn't help but recognize being similar to her own. “Such passion. Such pain. An excellent display.”
“It was a shame we had to watch it on a screen,” Caret lamented. “I figured if we came we'd at least be able to sit in the stands. They were empty anyways!”
“Indeed,” Balanlara concurred, “it would have been favorable to be closer to the action.”
Kerrigan seemed happy to allow the secondaries to speak but when they turned to her she offered a sly smile. “Unfortunate for them that they had to meet us so early in the competition. Those that make it to the finals will last least be spared the embarrassment of being ejected in the first round.”
“Damn straight,” the bandit boomed as she sauntered through the doorway, adjusting the black glove around her right hand, flexing her fingers in the new leather. “Poor dudes never had a chance.” She adjusted the new sheath on her hip and grinned devilishly at her partner. She plodded over to get friends, throwing an arm over either shoulder. “But serious, glad we put in a good show for the dudes back home.”
“I cannot believe you pulled that stunt,” Caret said incredulously.
The woman boomed out a laugh, “Hey, a ring out is a ring out. They never said dying was a disqualification.” She tilted her chin up towards Kerrigan, “How's that little dude doing, anyway?”
The Queen of Blades unfolded her legs and swung to her feet. “The zergling?”
“I guess?” She shrugged, “The smaller one that rode my fat ass to Valhalla.”
“Mm,” she hummed noncommittally. “It is fine, I suppose. It will be fully functional for our next fight.”
The nameless woman unslung herself from her companions. “Can I see it again? Give a treat or some shit for being so fucking awesome?”
The infested woman blinked and waved her hand dismissively. “I suppose.”
The metal flooring of the Syntech hallway shuddered and trembled for a moment before ripping open on a spray of sparks and wires. Long, blade tipped stalks emerged from below, followed by a snarling head as it gnashed and clawed through the infrastructure.
“Holy shit,” the woman guffawed, kneeling down beside it as it thrashed its way fully from the ground. “I love this little bastard! He's so goddamn cute!” She looked up to the Queen who had just summoned her vassal. “What's its name?”
Kerrigan chortled, “Name? Why would it need a name.” She rolled her clawed hand as she elucidated, “It's alive. it serves me. That's where everything important about it begins and ends."” She sighed, “Besides, it is just another tool of the Swarm. The Zerg do not have names.”
“Daw, bullshit!” the warrior shot back, teasing. She slowly extended a hand towards its head as she spoke, it snapping and hissing as she did so. “Every pet needs a name.”
“Is that why you've got one?” Caret snipped, but the bandit ignored her.
“It's not a… pet,” Kerrigan said with a slight edge. “It is a zergling.”
The meter tall monster lashed out and bit down on the marauder’s arm, a trickle of blood springing forth instantly. She jerked back, sliding it along the ground as it refused to let go, instead whipping its head around ruthlessly. “But look at it!” she said, wincing as she attempted to wrest control of her limb, eventually thumping it between is myriad eyes. “It’s so friendly!”
Kerrigan's eyebrow perked up. “If that’s what you think.”
“Here,” the nameless woman retrieved a small tin from her belt, opening it to reveal a well-used cake of white grease. She smeared it onto her fingers and hastily drew over the creature’s textured head. When she was finished, something akin to her own warpaint was left behind. “Now it knows it’s special. And I'll call it, uh...” she paused and looked to the rep behind her for guidance. Neither seemed much to say, and she ran her finger over her chin. “Zergling. Um.” She snapped her fingers, “Zig! Its name is Zig.”
She glanced between the collected group. “Get it? It's like short for Zergling. Right?” after a long, wordless pause she sheepishly grinned and threw her thumb towards the food court. “Drink?”
With a sweep of her arm one of the thick, bald men slammed into a nearby wall, and a firm punch to the ear with her now free arm crumpled the other.
Her wild eyes darted about for a moment before she realized where she was and fell back into the hospital bed with a pained sigh.
Noticing she was holding something, she lifted her hand to see a still clenched fist in it, severed at the wrist. A black glove was wrapped around it, and she immediately recognized it as Makoto's. “Heh. Nice,” she said, sweat beginning to roll down her pale forehead.
She shifted slightly, then winced as the bedsheets caught something and twisted it about in her ribs. Reaching down she pulled free the foot long dagger from her side, instantly feeling a warm flow gush forth from within her. “Probably should have left that in,” she rasped.
“Probably not, you were technically dead for a few minutes already,” a doctor said flippantly as she speed-walked into the room, the sound of a chaotic ER roaring behind her before the door shut. “We're busy enough with the end of the first round, you shouldn't make it any harder for us.” She held a large pad up and tapped a few parts of the screen. “Looks like you've got about three minutes until your heart stops, so please place your toys in a tray and we'll get to work.”
She looked up to see the nameless woman already unconscious, her arms look at her side with a trophy in either hand, a dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth.
---
Kerrigan lounged in a seat on the periphery of the nexus of the facility, idly observing the primes and spectators rush from room to room with an elbow planted on her crossed legs.
More than a few of the interviewers had come to see her, asking their inane questions, and she had gotten all that she wanted from them. Fans bustled and snickered from afar, but her commanding presence and even more commanding expression of disinterest had kept them at bay.
A blob of bright pink hair elbowed it's way through the roving masses, and an n irate voice shot, “Excuse you!” but the person who owned it didn't seem too invested in their complaint.
Caret sprinted up to the titanic woman and there her arms out to hug her, only to halt her advance in the knick of time. Balanlara followed after her, weaving through the crowd with the faintest of a smile on her lips.
“THAT WAS AMAZING!” Caret screeched. “You were like, ‘Hahaha, you weren't expecting THAT, were you?’ and then you were all BWUAAAAAM and threw all that stuff at the guy and then he was like, 'HIYAAAA,’ but YOU were like, ‘You think I didn't expect that?’ and then you had your crazy snake things be like, 'HSSST,’ and shoot him with a bunch of crazy needles?” Each one of her elaborate recountings was punctuated with a dramatic gesticulation and thematically appropriate face, her voice twisting into poor impressions of each speaker.
Kerrigan started at the bouncing mechanic and perked an eyebrow. “Indeed,” she replied with all the enthusiasm of a lounging cat.
“Anyways,” Caret sheepishly replied, now ashamed if her childish enthusiasm, “it was really cool.”
The Eldar stepped up to her side. “It was quite an engaging match,” she said with a silken tone that bounced through Kerrigan's mind in a way she couldn't help but recognize being similar to her own. “Such passion. Such pain. An excellent display.”
“It was a shame we had to watch it on a screen,” Caret lamented. “I figured if we came we'd at least be able to sit in the stands. They were empty anyways!”
“Indeed,” Balanlara concurred, “it would have been favorable to be closer to the action.”
Kerrigan seemed happy to allow the secondaries to speak but when they turned to her she offered a sly smile. “Unfortunate for them that they had to meet us so early in the competition. Those that make it to the finals will last least be spared the embarrassment of being ejected in the first round.”
“Damn straight,” the bandit boomed as she sauntered through the doorway, adjusting the black glove around her right hand, flexing her fingers in the new leather. “Poor dudes never had a chance.” She adjusted the new sheath on her hip and grinned devilishly at her partner. She plodded over to get friends, throwing an arm over either shoulder. “But serious, glad we put in a good show for the dudes back home.”
“I cannot believe you pulled that stunt,” Caret said incredulously.
The woman boomed out a laugh, “Hey, a ring out is a ring out. They never said dying was a disqualification.” She tilted her chin up towards Kerrigan, “How's that little dude doing, anyway?”
The Queen of Blades unfolded her legs and swung to her feet. “The zergling?”
“I guess?” She shrugged, “The smaller one that rode my fat ass to Valhalla.”
“Mm,” she hummed noncommittally. “It is fine, I suppose. It will be fully functional for our next fight.”
The nameless woman unslung herself from her companions. “Can I see it again? Give a treat or some shit for being so fucking awesome?”
The infested woman blinked and waved her hand dismissively. “I suppose.”
The metal flooring of the Syntech hallway shuddered and trembled for a moment before ripping open on a spray of sparks and wires. Long, blade tipped stalks emerged from below, followed by a snarling head as it gnashed and clawed through the infrastructure.
“Holy shit,” the woman guffawed, kneeling down beside it as it thrashed its way fully from the ground. “I love this little bastard! He's so goddamn cute!” She looked up to the Queen who had just summoned her vassal. “What's its name?”
Kerrigan chortled, “Name? Why would it need a name.” She rolled her clawed hand as she elucidated, “It's alive. it serves me. That's where everything important about it begins and ends."” She sighed, “Besides, it is just another tool of the Swarm. The Zerg do not have names.”
“Daw, bullshit!” the warrior shot back, teasing. She slowly extended a hand towards its head as she spoke, it snapping and hissing as she did so. “Every pet needs a name.”
“Is that why you've got one?” Caret snipped, but the bandit ignored her.
“It's not a… pet,” Kerrigan said with a slight edge. “It is a zergling.”
The meter tall monster lashed out and bit down on the marauder’s arm, a trickle of blood springing forth instantly. She jerked back, sliding it along the ground as it refused to let go, instead whipping its head around ruthlessly. “But look at it!” she said, wincing as she attempted to wrest control of her limb, eventually thumping it between is myriad eyes. “It’s so friendly!”
Kerrigan's eyebrow perked up. “If that’s what you think.”
“Here,” the nameless woman retrieved a small tin from her belt, opening it to reveal a well-used cake of white grease. She smeared it onto her fingers and hastily drew over the creature’s textured head. When she was finished, something akin to her own warpaint was left behind. “Now it knows it’s special. And I'll call it, uh...” she paused and looked to the rep behind her for guidance. Neither seemed much to say, and she ran her finger over her chin. “Zergling. Um.” She snapped her fingers, “Zig! Its name is Zig.”
She glanced between the collected group. “Get it? It's like short for Zergling. Right?” after a long, wordless pause she sheepishly grinned and threw her thumb towards the food court. “Drink?”