[M] Retribution IV: Rebirth

[Trixie]

The low buzz created by the fletching of an arrow narrowly missing her head made Trixie jerk to the left. Her opponent had been reported as a master marksman. She could feel the warm trickle of blood from the surface laceration the arrowhead had made as it gently touched her cheek on the way by. Twirling the gladius in her right hand she swapped hands with a gentle toss. Trixie pressed her right pointer finger to her cheek and examined the blood that had stained her skin. Whatever Jorgan had done, her senses were now all screaming at her brain to process information faster than ever before. She could hear the snap of the bow string as another arrow took flight. As if time had been standing still the entire time Trixie side stepped the projectile and gently lifted it out of its trajectory with her free hand. Pivoting on her heel she rotated around another arrow, this one just barely catching the leather armor she had strapped to her torso.

The bowstring snapped again and another arrow was in flight. In one graceful move Trixie snapped the arrow she had in her hand in two and threw the tip at her opponent's leg. Spinning around to meet the oncoming arrow she placed the palm of her hand to the flat part of her gladius and met the arrow with the broad side of the blade. With an upwards motion she deflected the arrow into the stands where it struck a food vendor. The crowd erupted into both laughter and cheers. The vendor was mugged for his edible merchandise and currency.

With a smirk Trixie watch as her marksman arena enemy pulled his previously launched arrowhead from his thigh. Stumbling backward he drew and knocked another arrow just as the now white haired mistress charged. Blood would be spilled and Beatrix would do anything to achieve it. The marksman loosed his arrow and with a fleshy thud it landed just under his enemies left collarbone, but it did nothing to halt the progress of her stampede. Blood sprayed Trixie in the face as she drove her sword upward through his abdomen and under his ribs. Twisting the blade she pierced through his back side. Not satisfied she ripped the arrow from her shoulder and plunged it into his eye socket before wrenching his head to the side. Exposing her newly grown fangs she bit down hard on his neck and ripped his throat out. Blood gushed from the open wound, covering the both of them. With an enraged battle cry Trixie pushed her dying opponent to the ground.

As his blood pooled on the sand covered arena floor the spectators stood to cheer for her victory. A horn signalled the end of the match and the gates built into the walls of the ring opened. Sia Morelli, head of security for the female pit fighters, exited from beneath the stands to escort Trixie back to the holding area. She was wielding her trademark bat and being followed by her hand chosen bodyguards.

“Prisoner 11256, congratulations on your victory. Come with me back to holding.” Sia commanded as she unleashed a nasty swing to the back of the white haired mistress’ head.

With a snap of her fingers Sia’s guards carried the unconscious Trixie towards the exit of the ring. A brilliant display of colours flashed before the indentured warrior as she was bludgeoned into a deep slumber. Beatrix saw Nova crying in her apartment, the battle where she was sucked into wherever she currently presided. It was all violently erased by the permanent scowl of that woman who looked just like her. Those glowing pink eyes. She had seemed to know something about what was happening.

Those eyes.