Mar 31, 2011 09:49
[ff7] tifa lockhart,
[sin city] miho,
[dc] clark 'superman' kent,
[naruto] uzumaki naruto,
[resident evil] jill valentine,
[firefly] river tam,
[naruto] uchiha sasuke,
[naruto] tenten,
!crematoria,
[ff13] claire 'lightning' farron
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But the blood of criminals wasn't the only stain on her hands.
She'd killed reanimated friends, teammates -- Forrest's butchered face, his bright, lifeless eyes, would stick with her for the rest of her life -- but even that had never prepared her for Africa. Not even close.
She'd come to terms with the fact that the unforgettable memories, the faces and screams that woke her up at night, would be her own form of punishment for as long as she lived; a reminder, a backlash for not being strong enough because no one would ever hold her responsible for Wesker's crimes -- they only saw her as another victim. Jill didn't enjoy it, of course, and she wasn't the type to inflict punishment on herself, but she was stuck with the fate either way.
Or so she'd thought. Someone else knew -- someone else was aware of her sins and someone else was going to make sure she paid for them. That was all she was told, anyway, upon arriving here, her questions silent because the virus didn't care for curiosity and it still ran rampant through her bloodstream. When next she gained consciousness, her veins still burned around P30's influence -- the steady, external pulse on her chest still beat, still concealed -- but she could already sense a difference; not physical, but perhaps her long-term bonding with the virus had left her closer to it than she'd thought.
Her programming. Someone had screwed with her programming. The subtle tension in her limbs, the increased attention in her body's movements -- she was on the offensive. They'd put her on the hunt for something -- someone -- and judging by the open door on her cell, they expected her to start right away.
Into the hall -- noise everywhere, constant, making her tense a fraction further -- but no sign of life. She stayed close to the wall, her movements quick but silent, and it didn't take her long to find one -- distant, but discernible. Female, young, well-built, likely athletic: the virus analyzed the potential threat with cool calculation, ignoring as it always did Jill's attempts at exerting influence over her body, her objections to what she knew it was looking for.
[ooc; ...because their sisterhood and penchant for beating the crap out of each other totes transcends all universes and otherwise, y/n? And the header is so lovely, btw. ♥~~]
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She had been blind with revenge at the time, too focused on finding some sort of retribution for the destruction of her home and village that it had never occurred to her that... the people she was helping to attack -- the people Tifa was helping to bring to ruin by going after the ShinRa Corps -- were just as innocent as she had been. Her fault, her fault, all her fault... It was a consuming thought that had haunted Tifa - still haunted her from time to time. And it would always be her biggest regret.
Even so, this was a strange way of punishing her for it.
Looking out in the rock field that would be their home and life for the duration of their stay, the young woman scanned every single face that her gaze fall upon, hoping beyond hope that there would be one she recognized. But as it would happen each and every day she had been here, the effort came with no positive result. But Tifa was still hopeful.
Wiping at the light mist of sweat on her brow, she moved along the scaffolding without a word. Dawn had already came and gone. Now it was only a matter of waiting out the rest of her day once more.
[ OoC: Thx! It's actually a line from the movie that Vin's character says. Awesome, isn't it? And lol, the girls must have a mental beacon/signal locked on each other or something. xD; ]
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Wesker had sent Jill on very few assassination missions, most of those being passive "If you happen to see him, kill him" orders, but the simple stalk-watch-pounce mindset was instinct rooted in even the basest of animals and the virus would have known it regardless. She continued to follow the other, keeping at a good distance, only drawing closer when the number of passersby had diminished, the closest person far enough away that she would see them coming if they approached, no matter what their speed.
As for Jill's own state -- it was too small for her to notice, but P30 had. The artificial strength outlining her muscles was... not optimal. Her parameters had been adjusted, as well; illogical when utmost performance (perfection) was the desired output, but she didn't dwell on the observation. She'd been built for killing and fighting, not thinking.
At the first chance, Jill moved -- nearly silent, low enough to be on all fours but her superior balance sparing her hands as she darted behind the younger female. She straightened up less than a yard away, aiming to jam an elbow into the space just below her target's neck: take her by surprise, stun her. Only after that would she lock an arm around her throat to choke her.
[ooc; oooooh, nice! It totes fits, too. |3 lmao yeaaaaah, they kinda do. XD]
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Try as you might, Tifa's learned to live every day of her life with caution. There'll be no sneaking up on this girl.
With a seemingly effortless turn, the former barmaid moved just enough to catch the arm aimed at her back. And with a strong grip, she proceeded to flip the mystery attacker over her shoulder and towards the far end of the scaffold. When someone moves to strike against you, it was better to react and ask questions later. You stay alive longer that way.
[ OoC: It's a 'sister from another mister' thing. ♥ ]
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That alone made her eyes widen slightly, but she tensed too late and lost her footing and balance for it. Jill cried out as her back met the ground yards down, but it was in surprise more than pain -- she was down for only half a second before she recovered, flipping rapidly into a tense crouch to right herself and round on her enemy.
Her eyes -- hard, blank, narrow, not a shred of emotion or recognition in them (the female was even younger than initially anticipated) -- regarded the other warily, analyzing a second time with this new information in mind. The woman was fast; Jill was unarmed, but that was fine. She'd been trained to view and use every part of her body, every movement, as a weapon and that was where her specialty and comfort lied -- hand-to-hand was the only thing he had taught her, after all, since precision could be learned well enough or simply more or less disregarded when carrying two SMGs. Up to now, those teachings had been more than sufficient.
Jill shifted her weight, remaining low. She was confident, but she was alert; the target's current threat level was now a vague estimate until she learned more. Caution would be exercised prior to a weakness deduction.
She hissed sharply -- partly in retaliation for that toss, partly in challenge. There was no better method of judgment than by observation: if the other could be provoked into moving first, just crossing that short distance between them would be enough for Jill to analyze her potential ability firsthand as well as her dedication to the fight, either of which could be exploited.
[ooc; always B3 <3]
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This one was a new one, though, one she had yet to encounter since her sentence began. And she -- because it was a she, that much Tifa could discern in the dim lighting -- seemed just as quick to recover as the rest, if not moreso, as if there was a purpose that needed to be fulfilled.
Seeing the other instantly flip back to her feet was enough of an alarm for Tifa to double her alertness. Then she hissed and the young woman knew she was in for an interesting fight, indeed. Already halfway to her fighting stance, fists balled and muscles poised to react at the first sign of movement, it was only a matter of when the other would decided to continue forward.
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Jill didn't hesitate beyond that thought -- striking first had its advantages. She would simply have to keep defense in mind more than usual. She remained close to the ground, aware hers was a unique (the only) style that took advantage of traditional fighting techniques, keeping her unpredictable and often out of reach when she stayed low while not sacrificing any of her abilities.
With no sign of preparation prior, she suddenly darted forward. Whatever the power adjustment, her speed was still at the peak of what was humanly possible here, and her strength was more than enough to crush a delicate human throat or break bones -- simple feats that anyone could perform if they tried. Jill could simply do it faster and with better precision.
He did always say he was so proud.
Still a ways out of arm's reach, she abruptly dropped to the floor to slide forward on her hip, aiming a simultaneous sweep at the enemy's ankles and an upward kick at her chest, giving her two areas to defend, two maneuvers to counter, all while Jill's attention -- and arms -- were free to coolly watch her reaction and act accordingly herself if needed.
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After learning the basics of hand-to-hand, being able to read her opponent had been one of the first lessons Master Zangan had taught her. And it had come in handy on several occasions, both on her journey through Gaia, and in her life in general. There were frequent customers at the bar who sometimes became irritable and, for lack of a better term, ballsy after they've had a few drinks in them. The sway and instability of their stance would have made them hard to handle for most, and if it weren't for her knowledgeable background on the subject, Tifa would have been out of business long ago. Even so, the low crouch and the way she carried herself made it hard for the young woman to predict what would happen next.
And in a blink, she seemed to phase out of sight in a blur.
The next sight that registered were of incoming feet speeding towards her at an amazing speed. Too amazing. And with two points of vulnerability to protect, it became a game of figuring out the best course of action within seconds that would save her from a huge backstep so early in the battle. Because, indeed, this was a battle from the looks of how serious the other woman seemed intent on attacking. And the best strategy in dealing with a ground assault? Take to the skies, she thought, thinking back to a time when the same tactic had been used against the armed forces of the WRO.
And it was with that thought that she jumped up and grabbed onto a thick pipe running overhead, lifting up her feet to avoid any further contact before dropping down again on the other side of the woman's slide. But before the other could normally recover, Tifa was already charging forward herself, turning towards the end to bring her foot down in a high arc intended to land squarely against the other's chest.
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She dug a heel into the floor to brake, following the younger woman's movements with a quick eye and instantly deducing the intention behind that attack--
The P30 virus was not capable of emotion. It was only what Wesker told it to be, and while that left room for certain quirks, as it were, it possessed no personality. It did not think beyond the boundaries he defined and it did not feel anything that was not physical or the simplest of psychological reactions -- surprise being one.
But it knew what it meant to be frustrated, to a degree. Its host's resistance, for one, was frustrating, an unnecessary and confusing setback that had been a painful battle all on its own in the first months. With time, it had learned the best methods of suppressing Jill's influence -- helped largely by its assisted evolution -- and these days it only had one weakness in its mental hold on her. A weakness who, fortunately, was not present.
So when she calculated where her opponent's blow would land, both instinct and habit moved her. A kick was nothing, nowhere near powerful enough to shatter the administration device, but that even beating on her chest was P30's lifeblood all the same and it could not be tampered with because only Wesker was permitted to touch it and she remembered how it felt, what it meant for that vulnerability to take damage--
Jill's hips twisted sharply, throwing her onto her knees and narrowly out of the path of that intended stomp; rather than pausing or retreating at that point, she kept moving, not really stopping in her low kneel before shifting her weight easily onto her left hand and bringing both knees together to aim a double blow at the back of her target's legs that contained most of her weight, trying to make the other buckle.
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There was no real intention in that blow, just that it was easily unpredictable and the quickest one she could think of under the circumstances. The other had been already crouched down low so anything involving her fist would've meant too much movement and a lot of openings for her opponent to take advantage of while she was struggling to find a good angle to come in. In moving out of the way of her strike, however, she had been provided with a brief glimpse at the machine attached to the other woman's chest. But before she could see the exact detailing, the other woman was moving and attacking, and it took all of Tifa's skill and learning to dodge that blow as well. Because from what little she had seen of the other, the young woman knew that if she had fallen then there would have been a small chance of getting up afterwards.
It would be hard to aim straight for it, she knew. The chest was one of the easiest places to protect. And one of the most vital. So many vital organs were caged within the ribs there, or even under the abdomen. Even with a normal human, it was only instinctual to ensure every single blow aimed for that area of the body needed to be intercepted. But in the few moments that she had fought against the woman, it became clear that there was certainly nothing normal about her.
Though the stomp had missed its intended target, the momentum behind it was still there. And if there was anything that would be useful in that moment, it was the quickness that would come from the residual energy that came from that move. Using it to her advantage, Tifa flipped forward, once to move her legs out of the way from receiving a swift double boot to the back of the knees, and again to ensure that her arms would miss the hit as well. And once she was on her feet again, the young woman twisted her hips and brought her foot around in a back kick aimed at whatever was leveled with the heel of her boot.
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Jill's abilities did have a glaring flaw. Stripped of her guns, she had to rely on her body as her weapon -- not a problem in terms of experience -- but her limbs could only reach so far. Without actual weapons, she was limited to fighting short range -- not an issue with her usual speed because she could cross distances quickly and easily enough, but now she was slower, limited, not as strong, and now tangling with someone who could be called level with her. It was a first -- for all her training, she'd never had to go up against anyone half as talented, and even Wesker, for all his ability, relied on his strength and speed (superior even to hers) to take the initiative and have the advantage. In that regard, Jill believed it probable that her fighting ability actually surpassed his.
So she was still thinking in terms of the normal expectation when she immediately moved, eager to put the opponent back within reach, inside her comfortable fighting zone, and end it. That expectation did not include a reaction that fast.
She tried to shift mid-dash, but only partially succeeded. In a last second jerk of her head, the kick missed Jill's face but connected solidly all the same with the side of her throat, made all the more effective by the edge of a heel and not a blunter object. It crushed the air she was exhaling, offsetting her along with her surprise enough for that subjective thing called gravity to suddenly -- briefly -- put her on her side and stop her trek.
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Tifa was a survivor.
Granted, there was a big part of her that despised fighting and battling in general. Too many people were hurt and too many innocent souls were always caught in the crossfire of their battles. But war and battles happened. And if she didn't fight for those who couldn't, who would? If this woman had finished with her sooner due to her lack of skills, she would have moved on to someone else. And that meant Tifa would have to do her best to stop her now before she could.
Adrenaline running through her veins and an instinct to protect even those she didn't know, Tifa rushed forward once more before the other could recover. And with all the strength still left to her, the young woman grabbed the front of the other's suit and dragged her across the floor. Then with a hard and forceful grunt, Tifa brought her up and pushed her hard against the nearest wall. Voice equally as hard and nearly as unwavering, she spat out the first question that came to mind. "What do you want?"
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Ricardo Irving, for example.
In short, Jill didn't open her mouth unless otherwise directed. As it was, this young woman's inquiry fell on deaf ears; Jill possessed no current obligation to answer.
Using that brief pause during the other's question, Jill recovered easily enough, making eye contact in a blank stare as her senses instantly took in everything else
Position estimated weight predicted strength and speed parameters most probable course of action based on anticipated fighting ability and projected moral standing heart rate breath rate--
and then acting with that same smooth speed, clamping hard onto the woman's shoulders and using her for balance as Jill brought her legs up, bracing her heels against the wall at her back and kicking off, forward, with all the strength she possessed to drive her opponent backwards and hopefully off her feet. On the ground -- if she could get her target on the ground and pin down her light weight with her own, there were any number of ways Jill could kill her at that point.
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...That is, until she ran into the railing...
It wasn't a hard bump or anything that could be considered particularly dangerous or disastrous for their fight, but it did manage to provide her with that last leg of support she had been missing and struggling to get while she nearly stumbled to stay on her feet. And in a move of desperation and last minute planning, she threw let her opponent slide over the edge.
But Tifa was not a killer, and would never choose to be. So she kept her grip, hard and strong, on the front of the other's body suit. And her muscles gave a light murmur in protest against the weight as it began to tear away at her remaining strength. But there had been a hollowness to the woman's stare earlier. And Tifa remembered feeling... pity for it as well as a sense of familiarity. She had seen the same look in Clouds eyes once before...
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She didn't wonder at the turn of events -- there was no change of feeling or intention in the virus's protocol, but it wasn't stupid, either. The most logical course of action for optimal self-preservation and continuation of her mission was to accept the assistance. She gripped the railing with her other hand as well and hoisted, pulling herself up, ignoring how the pressure on her suit had caused the zipper to slip down another couple inches, further revealing the mechanism on her chest.
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But even with her best effort and what still remained of her almost inhuman strength, she was met with resistance. And not just from the device itself.
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