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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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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It was enough for the embedded wires to pull at her skin and muscles -- enough for the virus' flow to be disrupted, however briefly, and Jill Valentine -- the real Jill Valentine -- was always desperate, always lurking and watching and waiting for an opening, and she seized this one before the virus could recover from its momentary lag.
Her left hand darted up, covering both the other woman's and the chest device -- but instead of resisting, Jill dug her fingers beneath the mechanism, down between its metal backing and the skin of her chest, and poured what strength she had into a rough pull. The effort incited a cry from her lips as the wires stretched and tugged, agitating old wounds and threatening to split her flesh, but she didn't relinquish in the slightest.
She had about two seconds, and then P30 recovered. Her pained yell hardened into a snarl, a frustrated and defiant cry that was more animal than human, and then time was moving again. She was high up enough now that she felt minimum danger of falling; her right hand grasped the railing while her leg instantly snaked up and over it to hook her knee around it, giving her a hold should she pitch backwards.
P30 did not know panic, and it did not know alarm -- but it knew caution and the circumstances were against it. Death was at her back and a threat in front -- a threat who was (impossibly) on her own level and who knew her weakness. She needed space, she needed time to think, and that was difficult at this short range. The hand she'd fleetingly lost control of was hers again: she instantly released the device and arched her arm back over her shoulder to aim a hasty punch at her opponent's face, wanting her away, needing a split-second of recuperation because that disruption had left her slightly winded and she needed to reconsider her strategy.
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For a brief few seconds, the both of them had been working together as one, fighting to rip the device off and allowing Tifa to see the real woman. Those few moments was enough to see that there were forces working to hide her away from the world for some other purpose. And for an instance, it was like there was still a spark of hope that... neither one would die or be seriously injured in this encounter. But just as quick as it had come, the woman she had wanted to meet was gone again, just like that.
The hit landed with the best of accuracy against her shoulder and jaw as the young woman tried her best to move out of the way. But for her own life and no other thought remaining but to hold on to that glimmer of life she wanted to save, Tifa didn't let go. And in keeping her hand there, fingers gripped as secured as she could in that brief moment of salvation, she pulled. And pulled pulled pulled with a hard stop of her foot against a lower rail until the both of them were pulled back on firm ground. And fighting to find a winner to this battle.
That was how it began. Soon though, Tifa knew, it would become a means for survival.
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Several sparks erupted from the device; the metal backing lifted a couple centimeters further off of her chest than usual.
She screamed. Angry, desperate, and knowing what the first mistake would cost, the virus forcefully subdued its host's struggles with an effort of will that was painful on its part, adding to the throbbing in their already sore skull.
Quickly, Jill turned the woman's momentum against her, moving with the pull on her chest to shove forward and drive her shoulder into the other's center of gravity, aiming to put them both on the ground. She caught the wrist below the offending hand, but the suit designed, in part, to minimally protect Jill now worked against her: she couldn't dig her fingernails into the soft space of skin between hand and arm, couldn't tear and shred through her opponent's skin until she found the radial artery and ripped it open. While Jill's fingers still gripped hard enough to bruise, her superhuman strength was gone -- and her muscles continued to spasm under the virus' pain of assault. Even as far as peak human ability went, she couldn't apply enough force to break the thin bones.
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She was not a hero like Cloud. But she was every bit in tune with her maternal instincts. And she was certainly a fighter. And every instinct telling her to hold on and hold on strong. Through the struggling, through the discomfort, through the pain. But with each passing second, that became more and more difficult to do.
She hit the ground hard, elbow first and against solid rock. And there was a moment where it seemed as if her entire body became numb with the shock of it. But Tifa was familiar with taking hard hits and getting a little scratched up along the way. All the same, it took every bit of conscious thought and forced awareness to keep holding on and fighting to pull the device off of her. Even with strong fingers pressing in to tear her bones apart from the rest up.
Using her free hand, she pushed back against the other's shoulder with all her might, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough.
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--but it never landed.
She froze halfway as the device reached its limits: the remaining wires slipped slowly, agonizing, from their places, not going easy but going, and Jill's vision flashed between light and dark as pain seemed to rip through every sensitive nerve. Her body went into an involuntary arch and she let go ago, hauling backwards -- but the motion only helped to tear the machine free faster with several whining tangs of the cords snapping free, barely audible under her cries.
She stumbled back, up and onto her precarious heels as her body continued to shudder, torn between both exhausted wills battling for control that was already lost. Jill barely felt the pain of her bleeding chest.
It didn't take long: she hit her knees, fell forward onto her arms, and from there hit her side, panting and gasping from fatigue that came from more than just the previous fight. Her shoulder twitched, her fingers scratched along the stone floor, but the virus was metabolizing. It was dying.
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She struggled like with every other battle that had her life hanging in the balance. And it was just as terrifying - just as heart-pounding - to have it come so very close to the end of her journey. There was a gasp here and a grunt there to keep her arm extended and her grip strong. A few moments of fearing the worse and realizing her best might just not be good enough this time around.
...But then the world seemed to pause.
There was a moment in every battle - an instance in every fight - where everything seemed to turn for the best. Or for the worse, depending on which side you stood on. This time, it seemed to be for Tifa's benefit.
The pull seemed a fraction easier, the stretch of the wires a few centimeters more than what she had been struggling with. And then with a physical snap, the young woman felt her hand jerk back towards the iron grating just above where her head rested. The reaction that followed after was almost instantaneous. As soon as the release registered in her mind, Tifa threw the device against the nearby rock wall. Her entire body relaxed in relieve while she took a moment to catch her breath. And then she was slowly easing herself up to see, for herself, whether all that fighting had been for a just cause. Or for no cause at all...
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Her breath took a long time to slow, seemingly longer due to the hot air that threatened to smother her sore lungs; even when her trembling had stopped, she was still panting, although much more quietly than before.
Only now did her injuries fully register, making Jill wince, but she didn't waste energy on anything more than that. It was gone -- the virus was gone once more, for now, and God help her if it came back again.
Slowly, painfully, and with a low, controlled grunt that said how much it cost her, Jill moved onto her back. It gave her just enough of an angle to tilt her head and observe the other woman, and that was what Jill did -- saying nothing right away, but just looking at her with calm, clear, and entirely human eyes, tinged with apology as they looked at the stranger as a person for the first time. Not a target.
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Her body seemed to sag, back curling forward and her arms laying limp beside her and in her lap. She had to force herself to take one deep breath to calm a little bit of those nerves that had been on high alert since the first attack. All the while, her eyes remained fixed with the other's gaze.
There was a softness in them that hadn't been present before. And although there was always the possibility of it being a cruel and twisted trick, given how fiercely the other woman had fought Tifa was almost certain that she was safe. They were both safe, at least for now. And for the moment, all she could do was watch and wait to see how things would progress now, after the device had been shattered and their battle ended.
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"Are you okay?"
The question was quiet, weak, tinged with some withheld emotion -- but audible. Just that much sent more pain through her, primarily agitating her bleeding chest and raw lungs, the latter of which were no longer supported by her virus-granted stamina -- which hadn't been that far above her usual stamina, actually. This place had an odd effect; she'd felt it herself, of course, being able to feel everything her alter ego did, but her counterpart's agitation had said even more. It was an unnatural limitation, of that she was sure -- but as for Jill, the real Jill, her strength, her stamina, everything was as it should have been. Normal.
As much as it hurt, she was grateful for it.
As such, fatigue was continuing to catch up to her at rapid pace, until she felt sure that she wouldn't be moving from this spot for a good while.
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She was wiping at the sweat on her brows then the words came, soft and sort of raspy in a way. Tifa only remembered a voice sounding that way when there was a strain. Given what she suspected and the shift in character after that device on her chest was ripped off, the young woman wasn't the least bit surprised.
Mind control and the like weren't easy things to recover from. Her time with Cloud after his episode proved that.
"A lot more than you are, it looks like..."
But there was still an innocent young woman. And there was still a bit of blood from the punctures in her chest that didn't seem to clot quite as quickly enough. So it was with a lean of her body forward that Tifa started crawling towards the other. And with a clean rip along the edge of her shirt, she took the cloth and pressed it to the other's wounds.
"...But I think we'll both survive."
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