INFILTRATING GINYU SCHOOL [x2 TRAINING, CLOSED]

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

3:00

The meatshield was already paying for the initial investment in effort. Lucas made a note to keep the idea in the mind in the future, human bodies were surprisingly durable under the proper circumstances.

Not that they lasted forever, of course.

Finally letting go, he managed an after-image that put him square behind one of the larger opponents. A swift kick to the groin and then a knee to the face as he toppled was enough to take him out of the picture. With their leader and brute gone, from then it was a massacre. There was barely any effort required: uncoordinated and horribly outmatched it was the work of literally seconds to take them apart.

Not literally took them apart, that would have been wasteful energy-wise. Stepping over the blood and bodies that was his handiwork, he approached the two other groups. Orange had held them off well but attrition was clearly beginning to take its toll. With everyone so focused on their own fracas his measured steps just took him close enough to avoid a flying body every now and then.

It wasn't very impressive to wait for kills like a scavenger but Lucas in the state he was in was in no mood for foibles.

FIGHTERS LEFT: 12

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

3:30

It took Orange half a minute to whittle down the opposition to its barest bones. Half a minute in which some of the fighters engaging him had noticed the notable lack of activity in the other quadrant of the gravity chamber and at had broken off and sent a number after Lucas, misjudging their own strength or allowing desperation to warp their judgment.

A blow to the back of the neck, a knife-like jab to the temple and a scything kick that broke through a well-rehearsed guard and to the fragile flesh of the head beneath took care of that threat.

All that was left when Lucas had taken care of that business was Orange who was staring at him with an indecipherable expression. He bled heavily from several areas, most notably a large gash over his eye that was no doubt wreaking havoc with his depth perception. A pronounced limp and favoring of his left hand made it clear that he was in no position to fight at his best.

And still he bared his teeth.

"This is aMIRACLE. The motherFUCKING real thing. ALL scarLET sacredness in the only field worth calling HEAVEN. Don't you AGREE, friend?"

What a psycho.

FIGHTERS LEFT: 2

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

3:45

Lucas expected Orange to continue recuperating.

Apparently not.

It was only in the space of a blink but one moment Orange was there, blood dripping to the ground in careful, clockwork drops and the next he was in Lucas' face, grin overshadowing everything else.

The first blow nearly took out his eyes, he just saw the tips of the other fighter's nails, cruelly sharp, hanging in the air before them and just managed to duck, feeling long furrows being dug across the skin of his forehead. He lashed out but missed - the other fighter was faster than he was by almost twofold.

Unconsciously, Lucas began to smile.

Orange licked the tips of his fingers. "YOU're not going to DISAppoint, are YOU?"

There was something off about how the other fighter spoke and comported himself. Something ever so slightly wrong about he nonchalantly stood in the killing field, taking the time to act in a more-irrational-than-average manner. Something that seemed almost perverse.

But not to Lucas.

To Lucas he seemed to be the only opponent in a long time that made any sense whatsoever. And was a psycho.

Those things were not mutually exclusive.

He pulled off another after-image. The battle in the gravity had not been long - minutes at best - but this was a deathmatch and he had already had and lost his second wind long ago and was running on fumes. Orange avoided his blow easily, struck out, scoring a glancing blow across his ribs that went straight through his shirt and the weighted clothes beneath to dig out another crimson line before vanishing to the other side of the room.

FIGHTERS LEFT: 2

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

4:00

"Your blood tastes like CHERRY MINTS." Orange said, taking another lick from his blood splattered nails. The blood was all over him, really. He was a somewhat messy fighter. "Isn't THAT neat?"

Lucas found it unlikely not to mention irrelevant but didn't say anything. Carefully and with minimum fuss he brought his arms into a guarded position, one extended the other at his side; swept his leg back so he would present the smallest possible profile to his assailant and then took a deep breath. He didn't blink. Couldn't afford it.

Sweat and blood was dripping down his forehead. Soon it would enter his eye.

Orange smiled, waiting for the inevitable moment to occur. Lucas kept himself still as the bead of blood moved down his head, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and his focus at its sharpest. He could see Orange's wounds pulse with their own grim logic, hear how his breathing seemed a little ragged despite the smiles, smelled the exhaustion.

Then he blinked as the blood entered his eye and the fight was over.

FIGHTERS LEFT: 1

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

4:59

Orange took a while to die.

His speed had been his undoing. His speed and his predictability. If the other fighter had gone for anything other than his eyes, he would have probably managed to defeat the assassin, encumbered as he was by his weighted training clothes.

Instead, the moment he let the battle be dictated by that target and the timing of that drop of blood rolling down to hit Lucas' eye the battle was already over. All it had taken was a perfectly timed counter to hit him square in the jaw and shatter his neck. It was a death sentence to all but the most sophisticated of medical technologies available and to everyone in this room, not an option.

He still tried to speak anyway despite his broken neck and paralysis and all the rest. Lucas wasn't interested in what he had to say, content to hobble off, maimed and injured. He had bones that required setting, stitches that needed stitching and the less said about painkillers the better.

It took Lucas a while to reach the door. Without the adrenaline provided by imminent death he could feel himself stagger under his own weight, could feel his hunger growl at him. In the end he couldn't even make it to the door, succumbing to the weight of his wounds and exhaustion. Although he'd executed a textbook counter that didn't mean that Orange hadn't somehow managed to take out a chunk of his shoulder.

As he fell down he thought he could hear someone say:

"YOU ALL FAIL."

[Lucas D. Hargrave]

EPILOGUE

Lucas woke up later in the dark surrounded by corpses.

He dragged himself up, the stench of blood and viscera making him wrinkle his nose despite himself. Then the pain hit and the urge to scream became inexcusably high. He indulged himself: he was alone and it was unlikely someone was waiting for him to give a sign of life and kill him where he lay.

Also, it kind of hurt. A lot.

That done, he made his way to his feet. Shaking off the lingering numbness that was either pain folded back onto itself so many times that it had become numbness or just genuine lack of feeling, he noticed that gravity had been apparently powered down. Taking a halting step he made it to the door.

Welp.

This job had been unsuccessful.

Oh well. It wasn't like they'd ever expected him to make it in on his first try.

[Genkishi]

Lucas D. Hargrave gets +1,200 PL.