Battle Begin!

Two fighters will be pitted against one another, in showdowns that will leave them all scarred, in one way or another. Some more than others... But these fighters are not your average brawlers, but skilled warriors going head-to-head in a battle to survive. But yet all of them are deceived... Let the Battle Begin.

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1. Such Innocence

The future. A grim and dark place of regression and turmoil. It's barren. It's bleak. It's blighted. Three centuries ago, a great war of unprecedented slaughter left the world scarred and divided. Our cities grew from sleek towers of shining glass and metal, to green, overgrown ruins as Mother Nature took her hold back on the world. She was waiting long enough for her chance, and finally, man has been brought low under her might again. 

Humans went back to scavenging, like a boy wondering through the remains of Detroit. A city that was once so populated and thriving, now a spawn of jungle and debris. The boy was but a teenager, carrying a crude rifle behind his shoulder. He walked in the ancient towers of brittle glass, looking at the strange, thin screens that lay cracked and misshapen with torn strands, coloured green and red, pertruding out of their backs. Hundreds of them, with funny looking chairs scattered everywhere, fallen or still staying upright. But he paid no mind to them, knowing they were old. Very old. 
He spied a lone deer, trotting along the pavement. It chewed on the rich green grass that peered through the tarmac. Sliding the rifle from his shoulder, he rested its base on a hanging window-sill bar. His sights were set, the cross hairs perfectly on centre with the doe's head, and he took the shot. But with such a loud sound echoing through the streets, he knew the hyena's were coming. 

He wrapped the deer's legs together with rope in a mad rush. He looked around constantly, making sure that the hyena's were nowhere to be seen. But the wind was silent, and no whisper nor footstep sounded from all around. He hefted the large amount of meat over his shoulders and slumbered away. 

"Where do you think your waltzing off too?" a voice said to him from behind. Deep and husky, like scrapping a cement block along the ground. The boy winced in surprise, and turned around. 

"Please... My little sister hasn't eaten in three days. This food might save her..." he squeaked, terrified at the sight of the figure. Ragged, torn and messy was his stature. Ripped jeans, crudely shaved hair on one side and a hanging barbed leather whip drooping on the floor in his hand.

"Ever heard of Natural Selection, little one?" he growled with a grin, stepping towards him slowly to shadow the boy. "Survival of the fittest." With a smirk, his whip lashed out, coiling around the boy's leg and ripping him down to the floor. Raising his foot above the boy's head, he intended to dine on more than just the deer. "Round here, you eat what you kill." 

Yet out of the dark, a spinning knife hurtled from the nearby alleyway. It stuck into the stranger's leg, and he howled and stamped his leg back onto the floor in a stagger. They both looked to where the knife came from, and a fair woman, in a fine tailcoat strolled from out of the darkness. 

"Then you're out of dinner tonight." she hissed. The brute yanked the knife from out of his leg, slathered his tongue across the blade to lap the oozing blood with lust and hurtled it at her as the gleaming metal rang through the air. She plucked it out of the air, mid flight with little movement. 

"You want get in my way, little lady?" he smiled, constricting his grasp around the handle of his whip.

"No. I need to get in your way." 

She drew a pistol out from her side, as quick as lightning, aiming directly for his head. Yet a lash of his whip knocked the pistol from her hand, as quick as she drew it. She unsheathed another, but it once more was smacked cleanly onto the floor. Her arms bled heavily from the thorns dotting his whip, but she drew her daggers and twisted them wildly in her palms. He too taunted her, beating his whip about his feet, scraping the tarmac floor with its sharp slashes. 

She tossed one of the daggers from her hand at him, but he hastily side stepped and thrusted out the whip. It entwined around her arm like a prickled tentacle, latching itself to her and held on tightly. He grinned with a wicked desire, throwing her around like a toy. Over his head and onto car bonnets. Out to his side and slamming her into the road. Bashing, pummeling, crashing her into all manner of solid objects. She was totally at his beck, whim and grip. But she was far from beaten yet. Like a rope thrown to her, she ground through the spikes of pain and pulled him closer to her slowly, little by little. Her hands were shredded more and more as she wrapped her fingers around the spikes.

The knife still tightly in her grasp, she was close enough to make her coordinated hacks and stabs at him. Awkwardly, he kept avoiding them, but each lunge got closer and closer to landing a blow. Before long, in the desperate and face-to-face struggle, she drove her dagger into his wielding shoulder. A gnarl escaped his lips and he dropped the whip from the pain. She uncoiled herself quickly, wasting no time to pour her aggression unto him more. Knees to the stomach winded him, and body slam from an arm around his neck ended the fight abruptly. Putting her inbetween the boy and the bandit, she showed no sign of pain at the cuts and bruises dotted upon her.

In a slow rise, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, he glared at her with his uncaught breath. He held his hand tightly to his shoulder as he picked up his whip and ravelled it back into a coil. He stared and smiled as he spat out his defeat. 

"This won't be the only time we'll see each other, little lady..." he muttered as he limped away with his head held low. She soon dipped to one knee, gasping to catch her breath as the very air that filled her lungs was emptied. The boy looked at her with pitiful but loving eyes behind her. He was in wonder, thanks and bewilderment.  

"You... you saved me..." he murmured, astonished. She turned around to him, also pressing one of her hands to her eviscerated arm. "Why?" 

"Old habits die hard, I guess." she groaned, walking away to pick up her scattered pistols and knives, and made her way along the street. 

"Wait!" he called to her in desperation, "What is your name?!" She stopped gently in mid pace to answer him. 

"Chveline..." she softly yelled, and carried on. 

However, for the entire ordeal, a silhouette watched from atop the skyscrapers. His cloak blew in the wind, and he chuckled under his breath, turning around the opposite away. 

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