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Tonight was going to be one of those nights. She could already feel it. With booze running down her throat and through her veins, the arms of a girl tightly wrapped around her own, Yazmyn released a heartily laugh. It had been a while since she let loose a little - a little too long considering how often she did exactly that. Between all the missions she had been taking up recently and the whole charade of these multiple Hunter Trials that she had to sit through, the blonde Huntress was so fucking glad to be back home... and by back home she didn't mean just Vantalux, but rather one of the many pubs situated in Vantalux. Namely the Commonwealth, where she found that the bars had very few Enforcers walking around the area. Perfect for a night out to remember. Or not remember. Take your pick. Yazmyn usually preferred the latter of the two.
A cigarette in between her teeth and a pint of ale in her hand, Yazmyn recounted her last mission to the lass sitting next to her, boisterously explaining every little detail of the hunt and how it went. She did, of course, make the details a little more glorified. Who wouldn't, y'know? With girls as pretty as this she might as well have - her next adventure under the bed sheets wasn't going to snag itself. And so she mouthed off, on and on and on, feeding off of the chuckles of the girl, the cheers of the people who were idly listening by, finding amusement in her story. The ale was going down far too easily and honestly Yazmyn didn't really mind. Her tolerance was often that of a goddamn horse given how... 'experienced' her liver was, let's just say. The buzz was there but it was manageable. The good ol' talkaroo, as some people called it. Y'know that zone where you just keep talking and talking and talking, without any real slur, but you were slowly getting to the point where you'd probably start saying some shit you shouldn't? Yeah. That. That other phase was where the slur would begin and the blonde reckoned she still had a little bit to go before she reached that part.
Best not overdo it. She'd like to actually remember her next part of the night.
The girl didn't even seem to be a lot of trouble. Hell, she herself was practically tugging at Yazmyn's arm trying to get her to some secluded part of town. A silent agreement was made between the two females when they made eye-contact. Breakfast at my place. Yup. Easy enough. With that said the blonde Huntress quickly wrapped up her story, taking thereabouts fifteen minutes to finish off with a proverbial bang - though in the story it was an actual bang, but people didn't need to know it. Last thing she needed was the government on her ass for blowing up a supposedly sacred temple dedicated to Ignis. Whoops?
The Huntress finished her ale fairly quickly and left the cigarette bud in the ashtray on her table. She stood up, bowed, and grinned, "This is where I bid my adieu, my fellow bar hoppers. Keep the booze flowing for me, would ya?" Nods and cheers of agreement sounded off in the small pub; heck, even the bartender shook his head with a knowing chuckle. This wasn't at all something that wasn't commonplace anymore. The Noir did frequent these parts at this time of the night, after all. As Yazmyn stood up, she took the hand of the girl and pulled her closer, grinning slyly... a gesture which was repaid with a quick yet kind of sloppy smooch on her cheek. Not at all unwanted. The blonde chuckled, wrapped an arm around the other woman, and off they went, outside the pub and into the night.
By this point Yazmyn had been a little wobbly. The alcohol had hit her like a freight train the second she stood up, making her realize she was a little more drunk than she thought she was. Not exactly drunk drunk... like... unable to actually do things properly drunk... but rather a happy buzzed. Her eyes were a little foggy and her mind was already coming up with all kinds of wild ideas that she'd normally never come up with while sober. She was talking and laughing loudly, hopping on to benches and spinning on lampposts... doing all kinds of stupid drunk crap and making an utter dumbass out of herself... but honestly she didn't much care. Well, granted, even without the alcohol making her care less, she'd probably not give a shit being sober either. Whichever the case was, Yazmyn and the girl were slowly walking towards Yazmyn's place... making detours here and there, stopping to make out, turning into a dark alley for some more kinky shit... y'know, the usual drunk young adult crap that people did when stupid and under the influence. They had to actually run from a couple of Enforcers after they got a little too hot and bothered around the corner of a grocery store. Laughing and having fun, the escape wasn't too difficult considering Yazmyn wasn't averse to using her Vel for a getaway when she was drunk. Though first making sure the Enforcers couldn't actually see her using it, of course. Using her Vel and being identified in an actual city would land her in a heap of trouble, regardless of Yazmyn being a licensed Hunter... hell, being a licensed Hunter would probably end up making the charge even worse, when she thought about it.
When that realization actually hit her slightly hazy brain, Yazmyn and the bar girl decided that it was probably best to just head directly to her place. They were getting antsy enough already, almost unable to wait for the main event by this point. So on they went, down a dark alley, trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible.
If only Yazmyn knew that they weren't the only ones there.
Post by Caine Carreux on Dec 13, 2019 18:37:22 GMT
Black and White: 100th redux
T
ick.
Tick.
Tick.
The -clock- was ticking. Every moment that was taken was another segment of wire on the dynamite that was burned away.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
There was a frivolousness to people’s lives; moments taken for granted or otherwise squandered. Wasted moments, wasted opportunities. There was no resentment. No malice. No admonishment. Merely an observation. It was something he noticed time and time again. It was a sin many were guilty of; once upon a time, even Jerikko Delcroix was guilty. Even the original Caine Carreux was guilty.
But they both met the same fate. Like all did. Like all would. In time.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Keeping pace wasn’t difficult. He was little more than a shadow - a constant that was forgotten and ignored. Always there, always lurking, but never truly acknowledged. After all, who watches their shadow when they’re in the presence of another? The young woman was living her life like most did -- in the moment and enjoying the time she had. Her companion was guilty of the same thing. A harmless sin, truly.
But in the eyes of a god, weren’t all sins punished equally? He had no idea why the Spire requested the Huntress’s life, nor did he question it. He was given a name and then he was off. For the past week he had been tracking her; observing and dissecting her. She had wound up on the list, but she had not been deemed a priority neutralization, so he chose to take his time.
But her time had come.
Perhaps some would argue the merit in attacking an individual who wasn’t in full control of their faculties, but he didn’t concern himself with such things. There was no honor or merit in killing, no matter how much others liked to pretend. A knife in the back was the same as a sword through the chest. The end result was a flame being snuffed out, and he would be stomping out the embers of Yazmyn Noir.
Once again, as usual, she went down a familiar path. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was even aware of it. People enjoyed routines; it brought a subconscious comfort to most. They never thought about it. Rise, relieve yourself, wash face, coffee. Rise, smoke, relieve yourself, coffee. Rise, cry, curse the gods and meander. Routines were basis of humanity, and they all had them. Perhaps even he had his own routines that he wasn’t aware of.
But this was an alley Yasmyn frequently utilized -- typically when she was in a rush. This? The promise of sexual indulgence would cause most to rush, would it not? She rarely left the pub alone, so he was able to plan and predict. Yazmyn Noir was a promiscuous woman, wasn’t she? He watched as her companion brought them to a stop in the alley, having noticed the purse on the ground that was spilling with jewelry. Pleasing to the eye..
But that moment was all he needed.
He dropped from the roof, silently falling. He drew sword as he descended, aiming it downward as he struck. He landed on the girl who had succumbed to Yazmyn’s charms, the blade sinking cleanly into her chest through her shoulder, tearing through her heart as his weight separated the two. His free arm lashed out, elbow finding purchase in Yazmyn’s side as he knocked her away.
He was crouched on the body of the girl, taken a moment as he stared down into her eyes. Tick. Tick. Gone. The life in her eyes was gone and he finally unsheathed the blade from her body. He stood to his full height and looked over to Yazmyn, the crimson eyes of his mask focusing solely on her as he stepped away from the body, kicking the purse to the side.
A robbery gone wrong.
He raised the blade, leveling the weapon at Yazmyn as blood dripped from the tip of the sword. She would understand. A step forward and then another; he was dashing forward, the blade tearing through the air in an upward diagonal arc as he neared her. Perhaps the Huntress still had some fight left in her, or she would perhaps falter.
Love was a powerful drug. Some would argue that it was the strongest one out there and definitely the most addicting. So many people chased it relentlessly. Even more of them had been burnt by it, yet still continue to try reaching for it. Yazmyn, for her part, was not much different. The feeling of having another warm body next to hers during these cold nights was intoxifying, yet not one she'd concede to having every night. Too many implications there, far too much stress and, honestly? Commitment could go screw itself. But this, though? This was fun.
Until it wasn't.
Yazmyn was still in the middle of a kiss when she heard the sickening sound of flesh being rent and tasted metal on her tongue. Her eyes shot open as she leaned backwards... far too late to realize what had happened before an elbow sunk itself into her side and sent her flying backwards, hitting the ground right on her ass and rolling to a stop. Despite still being dizzy from the alcohol, her eyes rose quickly to witness the sight before her. Whatever semblance of clarity she still had was immediately replaced with alertness, every single combat instinct in the back of her head screaming at her to get the fuck up on to her feet. Danger. Danger. Danger. Alarm bells, everywhere. On some level, it felt like clarity. On a completely different one it was terrifying.
The man before her said absolutely nothing as he mutilated the woman Yazmyn was just with. A pit dug itself deep into her chest, making her body shake... yet it wasn't long before reality kicked her straight in the teeth. Get up! Danger! Danger! Danger!
Upon the assassin's slow approached the blonde Huntress scrambled to get back up on her feet, just in time to block the incoming blow. As the unidentified male slashed his sword at her in an upward motion at what seemed like blinding speeds, Yazmyn was barely able to raise her metallic right arm to defend. Vanta clashed against Vanta, resulting in a loud clang that reverberated along the alley they were in. The Huntress grit her teeth as she felt the aftershock in her whole body, the strength behind the windup and the resulting attack enough to lift her body off of the ground... after she herself hopped up on pure instinct.
The alcohol in her system was already clouding her judgment, but the adrenaline that suddenly surged in her veins quickly rectified that. Her breath was heavy as she still tried to get over the initial shock, shaking her head in an attempt to get the cobwebs out. Her fucking side still hurt too as crimson eyes glared at the assassin, her shoulders heaving up and down at irregular intervals after her feet finally landed her on the ground.
Her heart was pumping poison and rage through her veins as she glared at the assassin and the one of his two victims who he had already managed to take down. Despite the dark clouds in her mind, she was still able to think semi-clearly. Raising both of her arms forward, she spread her legs and got into a defensive stance, intent on attempting a counter of this man's next attack... assuming she'd even be able to see it. He was clearly here to kill her so being the aggressor in lieu of observing and finding weaknesses made no sense when she knew next to nothing about her opponent. There was no point in making it easy for him.
"Come on then. What are you waiting for? An invitation?"
Post by Caine Carreux on Dec 17, 2019 19:06:52 GMT
Black and White: 100th redux
S
o she was still capable of defending herself. That was good. Whenever his target was a Hunter or Huntress, he preferred them being able to defend themselves to some extent. It was a honor he afforded very, very few. But, a target was a target nonetheless. His body remained stationary after the slash. He watched the way she landed and the stance she put herself in. The alcohol hadn't dampened her instincts, had it? From observing her, he could discern the adrenaline that was no doubt running through her system. Was it enough to clear the haze of inebriation that had no doubt claimed her? Only time would tell.
Caine's feet spread slightly, as if he was going to mirror her. Mock her. His left arm raised, leveling horizontally in front of him as he let the flat of his blade rest on his forearm. He lurched forward, slightly, watching her. He made no attempt to respond to her remark. The bravado was nothing new; it was always displayed. But would she be able to maintain it? That was the true question. In a moment, adhering to his mental clock, he dashed forward. The thrust of the blade was a feint -- he wanted to bait her into deflecting with her arm once more. So he kept his thrust aimed at her center mass -- he wouldn't give anything away. If she followed through one what he assumed she would do, he'd use the momentum of the parry to twist around and speed up, directing a counter slash at her opposite leg while dropping to a knee.
The silence itself seemed deafening as the two fighters stared each other down, waiting for someone to make the first move. Yazmyn eyes narrowed as she desperately tried to fight the haze of intoxication back from where it came, struggling to get her focus back. Shit, if there was ever a time she ever so slightly regretted drinking as heavily and frequently as she did, this would be one of those times. Her vision was a little blurred, thoughts clouded by both anger and... sadness? Yeah. Lani being done in the way she had... this cunt would get his ass handed to him. Small sparks of fire danced along her healthy arm, showcasing how her feelings were slowly coming out into the forefront.
Yazmyn clicked her tongue with some irritation as this assassin begun mimicking her stance, a clear show of intent to get her to lose whatever little cool she had left in her. "Bastard..." She hissed lowly, an irritated smirk spreading across her face as she continued to watch.
What felt like hours passed before this masked man finally moved. Yazmyn steeled herself, trying to stay patient. It wouldn't do anybody any good if she just rushed in blindly, and so she just analyzed every move Caine made. The tensing of his muscles, the rattle of the leather he was wearing stretching as he advanced, his dark eyes that stared back at her, seemingly devoid of emotion. She planned and planned and planned as time seemingly slowed for the two of them.
...and it was then that Yazmyn realized two damned things.
She was drunk.
And she was fucking angry!
Fuck all this noise. Parry. Dodge. Counter. Fuck all of it. No. Fuck going on the defensive. That was not her and that was not what she wanted to do at this particular point. Growling to herself, the blonde Huntress tossed caution through the damn window. She was fast and agile, and that was what she was going to bank on.
Going low, the Huntress dashed forward, expunging a burst of flames from the soles of her feet to skyrocket her acceleration to the maximum. She charged forward, staying almost adjacent to the ground as she approached within the blink of an eye. Icarus was raised above her head in an attempt for a makeshift defense, the Vanta arm touching Caine's sword and grinding against it as she approached, the brief connecting launching sparks everywhere... all while she cocked her left fist back and aimed a direct punch to the assassin's gut, roaring as she swung forward.
Post by Caine Carreux on Dec 22, 2019 23:43:52 GMT
Black and White: 100th redux
I
t was suicide, then.
That was the Huntress' choice and he would simply oblige her in her request. Which was the source, he wondered? Was the a bout of bravery brought about by intoxication, or perhaps a sorrow-filled rage? Humans were such complicated creatures that he couldn't begin to wrap his mind around the logic between her decision. Though, he merely figured it wouldn't matter -- in time, of course. Because despite the apparent lack of self-preservation, she still had raw strength and power, didn't she? His eyes caught sight of the flames, but there was no panic.
Yazmyn Noir was approaching and she was approaching fast. His sword clashed with her arm, sparks flew, but his gaze wasn't focused on her Vanta arm. Because she had another arm -- an arm that was on a clear arc for his abdomen. It would be impossible to catch the fist, so it found its target. His body suit absorbed some of the impact, but he still felt it. The pain and discomfort of a gut shot was simple, but he didn't falter. That wasn't what he did. He brought the sword over, dragging it along her arm to her fist before twisting the handle, causing the blade to spin over her knuckle to the inside of her arm. Pushing his sword back, he moved her arm away as, without missing a beat, his head swung forward -- a headbutt aimed at the center of her face.
He did have a free hand now, however. Only one hand held the handle of the sword, so as his head arc forward, his hand shot out in an attempted, calculated strike to her throat. She wanted to beat him. To hurt him. To make him feel pain. He lacked those emotions; all he wanted, all he intended, was to disable, dismantle and then neutralize his target. Nothing more, nothing less.
Her plan had worked initially. The fist that she had cocked back upon her approach found its mark. She felt her knuckles dig into this assassin's gut and she also felt how his body winced - if only briefly - because of the harmful contact. A small smirk crept up on her lips; despite how inhuman he looked, he still felt pain. That was good. That meant she was fighting a human after all.
Thinking fast despite the hazy cloud above her head, Yazmyn was just about to continue with another assault... until she found herself rendered defenseless. With his next set of moves Caine ripped Yazmyn's guard completely open, shocking the blonde at the seemingly masterful way he was able to achieve this. Okay, so darting in head-first was indeed a bad idea, and she felt the unfortunate consequences of her actions quite quickly.
Two strikes, as sudden as they were painful, crashed against her upper body like a hammer against an anvil. One of those was a rather brutish move - one that she hadn't expected the man to utilize. A headbutt, right to her nose. It drew blood upon impact, making her wince and groan as she felt metal on her tongue. The Huntress would've been knocked back completely if it wasn't for the second attack - a swipe to her throat which hit its target due to the first attack giving her quite a daze. The pain was instantaneous, as was the lack of oxygen.
Gagging and wheezing, Yazmyn's eyes shot open wide as saucers as she fought to stay conscious. In that brief moment this assassin had rendered her efforts worthless and brought her to her knees. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she fought to breathe, for once feeling the threat of death at her doorstep.
Move!
Yazmyn acted fast, refusing to see herself be killed in some stinking alley. In that brief moment following her fight to inhale oxygen, her mind and sense of self-preservation finally kicked into high-gear. Flames spewed from the soles of her feet once more, launching her high up into the air before Caine had the chance for a follow-up. This saw her landing on the rooftop of the adjacent building, her body crashing upon the tiles and rolling along them as though the word grace had never touched her personal vocabulary. She kept coughing and holding her neck, shaking her head to get the cobwebs out. She needed to put some distance between herself and her assailant. Reassess the situation and approach it from a different angle... otherwise? Well, otherwise she'd find herself dead before the sun came up.
Scrambling to her feet, Yazmyn begun to slowly walk along the roof and away from ground zero. She was still far too confused to be able to run properly, her head a chaotic and messy mix of alcohol, pain, and well, a light case of a concussion by this point. She wiped the blood off of her face as she walked and grit her teeth, every so often glancing over her shoulder to double check if that assassin was coming for her again. She was wounded and breathless, but she was alert. No way was she going to make this easy for that asshole.
here was no satisfaction as he viewed the result of his counterattack. After all, he acted and the outcome was what he knew it would be. One didn't find joy when performing a menial task that's outcome was as expected. Because he was certain and confident in his ability. When he struck, he had the utmost confidence that his counter would be successful. In the end? It was. Blood escaped from her nose and he could hear the raspy gasp as she attempted to breath after the strike to her throat. Precision was the difference between a butcher and a surgeon, after all. Still, she was quicker on the draw in regards to a follow-up, however. He stood up and took a step back, holding an arm up to his face to shield himself as the flames erupted from the girl and she went high up into the air. She was attempting to flee.
He stood and spun his sword around, readjusting his grip on it before attaching it to his back once again. While he lacked the ability to quickly ascend as she did, she wasn't completely in the clear. He took off in a sprint, running towards the building she had landed on. He jump and he was rebounding off a dumpster, his hands finding purchase on uneven bits of brick wall. His boots were able to find traction and he was quickly scaling the side of the building, eventually jumping over to the side to land on the fire escape of the building. He moved quickly and with purchase, every step he took taking him higher and higher until he had reached the roof.
Stepping onto it, he drew his sword once more, breaking it into two separate blades. Flourishing one of them, he proceeded to fling the weapon at the girl's back with as much force as he could, treating it like a javelin more than anything. All the while, he continued his silent approach -- wordlessly with his only purpose being the neutralization of his target.
Still coughing, still gagging and still wheezing. While it was admittedly getting a little better, breathing was still a painful issue. Yazmyn's head was still spinning like she had been sent down the walls in a barrel and the subsequent nausea made it seem like she had just gotten out of a three-day bender, which wasn't entirely wrong. Her side hurt, her face hurt, her fucking neck hurt. The adrenaline was helping some, she had to admit, and honestly at this point she had sobered up quite a bit. The fear of death worked wonders sometimes.
As Yazmyn slowly wobbled along the roof, she kept glancing back now and again. She doubted the assassin would be able to reach her easily but it was better to be safe rather than sorry... and her more paranoid nature eventually paid off when the male finally came into her retinas. He quickly spotted her despite the distance between them, yet the Huntress never stopped. Whatever Caine was doing, it separated his sword into two. A gimmick? Not unlike her own, but not too similar either. Her eyes then suddenly widened when the assassin tossed one of the swords right at her like a javelin, the flung sword piercing the air with a violent screech behind it.
The Huntress barely had the time to react, and even then she had been a little too slow to brace. With the best of her ability the young woman spun on her heel aid raised Icarus in front of herself. Vanta once again clashed against Vanta, resulting in yet another incredibly loud clang reverberating along the streets. The throw was strong and incredibly fast, so much so that it pushed Yazmyn backwards a little, almost knocking her on her ass on account of not being able to throw up a proper stance in time. She felt the collision in her shoulder quite roughly, a sharp pang of pain jolting along her body like electricity.
Breathe in. Breathe out. She lowered her arms, head low, as she watched the assassin, his thrown blade impaling the tiles right next to her. "You really don't plan to make it easy for me, are you?" A bemused chuckle left the blonde after a bloodied cough. Hopes and prayers up for her nose not being broken.
Her hand reached for the blade the assassin had used to throw at her, fingers wrapping around the handle and pulling it out of the tiles. "Y'know, I've never had an assassin come for me before. Not sure what I did, but I guess I should consider myself honored, operative." It shouldn't have really come as a surprise that Yazmyn was able to deduce this man being an operative. Assassins were a dime a dozen in the land of Ordus, but only operatives were this well trained. Operatives... or Hunters. And this guy was no Hunter she knew of.
Yazmyn's breath was still rather shaky and uneven as she stood up to her full height, readying herself for Caine's approach. She was well aware that escaping this guy wasn't going to be easy. She was also well aware that technically she shouldn't be using her Vel in the city. Then again this was for self-defense, right? She had already used it so it wasn't like it was any sort of surprise trump card... ugh, fuck it.
Bracing, Yazmyn cocked the hand that held the assassin's sword back. As she begun hefting it in the form of a throw, she activated her Vel. Golden fire burst from her hand, coating the sword in a thin veil of flame as she hurled the weapon right back at Caine in the form of a flaming javelin. Never question if Yazmyn was a sore loser.
Then Yazmyn got back into her stance. Hands raised, legs parted. She still had one surprise for him. All she needed was an opening.
