thearena | (no subject)

Who: Kain and Shepard
What: An encounter that's not going to end well... for Kain, anyway.
Where: Fourth floor
When: Late week 5 (after the weapons run)
Warnings/Notes: Fighting, violence, death.

Kain stalked among the silent, towering skeletons of the fourth floor until he found a massive dinosaur to climb.

He had started out for the first couple weeks on the defensive, and it had worked for him. He had obtained a spear and armor, and despite the early setback, he'd been getting by well overall lately. Surviving. He'd been told that was as much the point of these arenas as the fighting, and he really understood it now.

Up he went, carefully. He still felt safest off the ground, with or without his power. From here, he could watch and wait for prey.

In the past week, Kain had become increasingly aggressive. He wanted to take action rather than hold back. He hadn't really lost that inner rage from the masks' influence, and he had the cuts all over his face to go along with that. Still, the bursts of power had been worth it... or so he tried to convince himself. Balancing his regular thoughts against those from the darkness was a difficult task even when he wasn't stuck in an arena with dozens of others, all trying to survive as well.

He paused, settling, at a good point where he could readily leap at anyone who might be passing by below. Now, it was just a matter of time.

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Watching Thane die was never her favorite past-time. Watching Garrus do the same just a fews days later ranked right up there with Prothean Beacons and the endless nightmares that came with them. Never slow down, never surrender, they should have known that it wasn't losing them that would break her, the bastards.

God damn, but it hurt.

It was that that had spurred her decision to use the masks. She'd been clued in on them early, and had kept a careful stockpile ever since, collecting the discards she found in the hallways, denuding the few remaining masked figures she found. Looting the dead, when she could. Biotics were dangerous, of course, so timing would be everything— but she was more than ready to be on the offensive. More than ready to taste that ozone-burn.

The mask sat on her head, an impassive wooden pith helmet with a painted-on snarl and hollow eyes. She moved through the exhibit rather than around it, under the great shadow of the long-necked ribcage, hunting in the silence.

Come out, come out wherever you are . . .

The moment he noticed someone approaching, Kain grew tense. For a moment, he watched and waited, making himself remain as still as possible. His grip on his spear was tight, and his eyes remained focused on the person below. A target, clearly. He was at the point where he didn't much care who it was or which side they were on.

He just wanted to appease the dark instincts within.

As she drew closer, finally in range, Kain made his move. He leaped from the massive skeleton, aiming his spear downward toward Shepard as he came down for a landing.

Museum skeletons in nice museums were physically pinned then held in place by mass effect field stabilizers to mimic the biological form of their former owners. Less fancy ones might still use eezo cores to at least keep the guests off, but only the cheapest, most remote, or most 'authentic' still had wire and scaffolds. In many respects, the Capitol was one of the most advanced cities Shepard had ever been in, but in many, many more, it was easily the most primitive.

Kinda said something when she'd been in long-dead ruins of ancient civilizations and could call it more high tech than this shit-heap.

Regardless, the bones rattled and swung with his importune leap and an instinct born of a lifetime waiting for the ambush-leap pushed Shepard backwards and to the left in a roll. She came up into a fighter's crouch, already securing the mask firmly over her face with both hands.

The rush of power was an agony of pleasure, a full-body tingle, pins and needles and she grinned under the tribal faux-wood to feel it. That was eezo feedback, the amp in her skull suddenly going live, and after three months without her nerves screamed every time she put one on. It felt good: finally, a dance she knew the steps to. The mnemonic gesture was the first movement of a butterfly stroke, a tightening of the muscles across her back and shoulder, the arms up, ready to dive. In that single breath before he turned to face her she was still, absolutely still.

And then the world lit up in a corona of blue and a corridor of space opened up before her, rendered biotically frictionless. She shot along it like a freight train, vicious with power. Come to me, fool, and die.

Perhaps in his right mind, Kain would have been more aware of the obvious danger, but in this state, self preservation mattered less than the burning urge to fight, to tear his new enemy apart. For now, at least, this intense, purposeful focus on the battle and nothing else would probably keep him going, keep him alert and ready to deal with any attacks.

As she sped along into that flash of blue, Kain attempted to leap from her direct path, spear swinging wildly as he moved. There wasn't much hope to get entirely away, though, so even as he tried to evade, some part of him was prepared for impact. Just keep moving and stabbing at the enemy: those were the only things he had to think about at the moment.

The world fish-eyed as the high gravity mass effect field shell filtered light on a gradient delay. Sound doppler-shifted, and adrenaline hit her again in a sharp spike that made the already strange moments as the Biotic Chage broke seem even stranger, the world slowing as her perception sped ahead. Reality phased back all at once, a rubber-snap like the flickering of lights, or the moment between realizing you're about to fall, and hitting the ground. It lasted forever, and it was over almost immediately.

Most people would not have recommended using oneself as the bullet, but Shepard ascribed to another philosophy. There's nothing wrong with being one hundred percent offensive so long as you kill the other guy first.

The spear caught her across the burned part of her shoulder, the place that hadn't escaped gabriel's wrath, but she ignored the pain in favor of the adrenal gift of time. And what did she do with her extra half-heartbeat of accelerated reaction? What anyone would do: she cocked back her arm and punched him square in the face with biotically-amplified force.

That punch crashed into his face, knocking Kain off his feet and backward, slamming him against the leg bone of the nearest massive skeleton before he slid to the ground. It happened so fast that he was left stunned, his thoughts struggling to catch up. The warrior's instinct in him said to move, and he started to attempt that, struggling, but not really able to get up.

...Ugh, moving even that little bit was a bad idea.

The throbbing in his head intensified, and his vision blurred, the world turning painfully bright. Shepard's form doubled before his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose. The hit he'd taken was much worse than a regular human's punch, that much was certain. He felt like his skull was splitting apart.

"Merciless... What a worthy trait..." She was a worthy enemy, truly. Opponent. Enemy. Combatant. No... More like fellow prisoner. He'd told himself he wouldn't... but now here he was, playing their game. His thoughts were so unfocused right now, his mind unable to decide which 'self' he wanted to be. And the headache was only worsening, the damage done more extensive than he'd realized.

He was dazed, helpless before her— the mask was already wasted time, but she didn't take it off. Ten minutes was precious time, here, and you never wasted something that you could use.

But this wasn't worth the expended calories. How kind of him to compliment her on her way out! She'd have to remember that one. So it was with a blunt economics of motion that Shepard lifted her crowbar in both hands and chunked the sharp curve into Kain's already unsteady brain, ending his time in Arena Nine for good.