1_800_hotline | a cruel romance [night 8]

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a cruel romance [night 8]

[Death never has a meaning, but if we so choose to seek out patterns in a desperate attempt to imbue meaning into the twisted charades and senseless loss of life, we might come to the natural conclusion that love has no place here. That no matter how close a relationship may become, we can never know anyone else as intimately as we know ourselves.

Ultimately, we are all entirely alone, unable to truly understand anything beyond our deeply limited perspectives.

It's pointless even pretending any of us, alive or dead, are people deserving or capable of love.

Well, to hell with that.

We can always put in the effort.

Even when the circumstances get worse, we can always be better.

So let's give it a try.]

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[ By this time, she's picking up the bow. That awful fucking bow, with all of its history and horror. Knelt on the ground like this, it's sometimes hard to even feel you can get up.

But she gets up. And she turns, she looks...so very tired, in the moonlight. Instead of thirty-eight, she looks decades older. In her eyes, there's endless exhaustion. ]

What do you want?

[There's a long silence hanging in the air between them as Satan steels himself for what he's about to say, wrestling with so many thoughts of what he could say to her.]

I... I know you want to get your anger out. I'm not here to tell you to cheer up and stop feeling that way. I stand by what I told you before- it ain't fair for anybody to expect you to keep your head all the damn time, when you got every right to be mad. It's only human. You can't just bottle it up forever, that bad energy needs to come out at some point or you're gonna break under the pressure.

...but if I had to give my advice- I'd say it's harder to get that anger out when you're all alone, standing still hitting at fake targets in the distance. Lot more cathartic to go hand-to-hand. Against another person.

[...]

You don't have to take me up on the offer. But if you do, I promise: I won't be throwing anything back at you. [Life's been doing enough of that lately.]

[ ... ]

Most people don't tell someone they can knock them senseless, you know.

[ Her grip on the bow is slack. ]

...Sure. I haven't gotten a spar in, in awhile.

"Senseless"...? [He whispers to himself, before the gears turn in his head and he realizes what she means.] Oh-! You're a bit mistaken. ...I didn't say anything about landing blows on you- but that don't mean I'm standing still and taking it. That'd make me no better than the drywood. [Satan gives a small laugh to punctuate the statement, but just as quickly takes a serious tone again to tell her,] ...so if you're concerned 'bout hurting me 'cause you think I'm not gonna defend myself, don't you worry...

[Cracking both his neck and knuckles, he says with a smirk:]

...sidestepping's my top skillset.

[With that, Mr. Satan bends his knees down to enter a fighting stance. One hand low, by his hip, the other hand held up next to his face, both open palms prepared to catch oncoming strikes rather than delivering any in return.]

Give it your all.

You may have met your match. I'm very fast.

[ There's not much life to that jape. But, immediately as it ends, she drops the bow to the ground and goes into a sharp cartwheel, as if she's going towards him but--well, it's past him. Around to the back. So she can try and give him a swift kick. ]

[He doesn't expect her to start cartwheeling so fast- that definitely catches him off guard a bit- but once he sees her turn to move behind him, he quickly reacts by ducking down and rolling to her side, springing back up into the same stance he started with... but with a lot more sand on his clothes this time.]

[ A dodge, expected. She follows. As he's back up, she's swinging a low punch, for his stomach. ]

Hwoop-! [He catches the punch in his palm, flinching a bit at the impact.] Hope y'don't mind me borrowing that fist for a bit.

[Of course, what Satan seems to forget in this moment is that if one of his hands is preoccupied keeping one of hers in place- it means he can't use it to block that side of himself anymore. He's wide open.]

[ And she sees that. A smirk crosses her face--almost a cruel one, that doesn't match her eyes--and she brings up a leg in a high kick, right to his ribs. ]

[Sure enough, Kim's kick connects! The shock from it is enough to loosen Satan's grip as he stumbles away from her, barely regaining his balance after the blow.]

...haha, good one-! [He inhales sharply, trying to get back the wind that's been knocked out of him just now.] Hoo- alright... [He starts continually bouncing from one foot to the other like a boxer- staying on his toes instead of keeping his feet planted.] Gonna start ramping up my movements, then!

[ She's still serious, harsh. Though he's making conversation, she's focused only on the fight. Putting her everything into every movement, every attack.

Instead of a punch, she shoots her palm forward to slam into his jaw. ]

[See, you can tell Kim's a very astute battle strategist for her decision to go for Satan's jaw... which has- putting it charitably- vastly more real estate compared to the average jaw. Sure, he tries to pull away from the oncoming attack... but with a target on his face that big, her hit still connects with his chin.]

[Even as his head swivels from the strike and he's ready to fall flat on his back, Satan refuses to collapse while Kim's giving it her all. Quickly planting his hands in the sand to catch himself in a severe backbend, he uses the momentum to swing his legs in the air- entering a handstand at first, which then quickly turns into a cartwheel that course-corrects him to standing on his feet again.]

S-sorry to take a page from your playbook. [He laughs a little sheepishly.] Here's one from mine. [With that, he performs a quick backflip to get some extra distance from her so he can buy more time to anticipate her next move.]

Edited 2019-06-25 06:48 (UTC)

[ The fact that he's trying so hard...it means something to her. She can't say it. But it means so much, truly, and she'll process that later, when she's not furious and lost in her own head. ]

Get back here. [ She more growls than says this, launching herself forward in a kick. If there's one thing Kimberly's good at, it's her kicks. She wasn't a gymnast for years for nothing. ]

[He takes advantage of the added reaction time, firmly planting his feet and crossing both arms in an "X" shape in front of himself to put up a barrier for the oncoming boot. ...however, the force of Kim's kick is still strong enough to send his heels skidding in the sand upon impact- regardless of the block. She's successfully closed the distance and Satan's stance is too unsteady for him to make a quick egress.]

[ Down on one knee, that's an advantage for her. Without sparing a moment, without thinking about it, Kim swings her elbow toward his jaw, putting as much force behind it as she can muster. ]

[It hits, boy does it ever hit. The hardest of all hits she's scored on him. Knocks him right over.]

[He drops like a rock, hard and heavy, the ground stirring wispy clouds of sand around his toppled body. Just... laying there, on his side. One arm splayed out, the other, held closer to his body, covering his mouth.]

[...]

[Pushing his free hand into the dirt, he sits himself up so now Kim can see his face... along with the streams of red trickling down his knuckles- specks of sand stuck to freshly wet blood like glitter to glue. Taking his fingers away from his bloodied lips to see what's leaking onto his palm, he manages to mumble out a question to her.]

...Kim's-... m'blood out...? [He... sounds more mystified, than worried.]

[ The moment he goes down, the fight goes out of her, entirely. That dangerous look in her eyes vanishes, replaced with concern. In an instant, she's on her knees by his side. ]

Careful. Don't try and talk too much. [ She's going to try and support him, get him sitting up. ] I'm sorry. Oh, I... I'm so sorry.

That bad, huh-... [He says, before following orders and staying silent, keeping a hand planted firmly over his mouth.]

[Judging by his behavior and body language, at least, it looks like he's keeping pretty calm about this whole thing. That's good... it means no unexpected movements that would complicate the healing process any more.]

[...could also mean he's too punch drunk to really process what's happening. Which would be decidedly less good.]

[ You know...we've all been a little punch drunk in our time, haven't we? Kimberly berates herself, inwardly. ]

Let's get you to your feet. I bet the convenience store has some ice.

[ A moment's hesitation. ]

I really...didn't mean to go all-out like that. I guess- ...I guess I did have a lot...built up in there.

...s'good. [...is he saying the injury isn't that bad, or, is he telling Kimberly he understands where she's coming from?]

[...well, either way, Satan's not holding it against her. After all, he was the one who brought up the idea of sparring to begin with, and, well. Seems she definitely needed that outlet right now. Not sure if it's... an improvement that she's so worried now, though.]

[The walk from the beach to the convenience store is pretty long, so it's a good thing he can still stand on his own feet. He spends most of it silent, keeping pace with a hand (or two) pressed over his mouth.]

[ There's a ways to the convenience store. And, in that time, it's not like any of the civilians are going to be bothering them.

For a minute or so, she's quiet. Content, it seems, to walk in silence.

But. ]

...When I was a girl...fifteen, at most, I was chosen to be something called a Power Ranger. I was given incredible power to protect the Earth from those who would seek to harm it. It was myself, and my friends.

Our enemy realized, eventually, that the best way to fight a Power Ranger was with a Power Ranger. She sought out a lost power source, and she kidnapped a...kid our age, and she brainwashed him. We fought...time and time again. And when we destroyed the source of that brainwashing, we thought we could ask him to join us, but...

[ Another step. Another word. She looks straight ahead. ]

...I don't know if it was how he grew up, or fear, or some kind of split-second decision that changed all our lives forever. But he ran away...and the witch found him again. This time, he went with her willingly.

His power was immense. He stole ours, one after another...and he enslaved the world. Over the years, he killed two of my team, my friends, and countless other civilians. People I knew, people saw in my every day life. The whole time, I kept trying...to save him. We'd fight, and I wouldn't kill him, because he'd been used just as we had.

[ One step. Then another. Then another. ]

...One day, it became too much. I... Without any backup, I charged his castle. I fought my way through his forces, until I reached the bastard's throne.

[ Her steps falter. ]

He was...too much for me. The witch taught him some of her magic. Including, how to brainwash others. I...

...He called me his Ranger Slayer.

[ In an exhausted voice, she relates all of this. She stares straight ahead. So tired. She's so tired. ]

[Remaining silent while Kimberly talks- he listens intently to what she says, fortunately reentering a headspace where he can understand... Admittedly, there's some context that's lost on him, some aspects of it he doesn't understand.]

[...but there's plenty he does. Witnessing senseless death far too young and feeling guilt for surviving a situation others didn't. Defeating somebody in the past- then, when he comes up again, feeling confident that one person can take him on alone. Believing he hasn't gotten worse, that he's still the same person he was back then. ...being proven wrong- deeply wrong about it. Loved ones suffering because of that misjudgment. Children being put in danger, forced into taking up the responsibility of protecting the world.]

[The blood isn't pouring as much, but the wound hasn't healed.]

[He wanted to stay quiet- but after hearing all she's been carrying with her this time, he just can't. He unknowingly walks ahead of her for a brief moment as her steps become unsteady... and he turns around, to look her in her tired, world-weary eyes. He removes his hand from his lips for a brief instant to say one thing, with a voice wavering with emotion, and an unmovable conviction behind it.]

...you deserve better than this.

[Present tense. Even if what she described happened in the past. There's no use telling her "it shouldn't have been that way" when it's already done. No. She deserves better now. She doesn't deserve to be here. She's not like him. He wants to tell her that.]

[There's so much he wishes he could tell her now, if only he had the ability to.]

[Instead, he holds out his free hand. The one he occasionally placed on top of the other- only a few small traces of dried blood at the bottom of his palm. A silent gesture of support, should she take it.]

Edited 2019-06-29 11:19 (UTC)

[ It's taken a lot of composure to be able to explain what she has. More than she thought she had. But, when he stops... When he says that, something in her breaks. A horribly pained expression passes across her face. ]

What I deserve...? I think a lot of people would take issue with that.

[ But... But, after a moment, blinking back some very shiny tears, she places a shaky hand atop his own. ]

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a cruel romance [night 8]

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ignore the glowing

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[cw: blood from the mouth]

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cw: mind control/brainwashing

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