Raven: Emerald Fist - MS

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    Darkest Dark Obsidian Blade's Avatar
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    Default Raven: Emerald Fist - MS

    Well, my first post may as well be here, considering that I'm a fanfiction freak. It still feels kinda strange though, but whatever. :P

    Just so you know, this fic is something of a journey fic. I can assure you that there are no professors offering a choice out of three, however, and the plot goes a lot deeper than "get this badge, get that badge." I've spent a lot of time working this one out and trying to make it as enjoyable a read as possible but I'm sure there are still plenty of rough edges... A few of which will be in these first five chapters which I wrote in November of last year at thirteen. Feel free to point out every single thing that bothers you; I love getting constructive criticism. Anyway, I'm blabbering, so it's time to shut up and post this, the first chapter of...

    Raven: Emerald Fist
    Mechyena Saga


    Chapter One: Sticks and stones

    Concentrate.


    I held my hands ready in fists, adjusting my stance by a fraction of an inch as my eyes never left the chest of my opponent.

    All attacks make the torso move. Even the slightest twitch can give away an oncoming attack.

    There. I caught sight of a ripple in the cloth covering the left breast. I threw myself into a hard roundhouse, knocking my enemy out of a potential attack.

    Always push every advantage to its full.

    I kept up a barrage of assault; kick after punch after uppercut after elbow slam. My opponent staggered and cursed, somehow escaping my offence long enough to pull back.

    They always have another trick up their sleeve.

    He sneered at me and wiped a droplet of blood from his lips.

    Make sure you gain from it.

    “You’re not so bad, for a girl.” He decided, “But I can still win.”

    If your concentration never wavers…

    He leapt forward, attempting to use his larger body to slam me back into the dust.

    …then nothing can stop you.

    I flipped back to escape, letting him trip and stumble before dealing a swift uppercut to the jaw. There was a moment in which absolute fury reigned in his eyes and then he let rip the offence I had been expecting; the ‘trick’ he had apparently ‘hidden’ for most of the battle.

    Every enemy has attacks…

    I blocked a hard punch, trying to ignore the splitting pain that snaked its way up my arm from the elbow to the wrist. No time to recover, he was still on me.

    Every enemy has strengths…

    He managed to land a full hit in my gut, sending me staggering back in pain. But pain wasn’t enough to beat me, I’d felt enough of it already to last a decade.

    But every enemy also has weaknesses…

    Purposefully taking a glancing blow to the shoulder I slammed a high kick into his chin, sending his head cracking back with a force strong enough to shatter the trunk of a tree.

    Exploit them and the battle is yours.

    After the chin blow all he could do was block weakly as I pressed the attack once again, landing hit after hit after hit despite his desperate attempts to defend himself.

    Take it while it’s hot…

    I forced him to the edge of the cruel cement arena and then gave him a another roundhouse kick, sending his heavy-weighted body flying out into the empty bleachers.

    …and you’ll see it’s not so hard.

    “You alright, Jeza?” I called, leaping from the arena and landing lightly on one of the long benches.

    “As fine as I can be after a fight with you.” The boy replied, grinning up at me through a sweat soaked mop of brown hair.

    I hauled him to his feet with one hand, ignoring my own sweat that dripped down my face and stung my eyes. No matter how easy everything seemed while I was still in combat, the after-effects were always there, the menace just waiting to strike when my adrenaline level sank again.

    We started to walk towards the changing rooms that were positioned side by side, picking our way over the hard silver bleachers to reach the main isle of dirty concrete steps. The harsh white lights bore down from brackets on the ceiling, leaving nothing in the small arena unlit.

    Jeza rubbed one leather bound hand against his arm to relieve the pain gathering there, making the skin red and puffy.

    “Don’t do that,” I scolded, flapping a hand at his arm, “Get some ice on it instead.”

    “Yes Miss Raven,” He replied in a droning teacher’s pet voice, “You know I’ll do anything you ask Miss Raven.”

    “Shurrup.” I ordered, giving him a light slap on the shoulder.

    We had reached the twin doors to the changing rooms, the familiar stench of cold sweat and dirty clothing combined with bad sewers and a full bin reaching my senses. By now I could bare it without my eyes watering, but I couldn’t help but grimace as I stepped inside.

    Unwashed fighter’s clothes lay strewn about the floor, accompanied by bottles filled with stale water and the mouldy remains of who-knows-what that hid in the darkest corner under a bench. The click and clack of my lock seemed multiplied when I was alone in this room, adding with the atrocious smell and attempting to overwhelm my senses. The first time that happened to me my five-yr-old self was sure I was coming down with a fever. Sometimes I still couldn’t shake that feeling today.

    The locker door swung open and I grabbed my clothes and slammed it shut as fast as I could, trying not to breath in the old egg smell that had permeated this locker for as long as I could remember. I made the shower as quick as I could, standing tip-toe the whole time to keep the most of my feet off the slimy tile floor.

    That done I leapt out of the shower room, the sandy floor cutting into my bare feet as I sprinted to my bag, stuffed my clean clothes on my soaking body and raced out of that reeking place. Outside the air was crisp and cold, the ground still wet from the light spring rain we’d had yesterday. The sun was out, but its light was weak and pale compared to the golden shine of summer.

    In the lone tree outside the gym a flock of Tailow had taken residence, cheeping cheerily to each other and occasionally fluttering from branch to branch. I had a sudden urge to pick up a stone and take one of them out, but stopped myself. I might be as pissed as I always was at my lame excuse for a father, but that was no reason to take it out on the Pokèmon… Even if they did wake me up every morning at four a.m. with their blasted morning chorus.

    “You did crap, girl.” A deep voice decided from behind me, “You coulda taken out that fool in no time if you’d trained betta.”

    I turned to face him, keeping my anger under control so I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words effected me.

    “If you want a good fighter who trains all day all night to achieve your dream get yourself a Machamp. It might actually want to serve you, but why I couldn’t guess.” I spat.

    “If it’s more loyal than you I’ll take it.” My father responded. He took a few steps towards me, aiming to put a hand on my shoulder for a more intimidating impression. “You’ll make a good fighter one day, Raven. I’ll make sure of it.”

    His voice was low and menacing, but I didn’t let it effect me.

    “No.” I brushed off his hand and started to walk away, “I don’t let wimps take control of my life.”

    “If I’m a wimp then what are you?!” He shouted after me.

    I didn’t respond, why the Hell should I? It was bad enough that his voice and his instructions always got me through fights without having him enticing retorts out of me too. But now… I put my head back as I walked barefoot out of the cement compound, leaving the potted tree and its Tailow behind. I’d said that I don’t let wimps take control of my life, but, if that were true, would I still be wasting my time fighting to carry out my father’s dream?

    As much as I always tried to deny it, that was what I did every day in that arena. I assured myself it was for my own strength, but this was different, far, far different. I got stronger, true, but as I did my father’s dream got nearer. I didn’t want that. To Hell with him, I wasn’t going to be the good little daddy’s girl that did everything for my old man. No, there was going to be something better for me than that.

    Suddenly a wave of sound exploded from a nearby alleyway, sending my mind into instant alert. I felt my father’s intuition trying to slip sneakily into my head, but batted it away.

    ‘I don’t need you.’

    No matter that this city was filled with slashers and muggers and criminals of all kinds, I could take care of myself without his stupid pointers echoing in my head from when I was a little kid, from when mum was still alive…

    I snapped my mind out of that train of thought before it could even take me anywhere. If there was a psycho killer down that alley the last place my mind needed to be was with the lingering thoughts of my mother. There would be another time and place for that reverie, but certainly not now.

    I regained my sharp concentration and crept forward down the dark alleyway, keeping to the cold brick walls to stop myself from being to obvious. Thoughts of sharp objects sneaking across my throat and laying me open flickered across my mind but I barred them out. The fighter with the most concentration would win, no matter size or weight.

    I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart beating fast in my chest. No. No way. I couldn’t have just thought that, could I?! My father’s words, but in my voice? He really was taking control of me, faster than I could even hope to comprehend. It snapped inside of me; I had to get away from this place. Far, far away, away from my sire and away from the memories. If I could get enough distance between us I might manage to escape this nightmare altogether…

    Suddenly a flashing glint of silver shot towards me, only my heightened reactions saving me from a gory, slashed up death. The steel blade rammed into the wall right where my head had been, sending red dust and chips of the brick flying outwards from the heavy impact. I had been thinking too long. My concentration had broken and now I was the one under attack.

    But suddenly I didn’t want to get in a fight. Feigning a fall I landed on my left hand and swiped my attacker’s legs out from under him. With a loud thud his heavy form slammed home, a groan of pain escaping his throat along with a putrid gush of alcohol breath and swearwords even I hadn’t picked up before. I made a mental note to remember those then turned and ran.

    People in a normal city would have been surprised to see me, the red-tinted-black haired, amber eyed girl with her arms and fists bound in leather and her feet bare, running through their home, but Malmarsh city was different. They were used to me and my emotion-driven outbursts as much as they were to the Grimer inhabiting the drains.

    Right now I was heading for the edge of the Metropolis, ignoring the jarring pain that jolted up my legs with every running step as I snaked around the people and bicycles that barred my way. Everything but myself seemed to be in slow motion, the few people and occasional bikes that cluttered the sidewalks moving at a Slugma’s pace as I raced along. Even the cars seemed slow, despite the fact that no-one around here ever did less than thirty-five even around the centre.

    I sprinted along the ground, the cement slabs flying beneath my feet in a blur and the cool air pummelling my face and making my eyes water heavily. I felt as if I were trying to outrun the past, or perhaps the future, trying to escape what had happened and what was to come. I knew I couldn’t do it, but the sheer speed was clearing my head. I’m not the spiritual type, so I’ll blame it on the air and my heart beating the blood around my body faster than a Rapidash runs.

    Finally I reached the edges of the wooded area, two miles from where I had started. I slid to a stop and did my best to stop myself from falling to the ground. I was exhausted. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I felt it would tear through me if it kept going and my head was spinning. The edges of my vision fizzed in and out of being as I sank back against a tree trunk, giving in to my body’s want for comfort.

    After a good fifteen minutes I raised my head from my chest, still panting a little from my run, and gazed out at the hideous concrete mess before me. Smokestacks belched dark fumes into the sky, muddying the once crisp white clouds above and marring the horizon. The buildings were all red or grey, all rectangular, all bearing the same pyramid roofs above and the build up of pollution on the walls.

    It was hideous. This place, my home, was absolutely disgusting. I couldn’t believe that I lived in this messed-up excuse for a city, breathing in those toxic fumes every day and walking around like another one of those pre-programmed robots that seemed to patrol every corner. The city was made even uglier when this beautiful forest was at my back. This forest, with its amazing array of greens, reds, pinks, blues and yellows, with its diverse wildlife and its wonderful clean air. Well, I looked back at the city, as clean as you could get when your neighbour was that stinking mass.

    I threw my bag back at the city with all my might and turned away.

    “This is the start of my life,” I told myself as I started to walk into the forest, smirking as I heard the clang of my bag landing in a rubbish bin, “So I don’t need any of the old trash.”

    With one hand I rooted about in my pocket in search of some money. I found a stick of gum (half chewed), a hair bobble (coated in mud after being used in a rubber band war), a ticket for the S.S. Tidal and about ¥5,000. I winced, not much, but it would have to do. After all, what else did I have?

    I smiled at that. I liked where this was heading. I had total freedom. Sure, I had no shoes, a pathetically small amount of money and practically zilch in the possession department, but there was nothing holding me back. There was nothing to lose… and everything to gain.
    Last edited by Obsidian Blade; 2nd June 2004 at 03:20 AM.



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  2. #2
    Darkest Dark Obsidian Blade's Avatar
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    Post Chapter II Part I

    Raven: Emerald Fist
    Mechyena Saga


    Chapter two: Gingerbread

    By Obsidian Blade

    I trudged along through the forest, the mud coating my legs all the way up to mid-thigh. My burst of optimism from yesterday was dying off pretty quick now, a few remaining embers all that remained. I was getting sick of these woods. Yesterday they had represented my newfound freedom, but today, with the memories of a rainy, Weedle infested night still fresh in my mind, it represented mud, mud, more mud and then even more mud on the side. Gaahhh, how I wished I’d thought to bring shoes, spare clothes, more money and some proper FOOD.

    At that thought my stomach growled as loud as a Mightyena in complaint. Gawd, what I wouldn’t do for a bacon butty… Hot from the grill, greasy, ketchup yummmmm…

    “YAHHHHIEEE!!!” I shrieked, my feet sliding out from under me as my bacon butty fantasy sent me sliding down a muddy bank toward a bubbling bog. “Oh shit.” I mumbled, there was NO WAY landing in that would be nice.

    I grabbed at the bank I was sliding down but all I grabbed were handfuls of slimy greenish brown sludge. But there! As fast as I could I grabbed a tree root sticking out of the bank, ignoring the way the wood dug into my palm and trying to imagine the maggots seething around me away. Why oh why was it me who slid down the maggot infested[ bank leading to some sort of toxic marsh?

    A held on tighter, gritting my teeth and trying to expel some of the grit and muddy grime I had in my maw. I seemed to be doing okay now, my grip on the root staying true. But wait… Suddenly my mind clicked.

    ‘Maggots… root… EATING…’

    “Oh shit.” I repeated, just as the root gave way under my weight, sending me slipping and sliding down the mud, now accompanied by numerous maggots and other grubs.

    Sticks, plants and stones that lined the bank ripped at my skin and clothing, leaving harsh red lines down my arms, legs and stomach. I gagged and choked on mud as I scratched uselessly at the slope in an attempt to save myself. Too late.

    SPLASH! I landed in the bog, mud that smelled worse than the changing rooms at my father’s gym swirling over my head and slimy skinned somethings brushing my body as I pushed frantically up toward the surface. Just when I thought my lungs would burst I exploded from the bog, my mouth gaping open for air but getting more watery mud than anything else.

    I shook my head ferociously, my hair sending more mud splattering everywhere. After wiping my mouth on the back of my sludgy hand I struck out fervently for what I could see was solid land.

    More easily said then done, I tells ya.

    The mud churned around me at my frantic splashing, filling my mouth and nose and eyes and only adding to my panic. My father’s voice was drowned out in my head by the frantic warning bleeps as I sank momentarily below the surface but I was too busy spluttering and gasping for air as I came up again to celebrate.

    I swapped movements to the crawl, dragging myself through the thick murky mud with powerful strokes of my arms. My feet kicked out behind me, making contact with something sharp that I somehow ignored. I had to ignore it, just as I had to pretend that the grit coating my body and irritating my skin wasn’t bothering me. If I let myself try to scratch or panic it’d be bye-bye Raven as I sank into the stinking mess.

    Finally the tips of my fingers hit the hard land of the shore and I hauled my exhausted body up with much difficulty, letting myself collapse choking and gasping to the dank ground. Its earthy scent barely penetrated my mud-coated nostrils, but it was enough to comfort me a tiny bit. My arms felt like rubber as they lay motionless by my side, the grit that clung to my every pore itching and scratching as I finally sat up.

    I managed to remove the worst of the slime from my arms and body with the palms of my hands, but my fingers wouldn’t move with the cold. In fact, my entire body was either shivering or frozen in place, leaving me pretty defenceless. I had to get a fire started, no matter how, I just had to. I had to warm up, my life most probably depended on it.

    Pulling every ounce of determination from my being I pulled my legs up underneath me, straightening them oh-so-slowly as I stood. I looked around. I smiled. I kept standing. But then suddenly the world was shaking around me, my pale legs, dirty brown with mud, shivering in uncontrollable spasms.

    “Please no…” I begged my limbs, trying to will them to stay up.

    No luck. One ankle gave way, sending me falling sideways, arms flailing for something, anything, to grab onto. No hope. I hit the ground hip-first, a sharp pain shooting through my lower thigh followed by a warm trickle. I looked down.

    “Damn this!”

    My leg was impaled on a root, the dark wood buried deep in my flesh. A crimson stream ran swiftly from the wound, dripping onto the soft earth were it was instantly sucked up.
    “Damn it ALL!” I screamed to the canopy of trees above me.
    A flock of Spearow exploded from the trees and into the sky, squawking their complaints as they retreated away.

    With a final scream of anger and defeat I let my head hit the ground, not even caring as something squirmed out from under me and writhed its way off into the dark dead bracken. Why did it matter? If I died, here, now, I would at least be with my mother…

    Thoughts of her smiling face, blue eyes sparkling with happiness and love and body shaking with playful laughter jumped into my head. I couldn’t even raise the strength to bat them away. As images rose unbidden into my minds eye, myself on her shoulders as a tiny child, burying my face in her silky blue hair, her running across a field as her Growlithe leapt along beside, nipping playfully at her ankles, I let myself do something I never did. I cried.

    Cried and cried and cried. Cried soundlessly, tears slipping across my dirty face and leaving salty trails of skin in their wake. I cried until my eyes ached as much as my heart and the sides of my vision started to sink into fizzing darkness.

    * * *

    I don’t know for how long I was out, but it was long enough. I woke with a splitting headache and limbs that felt like lead. It was dark again, but I could see my breath hanging in the air in front of me by the silvery light of the moon that slunk through the guarding trees and splashed softly upon the ground.

    It was a clear night, the moon and stars shining like silver beacons through the blanket of midnight blue. It was also, very, very cold. If I was in a bad way before, I was practically dead now. Numbly I rubbed at my senseless arms and legs, blinking the strange tiredness from my eyes as I worked hard to heighten my body heat. It wasn’t working. Fear crept up from the pit of my stomach like a venomous snake, ripping at my insides and leaving me cold and empty, yet heavy and coiled at the same time. Was I going to… die? Here? From something so trivial as a slip down a slope?

    Those thoughts fresh in my mind, I rubbed harder and with renewed determination. I wouldn’t die here, it would be like proving my father right; I was a weakling. I scrubbed at my skin until it was red, raw and shining in the light, scraps of mud torn from my skin by my fervent actions and then rubbed into the stinging wounds. And it still wasn’t working!

    I pressed harder and rubbed faster, a lump rising in my throat. I bit it back, I’d had my annual crying session earlier today and there was no way I was going to reduce my pride any further by repeating it. The cold set in further, biting my flesh and coiling around me in a grip of freezing death. My movements started to slow as my toes lost all feeling and my lips found themselves almost incapable of moving.

    I was about to give up again, like I had earlier only for a much longer time, when a warm nose stabbed me viciously in the arm. I looked down, my head quivering and my eyes barely able to focus on the creature in front of me. It was a… some sort of Pokèmon. I think… A Rattata. Yeah, that’s it. Rattata.

    It squeaked something incomprehensible and rubbed the side of its warm furred face against my arm. Its fur was soft and purple on top, slightly tougher and tan coloured on the bottom. I was too tired to see the colour of its eyes. Too tired…

    My head rolled over on my neck, most of its weight resting on one freezing shoulder. Rattata squeaked again, more urgently this time as if it were trying to call me back. I couldn’t… just couldn’t.

    “WeeEEEP!” The little creature squealed, rubbing its whole body against my side.

    It struck me as to how this Pokèmon would help me, a human, without question when our own ‘intelligently advanced’ society wouldn’t do as much as to hold out a hand to help a blind man cross the road. The thought of a fool, maybe. For that to be one of my last thoughts I had to be.

    I leant my back gently against the hard bark of a tree as Rattata kept up its relentless quest to keep me awake. I started to doze fitfully, the wound on my inner thigh seeming to inflate and itch as I dipped in and out of the waters of unconsciousness like a nervous child first learning to swim. I felt myself prepare to dive off the deep end when a sharp pain shot through my hand and an added weight forced its way into my lap.

    I forced my eyes open again to see the little faces of about ten Rattata in my lap and a Hoothoot perched on my hand. Then pain had been courtesy of its sharp talons and I had to say I was thankful. As the ten Rattata went about warming me up, Hoothoot perched on my shoulder, whispering sounds of encouragement into my ear. To my disbelief I was starting to feel better, the light-headedness starting to flee my mind and the movement returning to my hands and feet. Even the death lock the cold had around my chest started to relax, letting me breath without pain.

    After maybe two hours of pampering from Rattata and Hoothoot I could stand again, walk even. Eleven pairs of sparkling eyes stared up at me as I walked my first lap of a set of three trees, rotten wood and dead plants crackling under my bare feet. I returned to my little saviours and hugged them each, unable to really show my gratitude.

    Strangely, they seemed to sense it anyway, but how I could tell I don’t know. I tilted my head back and gazed at the twinkling cosmos above me, a smile gracing my thin lips.

    “Thank you.” I said to the Pokèmon, but when I looked down they were gone.

    “Strange…” I murmured, setting off through the forest once again.

    I hadn’t got far when men’s voices reached my ears, their tone venomous as I picked out a few swearwords in their dialogue. Flashlight beams pierced the darkness, flooding over the vegetation as they swung around through the air. It looked as if the holders were trying to cover everyplace at once…

    I covered a smile with my hand, whoever these people were, they were cowards if they were afraid of being in this forest. Why were they even out here at this hour if they were scare--- Then it hit me with the force of a thousand stones: They were out here for me.

    Suddenly I saw the whole scene in a different light. These people weren’t blundering cowards cussing their way through a forest. They were hunters, the beams of their flashlights silver tendrils reaching out for me through the darkness, swatting at my body and weakly grasping at my clothes.

    Without another breath I turned and ran, blundering noisily away on still shaken legs. If I’d been in perfect health none of that would have happened; I would have crept slowly and quietly away and hidden where they couldn’t find me. As it was, I was fearful after the bog incident and any little thing could send me leaping like a terrified deer.

    I heard a few shouts from behind me and suddenly I was bathed in revealing light. The wind blew into my face as I rushed headlong through the undergrowth, narrowly avoiding trees and plants and other obstacles as I sped off. They were still hot on my trail, even though the silvery spectres of their flashlight beams had lost their grip on my form.

    “Hey! Get back here!” One of them yelled, slurring his words together like a drunkard. I assume he was.

    I didn’t reply, didn’t stop either. That would be a very, very stupid thing to do and I knew better. I was running full tilt, sharp ended sticks embedding themselves in the soles of my feet as I leapt through the bracken.

    “We’ll get you, you little bugg-GLOFF!”

    A smile twitched my lips as I realised that one of the fools following me had met the same muddy fate as I had done earlier. Serves him right! They should never have tried to catch me in the first place. And still I ran on, the harsh wind buffeting my face and ripping at my loose t-shirt. I leapt over fallen trees and logs like a champion show jumping Rapidash, forced my way through prickly bushes with the stubbornness of a Rhyhorn and occasionally swung from vines to get over more bogs and Pokèmon holes that littered my path.

    But I was still tired, and the men were gaining on me. The chemicals pumping through my veins made my muscles burn as I hauled myself on, my breath wearing away at the inside of my throat like sandpaper. I started to slow down a little, the blood beating in my ears like a slack drum and forcing my concentration to waver. There was a large tree up ahead, its branches extending far into the sky and its roots twisting and turning on the ground.

    I decided to jump over the roots to avoid spraining, or even breaking, my ankle and prepared myself as I came closer. I was ten feet from the tree, six feet five feet four feet three feet two feet one foot… I bunched my legs beneath me and sprang, waiting for that familiar burst of speed and power I expected. It never came. My legs were too tired. Instead of shooting over the roots and landing gracefully on the other side my feet slammed into two gaps between roots causing me to fall forward onto my face.

    The precious time and distance I was loosing haunting my head like a curse I tried to pull myself free and run on, but my feet remained firmly stuck. I rolled over as best as I could and grabbed my thigh with my hands, yanking with all my strength. Not fast enough… I pulled harder, tried the other leg, went into a pulling frenzy, but I was stuck firm.

    I looked up to see where my pursuers had got to, but they had disappeared. I blinked and looked harder; they couldn’t simply have not been there. My amber eyes scanned the surrounding forest, my hackles rising as I realised what a bad position I was on.

    “Gotcha!” A loud voice bellowed from behind me, heavy hands slamming down onto my shoulders and knocking me back into the harsh cradle of roots.

    I couldn’t help it, my lips parted and I let out an ear splitting screech. The man covered his ears with one hand, and growled at me before his allies came and lifted me from my wooden prison. Now free, I knew exactly what I had to do. As much as I wanted to leave my father and his dream behind in the dust, this had to be done.

    “Kiiyaaa!”

    The sound issued from the centre of my being and I landed a swift kick to the head of on of my captors, sending his head cracking back on his skinny neck. As quickly as I could I flipped, punched or kicked all of my opponents away and prepared to run… But one got back up.

    “Well well Raven, it looks like I was right after all, you are a real fighter.” That all-familiar deep voice decided as the man, as my father, hauled himself up.

    Before I could so much as sneer he took up an offensive posture I was vaguely familiar with and struck out to my solar plexus. I caught his heavy booted foot in my hands, my over-used muscles straining to keep my father’s attacks at bay.

    He let out a well-rehearsed stream of furious kicks and punches that I could barely keep up with, but I did. He did a flying kick but I ducked beneath him and rammed both elbows on either side of his spine, coaxing a pained grunt from the man. It was an unorthodox move, but why the Hell should I care? Right now all I wanted to do was run. So I did. While my enemy was down in the dirt I gathered the tiny reserve of energy I hadn’t depleted to nothing and sprinted away into the wild.

    By the time father was back up, I was gone.
    Last edited by Obsidian Blade; 1st July 2004 at 01:20 AM.



    .:Touch my food, feel my fork:.
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