Monday 14 June 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 9

In part 9, we find Domino sat face to face with Capricia...


The limousine swished along the elevated expressway in near silence, the sheen of its sleek black exterior reflecting ribbons of colour from city lights. A heady scent of Oudh oil permeated the air of the opulent passenger compartment, recalling a vague memory of minarets and souks for Domino. She frowned, unable to place the imagery, a fragment of an uncertain past.

“You seem troubled,” opined Capricia. She was staring at Domino intently.
“It's nothing, just a few bruises.”
“I see. No doubt the injury you sustained to your hand is causing you no small discomfort. Or perhaps cybernetic limbs dispense with such inconveniences?”
“No... it still aches.”
Capricia shrugged off the fussing of the three boys draped around her and sat forward. Her manner intensified and her tone shifted to the interrogative.
“Tell me, why did you enter my arena tonight?”
“I imagine the same reason everyone else does.”
Capricia threw her head back and laughed.
“My, aren't we evasive? I have seen as many reasons for fighting as I have seen contenders. What was yours?”
“Money. And the challenge. I like to test my skills.”
Capricia cast Domino a look of incredulity.
“Everyone wants money, that's a given. As to testing your skills, I suspect you didn't even come close to doing so tonight.”

[I don't like where this is going, Yukiko.]
[I know what you mean. No sign of the laptop yet, either. This isn't as easy as I'd hoped.]
[She must keep it close. Hang in there. I'm tailing the limo on the lower level expressway if you need to bail. I'm on my Suzuki.]
[You brought the bike out?]
[Yeah, I know you prefer me to stay out of harm's way but once I figured you'd be on the move, I wanted to stay close.]
[Thanks, Angel.]

Domino had been watching her own reflection in the window of the limo while communicating with Angel. She returned her attention to Capricia again, who was watching her with open curiosity.
“You're giving me too much credit. It was a tough fight.”
“Ah. Modesty.” Capricia paused, pressed a button on the console running alongside her seat. “Or something else?”
A slimline laptop emerged slowly from the console. Capricia pulled it free and powered it on, her eyes fixed on Domino the whole time. The prize was within reach now and Domino wasn't certain that she had succeeded in concealing her interest.

“If I were to plug your 'Kunoichi' alias into my little friend here, what would I find?”
“Not much. I prefer to stay off the grid.”
“Indeed,” Capricia mused as her fingers flicked idly at the keyboard.
Domino hoped Capricia was bluffing. If the laptop was wired for internet access, it was the wrong machine.

[I'm checking her notebook now, Yuki-chan.]
[Read my mind.]

Domino found it very difficult not to smile in that moment. So much of her pursuit of Yamada through his network of underlings would have been a much greater struggle were it not for Angel's help and, perhaps more importantly, her insight and empathy.
[That's it! That's the one we need. She's bluffing: it's not transmitting or receiving any data packets via the web.]
[You're an Angel.]
[Yeah, yeah. Very funny. Now concentrate on the job.]

Capricia had finished her faux search and was once again regarding Domino, a lofty expression on her face.

“Hmm. Interesting. I wonder...” Capricia drummed her fingers along the top edge of the laptop screen. “... It's this you're interested in, isn't it? Your attempt to mask it was admirable but your reaction was obvious to me.”

Domino was watching Capricia's hands very carefully now. She had scanned the Italian woman as they sat in the limousine and knew she had a four-shot .357 Derringer strapped to her thigh beneath her gown. Capricia was still talking though, showing no signs of moving for her firearm.

“I had thought that dear Vasily's demise was a simple robbery, an arms deal turned sour. But then I remembered the matter of one of my warehouses being reduced to a smouldering ruin...”

[She's not as stupid as she looks.]
[More's the pity. This is going to get ugly, Angel. Can you hack the driver of the limo, maybe provide a distraction? I think it's one of those savant chauffeur models.]
[I can try.]

“...and so I suspected a possible attack on the syndicate.”
“Sounds like you've had a bad time of it. That why you're hiring fresh muscle?”
“Don't be cute!” Capricia bristled. “I'm giving you the chance to discuss this civilly.”
“Very charitable of you.”

Capricia's flash of anger was building rapidly into a full blown storm of rage now. Domino smiled: she needed Capricia angry. She'd be more clumsy that way. The fact she hadn't pulled her pistol already was worrying though. Domino started to wonder if the three loincloth-clad Egyptian boys might be more than literal hangers-on.

“Shut up!” shrieked Capricia. “I know you must want access to the corporate intranet. I just want to know why. Tell me and perhaps we can negotiate a deal.”
“If you weren't such a bloodthirsty narcissist who delighted in watching the desperate kill one another for her pleasure, I might have considered it.”
“You have no idea who you're dealing with. I'm one of the most powerful women in the -”
“Oh hush, you're just window dressing.”
With that, Domino launched herself at Capricia before she had the chance to reach for her gun. She was brought up short by the trio of boys as they erupted into a bizarrely co-ordinated defence of their mistress, their gangly limbs moving with surprising speed and flexibility.

Domino tried to twist past them but was forced into a defensive crouch as three sets of rubbery arms and legs pounded her body. They descended on her in eerie silence, idiotic blank smiles on their lips. She was parrying and dodging their blows as rapidly as her reflexes would allow but in the close confines of the limousine the hairless Egyptians' synchronised assault threatened to overwhelm her.

She had suspected they might serve as bodyguards but hadn't anticipated their level of skill or their unrelenting disregard for pain. Within seconds, she had managed to break their ribs, fingers and, in one case, a femur and yet they showed no hint of discomfort. In fact, their grins widened along with their hooded eyes and each was rapidly developing a more obvious demonstration of arousal.

Acutely aware of the many bruises and lacerations ravaging her body, Domino knew she had to bring the chaos under control, find a way through their simian movements to their boss, who now had the Derringer levelled at her, waiting for a clear shot.
Two of the boys suddenly collided in their enthusiasm and broke the rhythm of their attack for the briefest of moments. That window of opportunity was all that Domino needed. She aimed a merciless snap kick into the midriff of one of them, sending him sprawling and vomiting into Capricia.

Dropping herself to the floor, Domino spun on her buttocks, whipping her legs around in the style of a street dancer or Capoeira fighter and broke through the defences of the second, her double kick smashing him into the mirrored ceiling. She heard something in him crunch and he fell still.
Muzzle flash from Capricia's gun filled Domino's vision as the impact from the shot snapped her shoulder around violently. Her pain suppressor kicked into overdrive then, nullifying the cold spread of shock from the wound. She closed on Capricia with unerring accuracy, despite the insistent bombardment of blows from the third boy. Her hands found Capricia's before she could fire another shot.

In a blur of motion, she took Capricia's pistol from her grasp, shot the third boy through his eye and, with her free hand, flattened Capricia's nose against her cheek with a crushing back fist.

[Yuki!]
[A little busy...]
[I know, I know! I'm about to fry the driver's CPU. Grab the laptop if you can and I'll blow the sunroof. Get out of there!]
[Wait, there isn't any sunroof-]
[Just trust me!]

The first boy had recovered from his retching and was once again attempting to pummel Domino, his spooky smile still fixed firmly in place. She spotted an ornamental pen protruding from Capricia's console and pulled it free. Holding it in a reverse grip she wielded it as a makeshift dagger and fell into a lethal dance of strikes and counter-strikes with the boy.
As Capricia writhed in her seat, alternating between nursing her gushing nose and gagging on the boy's vomit, Domino worked the boy's defensive posture higher and higher. Each thrust of the silver pen was designed to draw his arms up, the whirlwind movements of their arms too fast to track. She soon had the opening she needed as he committed to one of her feints and she dropped the pen under his guard and sank it deep into the artery serving his inner thigh.
She used his scrambling attempts to stem the fountain of blood from the mortal wound to break free and grab the laptop from Capricia's side.
[Now, Angel. Now!]
A loud 'pop' sounded from the driver's compartment, accompanied by the smell of fried circuitry. A heartbeat later and the mirror above Domino shattered into a thousand tiny fragments as Angel overrode the vehicle's safety protocols and force-activated the emergency exit.

Her adrenals spiking, Domino leapt straight up, her feet barely clearing the roof of the limousine as it sped away beneath her. Inertia and gravity carried her into an awkward tumble as she landed, ripping both clothing and skin from her already broken body. She dashed to the edge of the expressway, narrowly avoiding the path of a hover-taxi.

Further along the road, the limousine was picking up speed, now on a certain collision course with a sound-baffling wall. Seconds later, a fireball bloomed and engulfed the vehicle and all who remained inside. Domino collapsed, exhausted.

She was only half conscious moments later when Angel arrived. She was dimly aware of clambering onto the bike behind her friend before the protective canopy extended back into place around them and Angel gunned the engine.

[Wrap your arms around me if you can. Try to stay awake. I'm getting you to Suture's place.]
[N-no... not yet. Get back to... Venus Lounge... look for Russian... Petrov... may still... be alive. Suture... get him to meet us there.]
[Okay, Yuki-chan. You got it.]

Angel fed the Suzuki at breakneck speed through canyons of neon, leaving the flaming remains of Capricia Morucci far behind. She soon felt the ruined body of her friend fall limp behind her. Blinking away a hot rush of tears, she forced herself to focus on the tiny readout of Yukiko's vital signs on her heads up, willing them not to flatline as she desperately raced to their meeting with Suture.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

Monday 7 June 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 8

I hope you enjoy Part 8.  The pit fight rages on...


The girl with scales for skin came for her with unbridled ferocity, each attack raking and clawing for Domino's face as she worked to maintain her deliberately loose defence. Every movement the exotic made was predictable to her; she was fighting angry, out of control, telegraphing her attacks through changes in stance, making it easy for Domino to remain one step ahead at all times.

The crowd roared at the spectacular display from the dragon girl. Her fighting style, a stylised combination of Snake and Dragon forms, was flashy and explosive and each time she launched an aerial combo the crowd became more vocal in their appreciation. So far, everyone seemed to be buying into Domino's staggering retreat. Everyone except for the exotic, who suddenly seemed to realise she had no way through her opponent's defences.
She whirled away from Domino, hissing and spitting her indignation.

[Don't let the exotic in close, Yuki-chan. She's got razor-tip claw implants and worse yet, she's had a nasty dental mod to go with those fangs: she can spit venom from a reservoir in her lower jaw.]
[Thanks for the heads up. You into her records there?]

Domino had been keenly aware of the Spetsnaz edging around the ring, his footwork light despite his hulking frame. Now she saw him close in on the exotic as her rage provided him with an opening.

[Yeah, what little I could find from the facial recognition match. Working alias is Violetta. She got her body work done in Kowloon. Trained there too, from what I can gather. She worked high profile escort jobs for Pacific Rim rock stars and the like before dropping off the grid for a while. Both Hong Kong police and Interpol have a long standing interest in her. Collateral damage follows her every assignment.]
[So, a cold bitch of a sociopath, then?]
[And then some...]
[Angel, see what you can pull on the Russian.]
[Already on it.]
The Russian had pinned Violetta with a near flawless grapple hold, the grafted muscles in his arms flexing, forcing veins and capillaries to the surface of his skin as he tried to wrestle the much smaller girl to the floor. For a moment, it seemed to Domino that he might overpower Violetta. That was before the exotic dislocated her own shoulders.
The popping of her joints was felt more than heard as she struggled to work free of the Russian's grasp. Her desperate move bought her enough latitude to angle her head towards him as her neck twisted at an impossible angle. Before Domino could intervene, Violetta spat her venom into the Russian's face, almost instantly melting the flesh of his cheek.

[The Russian's Borislav Petrov. Spetsnaz trained, as we thought. Special weapons, systema, the whole lot. Not sure why he's here, though. No criminal record, nothing obvious to run from.]
[Maybe he just needs the cash.]
[With his skills, he could earn it more safely elsewhere.]
[True, but it'd be nowhere near as fast. Keep digging. If he's as clean as you say, I'll make sure he walks out of here.]
The dragon girl was free of Petrov's hold now and had somehow whipped her shoulders back into their sockets. She sprang after the staggered giant with a sequence of combo attacks which mirrored her assault on Domino in their speed and malevolence. The beleaguered Spetsnaz had little choice but to throw his arms up in an attempt to fend off the exotic's cruel onslaught. Domino knew that he would soon crumble and, most likely, meet a bloody and meaningless end.

She raced for Violetta with an uncommon sense of abandon, hoping to intersect the dragon girl's deadly trajectory. Domino closed the gap in a heartbeat and her hook punch smashed through Violetta's scaly jaw with a sickening crunch. Skin was stripped from Domino's knuckles and searing pain lanced along her arm as the exotic's head snapped backwards, halting her advance on her prey.

A mist of blood hung in the air between the three as tiny splinters of Violetta's jaw fell to the floor. The lower half of her face was ruined, hanging loosely on mangled tendons and ripped remnants of skin.

“Let's see you spit poison now, bitch!” Domino whispered with just enough vehemence for the exotic to hear. Enraged beyond reason or perception of pain, Violetta flew at her, hot breath bubbling through a mess of blood and bone. 
 
Domino was distantly aware of the stunned silence surrounding them now and as she sidestepped and blocked the dragon girl's flailing arms, legs and tail she resolved to end the fight quickly. She engaged her pain suppressor implant, enabling full use of her near-ruined hand again. 
 
She caught the next wild attack and pulled Violetta towards her, simultaneously retracting her arm so she could launch a double pronged attack. One hand, a rigid 'v', found the exotic's throat, collapsing her windpipe while the other formed an open palm attack which slammed into Violetta's sternum, the sheer energy behind it instantly stopping her heart.
The entire exchange had transpired in microseconds and now the too-proud exotic stood shakily, her eyes glazed over as her brain caught up to the idea that she was dead. Domino saw something there, in that moment, in those glassy eyes. Remorse? Loneliness? A reverie for a happier life left sublimated for too long? She would never know. Violetta's limp form crumpled to the bloodied mosaic floor with what seemed like a sigh and then she moved no more.





Borislav Petrov had rarely experienced such pain: the molten agony torturing his face was hell enough but when the scaly bitch started clawing chunks from his arms it was all he could do not to pass out. He forced himself to recall the words of his old instructor:

The body is but a tool of the mind and the world around you a product of that same mind. Allow no pain into your mind and there will be no pain...

No, those teachings did not make the beatings stop or help relieve him of his wounds. He was about to lose his only chance of gaining the money he needed. He was also about to lose his life. Borislav shook his head shamefully. Such a defeatist attitude would never have been tolerated when he was in his unit! He gritted his teeth and approached his defence with renewed vigour. He would succeed. He must succeed.

A blur of motion passed between him and his vicious assailant. It had been the tiny Japanese girl. And she had left in her wake a ruined and quite furious dragon girl. His shoulders slumped in unabashed relief as he watched the girl in black effortlessly deflect and weave around the machine-gun paced attacks of the scaled one.
And then she ended it. He had barely seen the move, hadn't even discerned the points of impact. The girl with purple scales for skin was now a puppet whose strings had been severed and so she fell, discarded, on the cold floor.

The Japanese girl turned to regard him with eyes of purest obsidian. Borislav Petrov had seen many battlefields and fought countless foes. Not one of these had given him the sense of inevitability he felt now. He had understood all those he had fought before, even the strange dragon girl. But in the impossible youth of the one stood before him now he recognised an unfathomable depth of experience and an unshakable certainty of purpose.
He was undone, he knew. He would never return to his daughter. Never provide her with the prosthesis she needed to continue living in this world. His dream of winning enough to take her to the best surgeons in their pristine orbital stations was at its end.





[I've found it!]
[Found what?]
[Petrov. His reason for entering the pit fight. His daughter is dying. She needs orbital-grade prosthetics. That's why he's here.]
[Dammit.]

Domino turned from the lifeless form of the exotic at her feet and found the ex-Spetsnaz trooper returning her stare. His grey eyes shifted along the spectrum from defiance to resignation in that moment and she knew then that this ageing, noble fighter may well undo her plan to gain access to Capricia without ever laying a finger on her.

[I can't do this, Angel. I can't just end him because it serves my purposes. I'll have to find another way to get to Capricia and Yamada.]
[You might not have to. A lot of his implants are old tech, using an obsolete neural interface. If you overload the control unit at the base of his skull, he'll pass out and, to the untrained eye, appear to be dead.]
[Hmm. That might work. Is there any risk of – what the...?]

Petrov stepped towards her slowly, a wistful smile on his malformed lips. He extended his arms cruciform, hands held palm up in a clear gesture of surrender.

[What's he doing, Yukiko?]
[Giving up. This isn't good.]
[But I thought -]
[They won't let him. They're all out for blood. And money.]

“I yield.” his voice boomed around the club yet was almost instantly drowned out by a cacophony of distaste from the crowd. All eyes bar those of Domino and Petrov turned to Capricia, who was stood imperiously above them all. She milked the moment for more than it was worth before offering a down-turned thumb in a ridiculous pastiche of an ancient Roman Caesar.

“Your 'yield' is not accepted. You will find no quarter here. Kunoichi! Finish him!”

Domino wanted very badly to kill Capricia in that moment, wipe the self-satisfied smirk from her artificially glamorous face. She settled instead for glaring at her coldly before turning her attention back to Petrov. She saw he was resigned to a certain destiny, and as he transitioned from his capitulation to a combat-ready stance, she suspected he would offer little, if any, real resistance.
As they faced off, he seemed to read her reluctance and he shot her an almost imperceptible nod before closing on her position. He would attempt to make the task before her weigh less heavily on her conscience, launch a barrage of attacks so she would have no option but to defend herself.
His kicks and punches came at her in clever combinations of feints and mix-ups, his every move informed by an obvious wealth of experience and hard-earned wisdom. More impressive still was his ability to temper his strength with grace and control. He was a consummate fighter, the type with the power to level a brick wall and the skill to halt a blow a mere hair's-breadth from its target. It had been sheer bad luck that Violetta ever had the chance to harm him.

[I need to know how to take out that control module, Angel. Are you sure it won't cause any lasting damage?]
[I'm certain of it: it was a design flaw with that particular unit. A strong blow to the soft tissue at the base of the skull should have the desired effect.]
[Okay. Thanks, Angel. Here goes...]

They had continued the sham fight for long enough now; the crowd was sufficiently engrossed in their martial dance to buy into the Russian's collapse.
Domino threw a flashy aerial double kick at Petrov and, as she had hoped, he intercepted her risky attack with a high block. Such was the strength of his augmented arms, she was able to twist her body and shift her momentum so that his block became a stepping stone for her to somersault over his head.
The move was fast enough to give her a clean line on the back of his neck and so she snapped her leg out in a reverse kick. Her foot connected with the base of Petrov's skull with a loud crack. The giant toppled, and the crowd rose in ovation as she nimbly touched down behind his prone form.
While she knew she had not killed him, she still felt sickened by the audience's reaction to his apparent demise.
Domino was left in darkness then, as all the club's spotlights shifted to Capricia's balcony. The arena battle was over. 

Copyright © A. Flood 2010