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GM

 

The tires split and deflated as Arrowhawk went to work on them. Nobody seemed to notice her - although it was rather hard to see what the nearly immobile Metal Head was looking at. He was impassive. One had to look carefully to see he was breathing at all. 

 

"Where is she?"

 

"We lost her!"

 

The five hunters were getting impatient and frustrated. They had paid good money for blood sport, and the trail was cold. 

 

"Bring out the Nose!" demanded one, as the men looked at Metal Head. He gave a slow nod. 

 

In response, a small man of maybe five foot six height, slightly stooped, and with the biggest nose one could possibly conceive of, stepped out of one of the cars. He sniffed the air carefully, picking up the less than delicious aroma's that swirled around a back alley. 

 

"Got her...!" he whispered, his voice soft but insidious. 

 

The five hunters smiled and enjoyed their renewed enthusiasm, and started to get back into the pick ups...

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Arrowhawk immediately slipped back into the shadows, cloaking herself from sight and smell. Especially smell. The mercenary hadn't been lying. There was something unnatural there. Metahumanity being hired out for bloodsports? Was there nothing the wealthy Midgarders couldn't pervert? 

 

But they were going to soon discover they weren't able to get far. She kept crouched and quiet, holding her axe still and ready, trying to ignore the pain in her side and shoulder. There were a lot of men here. She wasn't sure a frontal attack would work.

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GM

 

The Nose sniffed around, as might be expected given the monstrosity situated mid-face, and his appropriate name. 

 

"She hath Gone! Gone! But the Nose can findth her! Yes he can! Oh yes he can!"

 

"Come on then!" answered one of the hunters, feverish with antici...pation. 

 

"Guys a goddamn freak...." muttered another under his breath, quietly. He could not look at the Nose, and one could not blame him. The giant organ seemed to attract ones gaze and it was a devil of a job to distract oneself from it. 

 

"Gentlemen, the Nose is on the trail" said the Metal faced man, moving from his stillness. His voice was low and smooth, like oil being poured over rusty metal. "I suggest we continue the entertainment of the night" he said politely but with an insidious firmness. 

 

"Sure thing! Time to rid the world of another parasite!" said a hunter keenly, taking out a magazine from his gun and clipping it back into place theatrically, just like in the movies. 

 

And so the men climbed into the two pick up trucks. 

 

Except the Metal Faced Man, who once again paused, quite still. 

 

"Gentlemen, it appears we have a saboteur" he said, quite cold. 

 

Fast, so very fast, he spun around, looking at the street....

 

"If I find her, Ill gut her, and gut her good..." he said, bluntly, pulling out a knife and walking obliquely towards Arrowhawk. It was not a walk on target, nor did he look precisely at her. 

 

But Arrowhawk had a feeling. The Metal Headed man could see her...and was intent on his promise. 

Edited by Supercape
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Arrowhawk kept her mouth shut. This man could see her, somehow. She didn't know how, and didn't know why. Maybe he had the same technology on that metal head that the mercenary had in his eyes. Maybe it was something else. Practically speaking, it didn't matter. But only he seemed to be able to, and she could use that. 

 

Shaking her head and letting a warrior's grin cross her face, she slid the axe down her hand, gripping it tightly near the base of the haft so she could achieve more momentum on the downswing. She slowly brought it up, raising it into the air just above her right shoulder, making no effort to conceal the motion.

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GM

 

The Metal Headed Man noticed the axe, and gave the slightest of nods. Maybe it was Bushido. 

 

But he didn't fight like a Samurai, and didn't wield a Katana. 

 

He moved quickly, very quickly. And he was strong and big. And he knew how to handle a knife. As he pulled it back, there was a click sound, and from the edges sprung a horrible concoction of serrated blades. This was a wicked, nasty knife, designed to be wicked and nasty. 

 

"I see you like slashing tyres" he said, the air still with the moment. The moonlight, predictably, glinted of the knife. 

 

"I like slashing too..." he said, and lunged forward, fast, powerful, accurate....

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He moved alarmingly quickly, managing to lunge in just as Osla brought the axe down, letting out a yell of pain as the knife drove into the existing wound in her side, spiking in through the hole in her armour. Spurred on, she slammed the haft of the axe down with immense force onto his shoulder, letting the impact reverberate through the man's body before spinning away, rotating the axe in a circle. 

 

"Finally, one of you with any backbone," Arrowhawk snarled, keeping close, knowing if she moved out of melee range then the man's supporters would be very able to shoot her up. As it was, he'd make a convenient shield against anything they'd try.

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GM

 

Metal head grunted, and you could almost smell the blood. He suit was armoured, to a degree, but it was nothing that a well swung axe would not part. And it cut in hard. 

 

But he was a big man, and a tough man. And he did not flinch more than a fraction. 

 

"Get"

 

"Out"

 

"Of"

 

"Here"

 

He said, slowly, not turning, but clearly indicating the hunters and the Nose. 

 

"Find the woman. Kill her. Slowly. And I will refund your fees!"

 

Metal head slammed his hand on to the axe still in his shoulder before Arrowhawk could take it out. 

 

"Nice axe. I'll take it..." he grunted, twisting his body and wrenching with his arm, and pulling the handle out from Arrowhawk. He took a few steps back, fully rotating, and spinning round with her axe in one hand and his huge knife in the other. 

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Arrowhawk tried to keep a hold of the axe, but her grip faltered, the haft slipping between her fingers as she ducked backwards to evade any retaliatory strike. A flicker of annoyance crossed her features and she circled around to the left, bringing her fists up into a boxing stance. She weaved forward, striking towards the man's shoulder, but her punch was blocked on the haft of her own axe. Osla bobbed backwards, hoping she wouldn't have cause to break her own weapon. It was hard sourcing axes these days.

 

"You seem like a competent warrior," Arrowhawk said with begrudging respect. "You could bring honour to yourself were these much less vile circumstances."

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GM

 

The Nose and the Hunters, not wishing to fight where they might actually get hurt, but keen to get a refund, scuttled off. The Nose could do exactly what he said - track, and at speed. He directed them as they ran full speed away, after the poor woman. 

 

Metal Head backed off more slowly in that direction, blocking Arrowhawk from giving chase down the small alley. He held his knife and her axe in either hand. 

 

"I am competent. Like you. It was you who disposed of my sniper, Mr. Shades, I see now. I wondered who got the best of him, for he is not easily bested" he said, voice slow and confident. 

 

"I have no wish to kill you, although I have no compunction against doing so. The world is, broadly, better for your presence. You contribute. I deal with vile circumstance, and profit from it. But I would only kill those who are parasites on society. Or those who get in my way..." he said, grimly, hefting the axe. 

 

"This night is over. I can smell your blood. Go away, head held high that you tried. And Bedlam will be without one miserable homeless woman who does nothing but drain society..."

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Arrowhawk laughed, a hearty peal of genuine mirth. "Oh. Oh, how very droll. You see, I grew up among men like you. Men who thought their prowess made them somehow better. Somehow more valuable. That they somehow mattered more, simply by tearing down others of other circumstance."

 

She reached to her belt, hefting her bow in her right hand, and took one deliberate step forwards, moving slowly and with a surety of purpose. "Peddle your flimsy rationale to your clientele. I can spot a cur motivated by greed and egotism anywhere. Don't mistake that for contribution." She let out another laugh, this one more bitter, more dripping with acid.

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GM

 

"Men like me?" scoffed Metal Head. "What has me being a man got to do with anything? You don't even know me. I was born from brutality, and I was tempered to iron. Do you know what lies behind my mask? Maybe my father burnt my face on the oven. Maybe my mother beat me with a rod" he said, firm and contemptuous. 

 

"Your ridiculous ignorant taunts reveal you for a fool, nothing more. An ignorant fool. And you are twice foolish if you think I do not mean what I say. I do not make threats and then retract them..."

 

So said, he backed up his words with action. He threw Arrowhawk's axe, hard, fast and with horrible accuracy...

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The axe slammed into Arrowhawk's shoulder, cutting deeply. She glanced at it and casually pulled it out, dropping it to the ground as she continued her advance. "And if you said the sky was green, you could mean what you said, but also be utterly, utterly wrong. Where are your women mercenaries? Judges and bankers have daughters too." She walked into striking range of Metal Head and contemptuous.

 

She lashed out with her knee, aiming not to injure but to force the man off-balance, knocking him back a little before driving her bow into his clavicle with one hand. "Perhaps the woman you call a parasite, perhaps she was beaten. Or burned." Arrowhawk leaned in, directing the strength of the jormungandr to drive the man to the floor. "That is why I do not need to know you. You think other's hardships make them lesser but make you something more. And even when it is pointed out you call people foolish for merely seeing what a fool cannot see for himself." Her teeth were gritted, spit forming at the corners of her mouth, eyes open in an unstaring rictus as she added her own strength to the already overpowering force pushing down on the villain's neck.

Edited by Ecalsneerg
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GM

 

"Goddamn it..." gasped the man, feeling Arrowhawks strength as he was pushed backed - slammed back - to the masonry of one of the side buildings. The impact knocked over a trash can and some rats when scurrying. A little masonry dust fell on them both. 

 

A witty retort he might have had, but with a hand round your throat it is difficult to get words from lungs to lips. He gurgled slightly, however. 

 

And then, quickly recovering from the shocking strength, he recovered. He gave a kick to the shin, and then punched the elbow of Arrowhawk, meeting her superior strength with grim determination. 

 

A flurry of blocks and strikes, all dirty, ensued as the man wriggled out of her hands, and engaged in a rapid fire exchange of elbows and knees and fists with Arrowhawk. 

 

And a knife. 

 

Amidst the flurry of fists, his back against the wall, he twisted Arrowhawks arm one way, and slashed at her, his knife cutting...

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Arrowhawk managed to block several of the unexpected blows, fists and blades clanging off her forearms and gauntlets. Eventually, she felt her guard get slipped past and... she staggered, one hand onto the masonry, letting forth a primal bellow of pain. The serrated edge of the knife drove into the small of her back, and it was all she could do to keep standing at this point, knuckles turning white as she clung desperately to her bow.

 

"If they kill that girl..." she forced out through gritted teeth. Osla could taste blood. She'd bitten down on the tip of her tongue. "I will hunt you to the end of the Earth."

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GM

 

"Then I will make sure you do not, one way or another" replied the man. 

 

He sensed victory now. "This has been an exceptional night. I do not resent the little scar you gave me, for the memories of such bloody business are well worth it" he said, mulling over the events. He took a step back and raised his knife high, like a hawk. 

 

"I savour every moment" he explained, and took a slow thrust forward, the knife twisting through the air one way or another, past any slap or block Arrowhawk could throw, to cut once again...

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Arrowhawk staggered back, her armour in ribbons, her torso in even worse shape underneath it. Even through the bravado and the battlelust, she desperately wanted to go home. She wished her father was here. He'd be able to stop this guy, surely. Then they could get pizza, perhaps see that movie with the American fleeing the German prison camp on a motorcycle. She'd liked that one. 

 

She shook her head, and forced out a laugh, the action sending shooting pain through her ribs. "Two bullets. An axe. Three knife wounds. And I am not dead." She locked eyes on Metal Head, aware she just looked pale and queasy, her chin wet with what she hoped was blood. Saliva was less dignified. She spat on the ground. Yep. Definitely blood. "I thought you were going to kill me?" Summoning the last of her strength, Osla lunged forward, leaping into the air. She twisted as she did so, her bow held like a baseball bat, before bringing it around with a resounding clang against Metal Head's metal mask.

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GM

 

The furious charge sent Metal Head flying across the alley, colliding with a rather crumbly building that cracked with the impact a few dozen feet away. 

 

Metal Head sunk to his rear amidst trash, stunned by the force of the blow. 

 

"She's dead, you know, no matter what you do now" he mumbled softly. "Every second I keep you here, is a second she nears her doom"

 

He tried to get up, and slumped down again. 

 

"Something you should know. I have recorded every single night of sport. This is my leverage, and it is mighty. It is only the rich and powerful I accept into the club, not because they are rich, but because they are powerful. And I have them in my fist..."

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Arrowhawk rolled her eyes, one hand clutching at her stomach. She was in so much pain. "Follow through with your threats or not at all. I would be delighted to see how you leverage politicians and judges against an illegal vigilante, how you leverage accountants against a woman who is legally a dead child. How you leverage the mafia against the Arrowhawk.

 

She crossed the space between them in a blur, moving like smoky lightning through the night air, despite her labored breathing and visible injuries. "It hardly seems a threat at-" Osla pinched at the brow of her nose and let out a weary sigh. "Oh, there is just too much pain to banter tonight." She pivoted smartly on one heel and whipped him around the head with Orheidr again. 

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GM

 

There was another impressive clang which whipped the man's head to one side. His spinal cord still active, he tried to get up or punch or stab or do something, but without a functioning conscious brain to direct him, such combat reflexes merely translated to him jerking with jittery agitation in the trash at Arrowhawks feet. 

 

His knife, bloody and wet, fell from his limp fingers as he passed out cold...

 

In the distance, little could be heard, perhaps, if one paused to strain ones hearing and cut out the sound of scuttling rats, cars driving through the winter air, and a few distant police sirens, the sound of running feet could be heard....

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Arrowhawk bent low, snatching up the man's vicious knife in one hand. She didn't know where her axe was. Somewhere behind her, she guessed. It didn't matter now. She had to keep moving. There were too many time limits in play, how long before they found and killed that poor woman, how long before the police got here and complicated things, how long before she passed out from blood loss. 

 

She forced herself into a run, sprinting in the rough direction she thought the hunters had gone. Everything hurt, so she tried to block it out, forcing herself to look into the night, to hear the sounds of the city, desperate for something, anything...

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GM

 

With all the twists and turn and the background noises of chaos that whispered through Bedlam, Arrowhawk could not find the four hunters or indeed the Nose. 

 

But she did find one oddity, a rather heavy boned woman, dressed in a fine dress, with fine pearls laced into a fine necklace, screaming that her car had been stolen. She was rather distraught, what with being caught out on the street in one of Bedlam's rather more gritty streets. 

 

Rather oddly, she still had her handbag. 

 

And it should be noted that her screaming and her fine handbag were attracting the flies. Namely, a couple of street thugs smoking and drinking and in need of a fine handbag. Maybe some fine pearls too, although of course they realised that snatching such a fine pearl necklace from the woman might cause the necklace to break and the pearls to cascade to the street in slow motion. 

 

And meanwhile, in the distance, Arrowhawk could hear the squeal of tires...

Edited by Supercape
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Arrowhawk slowed her pace, torn between the car screeching into the distance and the woman clearly at great risk of being assaulted. She stopped, bloody knife in one hand, longbow in the other. Her armour was in tatters, blood oozing out of it, what little of her face was visible smeared in blood and grime. They probably wouldn't kill that woman, just steal her belongings... but that kind of cold maths was beyond her.

 

She paused for breath in front of the woman, fixing her eyes on the two street toughs. "Try... it..." she forced out, voice coming out ragged and pained. 

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GM

 

"Ughh...Knuckles...I don't like the look of her" mumbled Boots. 

 

"...Yeah. I gotta bad feeling, Boots...." mumbled Knuckles. 

 

The two thugs turned heel and walked off just slow enough to allow them to claim (erroneously) that they were walking, but fast enough within that parameter to make maximum speed from the distressing situation they had put themselves in. 

 

"Oh thank you thank you!" gasped the woman, clutching her bag and playing with her pearls anxiously. "Oh goodness! You are bleeding! Please don't hurt me! Or bleed over me! This dress is expensive and I have had quite enough shock for one night! Why, some thugs just stole my car!"

 

She remembered a pertinent point. 

 

"And you should have seen the nose on one of them! Why, it was as big as my fist!"

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Arrowhawk wheeled on the woman, holding her arm over her stomach. The Nose. He was on the move. She resisted the urge to grab the woman and demand to know where they'd gone, clenching her teeth. She took a couple of slow breaths to steady herself, every heartbeat a moment she didn't have.

 

"What direction? How many? Weapons?" she gasped out. Arrowhawk's voice was coming in ragged gasps, out of breath. She was visibly only kept standing by will and rage.

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GM

 

The woman seemed a little confused by the questions. Clearly it was not the thing to do to ask one questions. Not the thing at all. But, despite the disorientation induced by such novel circumstance, she rallied and answered. 

 

"That way!" was a clear enough response, accompanied by an arm and finger indicating the way it was. 

 

"Four of them, I think. And the other man with the absolutely enormous organ...you know...his...." she pointed at her nose. This was clear too, after some initial bumbling that was ripe for misinterpretation and jocular wit. Of course, being stabbed and shot multiple times might deplete ones inclination to proceed down that low road. Might. 

 

"And they had big ones!" she added, to provide further motivation for that way. "Guns! big guns!"

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