–October 8th, Meridiana International Airport, 6:28 PM–
The plane had just finished rolling to a stop at the terminal, and
many passengers were disembarking in the usual mad rush to get off the
‘flying deathbox’ as one person had dubbed the propeller-driven antique.
After five minutes, most of the plane was empty, and a young woman sitting
in the back row stood up and collected her carryon luggage: one was a large
duffel bag, and the other appeared to be a long map case, which she slung
over her back. As she slowly walked down the aisle to the exit, she fished
out a small mirror from one of several easily accessible pockets to look
at herself.
"Heh. Not bad for being stuck in this crate for 20 hours. I look almost human." Putting the mirror into the same pocket she had fished it out from, she then used her fingers to comb some of her long, dark red hair over the right side of her face, covering her eye and cheek before she jauntily put a baseball cap on. Then she walked into the main terminal of Meridiana International Airport, which had a record of being closed at least once a week from bombings.
"Miss D’Arnise?" The woman turned at the sound of the name and saw a customs officer walk over to her when she nodded.
"We apologize about the lack of service on that carrier, but many of the stewards were out sick today. But I digress: when the plane’s metal detectors scanned the interior, there seemed to be a large amount of metals in your carryon luggage and on you. This is standard procedure, but we need to search your bags and ask you several questions." Sara looked at the man, who was obviously having trouble keeping his eyes on her face and smiled.
"Alright. Lead the way, sir." The officer, after leading her into a cubicle, sat down on one of the two chairs in the room.
"Okay. First, the questions: What is your full name?"
"My full name is Sara D’Arnise."
"Um... okay. What’s your age?"
–Two Hours Later–
*Gah! If I knew that they’d ask every question humanly possible I would have taken a train. Hell, the next time I go travelling, that’s what I’ll do. Well, at least they shut up when examining my passport. If they hadn’t I would have probably fed them their teeth.* Sara stomped down the hallway to where the customs officers had put her motorcycle. The monstrous cycle looked like it could eat a small child for breakfast, the appearance heightened by a skilful paint job of a set of slavering jaws on the gas tank and an engine that looked like it had once been part of a prototype airplane. It was leaning against a wall with two large saddlebags placed beside it, and the occasional person who passed the bike seemed to either want to give the machine a wide berth or wanted to touch it.
Sara quickly examined the twin bags and the bike for traces of tampering, but finding none, she quickly stuffed the contents of her duffel into the saddlebags, re-settled her other piece of luggage to a diagonal angle as she sat down on her bike’s seat, put the saddlebags on her bike, strapping them down, and relaxed slightly.
In under a minute, Sara rode out of the parking lot with her bike producing a creditable imitation of a buzzsaw in labour. The bike’s engine, at idle speeds, sounded like a pack of hungry wolves growling, but when Sara started cruising into the city, the engine’s pitch changed to a howling roar of hi-octane fuelled anger. Riding into Meridiana proper, Sara felt how unseasonably cold it was, cursed for a few seconds, and pulled over so she could get something out of the bags. Soon, a long trenchcoat, made entirely out of black leather and silver studs, embedded around the wrists and on the shoulders was shrugged on, cutting the chill in the air away from Sara’s body.
About ten minutes after she got her coat, Sara drove up to a respected real estate firm and walked in like she owned the place. Five minutes later, and after several shouted words that were unmistakably derogatory in content, Sara walked out of the building, smiling jauntily and waving at a person who stood just inside the doors of the firm. In her left hand she clutched the deed to a townhouse that had been built and customized by a group of contractors that had been paid very handsomely for their work.
20 minutes later, Sara arrived at her new house and she looked around at the peaceful and very quiet neighbourhood. "Hmmph. Well, I guess I’d better get my bike into the garage before I do anything else. Well, at least Meridiana has some free time before meeting me."
Bringing the bike into the garage, Sara grinned as she looked around the cavernous space. "Nice. I think I’ll explore my new home before somebody gets the bright idea of throwing me a welcome party." *I still need to make sure that my contractor got everything right this time. My old home turned out to look like whomever had done it was snorting the white stuff while working.*
Half an hour after an exhaustive search for anything wrong, and finding nothing to worry about, Sara was lounging on the huge couch while flipping through her 200+ channels on the TV, when a news article stopped her cold. Though it was only some fluff to cover a slow news day, Sara was rivetted. "In further news, sightings of large, green-skinned men have gone up almost 500% this past week, making many people believe that the city’s resident protector and mystery being, CyberSix, is dead, wounded, or has just packed up and left town. Now, we go over to Jim at weather..."
Sara turned off the TV and grimaced when the implications of the report slogged its way through her exhaustion-clouded brain. *What the hell?! Greenskins? Here? Goddamn it to Hell! Still, I have to wonder who this ‘CyberSix’ is. Maybe I’ll be able to meet him or her. Hmm... several months ago I saw a news report on this CyberSix, stating that she’s definitely a woman. Aaah screw it. All this thinking is gonna make my head hurt. May as well take a walk for some fresh air.*
After pulling on her boots, which had definitely seen better days, and putting on her coat, Sara walked out onto her front porch and looked at the huge statue in the middle of the park out in front of her *That is a beautiful sight. Not many people would be up about now, but the way the light is reflecting off of the marble is making the statue seem to glow. Eith that or I’m just too tired for my own good and need to go to bed soon.* Locking her door, Sara looked south at the rows of houses and thought for a while. *May as well go North. Most people are asleep at 1 AM, and I don’t want to wake anyone up. After all, I don’t know when they have to go to work.*
Walking northwards, she soon saw that a convenience store was open, and when her stomach snarled its displeasure at not being fed anything except the toxic waste called airline food, she walked inside. Looking around, Sara instantly thought of the first part of Murphy’s Law when she saw a huge greenskin threatening to squeeze the clerk’s head through the keyhole of the back door if he didn’t open up the register. As soon as the greenskin heard the front door’s bell ringing however, he spun around, dropping the clerk behind the counter, and producing a muffled ‘Oof.’ from the person.
Sara saw that the greenskin, which was easily nine feet tall and built like a tank, was covered with scars, and when its dim red eyes settled on her she knew she was screwed.
The greenskin’s dim mind tried to associate Sara with anyone else it knew, but when it saw the scars on her right cheek, which still had much of her hair covering them, it shouted loudly enough to rattle the shelves.
"YOU!!! LONG TIME AGO, YOU KILLED BROTHER!!! NOW ME KILL YOU!" with
its yell echoing in Sara’s ears, the greenskin charged at her through four
steel shelves, scattering canned goods and shards of twisted metal in its
wake as it tried to smash Sara into paste with its giant fists. When it
reached her, instead of Sara standing up to the blow, like any good moron
would, she dropped down onto the floor, partially curled so most of her
weight was centred on her shoulder blades, and, with a grunt of effort,
slammed both feet into the greenskin’s stomach hard enough to knock the
wind out of the massive creature. As it doubled over, trying to regain
its breath, Sara quickly climbed to her feet, and, jumping into the air
for added momentum, planted her left boot in the creature’s face.
Dark greenish-red blood sprayed everywhere from its nose and mouth
as Sara heard bone crack, while watching a tooth spiral off into a corner
of the store. "Had enough yet?" she asked, smiling sweetly. The greenskin
replied by roaring in pain, then took Sara’s open posture as an invitation
to tackle her through the large plate glass window behind her. The greenskin’s
massive frame slamming into Sara caused enough pain, as the best analogy
that came to her mind was an old stop-motion photograph of a car getting
hit by a freight train and crumpling into something looking like a tin
can that had been squished flat in the middle.
A rain of glass shards washed over the road as the greenskin bulled Sara through the window, much of the window collapsing straight down into a heap of razor-sharp shards. Thankfully, no glass was where Sara landed, which was a small blessing as the greenskin tripped and fell over onto her. Crying out in pain when the greenskin landed on her, Sara felt her right elbow dislocate by sliding to the side, but ignored the agony as she proceeded to punch the creature’s broken nose repeatedly until it reeled back in agony. Sara knew she had to end the fight quickly, or it would degenerate into a slugging match that she would lose, so she flipped onto her feet, using her considerable skills in martial arts to retain her balance as the greenskin began to stagger to its feet.
Sara took a running start at the greenskin as it was beginning to straighten
up, and using its forearms as a brace for a split second, vaulted over
its shoulder in a creditable lift and turn, and landed heavily in the centre
of the creature’s back, both feet slamming down onto a set of vertebrae
which had always been problematic for bipeds of any size. The impact shifted
two of the vertebrae, which moved far enough to sever the creature’s spine,
and subsequently paralyse the large being.
The creature howled in agony as Sara gently stood up from her now-writhing
platform, slowly taking the time to kick off flecks of skin from the soles
of her boots as the creature tried to crawl away from her. Sara shook her
head, sighing in exasperation as she walked over to the creature’s head
and stomped on the back of its neck, hard. A dull crunch told her that
she had broken its neck, and the spasming body seemed to verify that opinion.
Sara stepped back as the greenskin’s body suddenly disappeared in a flare of green light, leaving only its bloody clothes and a small vial of luminescent green goo. Confused, she pocketed the vial, then walked back into the store through the means of her sudden and forced exit, and almost instantly got the enjoyment of looking down the barrel of a pump-action shotgun. "I-I saw what you did to that thing. What are you? And how the hell did that thing know you?" the poor clerk was scared out of his wits, and Sara decided to calm him down before he shot her by accident.
"First, put the gun down. I do not want to be shot by the man whose face I just saved from an unpleasant ordeal." The clerk, noticing that Sara was in a fair amount of pain, put the shotgun down, but made no move to help her.
"Now, first things first, I’m human. Just trained in several nasty martial arts. That thing knew me because it participated in an attack on an orphanage several months ago. I was there and stopped the attack by killing some of its buddies, but that thing managed to escape. Now, that should clear up any questions, so let’s get down to business. I need a very strong painkiller because I hurt my arm pretty badly, and I think a bottle of codeine will set me to rights. Oh yeah, before I forget, here’s some money to help out on the repairs."
Sara fished out her wallet and got five large-denomination bills placed onto the counter top, causing the clerk’s eyes to bug out at the thick sheaf of bills still sitting in the confines of the wallet. Then on her way out, she grabbed a bottle of codeine tabs, popped her elbow back into place, and groaned in pain. The clerk interrupted her before she left the store though. "Hey, wait a minute! I don’t even know your name, or why you saved me."
Sara paused, looked at the man and replied "I’m sorry, but I don’t give
out my name that easily. Besides, I only did something any good Samaritan
would do. Bye."
After leaving the store and the clerk totally dumbstruck, Sara walked
back to her house, still in a fair amount of pain as she hadn’t taken any
of the contents of the bottle, but knowing what codeine would do to her
brain, she abstained from taking some. Soon, she was in a vile mood because
of the persistent throbbing from her arm, and it became even more volatile
when a short rainstorm out of nowhere proceeded to drench her completely.
Finally, when she got home, Sara saw that the upstairs window was open,
even though she clearly recalled keeping all the windows closed before
she left on her little walking tour around the neighbourhood.
Looking up at the window, Sara turned around, looked up at the moon,
and proceeded to curse a blue streak in four languages, equally interspersed
with unique and deprecating comments on the city’s own worth as a collective
whole for several minutes before she quietly unlocked her front door, and
entered her house. Looking around, she saw that the TV was on, and she
heard somebody moving around in the living room, prompting her to become
even angrier.
*Great. This is fan-fucking-tastic. First, I get into a fight with Frankenstein’s little brother, and now I have to deal with an incompetent B&E artist who’s as subtle as a dog turd on the driveway.* Shaking her head, Sara walked to the stairway bannister that divided the foyer from the living room, leaned against the base of the stairs, and said, quietly and exceedingly sarcastically "May I help you?"
The person on the opposite side of the room, who was looking out of the living room into the dim back yard was bluntly startled by Sara’s sudden appearance, tensing up for a few seconds before turning around. As the person smoothly swivelled her gaze onto Sara, her well-trained mind instantly catalogued the warning signals the person was emitting, even through the long, flowing cape that covered the other person like a tent. A stance that spoke of confidence, an aura of nonchalance about everything in general and Sara in particular, and a slightly amused smile tugging at her lips instantly elevated the strange woman to ‘possible threat’ status in Sara’s mind, though she doubted that the person would openly attack her.
Sara opened the conversation as she used her good arm to sweep water
out of her hair, indifferent to the water cascading down the back of her
coat."You know, you really should wait until the owner of a house is in
before entering that house. Now that the formalities are over: WHAT THE
BLOODY FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE????" Sara literally blew
her skids, sending an almost-physical avalanche of tension and anger at
her uninvited guest just by transmitting her feelings in her patented ‘Glare
of Chilling Death’. Pausing long enough to take off her trenchcoat and
pull the pills out of one of the pockets, Sara saw that the woman was taken
aback by her explosion, and her infamous glare had made the woman distinctly
uncomfortable as she folded the coat over her arm.
Sara looked at the woman again, remembered a slightly fuzzy photograph
she had seen a while ago, and put three and three together. Sara squinted
for a second, trying to see the woman’s eyes beyond the fall of raven-black
hair that covered the left side of her face, then said "Wait a minute...
Aren’t you CyberSix?"
Seeing the woman nod, Sara shook her head in exasperation, and walked into the room proper. "Look, I’m sorry about biting your head off, but I think you should know that breaking and entering is illegal. Now, are you just going to stand by the back door, or will you give up and talk to me?" Gesturing at a chair near the couch in the living room, Sara hopped over one of the couch’s arms and kicked off her boots, letting them thump onto the floor like a pair of weights.
CyberSix smiled at the statement and shook her head. "I saw what you did to that Fixed Idea, and have no wish to get within your reach right now, and I think sitting in that chair is an easy way for you to get me close enough to smack me upside the head. By the way, you know my name, so why don’t you tell me yours?" Sara shook her head, smiling as CyberSix leaned against the window, with no intention of moving towards the offered seat.
"Okay, I’ll tell you my name, but the next time you want to come in, knock on the front door to make sure that I’m in before you decide to prowl through my things." Sara smiled as she flexed her arms up and behind her head, wincing as her right arm protested the action before she stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that CyberSix was leaning on. "Pleased to meetcha CyberSix, I’m Sara D’Arnise. And before you become worried, no, I’m not going to beat the crap out of you just because I could try. Of course, If I did that, I’d deserve every bruise and broken bone you’d give me.
"Now, to answer that question that you have written all over your face, I’ve trained myself to be stronger, faster, and much more agile than most people, and I love helping out the underdog. Anything else?" CyberSix, still nervous at being in close proximity to someone who could best be considered an unstable personality, shook Sara’s hand for only a few seconds, then dropped it like it was poisoned.
"You know, I think you might like one of my friends who lives near the
north section of town. Ah well, I’ll tell you about her later."
Sara smiled again, then grimaced as her arm made its feelings felt."I’d
like to meet your friends sometime, but I’m beginning to feel the effects
of that fight, and I’m about ready to hit the sack. I’ll have to ask you
to leave within the next five minutes before I zonk out on codeine and
exhaustion, so don’t forget to close the door on your way out, okay?"
"Okay Sara. Just wondering, but what was that fighting style you used on the Fixed Idea? I’ve never seen it before." CyberSix had opened the door to the back patio and paused while letting in the draft.
"The fighting style I used is called Pentjak Silat, and that’s all the information about it that you’ll get out of me. I may as well warn you now though, you never want to be on the receiving end of it, in training or in a fight." Sara grinned and waved as CyberSix left her house, but thought she heard a faint ‘point taken’ before the door closed.
*Okay, quick mental check: am I dreaming?* Sara pinched herself just
below her ribs, accidentally catching a tender spot from where that green
brute had body checked her. *OW! Guess not. Did CyberSix actually pay me
a visit just because she saw me whack what she said was a Fixed Idea? That’s
part of her reasons, but what about the rest? Well, I’m not a telepath,
so I can’t figure out what’s going on between her ears. That reminds me,
what the hell was she watching?*
Turning her attention to the TV, Sara looked on in a mental funk at
a show detailing the history of English Literature. "Hmmph. A show on the
history of English lit? Does she even have a life? Too tired... must sleep."
Yawning, Sara turned off the TV, retrieved her coat from where she had
dumped it on the couch and her boots from their inglorious heap on the
floor, and, after putting both coat and boots in the closet by her front
door, she walked upstairs to her large bed, where, without bothering to
take off either her pants or her shirt, Sara collapsed gratefully into
the massive, soft construct.