[ It's about the time that Ephemera tastes blood in his mouth and skin between his teeth that he starts thinking maybe, maybe this is going a bit too far. But that's as vague thought, distant and half-formed, and easy to ignore. The fucker he's going against is good—better than anyone he's gone up against lately except maybe Angela—and by the time Ephemera got flipped onto his back, they're both snarling at each other and the moment's shifted from a show of skill to something very close to real. And like any fight, any real engagement, it's to the fucking death and that makes the world very small, and very simple. The guy, whose name Ephemera doesn't know, fights with the same brutality his sergeant used to display. Every move expert and precise, aiming to end the moment decisively. Only difference is this fucker doesn't use knives, and Chica is long dead. They fight and it's hard and interesting and even a little fun, until one moment it suddenly isn't.
Until one moment it's suddenly real.
Ephemera isn't quite sure when it changed. Maybe when he got tossed to the ground and the man followed him all the way down, going hard for his good eye. Maybe when he grabbed the man's shoulder and bit him, sinking his teeth it and screaming out of sheer fucking adrenaline.
There's blood in his teeth, now. And then the fucker grabs him by the arm, and twists.
There's an audible crunch. A distinctive, and sudden, flash of pain. Broken bone. It would end most fights. Probably should. He's got no armor-lock to stabilize the injury, no way to brace. And of course most people think a blow like that would end the fight. Most people would relax a little upon doing it.
Ephemera laughs and laughs and laughs, and lunges right for the man's throat. Doesn't even slow down.
Well. Not until somebody clocks him with a taser, and then the world goes a little strange for a moment.
He comes to flat on his back, glaring up at the ceiling. There's a medic prodding him, taser still in hand. ]
fight club
Until one moment it's suddenly real.
Ephemera isn't quite sure when it changed. Maybe when he got tossed to the ground and the man followed him all the way down, going hard for his good eye. Maybe when he grabbed the man's shoulder and bit him, sinking his teeth it and screaming out of sheer fucking adrenaline.
There's blood in his teeth, now. And then the fucker grabs him by the arm, and twists.
There's an audible crunch. A distinctive, and sudden, flash of pain. Broken bone. It would end most fights. Probably should. He's got no armor-lock to stabilize the injury, no way to brace. And of course most people think a blow like that would end the fight. Most people would relax a little upon doing it.
Ephemera laughs and laughs and laughs, and lunges right for the man's throat. Doesn't even slow down.
Well. Not until somebody clocks him with a taser, and then the world goes a little strange for a moment.
He comes to flat on his back, glaring up at the ceiling. There's a medic prodding him, taser still in hand. ]
Chill, psych. You're done. Both of you.