Chronicle 3: The Devil You Know

The Tatters [100501] Twenty-five days remain

Two days. It hardly seemed like it to Asha now. But arrangements and negotiations between the two gangs had turned the last 48 hours into a blur. She'd already broken up four fights, buried one friend, and faced down at least seven potential challengers (only three of which she had to send to the Body-Shop in pieces). However, the work had paid off and a relative peace reached between the two groups. Even so, an uneasy tension remained; hovering over the Fallen Plaza like a gathering storm.

Astaroth had accepted her plan for a competition; to weed out the dead weight and strengthen the gangs into a cohesive unit. By evening, the games would begin.

All she could do was wait now, staring down at the Plaza below. Grey and Rahil, his protege, were off scouting the entire Plaza; learning the layout for the coming battles and duels. Foreknowledge would play a key role tonight, as the Plaza was a virtual rat's warren of tunnels, deadfalls, corridors, forgotten parks, and ruins. An unwary group would be reduced to their residual components quite rapidly out there. Even with the Screemers superior skill and cohesive maneuvers, they'd be hard pressed against the Ghouls; an elite group of the Lords, specializing in guerilla warfare.

"Shouldn't you be hunting a god," a familiar voice said from a shadow it shouldn't be in.

Rook's face lit up in the glow of his nic-stick; the cocky smile, the green hair, the cold eyes. How the hell did he get past all her guards? How did he get in the damned room? Nonetheless, there he was in all his arrogant glory.

Over the past couple of days, Asha had wondered if she'd been had... The man had said that he'd be back the next day, but left her in this damnable mess that he'd given her hope that she could escape. But, she'd learned long ago not to put her trust in anyone- sure she wasn't so cynical that she'd embraced paranoia as her religion, but she was a touch less naïve in that she'd be damed if she ever depended on anyone again. So she'd forged ahead, survivng day to day as she'd been for longer than she wanted to remember, keeping her head down and inching towards daylight.

Thus it was that though Rook's appearance surprised her, she was definitely not going to show her relief that he'd come back. Using her exhaustion over the events of the past few days to fuel her response, she casually rejoined, "Aren't you more than a little late?"

That troublesome smirk returned. "Sorry, luv. I got held up by Aegis Security. Such a troublesome lot. What they lack in strategy, they more than make up for in sheer firepower and tenacity. I almost didn't make it to Serenity Towers."

Again the thought that Rook might be completely full of shite came to Asha's mind. But weighing it, if he were trying to feed her a line, she supposed he'd choose a less blatantly outrageous one. That only left one option...

...he was telling the truth.

Rook took the time to light another nic-stick off his nearly depleted one. He let his words sink into Asha, grinning like a fox. If what he'd said was true, a day or so delay would have been the least of her worries. Serenity Towers was beyond the Wall in Cannibal Sector 2. Either he was lying through his too-white teeth, or he'd literally walked to Hell and back. Even if the Aegis Security hadn't killed him, the MOSS System should have. Then there were the Gorehounds and Geeks to consider; a thought that would make even Astaroth shudder. She'd begun to change her thoughts from "who" he was to "what" he was.

"So," Rook said, filling his lungs with sweet-smell smoke. "You've been a busy girl, I take it?"

A heartbeat passed before Asha recovered her wits and rejoined, "Well, with your absence, I decided that a little tidying up needed to be done in case I needed a... Second alternative." She looked askance at Rook, her face set in practiced nonchalance. "So... Will I need my back door? Or are we ready to move? Your Ephemerides have not been idle in your absence," she said, referring to the rumours that the deadly scavengers had scoured yet another area of the Tatters clean of human life.

Rook shook his head, curling his lip into a half snarl. `They aren't /my/ Ephemerides. Get that straight. I want them gone as much as you do, trust me. And yeah, they're on the move. The Mark-13 project stops for no one; literally."

Asha couldn't suppress a small smile at the uncharacteristic display of emotion. 'There's something personal going on here,' she thought. 'Something that is a weak point for him.'

Rook sat down on her bed, leaning back. "Keep your alternative plan in play. I like it. It'll keep the assholes busy while we mess up their god. Or rather you do. I need you to train with me over the next few days; hone your anti-deity skills so to speak. But we need to do it in private. I can't be seen around here, and they can't suspect what we're about. Do you have someone you trust enough to take charge for a couple of days?"

"Yes," she says slowly. "If necessary. But what I don't understand, is if you can get to Serenity towers and back without so much as a scratch, then why do you need me? Why can't you just go take this monstrosity out yourself?" Her eyes lowered, as she said in a low voice meant to elicit his protective instincts, "I'm having enough problems here. It would seem that now that I've found family, you'd help me keep them- and keep myself in once piece. Instead you're going to toss me to the wolves." She let the power flow through her, feeling her morphic powers going to work shaping her to Rook's own mindset.

Rook smiled appreciatively at her changing hair and hands, but remained focused on the question at hand. A wolfish lick of his lips said that there' d be time for cuddling later.

"Good question," he chuckled. "No flies on you, angel. Why indeed? Well, let me trying to paint you a mind picture.

"I'm not too popular around here. Let's just say I'm slumming. If people notice me, bad people, things will turn very ugly. They'll know that the Mark-13 project is in jeopardy and will send in the big guns. So, I'm here in an advisory capacity only. Besides, /you/ need to get ready for the big showdown. Fighting He-Who-Walks-In-Darkness will help you understand the Ephemerides; learn their weaknesses, their vulnerabilities. That knowledge will serve you well. And it's you who wants to rule the Lords, isn't it? Not me. Why would I want to steal the credit?"

He smirked, "That and I've got other projects to finish up in the meantime. You're not my only apprentice, grasshopper."

"As for throwing you to the wolves, that's bullshit" Rook said, "You are the wolf, or at least I hope so. So start acting like one. These people are sheep; no matter what honorifics you put on them. You'll never be one of them, angel."

He reached back, stroking the top of her wing. "Need I say more?"

He takes a drag on his nic-stick, studying her body with canine curiosity. Then he smirks once more, relaxing completely. "Out of curiosity. Did you enjoy killing that kid last night? Did it put a big old smile on your face?"

Her eyes narrowed, as a haze clouded her vision. Her thoughts of using him for anything vanished, replaced with a cold chill that suffused he body. In overdrive, her hand rocketed out with enough force that the air crackled behind it as she instinctively attempted to slap Rook.

"Bloody bastard," she said, crossing herself as she turned away, unwilling to let him see the crimson tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. All of the strength seemed to drain from her body as she sagged tiredly against the dilapidated wall, attemptign to shroud herself in the darkness in the room.

She caught him off-guard, filling the room with a sharp whack. He stumbling back, reaching to his mouth in shock. When he examine it, the back of his pale hand was painted with blood. He stared at it, incredulous and confused. Then storm clouds darkened his eyes and he glowered at Asha; his body shivering with suppressed tension and ire. Before he could stop himself, Rook's hand had brushed open his coat and settled upon the hilt of an ornately carved blade. His knuckles turned white, hovered, then slowly relaxed and fell away.

Rook licked the blood from his split lip and smiled faintly. "I'm sorry," he said, the inflection of his voice changing from its cocky persona. It was as if the true man were speaking for that brief moment.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are," he continued. "Or rather how old I am. I remember a different person from the one who stands before me now. In truth, I prefer you like this. Forgive an old man's rudeness, Asha."

Caught up in the memory of a pair of lifeless eyes, Asha had not even noticed the struggle that had gripped Rook at the insult she had dealt him. But finally, at his words, she looked up at him, wiping the tears away, her hand now a mirror of his bloodstained one. She nodded furtively.

"I still don't know what you're talking about most of the time," she admitted. "And now I don't think I want to."

Rook snorted faintly, nodding. "No, you probably don't. Sometimes ignorance is bliss."

Gathering herself, she came to her feet, regaining her composure slowly. "Yes," she finally said. "I do have someone that can keep things together here."

With that, she walked out to find Grey, leaving him with instructions, and returning to Rook over his objections.

"So," she said softly, never quite managing to look at Rook. "What now?"

When she returned, Rook was standing at the window and turned to smile at her. His lip had stopped bleeding, but he had a wicked bruise where she struck him. It made his grin rather awkward. "Now? Now we see just how deep that blood of yours runs. Follow me, angel."

And with that, he climbed out the window and onto the ledge. The height was dizzying and even with her wings, going out there would be dangerous. The makeshift constructions of the Gutters had left behind a spiderweb of cables and wires. A fall here would prevent her from flying, unless she wanted her wing snapped off in the process. The concrete below would be even less forgiving.

Rook called to her, "Coming?" Somehow he'd managed to cross out onto one of the cables, bouncing toward the other side. He moved with a lemur's grace, leaping from cord to cord without a hint of difficulty. Even when a cable ripped from its moorings, sending ferroconcrete falling into the chasm, he would jump to safety at the last second with nimble speed. He paused midway to wait for her, defying gravity and the strong winds.

"Tag, you're it!" he called.

Removing her trenchcoat, she let it fall to the ground, stepping through the windowsill looking at the dizzying panorama before her. It had been a while since she had been able to fully stretch her wings, so she stood there for a moment, flexing them to their full wingspan. She felt the wind as she closed her eyes- it seemed to call to her, as if she were a part of it. Then suddenly she launched herself into space, catching the winds as she flew after Rook.

It was difficult, fighting the strong winds, but she was no more a stranger to their howl than a bird would be. So with the adroitness of an avian, she took to the winds, reading their updrafts and downdrafts, riding them with the grace of the angel she appeared as she bore down on Rook's position.

Her mind blazed with the effort, reading the height, width, and angle of every cable, every wire. The winds were cruel and tricky, threatening to throw her into danger. A simple miscalculation would have removed her wings as easily as a knife, and gravity would do the rest. Yet, impossibly, she flew through the metal spider's web without so much as a scratch or a bruise. The exhilaration erased every worry, every sorrow; she hadn't felt this alive in years.

Rook, the nimble weasel, leapt and scaled his way upwards. He used ledges and cables with a refined grace and speed impossible for humanity; perhaps, even for augmentations. He didn't make the chase easy and repeatedly changed his path just to make Asha's flight a suicidal endeavor. Every time she thought she had him, he'd slip away or let himself fall, only to catch another cable and start the chase again.

Finally, Asha's lightning quick mind analyzed his path, as well covert as it might have been. She tucked her wings close, plummeted through the spiderweb risking decapitation, then caught an updraft that propelled her upwards like a rocket. They simultaneously reached a metal platform strung between the buildings over sixty stories up. Rook blinked with surprise and admiration when she landed and poked his chest in victory.

Out of breath, Rook chuckled, "Well played, angel. Well played, indeed."

Flushed with her victory, Asha merely smiled, but it was a smile that was backed with genuine emotions that she had not allowed herself to feel in a long time...

He collapsed to the ground, making the platform shift and sway in a queasy arc. "Have a seat, Asha. Rest time. Hungry?"

She realized with some surprise that she was. She had forgotten how much flight actually took out of her.

From his satchel, Rook removed two Obentos, offering one to Asha. "You'll love this, trust me. You wouldn't believe that a place in the Edge could make something this tasty, but they do. Just this tiny hole in the wall; literally. Haven't wanted to eat anywhere else for years."

He opens the box, gets his chopsticks prepared, and pops a sizable piece of sushi into his mouth. Chewing, he said, "So. Why'd you think I made you chase me like that?"

Asha peered into the box, and took the sticks, poking at the food within. Though she had been forced to eat some things she'd rather forget in her time, this was a different issue. She looked up at Rook uncertainly, then attempting to emulate his use of the chopsticks, set off to eat. Eventually the sticks, being more of a hindrance than a help, began to frustrate her, so she used her fingers to satisfy her hunger.

The food was as good as Rook promised, filling and tasty. He gestured to her with a nod of his head, making sure not to point his chopsticks at her in any fashion; a grave insult. "The green stuff is extremely spicy; I'd avoid it unless you like that sort of thing." He grinned, rather enjoying the lunch they were sharing together.

She nodded mutely, surprised at how tasty this was.

"I suppose to become accustomed to exercising my abilities again... to stretch myself," she said between bites.

"Indeed. Mentally as well as physically," he said, spearing a piece of shrimp that got away from him. "You'll be required to work on both levels to deal with the Dark God. He was designed with paramorphic DNA, allowing him to parasitically drain the abilities of his victims. So, you won't be fighting just him, but a legion of creatures all rolled into one. Your tactics must be able to change without pause. Otherwise, you'll become another addition to his protean stew.

She looked up at his description of the Dark God. She opened her mouth, preparing to ask a question... then shrugged, going back to her lunch.

"That's why I brought you up here. We'll spar after lunch; the uneven ground will help hone your stance. You've got the raw skill in your blood, so this should be familiar to you."

He played with some avocado, "Before we do, tell me something. Have you got control of your shapeshifting ability, or is it instinctual. You keep changing into a Selk. Why?"

Asha started to reply...

Rook grinned softly, "You're beautiful, by the way."

...then blushed at the compliment. Though he was only stating the obvious, and she had heard it many a time, there was something in the way that he said it that triggered some part of her that she had though buried long ago.

Looking down at her food, she said, "Thank you." Then, clearing her throat, she changed back to the subject of his question. "It's a little of both- the shapeshifting that is."

"I can control whether or not I shift, but the result of the shifting is determined by the viewer." She looked back up at Rook. "So, I suppose that I keep shifting into a Selk because you are somehow fascinated by them. Why is that? And what is a Selk?"

Rook nodded, listening intently. When she was done, he set his food aside and leaned back. The platform teetered slightly with his weight. "You're welcome, Asha. And yes, I've always been fascinated by them. They're a race of human-seal hybrids. Very quiet and beautiful people; serious, but playful when they want to be. I lived with them a few years while recouping from my last fiasco. I should take you there sometime. You'd probably love the cliffs; the updrafts could keep you happy all day."

He brushed some stray hair from his rugged face. "Your power is intriguing. And useful, I'd bet. You've probably never been without a suitor."

Inexplicably, Asha's countenance darkened, as she looked away. Her wings seemed to close in on her, cradling her in their embrace. "So. What next?" she said, looking out over the blasted landscape.

Rook cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "I've offended you somehow. You're not telling me you've not been with someone are you?"

He sighed, standing up. "You are so like him. I'm always amazed just how much carries over. Listen. I meant no offense, Asha. You're a fascinating woman, a strong woman. I just thought wrong. My assumptions getting me into trouble again."

He offered her a hand up, his grin genuine and warm.

Asha looked up at the proferred hand, warring emotions evident on her face. She made no move to take his hand, instead crossing her arms as she looked back towards the blasted landscape. She began to speak, her lilting voice now little more than a monotone. "I don't know what it is about you... unintentionally, inadvertently, you always seem to break right through the walls I've built over the years, connecting with feelings I don't even want to admit I have, feelings I hardly understand or recognize myself." She sighed, continuing, "I suppose that more than anything you have said is what makes me believe you."

"Can you imagine what it's like? One day, noone likes you, or pays you the least bit of attention. In fact, they go out of their way to avoid you, and pretend that you don't exist- all because of prophecies and omens, and all sorts of things that don't make sense to a child. Then suddenly, every man that sees you tries to do everything to get your attention, and every woman that sees the men's reaction hates you for it." Her voice was taut as the wires that crisscrossed the space they had just come through, though no emotion was evident in her words... just a resigned bitterness as cold as the wind that whipped around them.

"Even as you struggle to deal with the changes- to deal with the fact that noone really sees the *you* beyond this damnable power- everything is ripped from you, making you little more than a slave."

"In the end, I clawed and scratched for every bit that I ever got- every little scrap of knowledge or power that I could obtain, playing games with people's lives that disgusted me... games that I play even now. And I was- am- good at it, to my soul's eternal regret. I survived, but something's broken inside of me. Something that I don't know how to fix." Falling silent, she sagged down onto the swaying precipice, unwilling and unable to look at Rook...

Rook listened quietly, nodding and smiling in time with Asha's revelations. His stormy eyes glimmered with understanding and empathy. Finally, he knelt down in front of her, tenderly lifting her chin with his surprisingly soft finger.

Even as her head lifted her eyes dropped, unwilling to meet his, still caught in the memories of what had been...

"Although I can never fully understand what you've been through, angel,' he began, "I can sympathize with what it must have been like. My mother killed herself because of me. I was her reminder of a lost love. My father saw me as a symbol of guilt, my grandmother thought me a tool to further her power. And as for humans, well…

Her eyes furtively looked up, the sound of his remembered anguish piercing the melancholy she had descended into; she found herself interested despite herself.

"How can one trust a love that may be an illusion; one created by your unconscious will? As others shape you, some of us shape them. Everything and everyone become brittle and hollow caricatures; without true emotion, true substance. That's why you drew me to you. You're real; you're truth and significant. It's why I've wanted to hold you, to kiss you since I first saw you. You are a woman I could strive to be a better man for."

She started to realize that the revelations that he brought forth were beyond what they seemed. He was baring a part of himself to her that transcended what he usually showed others; and in doing so was close to showing her something that promised to be so much more than she ever could have dreamed. She looked up at him in fascination, her tears drying...

His cheeks flushed brightly and his hand darted away like a startled fish. He'd obviously not meant to speak so frankly. However, he continued nonetheless; the damage had been done.

She had half expected him to kiss her then. But that contact would have reduced their relationship to something familiar, something that she had no respect for anymore. And in that reduction, it would have killed something else that was just blossoming...

Rook gave her a sad smile and nodded as if reading her thoughts. He retained their distance reluctantly, knowing his role in this: mentor. To change that connection might result in Asha's failure and probably her demise.

"We all play our little games, Asha. It's in our very essence, our blood. Take no shame in it. The sun rises, the night falls, and we of the Blood will forver have our games."

She rose from where she had slumped, dusting herself off. "That may well be... But it does not mean I have to revel in it, or even like it. Blood will never be an excuse for me," she said, defying him to gainsay her words.

"I wish you well then," Rook said, stretching his legs out. "You've got a great deal of blood-letting to overcome. You come from a very long line of death-dealers, stemming from one of the greatest. Or worst, given your point of view. So, while we try to connect with that part of you, let's try to keep your soul as clean as possible, shall we? I don't think your heart could handle the strain."

He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head back and forth. "Time to earn your keep. Attack me. And don't hold back."

Before she could even respond, Rook was upon her. His blows came from too many directions at once; striking her side and collarbone with numbing power. Then he danced away, face incredibly cold and focused.

His attack took her by surprise... but more than that, his aggressiveness and change in demeanor disoriented her. It was such a drastic change, that she could barely manage to put up any sort of defense, much less an effective one against such a barrage as this.

Then just as quickly, he was gone. She flushed with anger at herself for letting her guard down- if he had been an enemy, she'd be dead now. She forced herself to let go of that which he had touched, and breathed as Grey had taught her. In. Out. In. Out. Nose. Mouth. Nose. Mouth.

Her breathing and heart rate slowed. Even as she settled into a combat stance. It was one she was sure that he would recognize at least a variant of. Grey had told her that anyone worth their salt would. But it was a ruse- stances benefitted you only in a static environment, and this swaying piece of metal above a deadly drop was anything but.

Gathering the power singing in her blood, Asha turned her concentration inward, accelerating her movements. Crossing to Rook in form, she unleashed a kick towards his head. A feint. Then pulling the leg back in, lightning quick she unleashed another kick at his midsection. Also a feint. The air cracked with the snaps of her attacks, so fast they were. As she shortened the crescent of her kick, she finally committed to an attack with a hook kick, aimed at his head...

Rook lips betrayed a faint smile as Asha engaged him in combat. His technique confounded her and amazed her. Like Grey, his liquid movements were almost perfect and brutally effective. Yet, he appeared to walk right into her feints each time; allowing her to get closer and closer to her true attack. Yet something nagged at the back of her mind. His movements were ALMOST perfect, but not entirely. At nearly imperceptible level, Rook's motions had an irregular manner to them; without purpose.

When she launched the hook kick, Asha was certain it'd connect. But amazingly… no, impossibly, Rook appeared to vanish into thin air at the last instant. Pain lanced up her supporting leg and gravity went insane. She saw sky as her leg collapsed beneath her; folding up under the blow from something metal. The platform angled downward sharply and she was falling backwards. Just before she slid off into oblivion, Rook's hand caught her around the arm and pulled her back from the precipice. With a cruel twist, he dropped her to her knees in an agonizing arm-lock.

"If I was human," he said, "I'd be in a hospital right now, if not dead. Well done."

He let her go and leapt out of retaliatory range snake-quick. Motioning for a pause, he said, "You've got your progenitor's blood in you. As intimidating as that might be, it also gives you a fatal flaw. One that can and will be used against you."

Rook tapped his head, talking through heavy breaths. "You're thinking too much. As quick and as calculating as your mind is, it's no match for certain attack styles. Your mind works on the premise of Order; you can't help it. A leads to B equals C. That's the blood guiding you. It's why you can see so far ahead in battle; anticipate your opponent's next move. It's why you're one of the deadliest fighters in all Telos.

"Your progenitor, my uncle, was the greatest fighter of all time. I became one of his best pupils, believe it or not. The family believed, and rightly so, that he was unbeatable in every aspect of war. He fought thousands of wars, always testing himself and never losing no matter the odds stacked against him. We played chess games longer than you've lived. He beat me every time. Except one. Nearly drove him insane, struggling to try and figure out how I'd done it. I let him stew for about five years before I told him.

"Chaos. When the logical brain can see your next move, you must know how /not/ to make that move. You play against the rules and let their minds think themselves into defeat. You can only get away with it once or twice, but that once is enough to win a game of chess against the mighty Benedict or slip under a perfect hook kick. It only takes one blow, Asha. One blow and you're living in remembrance."

He put his hand over his stomach, nodding to her. "You must learn to get into your belly. Forget Order and embrace Chaos. Let your body fight for you, not your mind. Don't think, just do. That way I, or He-Who-Walks-In-Darkness, can never know what your next action will be and let your mind work against you."

Rook tilted his head, "Does that make /any/ sense to you, luv?"

Asha nodded slowly, thinking. "But not *pure* chaos," she said, more to herself than Rook. "*Ordered* chaos," she continued. "Pure chaos would make no sense in such a case- but as you said, if A and B lead to C... Then A and B must be made to lead to another conclusion."

She looked up at Rook then, calculating. "Right now, I see that if I attack deeply, from your right oblique, you should- as trained as you are- either fade left, or enter low. There are other options," she said, her mind literally overlaying the man with hundreds of pseudo-Rooks, "but the likelihood of you choosing them is lower, especially given what I have seen of the way you move."

Her eyes widened as she replayed his previous moves mentally. "*That* is what I saw. But I'm still not getting it."

Fully focussed within, she let her mind free to run at full speed, leaving little for her body to work with. Her voice was merely a mutter as her mind raced through possibilities. "overlaygreyrooksequenceonesequencetwosequencethree..." Usually, when she entered her fugue, she was careful not to speak aloud- it was disconcerting to others as her voice sped up and her words became gibberish. But she was to excited to notice.

Finally, as quick as it had begun, it was over. She worried her lower lip, processing the information.

"Grey brought out what was already in me- that was why I was so adept even though I had never really fought before?" she asked rhetorically.

"But when I overlaid the two of you in the same situations... The simulation broke down. Even using your own movements... You were always a little off. Not opposite as I supposed. Just a slight bit off- a choice of one of the other myriads of things that you could have done- minor changes in hundred different directions at once. Not *pure* chaos, but not *ordered* chaos either," she said, her brow beetling as she thought about it.

She looked up at him, doubt on her face. "True Chaos?"

Rook grinned, "True Chaos. Very perceptive, indeed. Your blood sings with it, even though those of the Serpent were wiped out millennia ago. You have the innate ability to change what is, by moving beyond the laws of order and substance. If you capture your belly, no pattern-driven entity can predict your next attack or defense. Not even yourself. But with each motion, every action, you proceed down a path; one effect following another, until finally you come to a desired conclusion. In the case of combat, that equates to victory. Like the sparrow's wings beating in the Tatters causes a thunderstorm in Prime, you must become the essence of Chaos. Draw the possibilities to you, even though you might not know what they are. For good or ill. That is how you defeat Order.

"And, as chaotic and mercurial as the Cairath may seem, it is still a being of Order."

He paused, seeing the question in Asha's eyes. "Cairath. It's the true name of He-Who-Walks-In-Darkness."

He shifted his foot back. "Now. Let your blood sing, Asha. Let it pull you, shape you. And attack me again."

Asha was still trying to digest what Rook had said. Though she *understood* it, knowledge of a fact and the execution of that fact were two totally different things.

As she shifted into position, she started to attack- and realized that she had seen the end before she ever started. Again she shifted- and again the same result.

Attempting to concentrate on what she was doing without concentrating on it. Attempting to create a paradox within herself- to force herself to do something that seemed so alien to her- was taxing, and she circled Rook on the precipice as the rain began to fall, making the already unsteady surface more perilous. For some time she did this, and began to despair that she would ever be able to do what Rook asked.

Then suddenly, out of a myriad of possibilities and impossibilities, she slipped. Only a minute slip, but enough for her to have to adjust instantly and instinctively to stop a disastrous plunge off the platform. In that frozen moment in time, she =felt= what she needed to do, more than =saw=. As she was righting herself, she realized that Rook didn't make a difference. Only she did. And shifting her focus to herself, rather than Rook- pushing him completely out of the picture, she lashed out - a lazy backhand, even as she spun. The strike was very uncharacteristic- but at the same time it felt in some way... right. It touched something deep within her, unleashing something that had been hidden. Even as she placed her foot down after the strike, she found herself twisting in a way that would have made no sense to her a few seconds ago, bringing her leading hand down even as she struck again with her offhand, driving towards Rook with a senseless pattern of strikes that mirrored the rain falling in their unknowable falling, and even though they were not possessed of her normal force or speed, there was a deceptive quality to them that more than made up for any lack thereof...

Rook's defense appeared flawless; a relentless wall of blocks and dodges. The man moved on a level beyond human cognitive power and speed. Not even augmentations could provide him with this profoundly frightening expertise. And yet, pushing that concept aside provided Asha with a sense of freedom, power. The world around the pair blurred, melted away. They entered in their own plane of existence, where the laws of physics and reality bled away. The impossible suddenly became trivial as their violent dance progressed. Gravity was no longer the master here, Asha was; and she reveled in the power of it.

Then, without warning, Asha's elbow connected with his shoulder blade. She hadn't meant to, but there it was, plain as day. She'd slipped by and through his defenses, as easy as flying through the air. Unintentional as the blow had been in her mind, its placement and power had been expertly delivered. The impact caught Rook as he tensed up for a low kick, and threw him completely off-balance. Rook went spinning, narrowly catching a guide-wire before plunging off the platform and to the street so far below.

He hung there, feet dangling out over the void. His chest rose and fell in hasty gulps for air. When he finally caught his breath, the odd man began to chuckle; a hardy, genuine laugh of camaraderie and approval.

"Well done, angel. I'd clap, but I seem to be in a rather precarious position at the moment. A hand, if you would?"

Coming out of the fugue state, Asha was more relieved than she let show that Rook had caught himself. Stooping, she held out a hand to him as he swung closely to the platform.

"I'd have thought you'd not need my help with the way that you move,"
she said, warily watching him- for this would be the point that Grey would try to teach her some hard taught lesson.

She did note his right leg was tensed and poised, as if preparing for a quick strike. But when she approached, Rook relaxed and took her hand. He smiled in thanks as she helped him away from the edge.

"I'm an old man, Asha. Humor me," he chuckled. "Besides, I think you dislocated my shoulder."

Asha smiled as she rejoined, "Old is as old does. And I'll definitely never think of you as an old man."

Rook rubbed his shoulder, smirking. "If you only knew, Asha. If you only knew. Still, even an old an can appreciate a beautiful woman's attempt to make him feel young again. So, who am I to complain?"

He tested his arm, then clenched his teeth in pain and concentration. There was a sharp pop as the bone slipped back into place. With a wiggle of the fingers and twist of the elbow, he nodded with satisfaction. "Damn thing is forever slipping out. Ironic though. Benedict gave me this old wound, much like you just did. Though I may see another thousand years more, I'll never get used to walking with ghosts."

Rook grinned lopsidedly, and squeezed her shoulder. "I suggest you add that technique to your sparring over the next couple of days. The more dangerous the circumstance, the better. If you can learn to enter that state more freely even when your life is on the line, it'll hone your edge. The Cairath can wait another day or so."

He pulled out a stick of nic-gum, and popped it in his mouth. A comical grimace twisted his face. "That should be all for today, I think. Unless, you'd like to spend some more time with me. I know I'm not the best company."

"Please," Asha replied, rolling her eyes. "Though there have been some rough spots, you're the best company I've had in a while. And I don't even want to consider the alternative," she said wincing at the thought of what was going on with the Lords.

"Besides, I have some questions for you- and I'm not going to let you get away so easily this time."

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