War is such that the supreme consideration is speed. This is to take advantage of what's beyond the reach of the enemy, to go by way of routes where he least expects you, and to attack where he has made no preparations - Sun-Tzu
Saha City: 4 years ago
Dragana lay stretched out on the couch, flipping through the stations on the viewing crystal. With each channel change, she flicked her house slipper with her foot. The second slipper had fallen off fifteen channels ago.
Rays of sunlight began to peek through a small gap in the curtains.
Marko walked in and shook his head before throwing the curtains wide open. Dragana immediately covered her eyes, muttering a garbled string of curse words. She tossed a strand of hair from her face, her hand brushing against a bruise near her chin, causing her to curse again. She sat up, glaring at Marko, her lips twitching in irritation.
He glanced down at the floor, tapping at a bundle of hand wraps with his foot. He bent down, picked them up, and wadded them into a ball.
“What do you think you are doing cuz?” he asked.
“Chillin’,” Dragana said and checked which channel she was watching. “And watchin’ Ninja Team-7.”
“No…you’re moping like a sad sack cause Gina mopped the floor with you yesterday,” Marko said.
He estimated the distance between him and the trashcan. In one smooth flick of the wrist, he tossed the wraps into the trash.
“Swish, two points,” he said. “You might think that just ‘cause you took second place you can relax and have fun.”
Dragana sat up and exhaled deeply. She stared at her bruised knuckles as her mind wandered to her sore muscles. Then exhaled again and hung her head low.
“What you are havin’ your fun and chillin’ Gina is training,” Marko said turning off the viewing crystal. “Training to be better than she was yesterday.”
She nodded and envisioned her rival, since elementary school, punching bags and running on a mountain trail. Dragana checked her fist and sat up straight. Her muscles complained, but she ignored the aches.
“Gina has a long reach like a gorilla, there’s no way I could get close enough,” Dragana complained.
Marko grumbled but softened when he saw the fire in her eyes.
“Well,” Marko said as he considered her statement. “For one thing, you were broadcasting your moves. You need to flip that to your advantage.”
“Duh, how?” she asked.
“Guard yourself.”
Marko opened his eyes wide and leaned closer. Then his eyes shifted to the right and he extended his right fist. Dragana bright up her arm to block.
“You must make her see what you want her to see,” he said closing his eyes.
When he opened them, his eyes darted right. He brought his right fist in a hook and stopped. Dragon brought her arm to block the attack but hit the air. Marko brought his first up in an uppercut and lightly tapped her jaw.
“It’s all about deception when your opponent has reach,” Marko said as he stood back to his full height. “You must trick them to get close, then pop. I called it the mirage strike.”
Dragana smiled and stood up from the couch.
“Can…can we go practice?” she asked. “I mean, if you feel like you can handle it.”
Marko hugged his cousin and beamed.
“I’ll get some fresh wrist straps and go an’ change. Meet me in the mat in ten?”
“Make it five, slow poke,” she said rushing past him and to her room.
***
Dragana opened her eyes and shifted her focus to the left and towards the ground.
“Ha! You make this too easy,” Frau Petra said as she slashed the air.
The beam of light bright through the air as it raced to where Dragana was looking, but instead she tumbled to the right.
Her cousin’s words echoed in her head: Your opponent is most likely going to be right-handed. Get’em to attack to the right to open them up.
As Dragana rose to her feet, she bolted along the rim of the crater, her Feather Step making her movements weightless. She skimmed across the jagged debris of shattered concrete and twisted rebar, her footfalls silent as death. In the distance, Frau Petra’s eyes widened in panic as Dragana closed the gap between them with increasing speed.
Dragana yanked a long, blue silk scarf from her back pocket and hurled it into the air, the fabric catching the wind and fluttering.
With a flash of light, Petra slashed at the scarf, but Dragana shifted to Petra’s left side. As Petra's sword came down, Dragana stomped on the blade with a precise and brutal kick, pinning it to the ground. She jabbed forward—once, twice—her strikes a blur as she hammered into Petra’s throat.
Petra gasped, choking, only to take another flurry of punches to the jaw. Dragana didn’t relent. Her fists flew with merciless precision, each strike landing with bone-rattling force. Petra staggered, blood spraying from her mouth, but Dragana advanced, unrelenting.
Petra, half-blinded by pain, swung her sword wildly in a desperate slash, but the blade missed its mark, the light ray veering harmlessly into the air. Dragana seized her by the collar and smashed her fist into Petra’s face, the sickening thud of knuckles on bone reverberating through the air. Petra struggled, bringing her arms up to block, but the blows kept coming.
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"Guardians, I require your services!" Petra croaked, blood gushing between her lips, teeth broken and scattered like shards of glass.
Her cry was desperate, barely audible. In a flash, Petra vanished, replaced by a towering, armored figure, its shield raised high, shimmering in the ambient light. Behind him, Frau Petra stood on wobbly legs.
She stepped back and spat on the ground.
“Almost have her,” Dragana said as she bobbed from side to side on her feet.
“Your queen requires your strength,” Petra said as she touched his shoulder.
Her shield guardian glowed with a sickly green fire. The fire moved to Frau Petra as the shapes of the flames took on the appearance of skulls that engulfed his body.
A wide grin graced her lips when the guardian fell to one knee. The flames continued to rise from her and her guardian till he turned pale and disappeared.
Frau Petra’s body was covered in a nauseating smell and green fire. The wounds on her face healed. Dragana stood in silence.
“Did you…just sacrifice one of your own?” Dragana asked.
"I mean, like, it’s totally normal for a pawn to get, you know, sacrificed for the king’s benefit," Petra said, casually flipping her hand over, admiring the flames dancing across her fingers. "It’s kinda like you, always breaking your own magic stuff for, like, some quick little boost."
Dragana pulled off her gorilla mask and stared into the black eyes.
“Why are you telling me this?” Dragana asked.
“Because I want you to come at me with all you got, and when I crush you will know that you can never win against me,” Petra said.
"Forgive me, Estelle," Dragana whispered, before crushing the mask beneath her foot.
An orange-red flame erupted around her, glowing brighter as it engulfed her body like a fiery cloak. Her muscles swelled, and her mind sharpened with newfound clarity. Without hesitation, Dragana exploded forward in a blur of speed, charging toward Petra.
Petra barely had time to react, bringing her sword up to block the first punch. The force behind the blow was immense, and she was forced to grip the hilt with both hands just to hold her ground. Dragana didn’t stop. A barrage of heavy strikes rained down on the blade, each more punishing than the last. With every impact, Petra’s feet slid back, her heels digging into the dirt as she struggled to stay upright.
Desperate, Petra leaned forward, trying to resist the overwhelming power, but it was futile—Dragana was relentless. The force of each strike drove her further back.
"How... much power did that mask have?" Petra gasped; her voice strained as she gritted her teeth against the relentless onslaught.
The flames around Dragana grew and began to melt the tips of the rebar. The molten slag hit the ground with a sizzle.
“I overestimated you,” Dragana said. “You are nothing but a weak shallow person, having to prey on her own friends.”
Feeling Petra’s grip weaken, Dragana grabbed the tip of the blade and twisted it around. Petra let go as Dragana tossed it to the side.
“My diriptor, I need your power!” Petra yelled and turned on her heels to run.
“I’m here my Queen,” he said running towards her.
The last guard slid on his knees as Petra slammed her hand on his head. They both began to glow with the green fire.
“This is getting old,” Dragana said and ran towards them with her fist raised in the air.
When Dragana’s fist collided with Petra’s jaw, she began to cackle. The next punch, followed by a round house kick, hit Petra on the side of the head. As a cloud of dust kicked up, Petra stood still, the brought her fist up in a powerful uppercut.
Dragana was knocked into the air and back 10 feet. Frau Petra jumped into the air; her fist raised.
“You think you are better than me?” Petra shouted as she punched Dragana blindly. “Sacrificing people is the only way to get ahead in life!”
Taking the hits, Dragana lay on the ground and brought her arms up to protect her face and sides. With a wiggle, she tried to worm herself away.
Realizing that none of the attacks were causing any significant harm, Petra stood up and kicked Dragana into the air. The orange-red flames flickered away.
“You are going to need more than some silly old mask to beat me. Maybe if you burned off your friends you might have stood a chance!”
Dragana felt something crack as she landed back on the ground.
“Face it, you are going to need to sacrifice everything to beat me.”
After using a broken slab of concrete to help sit her up, Dragana dug into her back pocket.
“You might be right, luckily I have one more thing to sacrifice as you say,” Dragana said and pulled out her deck of cards.
She couldn’t move her right arm, but her left arm was functional enough to pull out the King of Hearts card. Petra stopped and stared.
“Maybe the grumpy ol’ White Witch was right as well. I don’t need it, how did she put it? (imitating Estelle’s haughty voice) Jus’ be approximately ten percent smarter than you,” Dragana said, holding up the card.
Frau Petra wiggled her fingers, and the Sun Sword appeared in her hand. Petra held it in the guard position, with the cross guard at eye level.
Dragana tapped the card and said, “Shave and a haircut…two bits.”
“Think some worn-out old card will save you?”
The card disappeared and a single flare appeared.
“Who says anything about being saved?” Dragana said as she held the flared above her head and struggled to her feet. “To be honest, you’re right…sacrifices must be made.”
“You have nothing left!”
“Just myself,” Dragana said and held the flare over her head.
Sparks burst from the flare and sent a shower into the air. Red smoke jetted out as the light pulsed a long flash, a quick flash, then another long flash.
“Pathetic,” Petra said swiping the air with her sword, making a 5-pointed star in the air. “Any last words?”
Dragana glanced up into the sky as a tri-wing plane zoomed overhead, then back to Frau Petra.
“What is the sound of artillery?” Dragana asked.
“Huh?” Petra said as she held the star from firing.
“Boom…boom, bitch” Dragana answered with a mischievous grin.
A piercing whistle tore through the sky, shaking the nearby buildings on their foundations. Frau Petra's heart jolted as she instinctively looked up, her eyes wide with alarm.
***
After a bright flash of light, Dragana opened her eyes and found herself sitting in a white room on a plush couch. Marko and Pink were at the far end shuffling cards. On the wall were screens playing live broadcasts of battles across the city.
“We win?” asked Marko.
“Not yet, but I got the King of Hearts,” Dragana said smiling.
“Dramn straight,” Pink said extending his fist.
Dragna punches it and Marko’s fist.
“Good job, cuz,” Marko said and messed up her hair.
***