Match 9
#41 Nimia “The White Tiger” Altamirano
vs
#40 Cheol-su “The Black Tortoise” Hyeon
Inventory:
1 Katana - "Darling"(?)
2 .44 Semi-Automatic Magnums - "Sonya and Cleon"
1 9mm Semi-Automatic Pistol
67.5 million dollars
So should she rename Darling at this point? She’d been upgraded, clearly, and might also have up to three ladies living inside of her. Then again, if they were dead, they weren’t exactly living in her, now were they?
Nimia pondered the conundrum as she finished adjusting the white metal plates now going over her artificial arm. Much like the white metal plates–painted with some neat, curving orange stripes–going over the rest of her body, because she was wearing armor.
Decently flexible armor, she had to admit as she did a couple stretches, testing the range of motion. She wasn’t used to using mech armor by any stretch of the imagination, even this lightweight variant, but it was that or be blasted into viscera by a stray shot. A genuine concern considering the warzone she’d be entering in a sec.
Well, less a warzone and more a “war game” zone. Not that it was any less deadly that an actual warzone, it’s just that the rules were different. No cute little line up of two sides firing at each other from artillery points or fun skirmishes of poorly equipped guerillas trying their damnedest to bunker down in whatever shelter they could get against a superior enemy; nope, this was a bloody free-for-all where fractured or even somewhat stable countries could send in some representable representatives to represent them representingly in an international bloodsport.
Y’know, for funsies. Of course, there were plenty of political whatevers going on into all of it, and more than a few megacorps had their own stakes claimed for these types of games, but Nimia couldn’t give any less of a shit about context! She had a number to claim, one belonging to Cheol-su Hyeon–or Hyeon Cheol-su if one was going by Eastern conventions–who was apparently a pretty big deal in this type of thing. Undefeated champion or some such. Pretty neat, but not something she was particularly worried about.
His titles didn’t mean much. She was gonna kill him either way.
“Hello hello? Altamirano-san? Can you hear me properly?” the voice of her current “sponsor” buzzed in her ear. To briefly explain, it turned out she needed one of those to actually enter the...tournament, thing? It wasn’t exactly a tournament, there weren’t brackets; it was more like beat and/or kill everyone between you and the champ, with the aim being to take out the champ overall, though plenty of teams apparently shot for different things instead.
Oh, and there were teams. She’d be going solo, but other groups existed out in the thing, and they’d be aiming to eliminate the competition as sure as she was.
“Yeah, I hear you Mister Wakuri,” she replied to her temporary manager, one Spokesman Heizo Wakuri of Koroshi Industries. Apparently they’d been impressed by her performance over at the Rolling Storm death race, so signing her on for this was pretty appealing. “You gonna be talking in my ear this whole time?”
“Oh no, certainly not,” Wakuri replied, his tone light and amused, “I am merely here to check your systems are all functioning properly. It would not do to have our demonstration of the Tokurata power armor to end with a death to malfunctioning audio, would it not?”
“Yeah, that would suck. Hey, this thing isn’t going to suddenly snap my neck or anything, right?”
“No, certainly not. The armor is more like...plate mail, than the overly complex systems of interlocking servos and mechanism that make up the larger armor models out there.”
“Plate mail that could tank a missile?”
“The shielding likely could, with a small one. Do try to avoid being hit by missiles though.”
“Duly noted. All systems are a go?”
“Yes, they are. You are ready and cleared to participate in the fortieth Hun Zhan tournament.”
Fun fact, Nimia had no idea what that name meant. Her online dictionary said it was something like “dogfight”, but her Mandarin was rusty as fuck. “Sweet. Hey, thanks for hooking me up with this.”
Wakuri chuckled. “It is of no issue. My employer took quite the interest in your previous battles, and looks forward to meeting you, should you succeed here today.” Ooo, ominous. “Goodbye, Altamirano-san, and good luck.”
“Thanks again,” Nimia replied, grinning under her helmet–a largely flat, full-face helm with an orange visor going over her eyes and a teeth-pattern printed over her mouth–before bolting for the aircraft’s opening doors and jumping straight out into a free fall over Jjigae, a mock-city set up on some island called Baekyo.
Well, maybe it had been a city at some point? It looked like one. Would probably be a waste to build an entire cityscape with legit office buildings, shopping centers, and parks just for deathmatches, but that raised the question of what could’ve killed off all the old residents…
Eh, a question for later, she decided, as she turned in mid air, drew one of her–newly upgraded and currently loaded with explosive rounds–magnums from her inventory, and fired–while still falling–at the dumb son of a bitch that tried to take a potshot at her from a nearby office roof.
To her satisfaction, the blue-and-orange armored nobody was blasted off his feet by a round detonating straight in his face, and she promptly disregarded him as she continued plunging straight for the ground, twisting so her feet were down, dismissing her Sonya, and summoning her Darling as she dropped straight into an open firefight between more blue-and-orange goons and some red-and-green mooks.
So she did what came naturally and cut the head off the nearest dumbass–and damn was that a satisfying spray of red–before jumping straight into the fray. Why hang out in cover behind cars when she could dodge and weave and cut mercenaries apart? Besides, the blorange dicks shot at her first, so fuck ‘em.
It did take the gathered goons a second to realize they had a third party in their midst, but by that point Nimia had cleaved through about three of them. Turned out, the big yellow energy shields they had strapped to their offhand wrists did jackshit when somebody smaller and lighter could dart around and bisect the wielder.
Also, wow, it was weird for the 6’3” Nimia to actually be the shortest person around. All these jackasses were over 7 feet tall! Some were nearing 8! Granted, they were all definitely getting height boosts from their power armor, so she could take some satisfaction in that…
That, and continuing her killstreak throughout the melee, particularly when the red-greens thought they could take advantage and gun her down easy. Really ungrateful on their part, and also pretty unnecessary considering she was planning to leave most of these people alone.
Ah well, so it goes. Such were her thoughts as she finished decapitating the last of the red-greens. None of them were the guy she was looking for, so welp, onto the next batch!
Really, what else was there to say? The “tournament” was kind of a chaotic mess. Very anarchical, which she could appreciate if it was a little more convenient to her personal way of doing things. As it was, there were tons of people–usually in smaller squads of six, though she was seeing some teams that had about twenty or so people in them–just in a constant state of conflict to wipe out the enemy teams, or avoiding conflict to keep their numbers up.
That didn’t really matter to Nimia though. Her target was the top boss, and while these random goons could be fun to fight, most of them just weren’t that interesting. A lot of them were just mercenaries with assault rifles and straight swords, and while she wasn’t fundamentally opposed to the gun-sword combo–hell, she used it all the time–there wasn’t a lot of fun in fighting-
“LISTEN UP, ALL Y’ALL LOST SOULS LOOKIN’ FOR PURPOSE! Because have I got a damn good one in mind~.” Huh. Consider fate tempted.
Nimia cooled her jets–literally, she had some neat booster jets on her armor to help her move faster–and paused in the middle of one torn up plaza, staring up at the massive display screen up on one building.
And sure enough, up on it, was Nero, grinning as usual. Though he had Bianca beside him this time. “Now, listen up and listen good! Not that you can really keep from listenin’, considerin’ we’ve hijacked every last one of your sound systems for the mo.”
Well, that explained why he was coming through so clearly. Also, huh, Bianca was speaking along with him, but in...Han? Han, probably, translating with the local lingua franca.
“But don’t you worry, we’ve got a good show, and isn’t nice to take it slow? We got things you’ll need to know, so listen up, and go with our flow~.” He paused for a second. “Wait, shit, does any of that translate into rhyme properly? Ah whatever, you get the point.
“And here’s my point! Now some of you probably know this already, but there’s a new bitch on the block and I’m sure everyone wants to know her name and number!” Aw fuckshit. Again.
And sure enough, there was her face, up onscreen again. Though it was specifically her fully helmeted face. So not really her face, but something that would make her even more recognizable to everyone around. So...shit.
“Anyway, you might know this babe here as Nimia Altamirano! And if you don’t, you might know her as the forty-first ranked! And if you don’t know that, now you do!” His grin turned sinister. “And you also know anyone who kills the forty-first has a whole hell of a better chance at killing the fortieth.
“Oh, and as a bonus, there’s currently an active bounty of fifteen million on the White Tiger prowling around down there.” Oh sweet, jumped up by a lot. Last time someone offered money for her head, it was 2 million with de Magalhaes...Hm, was that still active? Well, this one probably superseded it– “Now, I know that’s not nearly as much as our own forty million Black Tortoise, but we’ve all gotta start somewhere, and you know money’s still money~.”
“…Hmph.” Nimia couldn’t help but pout. He just undercut her so fast there...Dick move. Dick move...
“So hey, you wanna take your shot? Get somethin’ few people could ever hope to have? Gain actual fuckin’ immortality for the low low price of one human life?” Nero chuckled, his fingers clasped and resting on his desk, a pose Bianca mimicked. Right down to the low chuckle, very committed there. “Get to it.”
Nimia shifted her head slightly, then had to bite back a cheer as she saw a sniper shot go right past her head. Heh, timed that exactly right– “HEY! YOU’RE THE SAME FUCK FROM EARLIER!”
Fucking hell, since when do headshots not kill people? Granted, there was a big crack in his helmet where she’d shot the dude and the rest of his armor looked scorched to crap–as seen through her Koroshi Brand Monoai Enhancement Visor™!–so...guess the armor was just better than she thought. Or the dumbass got lucky.
Kinda far to try to hit him though–Whoops, he tried to shoot her for a third time, all bets were off now and bitch boy blue was gonna get fucked.
So it was to her immense frustration that the wily fucker actually managed to get away from her, not once, but multiple times as she chased the little–okay, pretty tall–bastard around the city. It wasn’t that she couldn’t outpace him; he was just wily as fuck, admittedly good at both parkour and hiding, and she kept getting distracted by various opponents in her way, most of which were shit. Easily shot or sliced apart, though a few were at least a little fun.
She did get pretty damn distracted going up against a huge, four-armed guy in red and brown armor, wielding a massive hammer. Required a good bit of finesse to work around him, lots of jumping off counters and over racks as he smashed through the boutique she’d wound up in. Was fun enough, kinda reminded her of 72–though that guy had two hammers, not one big one–though she actually gave him a good fight before she juked around an overhead swing and split through his spine with her heated sword, instead of just shooting the dick.
Oh yeah, she also got some practice in with her newly upgraded darling–possible name: Darlington?–who now came in “slightly hotter” and “kinda colder” varieties, in addition to the basic steel. No lightning yet, but what she had was pretty okay, if she felt like changing things up and playing around. No special unicorn or dragon powers though, and definitely nothing that would let her catch up to any wily fuckers running around.
So yeah, she definitely lost the sniper completely, despite all her neat tricks, and she also had to deal with a whole lot more goons coming after her all at once. Hell, the plaza she was currently in–bright place, lots of digital lights and advertisements–seemed to be full of a never ending hail of gunfire. Maybe all of them were gathering here–
Hoo boy, that was a big man.
Nimia stared in a fair amount of awe at the absolutely huge mother fucker–definitely eight feet, minimum–ramming straight off an upper bridge with multiple bodies smashed against his tech-lined riot shield, his jets burning with blue flames as he flew through the air like a fucking majestic eagle. Up until gravity decided to cut in with a sternly worded admonition and the armored fucker full on flipped in the air, using his jets to boost him further, and swung his spear–okay, she knew weapons, she looked this up...fangtian ji? A crescent-moon halberd?–inwards, flipping it underhand and driving its sharp point straight through one of the poor bastards staring in awe. Which, right, bad thing to do in the middle of battle.
Still, Nimia couldn’t help but watch as the black-armored spearman swung his weapon–its head also glowing the vibrant blue of energy blades–out again, tossing the ruined corpse aside and bisecting a good amount of mook in the process.
The conflict stilled to a halt as steam erupted from Cheol-Su Hyeon’s bulky, pitch-black mech armor, intricately carved patterns tracing across the steel with dark silver lines, including the hangul symbol for water on the forehead of his helm, itself a solid thing with three black visors splitting it horizontally. And his head turned straight towards Nimia, locking eyes with her in an instant.
“...Well hey there big boy,” she greeted, raising her free hand and ignoring about two dozen gazes snapping towards in her shock.
There was another hiss of steam, and Hyeon spoke in an electronically altered voice. “Good day, Maheunhana. I hope you are enjoying Jjigae.”
“Eh, it’s alright. Pretty lights, interesting people, nice enough. Kinda like the taste, y’know?” She grinned under her helmet. “How’s your day going?”
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“Delightfully. The rabble this year has been giving at least some effort, and I have had a challenge to look forward to as well.” His amusement was still obvious through the synth coloring his tone. “It has been quite some time since I faced my direct junior in these rankings. I hope your conduct in battle is better than your etiquette among your seniors.”
“Oh right, I was supposed to let you talk first. My bad. But hey, promise, I’ll be a lot better in a fight here~.” Nimia chuckled, then glanced around at the rest of the bozos still gathered, letting the back of her darling’s blade rest on her shoulder. “Any of you fuckers wanna get out of the way, now’s the time. I’d rather have some one on one time with the big guy here, capiche?”
“Do not worry.” Hyeon’s spear vanished in a digital flash as he reached over and tapped at a display on his left wrist. And over two dozen necks snapped at once in one loud CRACK.
Nimia blinked, but kept her gaze on Hyeon. He was the dangerous one here.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the standing corpses of each mercenary there, their necks forcibly twisted by their own suit’s servos. “...Neat trick. How’d you do it?”
Hyeon just chuckled. “Practice. It is quite intriguing. The smaller mobile suits used here have so many deliberate mechanisms to keep the body safe and secure while moving. It is difficult to have a human body move at high speeds without fracturing. Yet those very protections rely on automatic processes that are so very easy to subvert.” He inclined his head. “Your suit lacks these safeguards in favor of others. How fortunate for you.”
One of the corpses flopped forward. Not face first, because his face was backwards. “Yeah, real lucky.” Nimia settled into a stance, her sword at the ready. “C’mon, aren’t you going to initiate the bout, senior–?”
Fucker was fast, she’d give him that. Not a lotta honor in him though, or so she noted as she jumped straight to the side to avoid an immediate spear thrust towards her chest, followed up by ducking a horizontal swing and jumping further to avoid his charge. And damn was it a fast charge, barreling straight through a kiosk in a boom of sound.
“Aw damn, look what we’ve got here!” Why the fuck was Nero talking again? No, never mind, focus.
“It looks like we’ve got our title bout already started! And before I could even call the fighters to their corners!” Nero’s voice boomed out as Nimia dismissed her Darling–no good for a long range fight, even if the guy was using melee; his spear gave him too much distance and his shield gave him a huge amount of protection that she was pretty sure she couldn’t cut through–and summoned both magnums out of her inventory right as the fucker gave another charge, smashing through bodies with reckless brutality.
“Such a shame! People are so impatient these days, always lookin’ for an instant fix–” Her guns fired in rapid succession as Hyeon blocked the booming bullets with his huge shield, the glowing circuitry barely crackling at the explosive impacts- “–instead of waiting for all them ‘proper protocols’ the old-timers harp on about!”
Nimia rolled into a crouch, turning and firing at Hyeon’s back as the fucker rocketed past, but they all went wide, hitting and bursting more bodies and scenery. “But don’t you worry, dear listeners, watchers, and readers, I’ll still do my job right and exposit like you like~!”
Then Hyeon was coming around for another pass and she decided to just keep on moving this time, activating the jets in her armor and rushing around the plaza just like the huge bastard. “Just now joinin’ the new plaza race, standin’ at six foot three and weighin’ at around a hundred and ninety-eight pounds–” Well that was real fucking specific. “–we got the up-and-comer, the bionic bruiser, the carver from Clearwater, Nimia! Altamiranooooooo~!”
Nero’s bizarre info aside, keeping pace with Hyeon was harder than she thought it would be. He clearly had a lot of experience with his armor and he knew just how to use those jets of his to maneuver rapidly around the plaza. Sure, she knew how to parkour, but he could just smash through anything in his way, so that wasn’t great, especially since they were getting back out into the street now so there was even more room to maneuver. “And leadin’ the charge at the front of the line, we have one of the most vicious murderers known to the ‘Far East’, or home if you happen to live there, a real bastard of a soldier and mercenary who butchered his way to the top of every battle royale he could get into, the so-called Black Tortoise of the North, we’ve got Hyeon! Cheol-suuuuuuuuu~!”
“Okay, but why was his intro less personal and detailed?!” Nimia snapped as she dove across a car, firing rapidly and only managing to hit Hyeon’s shield, if the shots didn’t go wide.
“You’re kiddin’, right? Sick fucker tortured people for dictators, I ain’t messin’ with that shit.” After a beat, Nero snorted. “Nah, I’m foolin’, I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse out there, but trust me when I say that this man’s a prick.”
“Your opinion is noted, Eodumnim,” Hyeon replied, which came as a surprise, though not quite as much as him abruptly turning and rocketing straight for Nimia, “But I shall surpass those you once witnessed!”
“Sure you will,” Nero drawled as Nimia reversed course, ducking a thrust and shooting at her now far-too-close opponent while he kept trying to skewer or slice her with his huge spear, but her shots kept going wide or splashing against his shield and– “You and one thousand others.”
The haft of his spear slammed straight into the side of her head as he twisted and drove it against her helm, the rounded bit at the bottom nearly denting the steel into her skull. Nearly, because Nimia rolled with the impact, letting it launch her off her feet and twisting as she tumbled through the air and across the street.
Once she found her feet, she steadied her stance and aimed straight for Hyeon, firing rapidly right at his helm, only for them to splash in bursts of fire against his shield.
But that was fine. She fired every single last one of the explosive rounds she had straight at his shield until it sparked and cracked in flashes of blue, and when the last one slammed home, up went the shield in a full explosion, which actually staggered Hyeon, so Nimia took her chance and rocketed straight–
And her thrusters cut out. Right as she was rushing forward so her momentum was completely fucked and Hyeon recovered faster than her.
Her feet were still on the ground as he thrust with his spear, so she could, narrowly, just avoid being skewered by leaping to the side, and then there was just one foot crumpling to the ground.
Nimia crashed and rolled across the street, crashing against a bullet-ridden car hard enough to embed in its door, her back against it and her legs splayed out–well, make that leg. Singular.
“...fuck, I’ve only got two of those…” she muttered–then screamed when the absolute asshole drove his spear through her remaining knee, “MOTHER FUCKER!”
“You truly are a vulgar woman,” Hyeon said while he twisted his spear into her wound.
Nimia grit her teeth and clenched her fists, fighting through the pain that was already being dulled by her suit’s systems. “Gh-hhh...f-fuck you I am! W-What, you wouldn’t curse if some asshole cut your fucking legs off!?”
“I would not let someone cut off my legs. I am better than that.”
“Oh sure, sure, of course you fucking are you-” He twisted again. “Ghhh, f-f-fucking sadist!”
“The man on the screen did tell you, Maheunhana. I tortured on behalf of small men that called themselves the leaders of nations. Dissidents, rebels, insurgents, journalists, investigators, whistleblowers, spies, traitors, peasants, insubordinates, enemies. I handled problems on behalf of those who paid me most. If another paid more, the first died screaming.” He tilted his head. “I do so enjoy that breed of horror. The realization that their invincibility was illusion. That another stood above them.”
“Sure, cute, yeah, fantastic-gnnh..if, if you’re such a badass, why the fuck aren’t you higher? Asshol-GAH!” There was a very good chance that her right leg might have to be amputated, even if the asshole didn’t cut it off entirely.
“Because I am above even these petty rankings. Tell me, before you die, what legends do you know of The First?”
“...Legends? That’s what you want to talk about?”
“What else is there in this world? The stories of people, places, nations, they drive existence. So tell me a legend, so I may speak mine.”
So he was crazy. But he had a spearhead in her leg and she couldn’t get her fucking jets to work, so fuck it. “The First was a soldier from the Old World. When the Corporate Wars came, they fought and defeated a thousand others. The lives of those soldiers bled into The First, and they became immortal. Then, The First established the ranks, to find people who could fight them on even terms–”
He twisted the spear all the way around, shredding her knee and driving a pained howl from her lips. “What trite. He was no soldier, marching to orders. He was a warrior. No, better: a hunter, seeking those of great strength. He fought and killed a thousand men one on one, in individual death matches. He gave no orders, he had no followers. He acted, and He killed, and it was their blood that filled His soul and made Him not merely an immortal, but a god. That is the price of godhood, Maheunhana, and the rankings were no attempt to find equals, but an establishment of hierarchy. None matter, but those willing to spill the blood of others. Lofty ideals, nations, honor, they matter for nothing. It is, in the most even hand, an establishment of power. Only those who strike with their own fists and make others bleed are even capable of holding such a position.”
“A-And? What the fuck–GH-D-DOES THAT MAKE YOU, HUH?! IF YOU’RE SO ABOVE IT!?”
“A smart man. Let me tell you a simple secret, Maheunhana.” He leaned in, a great black mountain looming over her and blocking out all light. “I seek the same position, but not as He did. I will kill a thousand men. Perhaps I already have. I have killed hundreds in my years, but they were not worthy, so I joined these battles to fight warriors, lesser though they may be. And, every so often, one of a rank comes to fight me here. I kill them, and add their soul to my growing godhood. I will, through my own strength, become as God.”
“...Fuck me, you’re not just a sadistic freak. You’re a zealot.”
“How kind of you to notice.” He yanked his spear up, and then rammed it into the car door behind her, the blades on its sides level with her neck as he slowly moved it closer. “Though, you were not incorrect the first time, pathetic wretch who would call herself my rival. I am, indeed, a sadist, and I shall enjoy killing you, bitch in tiger’s skin.”
Hm. Welp.
Nimia grinned under her helmet, inclining her head and showing her neck to his approaching blade. “See you in Hell, asshole.”
“No, you will not. For Heaven awaits–”
His head jerked forward, a burst of black metal filling the air before the *CRACK* of a shot echoed, his eyes whirling to look at where the bullet came from before the roar of engines coming back to life caught his attention and Hyeon gagged as a heated blade drove straight into his intestines.
In an instant, he was driven straight across the street, Nimia’s legless form looking almost tiny in comparison to his massive armor, which was doing nothing to stop her Darling impaling him right through the abdomen. She howled in defiance as the breath was driven from his lungs and a horrible burning filled his entire being–
NO! THIS WASN’T HOW HE WOULD–
He went straight through the side of a building, crashing through it, through mock-ups of people in the form of mannequins in a waiting room, through the front desk, through interior offices, through the opposite wall, all while the jets burned hotter and hotter, blue flames pushing far beyond human safety–
And out into an open space–a shockingly calm park where false trees lent an unnaturally natural feel–and he finally shoved her off with a sharp palm, knocking the bitch to the ground as he stumbled at his feet, bleeding for the first time in-in–how had she made him–
He knocked her to the ground, but she wasn’t on the ground–
There was a rush of engines and he looked up right as she came back down, rage in her eyes as she swung her arms. She crashed to the ground with no way of stopping herself, committing everything to one final move, though that meant nothing to him as the gleam of her blade shone in his eyes.
He blinked, beneath his once invincible helm, and stared down at the bloodied, broken, beaten woman that he should have won against. He should have. He would have, he did, so how did–
Cheol-su stumbled, trying to find his footing. Something was very wrong. He couldn’t feel the left/right half of his body. Why couldn’t–
This didn’t make sense. He was going to be a god, he–
Revelation, that was his destiny, his fate, his–
It could not be for nothing. All his years, all his work–
Cheol-su stared down at the White Tiger, missing her hind legs, and tried to reconcile what had just happened with what he knew should be. He could feel the blood leaking down his face, his chest, his crotch, his–
His shell was invincible. He was the Black Tortoise. He was to be a god. He–
Why could he see two different–
Metal did not beat Water, Metal collected Water, propagated, generated, he won, it was his victory–
Something intervened–
“Bleckh…?” Cheol-su managed to get out through his split tongue, genuinely aghast and completely confused. Then one leg gave out, and half his body pitched backwards, and landed with a crash. How strange. His shell was open.
Nimia let out an exhausted, exasperated sigh as she rolled onto her back, and looked back at the… “...Y’know, I once heard a man without honor was half a man. Didn’t think it was literal.”
There was a spray of blood as the standing half finally registered it was dead, and then it too dropped, and Nimia felt a familiar burn at her neck.
41 -> 40
“AND WE HAVE A WINNER! Though it was kinda lame.”
“Wh-HEY! FUCK YOU!” Nimia shouted up at the screens overhead, flipping off Nero’s unamused face.
“What? I tells it as I sees it, and that one sucked, Nimmy Nims. Sudden assists and bursts of luck don’t make for good endin’s, y’know what I mean?
“Still! I still won!”
“And? How y’win matters just as much! Or did y’not learn that lesson from turtleman down there?”
Nimia grumbled, huffing, then paused at a pair of footsteps approaching. “...Huh. I didn’t think you’d get down here so quick.”
“You didn’t notice the grapple I’ve been using? It makes travel easier, especially when I gotta run from crazy bitches,” her least favorite sniper replied in an accent similar to Hyeon’s.
“Oi! You shot at me first, you prick!”
“And? I see crazy bitch falling from the sky, I figure it’s better to get her out of the way early, maybe score that rank thing.” He stood over her, his blue armor, plated with orange in a few places, noticeably cracked and burned around his helmet. “Then you shoot me, and it became a pride thing.”
“Pff, pussy can’t even take one measly explosive round…”
“Not all of us are freaks of nature. Some just want to win money. Speaking of–” And now there was a sniper muzzle pressing against the forehead of her helmet. “You should forfeit now.”
“...Forfeit? What?”
“The competition. Hun Zhan, battle royale. You know what you entered, right? You’re the last remaining competitor, aside from me, and I don’t feel like wasting a bullet on someone I just saved.”
“...” She huffed. “Y’know, I’m honestly tempted to not just to be a dick to you, snipey.”
“Oh? Then I guess ex-champion will be the one helping you to the medical stations, legless.”
“...Prick.”
“Crazy bitch.”
She glared. He stared impassively back. “...Fiiiiine. I forfeit from the Hoon Jan or whatever.”
“Hun Zhan. You are doing that deliberately.” He still lowered the rifle.
“I am. So fuck you.”
“Nah. I like taller girls.”
“Excuse you? I’m probably taller outside that fucking suit of yours, jagoff.”
“No you’re not. I’ve got legs, remember?”
“...You’re a fucking asshole.”
“And there we have it!” Nero suddenly called out, catching both their attentions, “While our favorite Nimmy might’ve taken the ranking and become our new number Forty, it seems she ain’t winnin’ millions today! That honor goes to our new champ, Wu Jeong-hun, of the...Bia, what’s this say?”
Bianca repeated something in Han.
“...That! That thing, yeah! They also win! Kinda? The rest are dead, so...yeah, whatevs, y’all get the picture. See ya next time!”
“Annyeong!” Bianca...probably echoed.
And the newly named Jeong-hun sighed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Well, that was...something.”
“Not used to the dynamic duo?”
“No, not in the slightest. They haven’t been in previous competitions.”
Nimia raised an eyebrow as she sat up, which was a little tricky since she felt pretty off balance. “Oh, you a vet?”
“...Not in this sense. You do remember that these competitions are normally won by all participants dying aside from the winner?”
“Hey, ease off, I’m wounded, Probably light-headed from blood loss or something.”
“You’re not bleeding.”
“Well yeah, not now. Magic stuff heals me or something.” She frowned, glancing at her legs. Or lack thereof. “Well, not every bit of me, apparently.”
“...That is weird. You people are weird.”
“Yeah yeah, now c’mon, I just helped you win however much money this was for. The least you could do is give me a l-” She blinked as he actually hoisted her up into a bridal carry, holding her surprisingly easily. “...Huh. Yeesh, makin’ a girl feel special here, especially considering I’m all in white.”
“What? You’re covered in blood and dust.”
“Yeah, but under this.”
“...” She had the distinct impression he was raising an eyebrow at her.
“...Not–No, not, like, under, under, I-You shut up.”
“I wasn’t saying anything.”
“...Carry me to fucking medical or I blow your brains out.”
“Stop threatening me or I drop you off a bridge,” he replied with obvious amusement as he started carrying her through the ruined streets.
“Fuck you. I’m fucking immortal, don’t treat me like this.”
“If this is how immortals are, I’m beginning to think it’s overrated.”
She huffed irritably, then paused. “Oh, grab my legs on the way.”
“...What?”
“Hey, I might be able to reattach them. You never know.”
“...”
“...”
“...You have to carry them.”
“Deal!”