Match 5
#47 Nimia Altamirano
vs
#46 Sonya “Browbeat” Lawton
The upscale, high-rise apartment complex didn’t have a name. Not every building in the world did. Some were just buildings, existing as they did with only an address to define them. For this particular one, it was 2471 Westvic Avenue.
Was there a significance to that address? Perhaps. It’s where the 46th lived, after all, but did the numbers and names mean a thing? Realistically, unrealistically, maybe, maybe not. In the end, a place was a place, no matter who died there.
It was plenty fancy, of course, but the subdued type. Darker, more wintery colors instead of the bright, gaudy arrogance embodied by similar high-rises. It wasn’t gothic, not nearly, but the blues and violets of the building’s interior lent it a peaceful feeling, yet one still rooted in wealth greater than most would ever see in their entire lives.
Nimia was certainly impressed as she rode the elevator all the way up to the penthouse at the top. It almost made her feel bad when she kicked the fancy door to said penthouse straight in.
The mahogany door flew forward and smashed into some kind of wall in the middle of the room that seemed to be there just to hang paintings on.
No, wait. When she walked around the wall, she actually saw it was intended to hold a huge TV. Multiple TVs, actually, just with a single huge one taking up a good chunk of the wall while the smaller ones fit around it. Plus a fireplace under it. Fun!
“Why did you kick my door in?” came the irritated voice of an older white woman reclining back on a couch, her bare feet resting on a footrest and one pale arm resting on the back of her blue couch.
“I thought it would be an easy way to get your attention,” Nimia replied, grinning as she looked over the 46th. Honestly, she was expecting someone a little more impressive. The lady looked more like an older runway model, lots of slender grace and beauty, than a pro killer. Her gray hair was done up in a loose bun, some strands already falling over her face, and she was wearing an elegant black dress with some hip-bearing slits up its sides. She was even holding a fancy champagne glass!
She also had a good amount of weathered lines under her eyes and across her exposed skin, along with what could be a few scars...and some odd lines across her arms. They didn’t seem robotic, but from the back of her wrists up to her shoulders, some black lines traced across her skin, ending in circles up on her shoulder.
“You have it. You would be the new climber then.” Lawton huffed, and set her glass down on a glass coffee table. “You certainly have that arrogant air to you.”
“Eh. It’s only arrogance if I lose.”
“When you lose.” Lawton stared up at Nimia. Her blue eyes looked almost dead already. She sighed irritably, propping an arm up on her knee as she glared at her. “Let me give you some advice, kid. Give it up.”
“...Oh?”
“‘Oh’ she says. You heard me right, don’t act like you didn’t. I’m telling you, here and now, give it up. You’ll never reach the top. No one does.”
“And what makes you say that?”
Lawton rolled her eyes and stood, then strolled over to the wide windows around her penthouse, the 46 visible in blue on her back, marked in a flowery cursive. Plenty of taller buildings stood in the distance, but Lawton’s place still had a great view of the dark-blue skyline. The lights of the buildings were too far to give her any kind of illumination, so Lawton was left framed by an indigo void, the lights in the distance glimmering like the eyes of deep-sea predators, dominated by the biggest ones of all in the form of the twin moons overhead.
“Because no one makes it to the top,” she finally answered, “No one has, and no one will.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Because it’s a fact.” Idiot, her tone said, even if her voice didn’t. “The same number two has held that position for what has to be hundreds of years now. Maybe over a thousand. The same number three has certainly held theirs for a good few centuries. And right behind them are forty-two more murderers holding their own positions until you finally get to me. You understand that, Forty-Seven? Everyone wants to reach the top, and no one has.
“Wanting isn’t enough. Skill isn’t enough. Intelligence isn’t enough, strength isn’t enough, luck isn’t enough. Nothing is enough. No one climbs the pyramid without bloody hands that slip the instant they near that top. Bloody and broken until they wind up falling all the way down, kicked in the teeth by someone standing above them.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Nimia had to ask.
Lawton let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Not at all. I climbed to my own height, and then realized...I wasn’t even halfway there. I wasn’t even halfway through the forties! What kind of dumbass was I that I thought I could go any farther? So no. I’m content where I am, and you should be too.” She smirked back into Nimia’s vicious glare. “Enjoy the immortality as long as it lasts. You’ve got gifts, kid, and you could build yourself something great. Look at me. Hired killer to biggest investor in one of the only decent cities in this undead wreck of world-”
“Cool.” Nimia kept up her glare, her fingers already twitching on her sword’s hilt. “Good you found your fucking place, ma’am. I know what mine is. It’s at that damn top. So I’m going to be nice here, and make this quick.”
“...Fucking excuse you, bitch?!” And then she blinked, genuinely confused as Lawton glared at her, her blue eyes wide and alight with a burning rage. “I give you some damn good advice out of the kindness of my heart and you act like I’m a fucking coward!?”
“...Well yeah, with all that defeatist bull-”
“Defeatist?! I’M A FUCKING REALIST, CUNT!” Lawton suddenly grabbed the front of her dress and–Woah woah, what.
Nimia blinked as an armored fist grabbed her face and slammed her straight into the picture-covered wall behind her then–ow ow ow–grinded her against it before throwing her clear across the living room into another part of the really damn big penthouse. She hit some kind of display podium with a vase on top of it, which smashed right into the floor behind her. “...Ow??”
“Oh stop bitching,” came the low, metallic tone of a fully armored Lawton, a metallic second skin covering her entire body, tight and built to fit her skinny body as she twisted a dial on the back of her hand–Aaaaaaand shiiiiiiiiiiiit, those were huge muscles.
Nimia wiped some blood from her nose while she stared at Lawton, who was easily a good foot taller and ludicrously built, her solid muscles blatantly defined by the glowing green lines tracing all over her fully armored body, like looking a flayed human with obsidian muscles. Her helmet though was a solid, blocky thing with three glowing horizontal slits for her eyes.
“...WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!” Nimia seriously had to ask, because holy fucking shit, what???
“Oh what, have standards really dropped this fucking far? You don’t know how a fucking inventory works, brat?” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head at her. “Are you from the wastes or something?”
“...I’d rather not talk about it, but for all intents and purposes, sure, I have no idea what the hell just happened here and I’m genuinely freaking out, partially because I just realized I lost my sword, where’s my sword?”
Lawton chuckled, inclining her head behind her, and Nimia caught a glimpse of her sword lying on the floor. Right where Lawton charged her...Were those her boots? Did Lawton knock her out of her fucking shoes???
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“...Well shit, Vicente’s going to kill me in Hell.” She really needed to take better care of his darling. Though was it her darling now? Should she be calling her “Darling”? Things to think about, really, but later though because shit shit, Lawton-
Nimia narrowly rolled out of the way as Lawton punched straight through the stone podium and damn there were a lot of stone podiums around. Was this a display room? Did Lawton live in a museum?! “IS THIS WHAT RICH PEOPLE DO WITH THEIR LIVING SPACE?!”
“Y’know, I’m liking this a whole lot better than that cocky bullshit you had going on earlier,” Lawton said as she straightened, audibly cracking her neck as she stalked forward.
Luckily for Nimia, she still had her guns!
Gun. Gun, because the old 47 cut her other gun up and she hadn’t bothered to get a replacement–Good God, she was being really stupid lately.
Still, she pulled her remaining gun out and ducked behind one of the podiums, actually using some cover as she lined up her shot and fired straight for Lawton’s head!
And then the bullet bounced right off Lawton’s helmet.
“...Really?” Nimia muttered, frowning. She bought armor-piercers for a reason...
“Really, brat. I think I’ll be nice now though. If you want a gunfight so bad-” Nimia stiffened at the sound of a gun hammer being cocked. “-I’ll play along.”
She barely dove out of the way as a bullet blasted straight through the podium–”What in the holy fuck…”
It dissolved. The podium was dissolving, sizzling as green liquid–Oh of fucking course Lawton had corrosive rounds, sure, she didn’t get enough of that shit with 77–Nimia rolled back and up to her feet, rapidly firing at Lawton, who walked impassively towards her, a huge, black magnum revolver held in one hand, the metal on it glowing with green circuitry.
Judging by what little Nimia could see as she sprinted through the far too massive display room, it had eight chambers, so seven bullets before–She jumped back, narrowly missing one that slammed straight into a taxidermied mire-bear and reduced the semi-aquatic mammal to melted flesh and fur in seconds–six bullets before she had to reload. Great, awesome, loads of fun.
Honestly though, Nimia was smiling way too wide as she ducked into one of the rooms–”IS THIS A FUCKING BATHROOM!?” Why was there a pool!? Was that her bathtub?! How the fuck was it so big??
Two more bullets blasted through the walls right near Nimia as she quickly scurried away and Lawton kicked her way through the weakened wood a second later, her gun raised towards the ceiling as she looked around.
Her green visor glowed ominously while her eyes scanned the room, somehow not spotting the lower ranked woman. Sure, it was a big bathroom, and sure there were no enhancements to her helmet’s sight beyond what was necessary to give her a clear, non-tinted nor obstructed view of her natural line of sight, but she still should’ve seen the bitch.
Back with the visor, part of it was practicality. Enhancements like that, without adding more cybernetics to compensate, could screw her eyes up badly in the wrong circumstances, and adding those cybernetics could easily ruin the careful balance of concoctions her body had adapted to.
The other part of it was a simple, sadistic enjoyment of stalking her prey with the full knowledge that there was nothing they could do to her.
That, of course, was incredibly stupid, as Lawton very quickly realized as Nimia jumped up from the large jacuzzi-thing Lawton called her bath and started firing. Not at her, but right at the revolver in her hand.
Some shots missed badly and bounced neatly off the armored killer, but one landed perfect and blasted right into its chamber. The armor-piercing bullet mixed with the naturally unstable nature of corrosive rounds blew the gun apart and–”GYAAAH!”–send a blast of caustic material out all over Lawton’s right arm.
The rest of her body didn’t exactly escape damage either, but the armor around her right hand was almost completely dissolved as Lawton clutched her ruined hand to her chest, the artificial chemical system in her body going into overdrive to try to contain the damage and heal the ruined tissue even as it was eaten away.
Suffice to say, it was a very good time for Nimia to try to run and formulate a strategy, which she immediately did, sprinting straight out of the bathroom and into...some kind of lounge. How did one person need all this space?
Back with actually figuring out how to kill said person, she seriously needed some kind of plan. Bullets weren’t working and she couldn’t exactly hope Lawton would just bleed out from her hand wound. It was never as easy as just sending her opponent into shock.
And sure enough, the Lawton kicked the door straight in a second later; completely snapped straight through it, actually, never mind its hinges coming off. Which they still did. So, yeah.
The corrosive material had done some damage to her armor, but nothing too significant. Mostly just patches of gray in what was once pure black material, though Nimia didn’t have much time to admire the investor’s aesthetics or her–admittedly impressive–physique, considering she was currently charging right at her with her fist drawn back.
Nimia barely jumped out of the way as Lawton’s undamaged fist smashed straight through the wall and–Shit she was dragging it right through the concrete!–fired desperately at the gray patches across Lawton’s chest in some attempt at actually wounding her worse.
No luck, and the chase was back on as Nimia tried her damndest to find some way of killing the higher ranked bitch after her head. What she wouldn’t give for a damn stockpile of weapons in this shitty place...why did one woman need multiple lounges, but no gun rooms??
She needed something to–Right, shit, her fucking sword! Why was she this fucking stupid??
Nimia dove straight through another door into a kitchen, which...honestly, she was a little surprised by, because every indication she had was that Lawton would be the type to have some professional cook for her or something–And then that door was kicked in too and Lawton was stalking in again, easily brushing the dust off her armor. Her right hand was still mangled, but that still left a whole of her body to do damage with.
“Hey, a sudden thought occurs to me!” Nimia abruptly shouted as she slid across the countertop in the middle of the room, firing as she went, “You’re destroying a shitload of your own stuff just to kill me!”
“I am. Why, are you worried?” Lawton chuckled even as she easily tore the countertop out of its foundations, rattling all the knives above it.
“Terrified, actually! But the question’s because I don’t get why you’re wrecking your place!”
Lawton shrugged, even as she threw the countertop at Nimia–who dove straight out of the way, again, because this apparently wasn’t getting old by now–with enough force that it smashed straight through another wall, back-Back into the main living room. What the fuck was this place’s layout even? “Objects are objects. They’re all replaceable, particularly for a woman like me.”
She chuckled lowly, then suddenly charged again in one of those bursts of speed, and Nimia yelped as she felt a hand on her shirt–
And then she was flying across the room and slamming hard into a bunch of windows. She collapsed to the floor, gasping as she tried to regain the air that was forced from her lungs, her right arm sparking badly.
“Vases, lights, doors, bathtubs, walls, reinforced windows, counters, and even old trophies...They’re all nothing, really. Reminders. A fight though, that’s unique. They exist in the present only, and once they’re done, all that’s left are the memories. That, and you’ve pissed me off enough, brat, that I really want you dead,” Lawton kept up her explanation, her pace slowed again as she watched Nimia. There was a calm, measured, predatory set to her step, all built out of an arrogant surety in her own victory.
For all her talk of wanting Nimia dead, it was obvious that Lawton wanted to draw things out.
Nimia herself only spared Lawton a glance though before she started looking around to figure out, exactly, where she was in the living room. She’d been tossed again, so–There!
Right on her right, her darling was lying on the floor, along with her shoes. Both good very, very good to see.
“...Hey Lawton.” Nimia stood up, grinning even as a bit of blood leaked from her lips. “What’s your favorite kind of fight?”
“Scuse you?”
She shrugged, trying to resist the urge to check if her teeth were loose. “There are plenty out there. Slugfests, puzzles, honorable duels, and down ‘n dirty brawls…” Lawton actually paused, staring at her. Perfect. “Personally...I’ve always had a preference for quickdraws.”
Lawton stayed silent, steady, immovable and-There.
The instant Lawton twitched in realization, Nimia was moving, shouting- “DRAW!”
Both women had moved at the same instant, one with a ridiculous, inhuman speed, and the other with a desperation built from knowing this opportunity could easily be her last.
And an instant later, it was over.
In the end, one stood, and the other fell to the floor, breathing heavily, desperately, as she stared at Lawton’s headless corpse, its left arm sticking straight through the floor right next to her.
47 -> 46
“...F-Fuck...f-fuck me…” Nimia gasped out as blood leaked down her face, then glanced at the sword in her left hand, its blade gleaming with blood. “...D-Definitely calling you Darling now. Heh...just stole my heart...”
She chuckled again, then gingerly extricated herself from the corpse standing over her. She was having some bad luck with that...people standing over her and all. Or maybe good luck? They all seemed to die when they did that, so...
Lawton looked...intense, even without her head. She’d lunged for Nimia, tried to smash her fist into her skull...She would’ve, if Nimia hadn’t been quicker on the draw. It was just that one cut, straight through Lawton’s neck, that had sent the 46 off enough that her punch missed instead of absolutely destroying Nimia’s skull.
As it was, Nimia was absolutely soaked with a mix of Lawton’s blood and whatever else the woman had going on in her bloodstream. Some kind of...green stuff. Weird.
She glanced at Lawton’s severed head, lying nearby, leaking blood into the carpet. That was probably never coming out.
For a second, Nimitz almost expected the still-helmeted head to speak to her, but...nope. It just laid there, three green lines staring right back at her. Eerie.
...shit, she should’ve got Lawton to explain that "inventory" thing to her...Well fuck it. That wasn’t happening now.
What was happening now, however, was that Nimia, the new 46th, now had an entire penthouse to herself. And she was definitely using that fucking bath.