ArchivedLogs:The Shadow Mistress VS Glow-Worm
| The Shadow Mistress VS Glow-Worm | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-05-13 (Part of Thunderdome.) |
| Location | |
It's a warehouse, or something like it; at least it's spacious, and was probably once industrial; at the moment it's largely just empty. There are tracks in the floor from long-since disused equipment and the construction of walls and high exposed-beam ceilings is sturdy. The center of the room has been excavated, since this place was in actual daily use. In the middle a pit has been gashed out of the concrete; it's not /deep/ and it serves more as a foundation than anything else; around its wide circular perimeter a cage has been erected. Nearly reaching up to ceiling-height, it is constructed of thick sturdy metal bars wrapped in a thinner wire mesh. Surrounding the cage there is a lot of empty space. Some nights, though, when fights are in session, the room is filled; with people, with cameras (though no outsiders' cameras are allowed in), with paper betting slips and folding chairs. The spotlights in the ceiling are bright-bright-bright, the better to illuminate the fighters within the centerpiece cage. Nox. Poor, poor sweet Nox. They probably don't even need to /beat/ her to get her into the ring; they just need to lead her - step by step - toward that cage. Of course, if she shows any hesitation about approaching that cage, they will not /hesitate/ to bring the baton down upon that bald gray head of hers; nor will they hesitate to deliver shocks through that night-light they've got around her throat. But once she's in the center of the cage... She's surrounded on all sides - a sea of faces, pressing and screaming against the bars - some of them hooting and cat-calling at the sight of a /lady/ - others insulting - all of it just rushing in through a wave of /sound/. "Ladies and gentlemen," the intercom crackles over her head, then. "We've got a special treat for you tonight - please, step back from the cages - and observe... the wonders... of the /SHADOW-MISTRESS/!" They seriously need someone to work on these names. But then, something interesting happens - something mayhaps /wondrous/. Because no sooner have they made this announcement... than do the /lights/ go out. The cage - /bathed/ in soothing, smothering darkness. An outline of hot white light carved around its exterior perimeter - the people outside can be clearly made out - but the interior of the cage... just muted tones of black and gray. Except... oh wait, what's that over on the other side there? Somebody stepping out of the light - into the cage. He's a young man; mid-twenties? Very dark skin. Wearing a tattered shirt that says 'YUCK FOU' and jeans. No sooner has he stepped in... then do his arms start to glow. Reddish gold /cracks/ swarming up along their length - like beneath his skin was molten lava, trying to get out. Rippling waves of /heat/ swell off of him, curling up to the ceiling; the light is low - hardly enough to banish the darkness in the cage - yet /bright/ on his skin. "...and her opponent, the notorious... GLOW WOOOOORM!" Poor, poor sweet Nox. Masque's coat drags behind her like a cape as she slowly approaches the cage. No urging is needed unless her captors take issue with the woman's strolling pace. She walks like someone who believes themselves to be in a garden, rather than immediately outside of a cage where people like her have died. The only sign that she's aware of something being amiss is the way she clutches the front of the coat against herself. Otherwise her face is serene, her eyes immense and her gaze steady as she looks around, studying the jeering faces that make up the blood-hungry crowd. Their shouts and hooting bring a flicker of confusion to her expression; the chalky shade of her skin blanches a little more. Fortuately, the ringmasters anticipated what she would need to recover from the pale ruin of the past week or so. With the coming of darkness in the ring, Masque's jacket falls forgotten to the floor. The half-naked woman who /had/ been there simply becomes a greater shadow within the cage, pulling in the darkness over /there/ and collecting it over /here/ in this corner. The shape of it--of her--runs from floor to ceiling and shifts restlessly against the bars to test that white light keeping her within. Stillness, a sort of hunkering down, comes only when her opponent reveals his ability. If Nox had eyes, she might well be staring in dread. "...please," she whispers under the crowd's screaming. "I do not want to hurt you." "Lady," 'Glow-Worm' rumbles in response - the 'fire' like scales raging up his forearms, extending all the way up to his elbows - "that sounds like a /personal/ problem." When Nox goes /shadow/, that steady thrumming roar of the audience dwindles; people are still talking - some yelling - but what was previously a buzz of adrenaline-fueled excitement has instead been replaced with - dreadful anticipation. What the hell is going on? It's hard to make anything out except for - a darker shape within the darkness itself - and the suffused glow of those red /fists/, the cracks along their length pulsing with the rhythm of a heart-beat. And then... 'Glow-Worm' /charges/ - fists clenched, rearing one back - /swinging/ at where the darkness seems darkest - his fist /flashing/ with tiny tendrils of flame. It's not as hot as it looks - but it's hot enough to burn. And when he hits metal, it throws up /sparks/, flashing briefly with a metallic *CLANG*. The darkness in the corner cringes back, seemingly in time to that pulsing light. Nox is wary. Oh but she is wary. The ring isn't large enough for her to cringe far--or rather, as far as she would like to go. Maybe he didn't hear her? But that's just wishful thinking. When the man charges, Nox pulls her shadows back. The effect is not unlike a lady raising her skirts to avoid being splashed by a puddle. The gloom gathered on that side of the arena slides out of the way of the incoming charge, trying to avoid the glow, the ripples of heat that come off of this Glow-Worm person. Without more space though, it's impossible to avoid the sparks that follow. The shadows collected on the edge thrash in sudden, keening pain and stark white speckles across the surface of the darkness. This at least makes her easier to pinpoint? But it doesn't prevent her from retaliating. Tentacles shoot forth from that darker core and wrap around the man's torso to /heave/ him across the ring. It can't be comfortable for her but her priority now is getting him away so...he is thrown towards the opposite corner. That hushed silence that fell over the crowd begins to break a moment after the first /CLANG/ that radiates across the bar - the first flash - as they witness the flow and ebb of shadows that seems to fill the room. It's - a highly unusual fight to watch. Not at all like the gripping, blood-curdling violence they've watched before - yet somehow, still just as /savage/. Glow-Worm is seized up - a sharp cry of surprise - one of his gleaming hot arms snatching up to try and clutch at tentacles he can't quite see - before he is flung, like a disobedient little child, into the far corner to think about what he has done. He skids, scraping and rolling before he lands against the opposite bars - another *CLANG*. And then, spitting out curses, he reaches for one of those bars - clutching it with both hands. One high, the other low. The cracks around his elbows rapidly shrink, collapsing back into his palms... Which grow hotter, going from red to white. The bar starts to sizzle... the heat transferring into it. As he begins to pull. A sharp 'PLOINK PLOINK PLOINK' coming from the bar itself - before he /tears/ it free, leaving a gap in the metal - the base and top still white-hot, sinking beneath the pull of gravity. Turning back into the ring, he clutches the makeshift weapon - a three foot long piece of cast-iron - and /heats/ it in his palms, turning it into a blazing rod of light. "Mother-FUCKER." No shocks come for this flagrant act of... well, is it against the rules? Somewhere, a finger is poised above a button, no doubt. But the fight's /just/ interesting enough for them to not punish Glow-Worm for this act of vandalism. Assuming, of course, he puts it /back/ after he's done with it. Ow, ow, ow! Those tentacles he managed to slap, after they've released their burden, shake and flail as people do when they've singed their fingers. Their tips go white and then disappear entirely before being retracted into the center. Then Nox is retreating to curl in the corner again. Watching, with the same slack-jawed fascination as the audience does, while Glow-Worm does the trick with the bar. This...this is not good. Just before the bar is finally torn free--melted free--the shadows begin to quiver. It looks like fear but all too quickly it becomes clear that they're gathering into a new shape, an actual form. Eight long multi-joined legs sprout from the core, the core swells into an immense abdomen and a smaller thorax, with large gleaming eyes, with clacky pincers that surround an invisible mouth. The only difference between this new Nox and an actual (giant) spider is the segmented tail that arches over her back. /That/ bears more resemblance to a scorpion's stinger, complete with the wickedly hooked barb on the tip. It functions in much the same way as well--she slashes it forward, then slams it once against the floor. Not to attack her opponent. No, she's trying to show him that this will /hurt/ if he gets too close. "Nngh... holy--" Glow-Worm hops /back/ at the sight of that descending stinger. Meanwhile, the audience - up until now, subdued, with a steadily rising roar of interest - proceeds to /squeal/ at the shape of Nox's new form. Particularly at the sight of that scorpion-esque stinger. People are laughing, gasping, giggling with a mixture of dread and horror - meanwhile, Glow-Worm's got his teeth gritted in intentful determination, his hands /squeezing/ that glowing, golden bar - taking a careful step forward, waving it - trying to see how much light he can make - trying to /drive/ her back into a corner. Step, swat, step. Testing her limitations. Obviously not wanting to get -- too close. But clearly, he intends to get her into a corner and - probably /smash/ her with that thing. And at this point, it's almost at its /melting/ point. It doesn't take much to get her to scuttle backwards. Nox wants NOTHING to do with the light hazing around the bar, or around Glow-Worm's hands. Every time he swings at her, she cringes back--then reciprocates with a slash of tail to try to enforce /some/ sense of distance between them. But when she backs up against the cage and is threatened by the white-hot glow of the perimeter lights, she realizes this tactic won't work for very long. The woman-spider's keening is almost too soft to be heard. It's a mourning sound, deep with grief. The spider whispers, "I am sorry. I am so very sorry." And then she launches herself at him. Man, bar, hands and all are engulfed as the spider shape loses its form mid-leap. It's going to burn her, it /has/ to burn her, but she swallows him whole anyway and then flops to the floor of the ring--a formless mass of pure blackness that allows nothing through. No light. No oxygen. Glow-Worm is just about to get a smart little idea, here, too. Watching Nox dodge and dart - ducking back from that tail - he reaches toward the top of his glow-stick, pulling the top off like taffy - converting it into a little glowing /grenade/ of heat. Preparing to throw. But it's at that precise moment that - oh, /SHIT/. Eyes /pop/ open. "Fu--" is all he manages to get out - stepping back - as Nox descends upon him like a predatory /squid/, swarming its prey amidst countless tentacles of shadow - all of them collapsing, squeezing, /descending. Oh, you can bet it's going to burn - no sooner is he under than does he /slam/ his arms up, cranking the heat up as high as he dares - but as those cracks form down the length of his arms, beginning to burn, to flash, to /flare/ with scorching heat - he's burning that precious oxygen that Nox has suddenly so strategically cut off. It only takes about ten seconds before the heat begins to dwindle. After that, thirty seconds more, and -- the thrashing becomes sluggish. Thirty seconds after /that/... there's no thrashing at all. The audience has grown hushed again. There's no hooting, no hollering, no cheering. But everyone's on the edge of their seats nevertheless. All /watching/. Wanting to see how this ends. The surface of the shadow-mass bulges with Glow-Worm's fists. Their glow can't be seen but their shape can, and his feet as well as he kicks. His face, perhaps, pressing against the membrane she's made of her outer layer. Fighting for air. It's something straight from a horror movie. And as he fights, the black of that surface is veined with stark lines of white. They spread rapidly.The audience will not recognize them for what they are, but there is some truth in the saying "this hurts me more than it hurts you"--Nox is being burned from the inside out. It becomes a race, who will succumb first, Glow-Worm to oxygen deprivation or Nox to burns? Fortunately for her, less so for him, he goes still and is almost immediately released. The shadow thing lurches to the side, leaving him lying there on the ground. Slowly, every so slowly, she fights to regain a more human form. Something with arms that can reach to curl around the man, something with a head that can bow over him. She's heedless of the audience. Still, the audience is tense, hushed, silent. Absorbing. Watching. This is better than /theater/; this is better than the movies. It's got everything; violence, drama, tragedy - and /monsters/. 'Glow-Worm' is out; his fists have snuffed - tendrils of smoke rise from his arms and fingers. As Nox cradles him and bows over him, she can detect - the steady, silent beat of a pulse. So, alive. Looks that way, at least. Somewhere above her, the intercom crackles: "...you saw it here first, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The remarkable SHADOW MISTRESS overcame - the GLOW-WORM!" She gets about... five more seconds of shadow. Five seconds to relish a space in which she is not being actively /constricted/. And then? The lights /swarm/ the cage, filling it all at once. Guards come in with batons, glow-collar in hand. Compliance is rewarded with only a /few/ smacks of the baton; anything else is rewarded with a dozen or more. The collar is fitted and she's lead - pulled, if need be - out of there. Glow-Worm gets a stretcher, dragged off to whatever qualifies as a medical facility in this dump. | |
