RP Matchbox

[Stitches]

THE
PSYCHIC
GIRL

Starry Knight was a clever name, in Astraea’s opinion. She’d come up with it when she was seventeen and had really started to devote herself to defending a territory of her own. Growing up, she’d been lucky enough to live in a vacant space between two other “inhumans”. Neither of them had wanted to mess around with a kid. But as she had gotten older, and her power had grown, she had quickly learned that they had no issue messing with a teenager. She’d been lucky the first time, when she’d instinctively defended herself. That had been when she had learned what she could do with a full suit of armor. And of course, out of that, the name Starry Knight had been born.

She breathed in slowly through her nose as she looked down at the street from her perch on the building. Over the years, she had carved out a territory of her own, one that was a modest but decent sized chunk of Memorial City. At twenty-six, she was probably one of the youngest– or at least the youngest of the ones she had run into– inhuman with a territory this controlled in the city. Her “district” was contained, and she policed it heavily. The only ones she let through were the ones who didn’t stay.

But it wasn’t one of those that she was tracking that night.

Her neighbor had gotten just a little too close to her. And that was something that needed to be resolved immediately. She couldn’t just let her get so close. What would others think if they found out? And what if she started to get more bold, and thought she could take some of Astraea’s “district”?

That simply wouldn’t do.

She rolled her shoulders as the one she was looking for came around the corner and into sight. Her mental footprint was so much different from others. So much different, and so recognizable. She smiled beneath her helm, and it split into a vicious grin. Rising to her feet, she lifted her morningstar, the use of her telekinesis making it easier to wield. It was only because of her telekinesis that she was able to walk around, run around, fight even, in this suit of armor.

The armor was an altered set she’d bought slowly over the years. She was still missing a pair of vambraces, a pair of greaves, and a bevor. But she had most of the pieces now, and her greaves were on their way. With the exception of the helm– more in the style of a barbute lacking a visor– her armor was picturesque of a gothic full plate suit. It was a reduced scale, to accommodate her small stature, but it lacked nothing in the strength department. It might have done nothing against bullets, but the amount of people who were terrified at the sight of a woman in full plate armor running at them like they weren’t wearing it was much higher than she had previously thought.

Astraea focused in on the other woman– slightly older than herself, with auburn hair– and stepped off the building’s edge. She’d only just mastered being able to catch herself from heights like this, and she was taking every chance to show it off that she could. Just before she would have crumpled into the sidewalk, she caught the suit of armor, and herself, and dropped to the ground with just enough force to make a loud sound. Then, she straightened up, her morningstar hanging from her hand to drag across the ground.

“You’re a little too far out of your territory, wouldn’t you say? One would almost think you were looking for a fight.” She stepped forward a few feet, slowly and confidently, dragging the spiked weapon behind her, almost like its weight was too much for her small frame.

—

 

[illirica]

Closer

She was coming.

Marissa had been waiting. She had been wondering how long it would take the other woman to take the bait - Marissa had been edging closer to her territory frequently enough in the past couple weeks. Mostly, she had stayed in her own territory, but she'd been getting close enough to the Knight side that its defender couldn't help but notice. Marissa wanted her to notice. She didn't expect that the Knight would back off, but it was worth the gamble anyway. Tonight she'd crossed the border, though, forcing the issue.

She didn't know about the new presence on the other side of Marissa's territory, not yet. Marissa did, though, and the aura inside her boundaries was a prickling on her skin that made her want to tear it all off and start over again. Whoever it was would be far enough away from the Knight that she wouldn't have felt it, but keeping her distance from that meant getting closer to the Knight's realm.

She was going to have to do something about the newcomer soon enough. That was why she wanted to see where this went; find out how hard it would be to displace one of them and which one would make more sense. She'd felt the presence getting closer, creeping into her space in a way that would have had her chasing it down if it weren't already coming to her.

The knight landed, with less of a noise than she should have - but she'd always been floaty. She could still put some heft into her weapons, though, even if it wasn't coming from muscles. Marissa pushed herself off of the side of the building, her hands moving almost idly to the sheaths of the knives at her sides - not to be confused with the sheaths of the knives strapped to her legs, the little ones on her upper arms, or the ones nested against her back.

She didn't draw any of them, of course. Knives were a stupid thing to fight a morningstar with, or a person in armor. Instead, her hands played with a length of wire - strong, stronger than it should have been, filched from the warehouse at work, where it wouldn't be missed by anyone who knew what was good for them.

"I'm always looking for a fight. We're not that different."

That, too, she knew. It wasn't the first time they'd fought. One of these days, it would be the last. Marissa didn't have any idea if it was going to be today or not. She wasn't going to get sentimental about it. That was just a waste of time. Her eyes raked over the Knight's costume, taking in the pieces that had been added or changed since the last time they'd fought, calculating what she'd need to do to get around it. The joints were weak - joints were always weak. The face was unprotected. A knife through the eye could kill her. That would be easy.

Marissa just hadn't decided to kill her yet. Some day, she would. Maybe it was today. It hadn't happened yet, but that didn't mean it couldn't. Marissa eased into a stance, one that kept her defense up but gave her the space to counter the moment something got too close, just the way she liked it.

"Come on, then. Show me."

 

[Stitches]

THE
PSYCHIC
GIRL

“Maybe we aren’t. Maybe we’re birds of a feather. Doesn’t change the fact that we are who we are.” Astraea lifted the heavy weapon up with ease, swinging it up off the ground and into her hands. She swung it a few times in circles while she spoke, as if getting herself accustomed to the weight. Of course, she and the auburn haired woman had clashed before, and she would know that this wasn’t Astraea’s first time using the morningstar.

Then, after waiting a beat, she charged. With her powers to help her keep the armor and weapon from slowing her down, she was able to move faster than someone in almost full plate armor should have. It was just one of the ways she could use the gifts she had been born with. The other ways might have made this fight quicker– but that wasn’t the point, especially not between her and the auburn woman.

No. It had never been the point for these to be fast. Astraea enjoyed the movement, the adrenaline, the fight. It gave her life on these nights. It let her be free in a way she simply couldn’t be in the daytime. And that was worth just about anything.

She let herself focus in on the auburn woman with an intensity that would have cowed others. She knew it wouldn’t have that effect on her current foe, who would likely be all the more drawn in by it. They never gave less than their all, after all. Astraea swept straight in, then quickly pulled to the right, dropping low to swing for the back of her opponent’s knees. Whether it hit or not would entirely depend on whether the woman had chosen to stand her ground or not.

—

 

[illirica]

Oh, good. They'd gotten through the part where they talked at each other. At least it had gone fairly quickly. Some people just kept going. Marissa had fought with people like that before, the ones who were trying to convince themselves that they were going to make the world a better place. It always annoyed her. They weren't fighting to make the world a better place, they were fighting because they annoyed the shit out of each other and the only way to make that feeling go away was to hit someone until they pissed off somewhere else.

The Knight didn't pretend, though. That was one of the reasons that Marissa liked her, inasmuch as she could like anyone whose existence grated on her skin like coarse-grit sandpaper. The morningstar whirled, little circles in the empty air, heard more than seen. If it got closer, she'd feel the air as it rushed in, just before the crunch.

For now, the Knight came in, not too fast, not too slow. Deliberate. Punctual, even, in the sense of a puncture. A straight attack, but they both knew it wasn't going to stay that way. Marissa waited for the moment of motion, the shift to her left, the dropping of the weapon, going in low. Tactically sound - one of the best ways to keep Marissa from doing anything was to break her legs, after all. That was why she'd learned to get out of the way. She could still fight with a broken arm.

She could still fight with a broken leg, too, it just got messier. She'd save that for later. Marissa moved in - forward, not back, leftward - her opponent's right, moving past her and dropping a loop of wire down behind her, trying to see if she could get it over the spiky ball and around the chain that held it. The end of the wire was wrapped around her arm, and undoubtedly if she actually caught the weapon, it would bite in hard - but it was her right arm anyway, and Marissa didn't care as much about that. She could fight with it, if it was what was remaining after the other one got broken or shredded, but she didn't prefer it.

The Knight still fought like someone right-handed, even if she wasn't actually holding the weapon herself. It was something Marissa had noticed before. Sometimes she capitalized on it. Sometimes she didn't, either because there wasn't an opening or just because it made it more fun. She didn't want this to end, after all.

It was the part that made it all worth it.

She'd palmed a knife into her left hand while she made her sidestep, hoping to use the catch of the wire as a pivot point to bring her in close, stab in from the side, maybe get a blade in under that shoulder armor into the unprotected underarm. Not too deep, though, just a little scratch, enough to draw blood and make it feel real.

Not enough to accidentally kill anyone. Then she'd just have to find someone else to stab.

"You could fuck off six blocks west, you know." Marissa's objections to people being too chatty didn't apply to herself - nor did they apply once the fighting started. It was harder to keep up a conversation then, which meant people got winded, which meant they didn't go on about things. "I might even help you expand out in that direction. You know. If I thought you could hold it."

 

[Stitches]

THE
PSYCHIC
GIRL

As Astraea moved, so did her opponent. The other woman moved in close and over the swing, pulling off to her right and away from what would have been a strike if she had tried to move any other way. As she evaded the attack, she ran her smart ass mouth– typical, really, of fighting her. It was all Astraea could do to bite the inside of her cheek and not tell the woman where she could shove those six blocks west.

The Knight went to turn and swing again– when her morningstar was suddenly caught up and yanked to the right. Damn. She’d missed the loop of wire, hardly visible in the low light and through her helmet. Now it was wrapped securely around her weapon– and her opponent’s arm. After that registered, she smiled sharply and turned into the tug. The woman was being pivoted back toward her by the same pull that was making her morningstar useless now.

That was good for her.

She braced for an attack, but at the same time raised her left leg and tried to slam her foot into the woman’s stomach. Hopefully her leg’s length would keep the woman away enough to avoid whatever attack she was planning, with the added bonus of winding her from slamming into the heavy boots. While she might not have greaves yet– those were soon to come– she certainly had some heavyweight steel toed boots.

If that landed, she would have to figure out how to free the chain of her morningstar. A little telekinesis would be helpful there. She could simply force the loop to unwind and curl away from the chain. It would be even better if the red haired woman’s arm was fucked after this sharp tug. If the wire was wrapped around it, which she couldn’t see from that angle, then she could sharply pull on it as well and drive it deep into her skin.

Astraea decidedly did not want to kill anyone. It was actually the thing she didn’t want to do the most. She just wanted people to leave her fucking space. She wanted to live in a solitary hole in the ground and only see people when she had to work. That would be ideal. Instead she was stuck having to kick the shit out of people to keep them out of her space.

Not that that was too terrible a fate. After all, she lived for the way her pulse currently thrummed high with adrenaline beneath her skin.

—