#killstory36

North and Sloane proceeded through the castle, crossed over the river and made their way through the trees. They’d heard a snorting noise, knowing something or someone was at the other side of the trees. As they approached a clearing, the last of the magical pigs had popped away, leaving a weary Raf and Lizzie standing in their wake. The girls exchanged a look, the pair wasn’t far away. North reached out and squeezed Sloane’s hand once as the smaller girl lifted her slingshot, armed with a rock from the river.

After fighting the pigs, or whatever the hell you could have called the thing. The pair tried to catch their breath and frowned at the strange happens that just occurred to the pair of them. And it was safe to say that the were becoming anxious, more cannons were firing, the numbers were dwindling and their moments together were becoming scarce and few. Although neither of them wanted to admit it to one another, they were scared and their emotions were beginning to get the better of them. It was a rare thing to catch Raf off guard, and even rarer to sneak up on him, to the point where it was near impossible. Ever since Raf was a kid, he’d had an almost heightened sense of hearing, and as Lizzie began to jabber on about something he quickly put his mouth across her mouth to shut her up. Lizzie frowned, furious at his rudeness, but as soon as she saw the look on his face, she knew that whatever was happening was serious and they had to get into battle mode.

Their foes were busy discussing the strange happenstance in hushed tones, completely unaware of the two girls who had come across the river in the early hours of the morning. However, that was how they wanted it. Pulling back on the rubber, Sloane bent down taking aim at the bickering twosome and firing a small pebble from the river straight at Lizzie’s head. The next thing that happened didn’t really surprise him at all he felt the wisp of something fly past him and hit the nearby tree trunk. He picked up the wet stone the obviously just came from the nearby river bank and looked to see if he could distinguish the person who shot the rock. Raf threw the rock back and turned to face Lizzie quickly.

“Up. Now.” he said gesturing towards the tree and started to make his way up the tree. “It’ll be like any old job, okay? Nose costra per sempre okay?” he whispered to her as he swung up the tree almost twice amount the speed as Lizzie, he’d been more accustomed to climbing than her, and she was barely able to get up the tree, before North and Sloane appeared out of thin air. North pulled Lizzie down from the tree and she landed with a horrible thud, and Raf was just about to go help her when he noticed Sloane looking up to see where the boy had gone. It was almost as if she wanted him all to herself, which Raf didn’t mind, not at all.

“Oleksei, fancy seeing you here. You’ve been gagging to get another slice of me ever since training haven’t you?” He was cocky. He knew the two of them were evenly matched, they’d ended up on their backs in the training centre and now with a sharp object in his hands surely he could do away with the little would be mafia princess. Send a message back home to her Daddy. The Cipriani’s didn’t play nice.

“Come on pretty boy, I expected better than you, hiding up in a tree whilst your squeeze is getting pummeled.” she taunted at him causing him to narrow his eyes. He knew what game she was playing, a bad one at that. Raf had a temper that was stuff of legend back in Six. If you pissed off a Cipriani, you shouldn’t expect to live to see the next sunrise. Sloane was going to be absolutely no different.

“You sure you want to piss me off like that Oleksei? It’s not going to end well for you. And that’s a promise.” he said up in the trees, slowly making his way lower down the tree to get a better view of her. She wasn’t that far away from him and she was yet to make contact with his whereabouts, so he had the upperhand, for now atleast. With his net ready, he dropped it down on the unsuspecting girl and as she tried desperately to bat the thing away from her. He jumped down on top of her, wincing at his messed up leg and grabbed onto a clump of her hair and slammed it against the forest floor and rubbed her face in the mud with a smile on his face, and laughter in his voice as he spoke.

“Like the taste of dirt babe, I knew it wouldn’t be long before you came looking for my beautiful face once again.” He teased a little pushing her face further and further into the mud hoping to finish her off easily, whilst being somewhat disappointed that she wasn’t putting up more of a fight, and the realisation that she wasn’t putting up much of a fight came into realisation way too slowly and before he could finish her off quickly, Sloane had managed to free her arm wielding the axe and swung it at Raf, and it lodged in the boy’s hip and he growled out in pain but refused to pull away, that was until she swung it again and it collided with the boy’s arm and he was no longer capable of holding her down.

Lizzie and North eyed each other, both girls with their weapons in hand. “A Career should always strike first, right?” Lizzie joked but North didn’t seem to have time to waste and lunged forward with her quarterstaff, which Lizzie dodged. With her whip in hand, she tried to strike North on the stomach but the girl was quick enough to defend herself and the whip ended up rolled around the quarterstaff. That will work, Lizzie thought pulling the weapon out of North’s hands and throwing it far away, but before she could attack once again, North was already armed with her trident. Both girls lunged at each other, dodging blows and attacking in an almost choreographed dance. North was clearly getting impatient, but Lizzie was exactly where she wanted to be since her mace on the ground, right by her side. When North lunged once again, Lizzie was ready and when she got close enough the District Six girl kneeled down and grabbed her mace, connecting it with the other girl’s ankle. “Oops?” She murmured as North howled in pain. The trident did leave a cut on her sides but nothing that looked too severe. In no time, both the girls were back on their feet, visibly tired. North wasn’t about to give up so easily and when Lizzie noticed what she was about to do, it was too late.

She lashed her trident towards Lizzie, stabbing with it like she’d practiced dozens of times back home. Lizzie shrieked and leapt back, swinging her mace at North. The two weapons collided in a clanging metallic mess and North pulled another knife, stabbing at Lizzie’s wrist which gripped the mace tight. She got a cut in before Lizzie swung the mace again, forcing North to step back and avoid the spiked ball. North grunted as she regained her footing and stabbed downward into Lizzie’s thigh, piercing through her jeans and sinking into her flesh. North tugged the weapon out and ducked from another swing of the mace.

North jabbed her trident into Lizzie shoulder, pushing her against a nearby tree as the girl screamed in pain. With a mischievous grin, she twisted the trident, the sound of flesh ripping filling the air, before she went to grab one of her throwing knives, confident that the other girl could do nothing more but wait for certain death. Unfortunately for her, that was a life threatening mistake. Lizzie took this opportunity and every ounce of strength she had left to kick North’s already shattered ankle making her lose grip on the trident and fall to the ground. However North wasn’t going to give up, just that easily. And using her Career training, she dug punched Lizzie in the gut and reached into her pocket to pull out the wire and started to wrap it around the platinum blonde’s head several times before tugging as tightly as she could.

Raf pulled away from Sloane and started sizing her up as she freed herself from the net fully and looked at him with a killer look in her eye. Sloane and Raf were cut from the same wretched, corrupt cloth and neither of them were going to play fair. It just wasn’t their style, however it was mutually nice that the pair of them silently knew this about each other.

“Come on pretty boy, less talk more action.” Sloane taunted, shifting her weight from foot to foot even as her bigger opponent swept out with the sabre. Sloane thrust the mace upwards, the sword glancing off the metal ball. She pushed backwards, leaving Raf to pull back his weapon. His gaze flickered over to Lizzie, already busy with North. With a growl he heaved himself forward, slashing in Sloane’s direction. He was used to swinging a bat and now it was the same movement he utilised to back his smaller foe back towards a tree. What he didn’t see was the iron clad grip Sloane had on her mace as she waited for just the right moment. Raf lifted his arm, ready to take another slice when Sloane pushed her weight behind the mace. The studded ball heaved into Raf’s hip, a gutteral groan ripping from her opponent as the sword came down in an arc. Sloane wasn’t quick enough in moving, spinning to run when the sabre ripped through the back of her jacket and slice down across her spine. Her scream caught in her throat, her back burning even as she turned to see blood blooming along Raf’s hip.

“You drew first blood, Daddy dearest will be proud.” Raf sneered, stepping forward even as pain flared in his hip. The tip of his saber was adorned in her blood and he ran his finger across the crimson liquid. Rubbing it between his fingers. ‘Who knew you Oleksei’s bleed red like the rest of us. I hope those bonehead brothers of yours are watching, I bet they’ll cry when they see what I have in store for their precious little sister.” Their tentative friendship, their mutual respect, was gone. There was no walking away from this quarrel. The only way to get out of this was to outlast the other.

“I’ll accept it if you want to go away now, however I feel like that’ll never happen. Can’t let daddy Oleksei down? Or your dearest brothers. Don’t worry I’ll send them a nice Cipriani stiletto knife each when I go home. We have them custom made with the family crest.” he teased and taunted as he swung his sabre in his hand and held in the other his quarterstaff. But as soon as he stopped talking, Sloane ran up to him, mace raised and axe ready to impale his pretty head. Their weapons clashed, Raf swinging his staff as she swung her axe and before he could untangle the wooden staff lodged in the spikes of the mace, Sloane kicked out at Raf and sent the boy on the back and the quarterstaff out of his hand. “Nice one, however not nice enough.” he growled before pushing forward again with just his sabre in his hand, he wildly swung at her with the sabre knowing that she could easily dodge it, which she did, but met it with a punch to her throat whilst her body was exposed. Sloane stepped back choking for air and pulled back from him, but he only advanced further, she’d angered him now and she was going to have to pay the price.

However, she was playing a game, an even dirtier one than Raf was playing and feigned pain for her own advantage. She waited for Raf to get closer himself before swinging her mace and the clash of metal was almost deafening. “Thought you were going to get an easy kill, didn’t you?” she whispered in his ear as the pair got closer to one another. Raf edged closer and closer, teeth gritted as he used his brute strength to send her into submission, but with his injuries and the adrenaline rushing through Sloane’s body only making her stronger and stronger, it was proving more and more difficult for him to keep up with her and she sensed this. One more push, she thought to herself as she kneed the boy in the groin area before headbutting him in the head sending him on the ground. Raf fell back, gasping for air and writhing in pain. Before he could even more, or pick up his sabre again, Sloane had already sat on top of him to make sure he wasn’t going to go anywhere. He grinned a little at her positioning and winked at her, she rolled her eyes in disgust. The girl happy that she was going to wipe the smug look on the boy’s face lifted up her axe again and went to speak again before Raf started to laugh near hysterically.

“You missed out the first rule of fighting dirty. Always make sure you opponent doesn’t have anything up their sleeve, literally.” Hidden in Raf’s boot, was the knife from the mess kit. The first rule of the gang, always keep something hidden just in case of moments like this. Being disarmed was never good. He swung the not so sharp knife and dug it into the girls back and twisted it. She refused to give Raf the sweet satisfaction of seeing her in pain, and despite the fact the two of them could have made a killer team, she knew better than anyone that it just didn’t work like that.

Raf grinned at his good fortune, he reached down to grab a handful of her hair. Pulling her up as he pressed the saber to her throat. “Best smile for the cameras, make a pretty corpse for me baby.” But, out of respect he lifted her mace up knowing it would be easy, less messy and quick to do it this way. Before she could do anything else, Raf brought the mace down on her skull crushing it with the force and her cannon fired. He turned around to look for Lizzie, not hearing a cannon just yet and his mouth was agape when he saw her being choked by North.

“He’s not saving you now, bitch,” North hissed as she squeezed harder. North grasped a knife from her belt and stabbed it hard toward Lizzie’s head and missing just as Lizzie moved away in time. “Get off, bitch!” Lizzie choked out, frantic and clawing with her nails feebly at North’s hands, but the injuries North had given to her arms essentially made the action useless, other than a little bit of blood and a few cuts on North’s knuckles. North pulled and pulled, using her wire as a garrotte to slit Lizzie’s throat, slowly but surely. Lizzie gasped from the lack of air and groaned from the pain of the wire slowly but surely cutting at her skin. She moved so Lizzie could see Raf in her last moments, see him being tackled down by Sloane and North felt a sick kind of pleasure in taking the life out of a tribute. Her first Arena kill, she could only picture her family’s pride. She couldn’t wipe the sick smile from her face.

“You may not know it,” North hissed as she pulled, feeling the wet blood dripping over her fingers. “But you’re helping me make my Father proud.” She gave one final tug, pulling the wire through Lizzie’s throat and a strangled gasp was all she could give out as she fell limp against North’s chest. Her cannon fired and, swiping her hand across her brow and she smile down at Lizzie’s dead form, proud of herself and hoping her father was cheering for her in this moment of triumph.

Lizzie was already dead by the time Raf had managed to finish off Sloane and turned to face Lizzie with fear in his eyes and pain in his heart, there was no way, on his watch that he was going to let this one get away in front of him. He pulled his quarterstaff from the ground and ran to North and using as much strength as he could jabbed the staff into North’s shoulder successfully pushing her off of Lizzie and onto the ground. Raf had a plan for the girl that had killed a member of his gang.

After forming a deal with No-Face, Alastair was out for blood. He knew that his new partner wouldn’t hold up if he didn’t bring what he promised. Alastair pushed aside all these troubling thoughts and shoved them to the deepest recesses of his mind.  And after Dotev escaped from the windmill overrun by soot gremlins, she reserved herself to the edge of the forest in the clearing the windmill stood in. She sat and collected her thoughts, for only a short while however, when the boy from Ten came creeping up on her once shelter. With  some weird mutt that looked like a tall black cloud with a mask on. She noticed the look on his face. Like he thought he was getting the advantage of surprising her. That she wasn’t expecting of his presence. A sinister smile blossomed on her face as she knew she’d get to rip him apart, especially now that she has her new toy to show him. She creeped deeper into the foliage and circled him, Coming to a stop when she was directly behind him.

He holds a flanged mace behind his back, His fingers releasing then tensing back up on the handle. He looks eager, excited. Then, all at once, he throws the mace through the wooden door, shattering the old wood and kicking the door in, he steps in slowly while his companion steps away and remains outside. He knew not who resided in this shelter nor did he actually care, it was just another job to do. Luckily for him Dotev had been holding up since the bloodbath, a sitting duck some would say.

With a few more blows with his mace, the wooden door comes apart enough for Alastair to enter. He steps inside, noticing the bed underneath his boots. The boy clues in that someone was just here, but where did they go?

“I know you’re in here!” Alastair howls. “Come out come out, wherever you are…” He taunted as he searched for his prey with eyes so full of bloodlust that even No-Face himself would shiver in fear. Something felt off to the boy. It was far too quiet in here. He just had time to question this when he heard a rustle coming, not from within the house, but outside it.

Dotev used this opportunity to make her move, She walked passed the mutt and it doesn’t move. Its head only follows her movements as a huge mouth begins to appear where she thought its neck would be. She remained silent, pressing her index finger to her lips and giving the thing a wink. He swiveled on his heels just in time to see a head of bright red hair peeking out of the doorway. He recognized her as the girl from 11. Her name escaped him but it didn’t really matter. After all, you don’t need a name in Hell.

“You think you’re slick, little boy?” She taunted. He spun quickly, surprised that Dotev wasn’t even inside the windmill. She stepped in, spinning her quarterstaff in her hand.

“Listen, why don’t we just cut to the chase and you can help my friend out there.” He started with a smirk, his own weapon at the ready. “You see, we had a little deal, and i’m a man of my word.”

Dotev smirked. “Listen you little piece of shit, If you think even for one god damned second that you’re going to put a fucking scratch on me, then you’re gonna be sadly surprised!” She spat. Then, with no warning, Alastair’s whip materialized and he snapped it towards Dotev. The popper ripping across Dotev’s leg, leaving a red line that began dripping crimson.

Dotev looked down and then back at Alastair, with a wicked smile. “You’re gonna regret that, dick.” She whispered before sprinting from her position and towards Alastair. While they still had some distance between them, he cracked his whip once more. Only Dotev ducked slightly so it would crack across her arm, which was protected by her jacket, shirt and chain mail tunic. His latest attack left a similar gash in the jacket that thread and leather fell from.

Before Alastair knew it, she was on top of him. Slamming the hard lacquered wood of the quarterstaff into his chest, sending a gust of air from his lungs. Choking and coughing he jumped backward so He could collect himself. AS he did he found his flanged mace, now that his whip would be less useful. He swung the weapon and she did her best to dodge, but the mace caught her side. However thanks to her tunic, the impact was more of blunt force than deep puncture wounds.

Dotev wanted to keep Alastair blind to her underwear, so she let out a fake, ear splitting scream and ran her hand across her leg wound before staining Alastair’s impact sight with blood. He smiled, thinking what he had done had been effective, when It would only result in bruising. “See bitch, youre all talk. I dont know why everyone is so afraid of you, you’re weak!” Alastair snapped.

Dotev’s plan worked and she took to opportunity to strike and she forced the butt of her quarterstaff into Alastair’s face. Shattering his nose entirely and provoking a waterfall of blood to spill from his face. “Whats the matter!” Dotev screamed, pushing him back a little. “Did you think you were the big fucking man? Did you think you were getting out of this fucking arena? Why the fuck do you think Aqua chose me! Nobody believes in you! Youre alone and you’re weak and you’re going to die right fucking here, right fucking now!” Dotev hollered.

Alastair, filled with rage and blinded by hate brought his Mace over his head and swung it downward, hoping to have it land on Dotev’s head, killing her instantly. However she was faster than his right now. He had blood smeared all over his face and tears flooding his eyes from the impact of Dotev’s quarter staff. She dodged to the side and his mace slammed into the wooden floor, digging itself in the decrepit flooring, wedging the weapon in it.

He pulled to free it but it wouldn’t budge. He gave up on it and rushed Dotev. He elbowed her in the jaw and kicked her knees out. She fell to the floor and he was on top of her. He pulled his whip back out and he held it to her throat, trying to choke the life out of her. “Would you just fucking die you bitch!” I yelled, spitting out blood and saliva.

Dotev’s arms flailed as she tried to get out from under him, Her face turning red and the blood vessels in her eyes beginning to burst. She bent her leg so her ankle met her right hand and she pulled her secluded weapon from its home. She brought it up and jammed the gut hook into the side of Alastair’s wrist and then dragged it across to the other side. Spurts of blood erupted and splattered across Dotev’s face. She looked at the knife to see the nook of the gut hook covered in blood. Alastair’s had no choice but to release Dotev from his hold on her as he clutched his wrist. Backing up, he found himself at the base of the stairs, with no choice other than to move up.

With his latest injury, Alastair is slightly slower in his movements, giving Dotev enough of a head start to grab her staff and sprint off up the stairs. The girl is on him faster than ever, her staff gripped tightly as she swings at Alastair, which the boy manages to dodge. However, though he may have managed to dodge that attack, a new attack would come at him from an unexpected source: the stairs. The movements that Alastair made to dodge Dotev’s strike caused his foot to slip, which in turn caused the boy to fall down a few steps. The breath escaped his lungs as he landed on the ground, noting that he would probably have bruises on his arms and legs later. Dotev takes advantage of this mess immediately, crawling on top of Alastair, pinning his wrists with her boots to the ground and pushing the blade of her knife up to his throat.

Ready to end it all, Dotev holds the hunters knife high in the air with both hands, “You fucked with the wrong girl Alastair.” Just as she was about to drive the knife into his chest, Alastair remembers the force that drove him to come here. He needed to feed No-Face. Alastair digs deep, causing a surge of adrenaline to jumpstart his muscles. He quickly wriggles his right hand free from her boot and packs a wallop into Dotev’s nose as hard as he can. The red head falters for a second, blood running past her chin, allowing the boy to strike again at her jaw. The girl finally rolls over, desperately pinching her nose to stop the pain. Alastair rapidly reaches for his fallen mace, gaining his footing and advancing upwards to the battered combatant. She anxiously swipes her knife at Alastair, cutting open a small gash at his side. Alastair winces but smiles inside, quickly aware how close they have got to the glass window.

“You should really be more careful girlie, wouldn’t wanna fall and break something.”

Alastair goes low and swings the mace to her left knee, shattering bone underneath the metal prongs. Dotev’s bloodcurdling screams bounce off of the walls, echoing all around the room. She limps backwards some more, practically hugging the window this time. Without notice Alastair charges the sassy siren with his mace, but she dodges, sending him to smack and shatter the glass. Dotev hastily picks up a shard of glass and impales it into his thigh, to which he quickly removes himself and tosses aside. In a fit of rage, Alastair brings his boot up and kicks at her stomach, effectively tossing her out of the window. Her body flails as it smacks against the side of the windmill, violently bouncing once she hits the dirt. The boy peers out the window, waiting to her cannon sound but is met by silence.

Alastair furiously runs downstairs, pissed off that she has not been killed yet. He finally reaches Dotev outside, who is crawling on her stomach as both of her legs are appallingly mangled from the great fall. She continues to scream in pain, working so hard just to reach her knife. She manages to press one finger around it and Alastair immediately stomps on her hand, kicking it away.

“Not so tough now, are ya bitch?” He cackles grabbing on to her fiery locks with one hand and dragging her to the nearest tree. Even though she can’t move her legs, she fights valiantly the whole time. Dotev sinks her nails into his hand, drawing blood around his grip. Alastair stops tugging while arriving at the tree, kicking her in the left side, causing her breaths to become shallower.

Dropping his mace and removing his whip from his pants, he wraps it tightly around her neck, “Bite down on the tree stump.” Instead of compliance he’s met by defiance with a side of sarcasm. Dotev is seen hocking up a loogie filled with blood onto his face. Alastair wipes it away, trying his best not to lose his seemingly cool demeanor.

He tightens the whip, leaning in close to her face; “I would listen to me if I were you. No-Face is a lot more severe than I am.” Just as he mentioned No-Face, the ominous figure appears out thin air, revealing himself to Dotev. Her eyes widen, letting out a powerful open mouth screech in terror. Alastair quickly reacts, forcing her teeth to bite down on the tree bark stump. Seizing the moment, the boy expeditiously stomps down on the back of her head, snapping her spinal cord and dislocating her jaw simultaneously. As fast as the scream came out, it dissipated even quicker. Dotev’s cannon fires out into the distance as she finally succumbs to the massive brain trauma. Alastair lets out a sigh of relief; happy the battle was finally over. The sigh was short lived as No-Face begins hovering closely over him.

“Is she for me?” The figure asks.

“Yes. She is finally all yours my friend.” Alastair smiles, removing her jacket and useful supplies. He sluggishly picks up her corpse and offers it to his ally.