Kicks, Tricks and Pink Drinks - Angelina & Satsuki

[Monsy]

Are we fuckin’ braindead?
Said someone deep inside. Then there’s a little ping-pong back. A little ‘Yep’ from the pirate and made the world round again. Abso-fuckin’-lutely no take backs. Though, maybe a do-over would be nice. But…In this world… Who would’ve thunk ya got a girl front-flippin’ down to you? Miss VIP. Satsuki Hayano. The name already burned into the brain, and thinking about those poor feet smacking the ground. Yowch.

It’s state of the art ninja shit. She whistled, scratched the corner of her eye, then nodded. Even the sewage-covered focus of Angelina’s sobering subconscious started picking up the phones. A couple are normal. Then there’s more. And more. They slowly get so common, that she gets good at spotting the lenses, then good at spotting her own reflection inside them. Right. Now there’s REALLY no take backs.

She checked her feet. Boots. They were done up tight.
Skirt was an issue, but fluffy over tight, so could stretch. Everything else was comfortable like a little sleeping bag. But she didn’t move into the same beat just yet. Instead, spent her moments adjusting the sleeves, flexing her calves and rolled her shoulders once. “Looks like this is my fuckin’ debut, then.” Her fingers squeezed, then flexed, head side to side for some good cracks. “Be an even worse look if a nobody knocks ya off here, girl. Bettah not choke.”

A little hop off her toes turned her bladed. She shuffled towards them, and rotated one-eighty clockwise for each lunge, switching the lead leg and shoulder. Momentum rolled on momentum, and the hops turned to bigger mini jumps. When it seemed like her back leg would throw all the speed built up, her fist answered instead, whipping the shoulder straight and the five-knuckle payload sent straight towards their nose.

[FreestylePoet]

Oh, she understood, alright. Angelina Tarrant understood and then some, if her little systems check was any indication. It was just as good, too. Most petty spats down here ended with a self-proclaimed tough guy scampering away, tail between his legs. That's why threats were so boring. Just like that, they could be the end of things. Challenges, on the other hand, were so much more, and A.T. stepped up to this one with purpose. Angling herself sidelong. Loosening up.

From there? It all came together so fast. A mirror of her earlier agile maneuvers, Angelina hopped, skipped, and jumped into a blur. She whirled like a razor blade, all danger and thrill. Satsuki grinned wildly at the oncoming attack, waiting for the move that would cap it off. And when it came, a punch playing off her leggy feint--

The response was even faster. Heel on an axis, Satsuki ducked and spun, effortlessly weaving away from the blow. Her momentum carried her around, and she continued to spin. Next was the counter. The Queen of Clubs flicked her left leg out wide. Heel skidding across the glossy concrete, she made to cut down her foe's legs out from under her! After the sweep, Satsuki reared her right leg back, then fired it up at Angelina's face!

Here was one way to force-feed a party pooper her just desserts: Knee, meet nose.

[Monsy]

This chick was a total mystery flavour. Girl jumps from a height -- you watch how that moves and now she has the room like a jewel on her crown. The drunken acrobatics didn’t get her shuffling off. Puff that chest and she was right there to meet you. You’d be surprised how many crumple when you begin that first step. Stafe, turn, control -- show them you mean business. Keep them guessing. If they really wanted to go, then good luck guessi--

Fuck.
Alcohol numbed the hairs on her nape from standing. She didn’t feel the hit, but knew she turned, and knew her knee gave and ate into the floor. Her arms went out in front of her, and she caught herself on one side. Both ankles had slammed together and shot out towards the side, now piled on the other, with Angelina’s brain now spinning from the violent crackle and whip from her hip bone smacking the gloss.

Then there’s something else..
“Ph-!” The breath is knocked back into her, and her skull swells. It feels like nothing but sends her crashing onto her back, flat. Her eyes spin and her reddened nose begins to bleed to her top lip, and she tasted metallic. She squinted, and squeezed her gaze shut. A headache now pinched the first groan out of her, and the crowd made an awe, then died out as it seemed this show was over before it began.

[FreestylePoet]

And what a show it was. In a way. It wasn't every day that a spinning top twirled themselves face-first into a capoeira sweep. Even rarer must have been the days when said sweep led to a knee. The crack of bone on cartilage was satisfying -- in a way. One of many. As was the way Angelina clattered onto the floor. Call and response was a popular tune, played here, she felt, to perfection.

Perhaps too well. Satsuki waited a moment, then two. The winces of the crowd dissipated into silence. Her muscles, tensed like springs in anticipation of Tarrant's next response, went slack. Satsuki tsked. One promise in a blue moon, and this one amounted to bluster. "Oof." She regretted taking off her jacket. Now she didn't have any pockets to lean into. All she could do was sigh, step, and stand over the crumpled redhead. "That's a shame."

[Monsy]

Her brain played the noise of a broken radio. She stirred with a sense of fullness, in her head, knees and elbows. The knee’s bite all rushed in at once, built, then bled into tingles down her spine and became a wine only her head can drink, and then conclude. Holy dorkshit. Then she picked up that shadow overhead. Always with the condescending looks all around. A wee pirate joke and now punchline. It didn’t even seem funny to Satsuki, and was almost hella’ funny to her. The timing of this was just a bit too soon...

She just needed to lie there a little longer. Her eyes peeked a slit and stared ten thousand yards. It’s four in the morning, with blood and just a tad of spit, all pink and dolled up like the alcohol blackout already set in. Then they opened wide, and she smiled ear-to-ear at her second punchline. “Boo.”

Her hands spread right by her head. One of them had her phone from her pocket, and she used that as a swinging club towards Satsuki’s kneecap. A smokescreen to roll away, twice over, bridge, then kick the ground to arch and come over back to her feet. She used the landing to turn a full rotation on her ankle, slide, make it smooth like a dance, then take a step forward and whip her phone like a tomahawk at Satsuki’s head! Sayonara smart phone.

[FreestylePoet]

Just when she'd set on calling the boys over to clean up this mess, a blunt corner slammed into the side of Satsuki's knee.

"Hah-?" Her body twisted out of instinct. Both hands clasped down on the kneecap, and Satsuki flashed a groaning frown at the ache. Then- there! In the corner of her eye, a sweep of red. Angelina had started her escape. Satsuki chopped at the first roll. The angle of her trunk was just off, though, and the cross-body swipe struck only air. Demon rolled again, and the Queen followed with one of her own, heel swinging down like rolling thunder.

When rubber met dance floor, Satsuki grimaced. "Damn!" In an instant, the kick went loose, and both legs spun out to the side to get under Satsuki. She needed to pursue, to launch off the ground and-

KRAK!

The club's thrumming bass became a flashbang. By the time it cleared up, Satsuki was already on the ground. "What did you...?" She slapped around blindly, once, twice, until she found it, then kipped up. Deft fingers were already at work separating phone from case. "Hell of a throw, girl. Hope you got warranty!" Out went the phone. Hard and fast like Ohtani, only looking to walk this bitch right in the forehead. Satsuki gave a little twirl to follow her momentum, then the other arm flung the case like a shuriken!

It wasn't a playing card, but she'd take what she could get. Besides, it didn't even have to hit. After all, this was just a distraction. Two projectiles in the air meant Satsuki could sprint in after them and bring this shit up close and personal.

[Monsy]

Angelina adjusted her nose, checked, and wiped away the leaking blood. She was still stuck to mouth-breathing, and that was just fine. Her moment to saddle it was here, and only a moment -- because Satsuki was up, fast, witty as a heckled stand-up comedian that's never off beat.

Her rebuttal was nice, wet and ready to fire. But right when she opened her mouth, her forehead ate a fuckin' rock. Her chin tucked, and she cringed, stumbling back, losing her knees, but catching herself in a backwards-leaning squat with a hand pressed to the floor. "Fuckin' ninja..."

She pushed up, squinted her eyes and spotted the case next, swatting it mid-air with a backhand. It stung off her tiny handbones, so she shook it. And that's when she caught Satsuki rapidly approaching. She made a small meep under her breath. Her brain quickly asked: Do I want this smoke? The answer: Hell naw. So she fled, sprinting towards another podium and pole just past the main dance floor. Her feet lunged over the shallow steps, piling on that knee, then took a second lunge with more air. The bridge of her boot used the platform's ridge as a jumping pad. The best she can get. Her body twisted right around, flipped, and her leg was pointed straight up, hopefully coming down towards Satsuki's head like an overhead axe!

[FreestylePoet]

Running in the club was second in sin to running at the pool. Satsuki hadn't had the pleasure of breaking that particular rule in this particular club -- why thieve from a place she all but owned? -- but there was a first time for everything. Just another ribbon of novelty in this little surprise party.

One, two, three lunges, treating the dance floor like the top of a skyline. Pursuing a prize of a different kind. Only this one moved, and goddamn, did it move. Devil Chick matched her stride for stride, taking flight in no short time! Then she leapt. What Satsuki hoped wasn't a hasty retreat turned into a clever counter! The axe of her heel snapped across Satsuki's crown, and the Queen of Clubs crumbled, pink hair flashing in the neon.

Back to the skyline. Just like an errant pipe thwacking her forehead. There wasn't much to do about the throb in her brain, so best to survive what came next: Eat the blow, ride its wave, and soften the landing. The instinct kicked in, and Satsuki's forearms took the brunt of the floor. "Shit hurt!" Then she rolled over. "Not bad."

She had two legs. Use 'em: One to hook an ankle, the other to wrap a calf, and both to pull! The hope was to yank Angelina's leg out from under her and send the bitch careening -- head, neck, back, whatever -- right into the corner of the podium!

[Monsy]

Cranium blows had that nasty business of ending shit. And by sweet-Anne-Bonne-on-a-stick, they better NOT brain out right here and now. She was huffing that premium gold experience, twenty-four karat. Better than any VIP lounge. The first time was the best time. Drink, score some, get a free tab and fight the coolest chick around, yo. No way no how would this be over on one broadside. Everything was comin' up randy-dandy.

And they delivered on that. They may have crashed, but it looked smooth. They knew how to fall, by instinct or just by training. Anyone who jumped from that crazy feat before must know how to roll. Still, she didn’t think hard about it. Rather, she took half a second to shrug, wink, look down and play a small smug grin. A job well done. The next half-second was the start of a dash.

Then her world crashed. One leg torqued, the other slid, off the podium and shot out like a piece of printing paper. The point hit between her shoulder blades, right on the spine. A less graceful landing as Angelina's head whiplash. A wheeze rushed out and half her face scrunched up. “Yaa… Right back at ya, cunt-head.”

Angelina rolled away twice, crafting distance. She transitioned that into getting on one knee, framing Satsuki with her index and thumbs. Once she witnessed her dance partner rise, if she hadn’t already, then she’d have just one cue for them: The beckon of her middle fingers.