An Ofrarian on Elm street (Amalia & Cebra) [R]

She had picked up a real piece of work this time.

A CEO executive, fancy car, three different mistresses. Divorced two wives for putting on weight. From what Haru’s said, his daughters are just as spoiled as him, if significantly more naive. (How she knew that is something she’s been trying to wipe out of her mind with alcohol, to mixed results.) Apparently, this guy was bribing judges and police officers to get a rival arrested. It’s like something out of the detective novels Francine is always reading. Her nose crinkled at the thought. She had read them, you know, try to get to get closer to her friend. She couldn’t stand it. Bad writing, bad plots, and the sex scenes just made her uncomfortable. Honestly she couldn’t look at a cucumber the same way ever since.

Her mind was brought back to the alcohol-fogged present by Mr. Big Shot grabbing her ass. It as a real struggle to prevent from killing him right then and there, but that would make tonight a huge waste. His death was coming, sure, but it had to very specific. An anxious glance at the sky confirmed her fears; she was running out of time. If the full week passes, which it will by midnight, the Tenebrosi are lot less likely to accept her sacrifice. That would be a tremendous problem, she had no desire to go to Balthazar for help, let alone help in finding someone to kill. The mockery alone would be unbearable. Nope, this was the best she got … she just wished he wasn’t so ugly. The wind picked up, and she crinkled her nose again. And didn’t smell like cigarettes.

”Now, you just wait here while I change into something more … comfortable …”

The smile on the face of the woman spoke miles about what she meant by comfortable, and Jacob smirked back. Yeah, he deserved this, women were like putty in his hands. And this bitch, well … she was the hottest piece of ass he’s ever seen. Curves for days and eyes that could knock a man right out. She was a fucking slut, too. He practically had to run to keep up with her, how eager she to get him home, already shedding her jacket and gloves as soon as they walked in the room. Jacob was surprised to see she had some ink. Very interesting ones, too, they seemed to glow and move. That was cool, a badass chick with some tats was fine with him. She probably knew how to ride a dick when it came down to it. The thought only made him more aroused, and he began to strip.

Left only in his underwear, he began to wonder where the chick was- whatever her name was, Amy, Ashe, whatever. It didn’t matter, after he fucked her she wouldn’t be able to remember her own name. The thought kept him patient, despite the uncomfortable surroundings. Honestly, girl could use an interior decorator. There wasn’t any electricity, only some candles casting a flickering light across the surfaces of the room. His gaze roamed around, falling on the rather out of character things for a woman like her. Swords lined the walls, a bunch of creepy wooden masks, and then- he jumped, scrambling away from what he had been leaning on. A massive, bloodstained wooden bathtub with clawed feet, above which a rusty hook swayed menacingly. This was bad. He almost darted to the door, and then-

”I hope you’re ready …”

Her voice was soft and sultry, and as he looked towards the bathroom where she had disappeared he saw a sight that took his breath away. Her naked form, framed in angelic light was slowly walking towards him, every step shaking her body in delicious, delightful ways. His mouth was practically watering at the sight, he didn’t even notice the thing she was carrying. Not that it would have mattered if he did; by the time he stepped foot into this bedroom, his fate was sealed. She closed the intervening steps faster than all the others combined, starling Jacob just a little bit. He took a cautionary step back, but her naked form was right in front of him, within reach, and he reached out to touch them-

Only to receive blinding pain in return. Before he could howl in pain, Amalia’s hands closed on his windpipe, cutting off both the sound of his howl and his air. Eyes bulging, hands grasping in futile desperation on the ironclad grip of the naked women, he was lifted slowly in the air. His feet were kicking now, his face turning purple, and right before he passed out, mercilessly, air returned him. And yet, before he could even finish his first, pained, slobbery breathe, pain shot through him. Instantly his lower body went numb; no, not numb, no feeling, he couldn’t feel his legs. A tugging sensation was all he felt and as he opened eyes blurred by tears, he realized with horror why; he had been impaled on the hook. Horror and revulsion combined to turn into a howl that leaped from his throat like a wounded cough.

This man was pathetic. Tears and pain and begging for his life. He was barely worth the sacrifice, a warrior in only the barest sense. It would have to do. Anxiously, she again cast a glance at the sky, only an hour to go. She had to continue this. Slowly, she kneeled, her head pressed against the tub, only inches from the slowly filling tub. Blood dripped down in a steady river, bright red liquid smelling of iron and death. This was the scent of power. For only a brief moment she stayed in this position, nothing happening save for a directionless wind rising, whipping her hair around. And then, she began to speak.

The words fell on the ears of the innocent like worms, dark energy contained within the syllables themselves. Black tentacles rose from her prone form, sinking into the river of blood. Black crept from it, staining it ebony, dark, glowing with black magic. By this point her Sacrifice was prone now, pale from loss of blood, slowly rotating like a pig on a spit. The syllables fell faster, her nervousness causing the words to nearly tumble from her mouth. Black blood fell faster into the tub, and just as the last of the shadowy ribbons left her, the door threw open. The sudden light and noise caused the man to open his eyes, looking towards the figure framed in the light.

”Help … me …”

The words were croaked with the last of his energy, his head falling into his chest. The noise had alerted Amalia as well. She spun, her naked form revealed by the light, a man standing there. For the length of two heartbeats, she considered attacking, though knew in her form she was barely stronger than a normal woman. The battle would be over before it began … there was only one option here. Slowly, Amalia slipped into the bath, her ivory skin quickly covered the viscous fluid. The thrill of power ran through her, a glow slowly growing brighter from the marks on her right arm. A slight shudder ran through her body as she sunk into the body. Long fingers ran up and down her body, rubbing the liquid into her skin, yet not once did she take her eyes off the stranger in the doorway. She just had to stall.

”I recognize you.”

This was true. It had taken her a moment to place him, but he was in the bar with her. They had met eyes several times in the bar, and she had remembered thinking he looked like a warrior. And he was quite attractive. Slowly, one leg slid out of her water, her hands running down the smooth skin. The black shadowed blood wicked into her skin, returning to her vigor and vitality to her skin. The paleness of her body was slowly being replaced by the natural tan beauty she born from her homeland.

”Why did you follow me, stranger?”

Cebra couldn't right yet muster the words or sense for this situation, he'd seen mutilated bodies, he'd seen cult rituals from all over the world, this was from another world. Cebra noticed the woman moving to the bathtub full of the black liquid, he was still stuck there trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The thing that finally drew his attention was the woman words aimed at him and her eyes so heavily focused on him. She had recognized Cerbra at the bar apparently, now he was rather glad she hadn't chosen Cebra. Being cut open like that? That just takes Cebra back to Orion scientists dissecting him while conscious. Her skin seemed to change tone and the odd markings now gone, Cebra had a library of questions for this woman.



"Focus, new target closing proximity."



Cyco was always aware of the situation and un-phased by the entire scene, such is the nature of an A.I. designed for self preservation and combat. The only issue is Cyco sees everything in terms of threat level. Having little experience with magic Cyco determined all cases of magical opponents the highest threat level. Cyco would be ready on a hair trigger to take control if Cebra got heavily injured, for the moment though Cebra is the primary conscience. At first glance she seemed relatively harmless and she was unarmed, what could she possibly do now that Cebra was there?



"You... What did you?...No I'll get to that later. You've caused me a great deal of trouble killing this man or whatever you've done to him. I've been after that dirt bag for over a week now and all my hard work has come to nothing. But I'll be damned if I leave here empty handed, blue eyes. So as I cant rightly ask..."



Cebra looks at the corpse.



"Him. I'll have to get my answers from you wont I? So we can do this the easy way or the fun wayyyy... Uh"



Cebra suddenly realized something he'd been a bit oblivious to this whole time. An overwhelming fact that hit him in the face with such force he once again lost his words for only a second. This woman was buck naked, standing there right in front of him like it was nothing. I mean there's confidence then there's this woman. Cebra's eyes traced every inch of her, his expression a raised eyebrow and wide eyes. Cebra was by no means a shy or sexually reserved man, he had his fun when e could. But it was like Zeus carved this woman from clay, it was hard to believe a human could be made so perfect. Cebra wasn't sure if he should mention something. Cebra wasn't sure he wanted to mention something, if not to ensure she remains unarmed then at least he got a show tonight. Cebra had no intention on actually harming the woman, he wasn't without a sense of honor to attack someone unarmed and seemingly frail compared to his figure. He wasn't above tying her up though.

Confusion. What a human reaction. It was a struggle not to roll her eyes, instead casting her eyes downwards. The Shadowed Blood was almost gone now, only enough to barely cover her breasts and other private areas, not that she would have cared otherwise. He could ogle her all he wanted, it would serve to only prove his feebleness. Interesting things were being said, however. Chasing him around? A hunt. How interesting. She cast her grey eyes upwards to the man still gently swaying from the rusty iron hook. It appeared he was quite popular among the mercenary population, how quaint.. With a bit of a playful smirk, her long leg snuck out of the bath to nudge the low-hanging corpse. It was warm and firm under her skin, yet the skin was papery, dry, the bones jutting against the skin. It gave her joy; the quick decay of the body meant her gods were strong here.

She tore her eyes from the swaying sight to focus again on the intruder. How impertinent was he, barging into her room, into her private ceremonies, and then deign to demand answers? That would not do. No, it would not do at all. The liquid in the bath was virtually gone now, only a few drops left running over Amalia’s skin, searching for the few areas not yet reinvigorated by the ritual. Answers. He wants answers? What answers could this scumbag possibly provide him? Slowly she sighed, pressing her hands on the lip of the tub. The liquid was gone now, her modesty protected only the relative darkness of the room. The mottled light formed from the movement of the body above her was almost hypnotic on her newly glowing skin, and when coupled with the light sparkling from the tattoos on her right arm, it made her look like some kind of heavenly being. Indeed, as she stood, her hair caught a breeze, blowing out behind her like stunted wings.

”You talk too much.”

Her none-too-impressive height was bolstered by the clawed bathtub, her naked form posed before him, one hand on her hip and hip cocked to the side. She wasn’t mad, she understood circumstances taking a target out of your control. It’s happened to her more times than she cared to admit. And the stranger had the look of a warriors. Even in the dim darkness she could see the breadth of his shoulders, the confidence of his walk (though his gaze seemed intent on not staring at her, which brought another smirk to her face) and yet there was also the burr of reservation in his stance, as if he was ready to strike at any moment. For all of her skill she would hate to get into a fight without any weapons, and with so many … sensitive bits exposed.

With meticulous purpose she stepped out of her bathtub, toes splayed for balance. With grace and care she lowered herself onto the cold hardwood floors, skin dry, body bared to the elements born from the open window and door. No trace of the liquid remained, either on her body or on the tub before her. Though the room was lacking in any true forms of illumination, electrical light illuminated her from head to toe, only the barest of shadows giving her a modicum of nudity. Each step was nearly silent on the bare floor as she got closer, only the sound of her heel meeting the floor producing a muted sound. Her body swayed back and forth in tandem with her steps, her natural seductive qualities fully at work. She stopped just in front of the stranger, her hands on her hips again, eyebrows quirked in an expression of incredulity and amusement.

”But, answers shall be yours. Thy prey lay dead and with it, your quest.” She smiled then, a bright smirk showing her white, even teeth. ”Sed non licet." The Latin words fell from her like honey. "One moment.” She brushed past him, the scent of wildflowers and blood colliding fiercely. Behind a partition she disappeared, the sound of drawers being opened and closed, then the soft sound of cloth against skin. ”This man was hunted through many realms. The courts of this land were out for blood, his partner wished him dead. He is lucky to die at the hands of the ritual. His soul can serve a greater purpose.” The partition moved then and she stepped out again; dressed, this time, in a light-yellow dress that ended just above the thighs and matching flats.

”Yet hope is not lost.” She offered her hand, eyes calculating on him. ”I am Amalia Ashenberry. We shall both profit from this. I may indeed have those answers for you, stranger.”

It was a strange sort of aura the woman put off, that's what let her so easily walk up to and past Cebra. Had it been some other person he'd likely have just shoved them down on the couch and bound them in metal. Her demeanor was quite brash and a bit cocky, she almost seemed to condescend to Cebra. Oddly enough Cebra liked her blunt short way of speaking, a woman of few words always says something worth hearing as he thought. She certainly seemed to enjoy teasing and toying with Cebra, the fact that she so nonchalantly strolled past him wearing nothing but her silky skin showed she had no fear. Cebra wanted to know this woman and her quiet confidence and strength. Her explanation of the situation though somewhat unsatisfactory did yield some fruit, despite her sly smirk she provided avenues. Her strange talk of other realms fascinated Cebra and she gave some info Cebra didn't know. Orion was getting involved in magic and the arcane if this was to be believed. This news began to reorganize Cebra's priorities in the long run, for now though this woman was offering her partnership.



"Ill advised, we should neutralize the subject before any further interference can occur. Comply."



"Command priority, mute cerebral communication."



With that command Cyco is no longer heard in Cebra's head. Cebra felt he had no choice at the present time but to accept this strange and gorgeous woman's vague offer. If he were being honest a large part of his compliance was based on more personal interests than professional. Even the hanging husk of a body didn't bother Cebra anymore he was in the depths of interest this night and wanted to see where this little adventure took him. Cebra took her hand, she had a remarkably firm grip. his smile was actually quite warm and inviting for being such a tall dark and arguably handsome man. He was not much to look at given a passing glance on the street, part of his design really. But one who took a second to look at the man who strives to blend in and vanish would notice almost elven like qualities of beauty. His eyes were were deep with blackness and without wrinkles, his skin had not a blemish or imperfection, his hair was like waves of silk.



"Amalia Ashenberry... Pleasure is all mine. My name is Cebra Ulkenne, most call me the blacksmith. So why dont you tell me a little more about this proposition of yours?"

He was listening. Good. All she needed was a second. With purpose she marched to the hanging body, only pausing long enough to press slim fingers against his wrist. There was a pulse still there, but barely, his life force sustained purely by the dark magic contained within the Ritual. Still, it’s been several minutes since the hook dug into his skin. To hang on this long shows surprising fortitude, rare for a human. Despite herself she was impressed. In another life, he would have made a great warrior. Not in this one, though. Here, he was just another piece of prey.

Almost casually, she ripped him off the hook, the sound of flesh ripping following this. With a wet sound, like a bag full of wet clothes, she tossed him on the ground with his face in the ground. The sight was a gruesome one; bruising stretched across what remained of his back, the black and purple skin speaking volumes about the trauma. From about six inches down his back, his spine was splayed open, the white bones open for the world to see. No blood leaked from the wounds, only some thick black substance that bubbled and churned. Though he didn’t move, his muscles were tensed and straining, as if he were screaming in pain. Amalia paid this no mind. Her knee planted directly in his back (out of habit, of course) and a knife appeared in her hand. Not pulled out of nothing, it was simply kept under the bath.

The silver tip glistened, hungrily, as it slipped straight through his spine. The stimulation of the muscles caused a single convulsion, but Amalia held steady until the tip of the blade pressed through to the other side. On the end of it balanced an electronic chip of some kind, which Amalia collected. The blade pulled free of his body, devoid of gore of course, and Amalia stashed it again. Before she stood, however, she grabbed the mans arm, ripping it free from his body. Instead of tendons and bone, however, there was only metal and flesh.

”Experimental tech.” She handed both the chip and the arm to Cebra. ”’twas why he hid his arm. The chip should allow you access to his encrypted files. Humans.” The last words was said as a curse. ”Far too much reliance on technology.”

Cebra watched Amalia handle the carcass of that man like a butcher, it was nothing to her to just pull that chunk of corrupted meat off the hook and drop him on the floor. Were it someone else Cebra may be a little bothered but as it was the fact that he suffered before dying made Cebra pretty calm considering. She proceeded to carve the man open slicing through his back, it was quite obvious she was looking for something inside the man but Cebra couldn't guess what. A moment later she pulled something out, it appeared to be some manner of computer chip? Cebra couldn't be quite sure what it's purpose was without analyzing it. One thing was for certain though, this was a piece of Orion tech and in the body of an executive likely something experimental and expensive. As she handed both to Cebra he decided to run a scan of the arm and chip here and see what kind of data was on it. Normally he'd be hesitant to just up and use his powers in front of someone but there was no danger now. She clearly wasn't going to turn him in to the authorities considering the man she jut carved like a pumpkin. Cebra heard the contempt in her voice when she spoke about humans, a sentiment he often had. Cebra was after all a production of humans made for the purpose of murdering other humans. But Cebra used his free will to decide to be something better than what he was made for so maybe humans could be better than they were created.



"Hm yes, people are very fragile in heart, mind and body. But I suppose being a magically inclined being you might see things that way... Magic and technology, opposite sides of a coin no?"



From Cebra's wrists coming out of his very pores a silvery liquid comes out in a little blob, the liquid squirms and shapes itself into a series of wires with an almost USB like ending but with metal tendrils. The wires attached themselves to the chip as the files run through Cebra's mind. There is data pertaining to the use of certain arcane sources as fuel, using magical metals in modern weaponry and other forms of magic and science fused together. This was pretty grim news, Cebra would not have found out any of this without the woman's help. He felt a little bad now threatening her, he'd be sure to try and make it up to this woman. Right now he was at a loss over what to do.

Things got very interesting, very fast. Her eyes widened and her plush lips widened in astonishment at the silvery substance exuded from his palms. She almost wanted to pull the chip back but, for some reason, she decided to trust him. A man’s word bound him, and “The Blacksmith” seemed to have similar goals to her, even if his methods were more … shall she say acceptable? It was kind of a funny situation; out of the two of them, he was far and away the more humane. She crossed his arms as she waited for him to finish his analysis.

”I am glad you feel that way, Blacksmith. Though, I shall take a guess; you’re not quite human yourself, are you?”

Cebra had looked through all the data and his face was heavy with worry. From what Cebra could understand on such a short examination was that Orion was making headway into what they're calling arcane-tech. Methods of combining magical elements with their own scientific means to create new fuel, weapons and other horrors. There was a research lab in the city maybe a few miles away, the Magam research center was owned by Orion and had one of the largest underground structures in New York. Cebra was familiar with the building though it had been some time since he had been there. Years ago he infiltrated the research center to steal the data he needed to finish the Phoenix armor, but what could they be developing now. Perhaps it was time to pay another visit to the research center but that would likely have to wait for another day and much more planning. Right now there was a warehouse where Orion was storing some kind of metal they had received, the origin of this metal is vague though it does mention unusual arcane properties. Furthermore there's a list of things classified only as unknown species with serial numbers after that.



It was a dark enough night Cebra could probably move nearly unseen, his usual tactics revolved around his stealth. The problem was the shipment was also going to be heavily guarded for one, androids with heavy weaponry of many varieties. Another thing bothering Cebra was magic all together as he didn't know how to deal with such an element. He'd need to ask for someone to help him but who? Erum was pretty busy lately and Aria was no use with this. Maybe Amalia might give him a hand with this problem, she at least was involved with the arcane if not well learned. He wasn't sure how well she'd be able to protect herself although that wasn't such a hindrance in Cebra's eyes. The chance to show off came few and far between when it came to women. Cebra relished the idea of showing his skills off to a pretty lady, a character flaw that occasionally showed itself. Truth be told he hated doing things alone but though it necessary, it was hard to find competent partners that didnt fuck up his plans.



"Human?... No, simply made by human hands and minds. I was made to serve as a weapon for them. Now I choose to be their shield for the most part, irony unintentional. I am what is called a cyborg; half organic and half cybernetic."



Cebra in a bout of curiosity and confidence approaches Amalia until they are quite close, close enough he must look directly down to look in her eyes. Cebra in all his endless mechanical or even child like curiosity could forget the rule of personal space, but he was drawn to this woman like a moth to a flame.



"Now I must wonder exactly what manner of being you are Miss Ashenberry, what I saw earlier was nothing a mere mortal being can do. Are you of some arcane realm? I've heard bits and far fetched tales of beings from other worlds, I think we may be able to help each other again if so."



Cebra flashes a sly smirk.



"So how do you feel about causing a little hell for some bad people?"

The worry written on his face spoke volumes more than any words could. She leaned against the folding screen she had just changed behind, watching the emotions switch across the androids face. It was fascinating to know human technology had progressed this far. He wasn’t the first artificial lifeform she’s ever seen; after all, creating magical automatons was something she does on a regular basis. But done by humans? He was a curiosity, and a potential asset, which is why she gave him the chip. Yep, that’s certainly it. Had nothing to do with those intense black eyes seemingly staring straight into her soul or the way those plush curved into a smile. Yep, certainly didn’t have to do with any sort of attraction.

Though truth be told, that chip would have been buried with the remains of the body. She wasn’t really losing anything by giving him the chip, and she could potentially gain quite a bit. Like the attention of this inhumanly attractive warrior. Oh, he was indefinitely a fighter of some kind. You don’t have those kind of muscles unless you fight, even if you were created with them. That would just be a waste of materials and time, and somehow she didn’t think whoever created him was wasteful. Just the opposite actually. They certainly didn’t pull any punches creating “The Blacksmith.” Certainly an interesting name. Implies he’s good with his hands.

”You’re using the past tense, Blacksmith. Do you wage war against your creators?”

He was close now, far too close for a stranger, but Amalia found she didn't mind. On the contrary, her heart seemed to enjoy it, beating a mile a minute. Had he been human, she would be able to hear his heartbeat, he was so close. A smirk appeared on her face, a burning, intense, flirtatious smirk intended to burn a fire in his veins. This was a game, and she’d be damned if she was going to lose. Smugly Amalia stepped forward, her plush lips suddenly pushing into the cyborg’s. Soft, yet firm, she kissed him for a brief moment of intense satisfaction, staying just close enough to slide a cool hand to his cheek. And then she stepped back, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted.

”What I am, darling, is something that I’m sure we don’t have time to explain. Needless to say I am not mortal. On the contrary, I am far superior to any human you’ve ever met.” She slid past him, her body and prodigious curves sliding against his body as she did. Quickly, she slipped behind the divider again, though were it not for this screen, he would still be mere inches from her. Moments later, the yellow sundress flew out from behind the cover, just so happening to land directly in Cebras face, assuming he didn't move. Acting as if nothing happened, she continued.

”I am not cheap. Do you really think you can afford my services?” It was a cheeky response, if her tone was anything to go by. Was she… flirting? Amalia was just as surprised, she hasn't had sex since her husband died. No one was worth it, it would be like screwing a pig, or lamb. ”I might require… special compensation.” The sound of cloth sliding in metal, a feminine gasp at the chill of the metal, a clink of mail. And then she stepped out in an outfit that was, quite frankly, more revealing than the sundress. Metal encapsulated her chest and stomach, high greaves in her leg, and a gauntlet on her left arm. A leather skirt cut diagonally covered her thighs. A thin band of metal circled her forehead, pinning her hair behind her shoulders. And perhaps most importantly, her right arm was left bare, revealing the esoteric tattoos covering the entirety of it.

”So? Do I not share the moons radiance?”

The armor was certainly flattering, it's dark red and black ensemble lending to her a dangerous air. She barely seemed to listen to his answer, however, as no matter what he said, she marched straight past him to the locked chest. It had no lock nor keyhole nor any obvious means of opening, no seams or hinges. Her right palm was placed flat over where a key should go, and with a flare of magic that caught her hair lit her runes black. This black energy flowed into the chest, cutting a lid from the chunk of metal. This she opened, the chest needing no hinge to swing open, and inside were several items of War.

”My Chest of Secrets. It is not only my weaponry I keep hidden.”

She began unloading her swords, and the shield, and for just a brief moment under the tack was visible several bound books and what looked suspiciously like a diary. The kid was quickly slammed shut. The gear she had obtained was all of the highest quality and glimmered softly in the candlelit bedroom. One blade, black as pitch and vaguely in the shape of a Japanese katana, was held on the right hip. The second, shining silver with runic symboldry on the hilt, was clipped on her right thigh. On her back, a massive two handed blade, geometric patterns making up the blade. In her boot went a dagger of a sort, and over the massive blade on her back went a black and silver shield.

There was definitely a theme here.

”Lead the way now, Blacksmith, I am eager to wet my blade.”

Cebra was a bit hesitant to go on talking about his personal war with Orion, secrecy after all was second nature to him. Speaking with this woman however somehow made him comfortable with letting her in a bit more than others.



"Yes, I am the only soldier in a war against an empire of corruption and greed."



For a moment his stare becomes distant and shadow falls over his face as he looks out the window. His voice loses all semblance of humanity turning into a frigid, angry, smooth tone.



"I will kill them all, by any means."



His moment of ire didn't last long as his closeness to the woman got infinitely more close. This whole situation was suppose to be Cebra laying an ambush, but it seems at every turn he was the one taken for surprise. The woman with her luscious lips and somewhat blushing tone laid her lips on Cebra and held his cheek. The first second or two had him dumbfounded to the point he couldn't make a coherent thought. Cebra was familiar with lust as he had felt it many times in the past but this made him feel completely different. Because of his pale complexion and wide eyes it was blatantly obvious he was blushing and caught by surprise. although a pleasant surprise it was. Cebra wasn't nearly arrogant enough to think himself some manner of playboy that women were just attracted to, he'd been turned down enough to know that. But He did recall something about the entire time he'd been there, that she'd been eyeing him up and down. Cebra wasn't body builder big but by design, daily training and a good amount of manual labor he kept in very good shape. This woman was ever more interesting and Cebra was happy he made this venture.



He hadn't noticed that she went passed him right after, when Cebra looked again her dress flew into his face and she was in a rather ornate suit of armor. He took the dress off his face and saw the armor was very form fitting, his eyes tracing from her feet, pausing at her chest for a moment and to her face. Her comments about the price of her service and special compensation caught Cebras attention. Money was no object to Cebra but he got the impression from her tone she was talking about something else entirely... Well maybe money as well or something of value like a favor, he also felt or maybe hoped that she was interested in him as a love interest.



"I'm sure you're a woman of abundant secrets and talent."



Cebra says with a slight smile.



"And apparently quite the warrior, you're more heavily armed than a fortress Amalia... I like that and I'm interested to see what you can do in a fight. I'm guessing you have a means of transportation? If so, let's be on our way."



Cebra had noticed something odd, for a long while Cyco had been silent, it was usually going over numerous tactical scenarios before combat and running through them with Cebra. For once Cebra was actually interested to know why his opinionated AI was being so introverted, he confronted Cyco in his head.

"You've been awfully silent, not like you before combat. So what's on your mind?"

"... Neurochemical activity spike detected when she... 'kissed' you. I find this... interesting."

"That? That was... yeah that was something."

"Psychological analysis suggest you are smitten, this complicates things."

"How do you figure?"

"Results pending further investigation."

"So you dont know, or you just dont like her."

"... Results pending further investigation."

"You're a piece of shit Cyco."

The warehouse was situated in an industrial area rather run down looking and full of the homeless. The warehouse itself was between two factory like structures and a large river behind it near to a bridge. There were no overt signs of Orion but Cebra was certain this was the warehouse, there were a number of android security and human worker there moving crates around. There was some construction going on near by the warehouse where security androids were placed high up. Cebra pulled his blue impala up to the derelict factory across the street and parked it before getting out... It was time.

”Is that judgement I hear? I must be armored, Mister Ulkenne. How else would you expect a defenseless little girl like me to protect myself? Not all of us can be big scary robots.”

The simpering voice and wide eyes, supposed to emulate innocence, was undercut slightly by the effortless way she wielded the massive blade, checking the edge of the blade for any impurities. Satisfied, she repeated this process with each of her weapons; it was essential a soldier never enters battle in a less than perfect state. What, exactly, The Blacksmith had planned for them was murky at best, she had no illusions to the nature of violence that might occur. She was quite looking forward to it. Finally sliding a silver dagger into it’s concealed sheet blending seamlessly into the silver greave of her right boot, and she stood, placing one hand on her hip. Whatever she had been about to say was cut short by Cerek, the crazy person, having a full blown conversation with himself.

”You okay there? Got a little wires crossed somewhere, honey?”

She was mocking him and didn’t care who knew it. The smirk on her face said it all. She disappeared down the stairs faster walking than most when they run, and managed to look glamorous doing so. Truth be told, she was excited; she was whisked away, back to her homeland, to her teenage years. It seemed so long ago now, traveling the darkened streets with her friends, looking for someone or something to get her into trouble. The darkness was a comfortable shroud, hiding her blushing cheeks and racing heart; though not the kind to get fainthearted over a man, she had to admit there was something about him.

She stopped. A single beam of moonlight arched in from the kitchen window, illuminating her face in silver splendor. Alone, together, she reached out for him. Her hands were slim and cool as they touched him, one on his face, the other curling around his hand. A single step forward, and she was kissing him again. Different from last light. Exploratory, tentative, though with the same underlying heat that accompanied everything she did. Mid-kiss, her lips curled into a smile. This was what she was missing, this passion, this romance and raw sexual tension. It filled a hole in her she didn’t know had been there. She pulled away then, slipping into the shadows until only her brilliant blue eyes were visible.

”I’ll follow you.”

Down the stairs, taking them two, three, four at a time until, at the bottom, she stopped next to a motorcycle. A beautiful machine, all black and red, yet without any noticeable marks of any designer or maker. Which, to an educated man, could only mean this bike was the result of somebody’s garage, not a mass-produced machine. She straddled it in a way that could only be described as suggestive, sliding the helmet and leather jacket on in a flash. Even underneath the reflective visor of the helmet, the seductive looks and glances she threw him were discernible. The engine roared to life, vibrating her to her core; it was a feeling that would never get old. And then, with the expert control of a master motorcyclist, she took off after her cybernetic lover.

It was a short drive later (she may be high-class, but her lodgings most certainly were not) that they arrived at the dilipadiated little warehouse. There it was, the feeling, a twisting in her gut that said “danger”. She parked the bike against the building, laying the helmet and jacket across the seat. Theft wasn’t a concern; any intrepid carjackers would get one hell of a shock if they touched the bike without permission. Lots of workers, and an awful lot of guards for such an area. Either this was some sort of mafia location, or these workers were unloading something valuable. Either way, the beginnings of a smirk appeared on her face.

”This is, as they say, your rodeo. What’s the plan, cowboy?”

Cebra put his hand against a metallic crate, the blue light of the saxon energy surged from his body to the crate like lightning. From his very skin came th same silvery liquid as before that now followed the energy and melded with the metallic crate. The crate in a second turned into a mass of liquid metal and crawled onto Cebra as he let it, the metal began to take form in the shape of Cebra's Dragoon armor. In his right hand formed a long sword, the design was basic however the blade was refined to such a point and to such a sharp edge that it was clear only a mechanical influence could be so precise and yet lacking in any personal flare. On his side attached to a belt formed a series of five throwing knives and one combat knife, Cebra was a walking armory and usually improvised weapons in the field.



"Anyone who points a gun dies, how does that suit you?"



Cebra begins to approach the site calmly with his blade in hand, given the area there is little to no civilian presence giving Cebra free reign to be brutal. If anyone ran away he'd let them go, random workers likely immigrants and lower income people just looking for work. Anyone who stayed and management were fair game. As the two approach the site one of the guards starts to walk up to intercept them, only a moment later does she realize the two approaching people are heavily armed empowered beings. She starts to run back yelling for help and to sound the alarm, a few of the other guards must have heard her because a few seconds later a loud siren starts to go off. Like a bee hive the guards start to pour out of the buildings and take various positions above and behind barricades pointing their various heavy weapons towards Amalia and Cebra, some of the guards were larger androids carrying some manner of electrified club and stood on the front like a phalanx. Their numbers were pretty great and they looked combat hardened in their stances. There were a number of workers who at the sound of the alarms began to panic and run away leaving the site, they were of no concern. Cebra looked at Amalia and couldn't help but smile behind his visor, she looked incomparably beautiful in her armor like a Valkyrie. Though Cebra doubted there was any Valkyrie that had hips like that while wearing armor.



"Let's say we make this interesting Amalia? Whoever scores the lowest takes the other out for date?"



Cebra raises his visor for a moment shooting Amalia a charming little smirk and wink, then in a playful mocking tone says.



"Unless you cant keep up fair lady hmhm." 

”Oh, I get it.”

Her gut twisted, warning her of danger, but she knew that already; indeed she was looking forward to it. She knew her face was twisted in a smile, a bloodthirsty smirk renowned for shaking the boots of even hardened soldiers, but she made no attempt to conceal. On the contrary, as she drew a blade - a beautifully wrought golden longsword - the light cast from it sent warped shadows up her face, distorting her features into a nighmare-ish version of itself, stretching her already wide smile into something inhuman. It was as if the golden flames of Albrecht shone through to who she really was.

Her forward march was halted by Cebra, the cocky ass. That little sassy wink. Amalia couldn’t help but laugh. It was hot, yeah, but also like something out of those cartoons Haru watches. Her eyes sparkled at him, watching him walk straight into hellfire. Had to admit, it was damned attractive. That kind of confidence only came around once every thousand years and, honestly, she sorely missed arrogance. Yeah, Haru was cocky, ,but he was also a coward at his core, and neither Balthazar nor Francine were warriors. Despite all their skill and power, neither of them could really understand the joy of ripping an enemy apart with your bare hands.

”If you say so, Blacksmith.” Her voice was equal parts laughing and dangerous. ”I still do not see what I am getting out of this.”

They were closer now, and the time for joking was over. With a shrug, Iris, the darkly glistening black shield, like the carapace of a beetle, was shrugged onto her arm. The smirk was back, this time without it’s humor; no, it was the look of a predator staring at it’s prey. Her eyes cast downfield, towards the gathering ensemble; even from here, the glisten of metal and weapons was obvious. To any other duo, any other warriors perhaps in history, they’d stand a chance. But unfortunately for them …

And suddenly she was off, rocks blasting behind her just as dangerous as the blade she wielded at the front end. At speeds well in excess of a safe driving speed, shield held aloft, she slammed into the barricades like a missile. The sudden explosion of plaster and mortar send their forces scattering, and Amalia took the opportunity to slice through their ranks, Albrecht flashing. To these cyborgs, even a shallow cut could prove fatal; you see, this holy blade was forged by priests to restore the natural order. These robotic monstrosities were definitely that; any cut made on them would render them unable to summon the energy to power their mechanical parts.

Two cyborgs snuck up on her, pointing their handheld weapons at her … but Amalia was faster. Her right arm whipped out, not in attack, but glowing with runes. The weapons they were holding suddenly ripped out of their hands and betrayed the owners, shooting them both between the eyes. A satisfied smirk on her face, she let the magic fade. A bead of sweat on her forehead, she spun to engage the rest of the force … only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. His finger moved, her eyes widened, and Amalia swerved to the side. The bullet cracked through the air, the supersonic vibrations rupturing her eardrum. She gave a small screech and clasped a hand to her ear. Oh, but they didn’t realize the mistake they just made. She was angry now, angrier than she had been. Curled fingers whipped out with enough force to knock the things head straight off their shoulders. This head blasted off, splattering wetly on the ground clear on the other side of the courtyard.

And now, Amalia was playing serious. Sword and shield lashed out in a flurry of destruction; nameless soldiers threw themselves against her only to fall to her blade or her flesh. She wasn’t a selfish fighter; every part of her was equally deadly, so her boots, elbows, blade and head destroyed an equal number of opponents. Soon, though, she had to withdraw; they kept coming, and she was not designed for protracted combat. A soft scoff, and then she jumped back, seemingly floating through the sky to go back to back to wherever Cebra managed to be.

”Quite tenacious, aren’t they?”