Winsome Blue/Embracing

From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

She sat on the rooftop of a building in the Warzone. Sandbags hard, rough and lifeless rested at her back. The night was chilly but the breeze passed overhead, leaving all but the top of her head undisturbed. Hair hung loose yet damp around her shoulders. Every breath came in gasps as she tried catch enough air into her lungs. Down below lay the slain Rikti. One a Mentalist and another a Headman Gunner. They'd been the ones to follow her after she'd landed amongst their number and ran when the odds were automatically seen as just too many for her to handle.

Two. Just two.

She'd felt the familiar sensation of her claws forming from the usually average, if not very talented, fingers. A growl had pierced the night air and she'd turned with full fury to her pursuers. Mental blasts slammed them as she attacked. Held up by her sheer power of mental control, the Gunner's body hung unable to fight back. A moment's hesitation and her conversation with Deus stirred inside both her heart and mind.

A part of her.

A snarl and growl and she was upon him, claws piercing the gaps where they can find them in the armor. The creature might have showed fear but Blue didn't see it. Intent on this, she didn't see anything. Except them.

With a glance to her right she lifted a hand, feeling the mentalist boring into her mind. She fought back, focusing. His.. it's?.. body flew up and slammed down hard onto the concrete slab, armor cracking with an audible sound. Slash after swipe rained down on the Gunner until he was felled, laying at her feet. He'd had only one chance to hurt her before his life was forfeit.

Turning back to the Mentalist that was rising to his feet she stood. Sweat glistened on her skin, the tank top sticking like glue to her chest. Her bandana had been lost in her fervor, the wind having caught it early on to send as if on wings the fabric she wore as an unconscious symbol of control. But control was vacant from her eyes now. Furrowing her brow she sought his mind, this foul and evil thing that had come to wreak havoc on the planet she called home. What she found was pain and confusion. The entryway was small and it took all her focus to pry in. But he fought back just as hard.

They stood there, both determined and not moving. A war in the mind. But her heart raced and overtaking her was that anger and sorrow that needed more release than tears. A growlish scream and she let down her mental attack, knowing it'd leave her with minimal defense. Every ounce was thrust into her legs and her hands, propelling her forward. Feet left the ground as she flew into his body. An inch was all he moved, his strength far superior to hers by the sheer mass and training he'd had. She was close and on top of him, clinging. There was no purchase for her claws. Where she'd found the nooks of the Gunner, not here. Not with this one. She was too close for him to use his sword so it was tossed away in favor of his hands taking a firm hold on her.

It looked much like a child fighting an adult and she knew it. Rage. A burst of mental energy caused the Rikti to stumble and let go of her. Swallow. Breath. Her chest ached where he'd gripped, sharp pains shooting through her back.

Against these had been the wrong choice, the wrong decision. Eyes going blue she brought forth to bear all her mental strength and it was enough. Eventually he lay dead at her feet. A stoic look on her face she rose, making it to the roof before collapsing.

And there she sat.

It hadn't helped. For a moment she'd felt it but it hadn't helped. That ache inside was still raw and real and fresh.

Pushing herself up she wobbled a little before teleporting directly into the D, being only there for a few minutes as she made her way out and to St. Martial. Once there she knew exactly where she was going. Mendant Industries. She'd been watching them discretely for the last few months. Her suspicions had born fruit only days ago but amid Zarp and Iggy and everything there'd been no time to act on what she'd discovered. Kevin Krane. Or rather the mention of him.

The blood in her veins pulsed, every thump like the piercing of a gunshot against every bruise the Rikti had given her. Vanguard medics could have used the reclimators to make her whole as they did so often for those who fought the invaders. But she'd bypassed it, foregoing treatment in order to fulfill the confusion inside of her.

Eyes watched in the shadows. Blue's eyes.

Revenge. Hunting. Prey. Anger. Sorrow. Pain.

Each word encompassing a thousand feelings, a billion heartaches and hopes.

She hovered internally on the precipice. No. The word was simple and said only to herself. It forced its way to her lips in a near gasp so soft the air barely stirred.

The men and women in front of her...

Turning away she flew once again to Vanguard, letting the medics work on her wounds.

A smile spread to her face as she laughed and flirted with the young men in the medbay. Behind that mask lay turmoil but the mask was seamless.