His body feels weak and off, but he steels himself. He needs all of his strength for this fight, and he focuses his mind to the task of overcoming his body's sickness.
He eyes the kid with the spiky dark pony tail carefully. Darting his eyes to the cloth at his hip. He doesn't know what the significance of the swirly pattern on that plate means, but it's definitely different that the blocky mark that he's seen so far. It marks the guy as different. Special. And the mass of wreathing shadows beneath him can only mean one thing:
Of all of them -- of all the homulculi-- Pride!! Ed thinks, and as the spiky haired boy raises his hands in mock surrender, Ed just moves. The equation shines briefly in his mind as he slaps his left palm to his right forearm, the rushing flow draining him a bit, but by some miracle, he keeps his steps steady.
In this crowd of people, he's the only one that can take the shadow freak down, now while its many eyes are closed. He has to break its container fast and hard before it can take hostages, or kill to add lives to itself.
He charges, lifting his right fist, ignoring the wave of dizziness from his pounding head.
The sudden force of the wind, strong enough to bowel over his not-small! frame is certainly a surprise.
His bare skin stings from thousands of shallow scrapes, and instinct forces him to somehow direct just where his tumbling body will land. His muscles in his shoulders wrench from the effort, and he knows its a bad thing. He won't feel the pain from the exertion just yet, and he manages a bone jarring landing on his rubbery hands and knees.
He hears a familiar voice barking out words in that language he can't understand, and catches glimpses of a really cool green mask worn a dark haired woman. He also can see the flash of a metal plate at her throat which proves the lady's one of them.
It takes a moment for the air to return to his lungs, and though his arms quiver, Ed pushes himself back onto his wobbling feet. Blood drains from his cheeks as he flicks his eyes to the rooftops, knowing he's done something stupid and foolish in his sickly daze.
Feeling more like himself in what seems like weeks, he realizes that he's completely in the open, which therefore means he is absolutely vulnerable to more than the threat of the homulculi before him.
Guns. Snipers. I won't even know they're there-- if they're there. He thinks and swallowed his dust filled saliva. If they wanted me dead.. I would be already.
He breathes in and out, hyper aware of the slightest movement around him.
---ooo---
Shikamaru widens his eyes at the golden haired boy raising himself from the dust.
The rags of the hospital's shorts are the only garment remaining on his pale thin frame, revealing angry swollen red wounds along the left chest and biceps. Shika frowns at the many tattoos in plain view, placed on the belly, chest, biceps... Roughly everywhere he knows major chakra points are supposed to be located.
The eye-catching left leg shines in the setting sun as the last of the concealing bandages fall into the dust, and even through Shika already knew of the leg's existence, he still finds himself impressed. The boy hadn't limped in his charge, after all. A red fluid dribbles down the boy's chin and beyond, and Shika warily watches him swipe at his bleeding nose with the back of his left hand.
As he sees position four land behind the target, Shika notes that the boy's right has some sort of dark, highly articulated gauntlet strapped to it, and wonders if that was the dark thing that his chakra knife struck moments ago.
Shikamaru's gaze meets the fever bright golden eyes that are set in a furious scowl.
"The slavers you caught were eliminated before they could reveal much." Shika says to position three, a statement, not a question.
"It was unfortunate, yes." Position three replies. "Can we get on with this?"
Shikamaru makes no remark, but remembers the slavers were supposedly moving constantly around Wind. Which made them harder to catch. Moving like the travelers, right? He thinks. From that assignment years ago. Having to do with the stone of Gelel thing? Whoever they were, they had to have had him for a while, and maybe they were switching from narcotics to something more long term. Like seals.
"What a drag. Looks like they had as much trouble getting him cooperative as your mednins.." Shikamaru mutters.
"And your point?"
The target sways, and slightly turns his head. He doesn't stiffen, but rolls and straightens his shoulders.
Position four and three move as one: three reaching into her pack, while four dives forward.
Red lightening sparks and dances across pale skin. The target moves, rolling back and savagely crashes both heels into the chin of position four.
"Get back! He's not masking his chakra! " Shikamaru calls out belatedly.
The target tosses position four with his feet, straight into the path of three's tossed sebon needles.
Red lightening arcs again as the target moves, rolling smoothly back to his feet. Shikamaru blinks as the infected wounds vanish, as if healed. The boy staggers a step, looking over at the slumped body of position four. Shikamaru narrows his eyes, wondering if he was imagining the target appearing even more pale and feverish than moments before.
"Dis fukken shitu glirr!" The target says, voice so thickly accented that Shika barely made sense of the curse. The boy then glares his way.
"He's not using chakra at all!" Shikamaru continued. "He can't. See those tattoos?"
"What about 'em?" Three snapped over her shoulder as she began to warily circle the target, a kunai in each hand. The target's eyes slide her way, face stony and decidedly unimpressed.
"I'm no expert, but they're similar to some I've seen back home. I think they're chakra seals."
"Chakra seals.." The target and three circle one another, both in some sort of taijutsu fighting stance. Shikamaru wasn't exactly an expert at taijustsu, either.
"If I'm right. His chakra is sealed beyond use. He shouldn't be breathing, much less..." Shikamaru says, pausing as he sees the target makes a face, squeezes his golden eyes closed, and mutter in a language that Shikamaru has never heard.
"Yeah. Got it." Three lunges forward, pressing the advantage.
---oooo---
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
No comments:
Post a Comment