London Bridge is falling down (Bastille)

[Gabriel Seran]

My Fair Lady….

Walking down the pavement early than morning hearing the song over and over again brought a humored smile to Gabriel’s face. Remembering the epic rivalry his forefathers had held against the British and how it would most certainly still is continued on today even if it was on a secret level. The EU was to blame for this peace now. He strolled down the market place evading the hungry vendors always cashing in for a tourist’s attention to buy their smuggled goods. Gabriel had been around the location long enough to get a feel for the underground, his corporation had suffered losses earlier on and now he’d returned to the streets to reacquaint himself.

An entire night spent in the alleyways, as not so innocent businesses budgets got pressed across his face, reading them over ever so carefully tracking the revenues he needed to pull off his expenditures. Now it was time to move up, to the corporate level, their market was a more refined place on the rich side of town. A club of sorts they fancied high living standards and fanciful expenses. Gabriel was already eating out of their pockets; nearly half of their gains went to his underground network. He was able to eat up sales without much need to check in on them. However today was important, a member had defected on his payments and there needed to be made an example of him.

Gabriel entered the boardroom around noon; he held a meeting with the other members discussing their future investments. Little things like would coke become the next Pepsi. Investments that would aid them in the long run. After the meeting Gabriel had cleared the room to have a word with the sniveling man, his size made Gabriel wonder if he deserved such a lesson, in fact he pitied the creature.

Moments inside passed without much notice, Gabriel reappeared with a rapier in had the tip had blood covering it, and he simply wiped it clean and sheathed the blade before heading out again to the armory hall. Surely he could get rid of this pent up rage on some helpless swordsmen.

[Bastille]

Silver hair braided to match the silver eyes. She preferred platinum blonde as the color of either but everyone told her it was indeed silver despite her stubbornness. She wore glasses and stood firm next to two more comfortable looking girls. Conrad Weller, aka Conrad Vaude’mont of the 6th division infantry, and Amy, or better known as computer god moder of the world, where the girls standing by her side. Both where top agents in the Amalgam ranks and Bastille was almost there in the ready…only one more year of high school and she would be in the ranks and vice captain of the 13th squadron. Her own team for she herself to create, of course only she would know they all where members of an organization called amalgam. Anyone who had subordinates knew, but of course the subordinates never knew, they would always think it was just some down to earth small group with the captain being the only boss. However today they all looked like normal girls waiting in the ally for the other two final members to join. The other captains where back at head quarters upon the high technology submarine aircraft called simple “Jerries place”, Jerry being the main computer mainframes name. the actually name of the programming had been called Jeeves and that was where they had gotten Jerry.

Conrad was a taller girl, with strawberry blonde hair down her mid back braided only at the end and a very unique style that mixed gothic pop culture with ancient Japanese style. Amy was simple, she wore little girl dresses with tons of frills and her hair only tied back in the back with a giant red bow. Tresse’ Kondo the third girl with silver hair and eyes wore a yellow sun dress and a matching yellow scarf around her neck. She looked nervous as she fiddled with her specs. Obviously being off the main ship was giving her jitters. Suddenly heels clacked on the ground.

“why again are we meeting in the middle of a fencing demonstration..?!” she said angrily. Tresse, who was so startled her glasses tumbled to the ground, went to find them. Conrad smirked and pulled a fake trigger to a gun which Bastille could only smirk to while amy gave back attitude.

“simple...we came to deliver this…we will see you next week at the usual club” she said and then turned to leave Conrad fleeing as well. Tresse found her glasses and smiled at Bastille. “I look forward t have you back captain” she said and then trotted after the others as if they where her life line. Bastille grumbled Homi coming up behind her and taking the brown parcel from her hands.

“what’s this?” Homi asked curiously…

Bastille shrugged. “I missed my fencing match for that?!”

[Gabriel Seran]

Gabriel’s strides from the board room as he marched towards the armory he came across a group of fleeing figures each decorated with their own corks. He paid little mind as he entered the armory and suited up for a duel.

Bitter still Gabriel walked at a fast pace towards the ring all suited in the appropriate gear they matched you with, facemask included. It fit well enough to hide his persona the only quality standing out were the shimmering glimpses of emerald eyes poking out against the black fabric sheathing his face. Walking by he hadn’t even noticed her, Gabriel was more intent upon doing harm unto an armed foe.

Standing within the ring, time ticked by persistently cooing at him. One, two, three deep breaths and time didn’t matter he pounced flawlessly across the ring pinpointing three quick jabs onto his foes chest. The strikes left deep imprints on his suit showing the desperate force behind them. He was out already. Gabriel paced the field irritated.

“Next!” He said loudly in the apparent French accent, awaiting the next foe to cross him in such a mood.

[Bastille]

Sword clashes. The sound never missed Bastilles ears. She turned…a door...behind it. Crimson hues darkened even deeper as she entered the door. As if her mind was on autopilot, the sound turned her curiosity in such a way she could not resist. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Homi to stumble around behind her. The girl stopped at the door.

“Bastille…hello!” she called. Bastille turned a little wide eyed. She blinked and shook her head. “sorry Homs’ didn’t have my mind there all the way...lets get back ok…?” She said quietly then suddenly her eyes turned to face another clank. Her hand gripped the rapier at her side, its ancient hilt cleans as if made yesterday. She turned to Homi as if using her to find the answer to her curiosity.

“MAN I CANNOT BELIEVE HIM…HE JUST UP AND KILLED HIM THERE…that’s no way to justify anger..” the obviously new recruit said as he stormed out the door. Bastilles eyes narrowed and she tossed an unnoticed coin to block the door from closing behind them. They looked shocked to see people in the ally. Bastille smiled cutely while Homi put on the charm naturally. They blinked and stammered a minute.

“who uh, what are you guys doing back here?” the one guy asked while the other looks suspicious of the two. Bastille ignored him. Homi smiled.

“waiting for friends…I didn’t know it wasn’t just our spot...sorry to block your business sir we will go this way and wait on the actual street then” she said pulling Bastilles arm. Bastille sighed and walked back with her and stood behind her. The two men shook their heads and left but Bastille was back at the door in a second pulling it open.

“Go home Homi…ill see you later” she said and walked in the door. Wearing a pencil skirt and black pumps she looked like a sexy business woman, and she got the looks of one as she walked in. Assassins used their body as a tool, Bastille was no different. She ducked into a hall way following the clanking of the swords. So this was some kind of underground business then…whatever she would find the fencer.

She found the room quickly enough as one padded man walked out of the room complaining his chest would be bruised from how hard the jibes had hit him. Bastilles hands clutched her own blade as the men looked at her awkwardly. They had never seen her, but obviously with the blade she had a purpose for entering the room. Bastille walked in ignoring the looks and then with one kick flipped onto a near by chair, standing on the back of it as she looked down on the scene. OHHHHHH….kukukukuku…

‘so this is where the frenchie works…’

She almost burst into evil laughter. The ages long struggle lived in her, French where French. It was a description word now. She would cross her arms watching the new guy enter to try and take on the part of anger vent. Her laughter however came from her lips before she could stop it. People looked up at her all confused as to who, and better yet why she was there. It wasn’t hard for the ex assassin to get in really…

“kukukukukuku….really now…so this is where the French keep their white flags, careful now don’t blood stain it…god forbid Japan thinks your making fun of them…oh and it seems napoleon is the king of the heap…tell me boya have you gotten any taller or is your ego still to big for your tiny head to quite handle…?” she smirked darkly.

[Gabriel Seran]

The newest fighter to face him didn’t last as long as the one before him either. They were beginning to drop irritatingly like flies and that didn’t help either. The fire in his chest grew stronger urging for fiercer competition it all seemed irritatingly repetitive, parry, swoop, and stab all the same motion. One after another they dropped. They finally slowed to the head of the organization he was a skilled fighter but easily distracted and was proved all the better when he left his guard open staring at some women entering from the side.

Abrupt evil laughter broke out amongst the small hall and the fighters seemed utterly distracted by the sexy business looking woman who Gabriel had familiarity with. It would seem as if she was out to insult his culture again…figures. Yet as of this moment he was sheathed behind the mask becoming just another person.

“kukukukukuku….really now…so this is where the French keep their white flags, careful now don’t blood stain it…god forbid Japan thinks you’re making fun of them…oh and it seems napoleon is the king of the heap…tell me boya have you gotten any taller or is your ego still too big for your tiny head to quite handle…?” she smirked darkly.

Gabriel saw those crimson eyes gleam with enjoyment at his distaste for the joke, or at least that’s how some would take it. Though Gabriel had enough of the foul play at his expense things were changing at this school and he’d certainly start by wiping off that amused smile on Bastille’s face.

It took but a moment and his mask was off revealing emerald eyes pinned at causing irreparable damage to Bastille whatever the cost.

“You, Me, duel now!” He summoned from across the room as he tossed the mask aside standing at attention. His original fighting style now abandoned for a new kind of swordplay. Tight white guards shielded much of his body still and the only flashes of color was that of his face and the reflection of the blade.

[Bastille]

“oh so I was right then….it is you napoleon…don’t let your superiority complex get to the best of you…” she continued. Good the madder, the better…the more the fire nipped at his insides she could use her special maneuvering to probably kick up his game. She could tell they where still on pretty equal terms which meant this would probably end in a tie. Either way it would be fun. Her eyes glinted orange from the contacts and she kicked off the back of the chair she was on and into the ring landing and her hair falling out of its neat braid around her shoulders. She stood up and unsheathed her sword and flicked her hair dramatically out of her face. Smirking darkly she threw the sheath to the side and smirked.

“shall we begin……on guard!” she pointed her sword forward then flicked it out to her side waiting for him to begin the match. She would not make the first move, she was determined for that. Homi had followed her into the building and was now sitting at the edge of the crowd.

“of course she goes and gets into a fight…Bastille…the meat loaf is in the oven…make this quick”

“I hate meatloaf” Bastille mused to her aloud as if bored with her presence.

[Gabriel Seran]

“Oh so I was right then….it is you napoleon…don’t let your superiority complex get to the best of you…”

Gabriel met her gaze as he did a fancy maneuver with his own blade flinging it loosely in his grip, he’d been training intensely since their last encounter where they were fairly even at that point there was no way she could match him now, unless of course she’d found her own training methods. His emerald gaze tracked her motion as she released her hair and unsheathed her blade, now the dance began. He flicked his sword up at attention.

“Shall we begin……on guard!” she pointed her sword forward then flicked it out to her side waiting for him to begin the match

He obliged, as he’d come to notice that her flaw in situations like this, Bastille lacked the strength to make the first strike, always a follower, that’s what she was to him everything he’d seen her do never at the front always second best…

“of course she goes and gets into a fight…Bastille…the meat loaf is in the oven…make this quick”

Gabriel’s attention didn’t flutter but apparently Bastille had her own company who was already assured of her victory, if he’d laugh this once it’d be his doom he couldn’t let the guard down. Gabriel crossed the small circle with ease using the length of his blade once more to jab at her heart then recoil and defend completing a fanciful bout of parries.

[Bastille]

Bastille had also been training, and her ability to read movements was insanely better then before. She knew her one defense against him now would be to simply read his moves. She would have to make her one move strong and quick, every move she made would have to be full forced and sporadic. She would keep to the defense. She knew her injuries in the last months had slowed her down so much she was rather behind. She would end this before it was a total loss though…she knew frenchie was better then her…but she also knew...she didn’t care.

She was catching up, and quicker then most. She wasn’t far behind him either. She had already earned the title of “Espada de Eclipse” or Sword of the Eclipse. It was an elite title people like her received…those who fought for a master. That’s right, Bastille would always be second best, always serving the master she chose. Right now she served Blaze willingly as well as Amtrum so that he may train her so she might earn the title of a Dragon someday. For now, she wouldn’t concentrate on that…just give this poor dude enough fight to help him vent then kick up some leaves and poof right on out of there. They would leave it at a tie and she was determined to get that outcome. Winning was not an option for her right now…though once again, she didn’t rightly care. Maybe that was her problem…she rarely gave a crap.

Anyway…he was attacking now. She took her sword up in a rather slow motion but ironically with one swift flick it was able to throw his sword off to the side. She was determined to get this on the offensive fast. She would clash her sword to each of his jabs thrusting his sword away each time. All she had going for her was her ability to completely predict his movements, and her speed was enough to get her out of the way in the nick of time most the time. One of his jabs hit her hair and she blinked clashing again.

“hey watch it, I just got a hair cut!” she said ignoring his boring attitude. Anger really was so dull these days. She would then block another but this time slide her sword down his as she moved into his range. Hopefully he didn’t pull back but she would go for a lower diagonal cut across the body, his sword was longer then hers and if she could get into his box long enough to pull out a few close range attacks she might be able to do some damage. She would make this quick.

As soon as she got past the tip of his sword she would go full speed towards him going for the diagonal cut and then a upward kick with her right foot while her sword came back around and came down. She would continue to spend most of her time trying to stay inside his box and with in the inner length of his sword. Her own sword spending probably more time blocking then actually going for swings or blunt hilt hits…But she would block his attacks. Weather or not any of her own hit was a mystery at the moment but only think in the present.

[Gabriel Seran]

His strikes would come much faster than those of their previous duel, last time he wasn’t fast enough but now he had adjusted to the power of speed and what it meant in a battle, it honored him that she’d been the one to teach him that method, he was hoping to learn something new here but still there was only so much one could learn from that.

“Hey watch it, I just got a hair cut!” she said as Gabriel’s blade brushed her hair. He let out a small grin, he wasn’t angry now he was humored, he wanted to fight her the only thing that’d calmed his nerves since the day began a good excretion for the day.

Her blade came full force into him, a movement back but he returned with the same force as their blades clasped in close. Gabriel kept pressure on the blade so that she couldn’t release it lest she get hit by the blade. He had an eager grin on his face ready to press her back with his newly attained strength, if she wanted a close quarter fight he’d press her back into a corner and close off all escape. She brought her leg up to kick him which he clasped with a free hand losing a yard on the offensive match of his blade. Forcing the weight to shift towards him.

Gabriel couldn’t allow losing momentum not now. He delivered a head butt with her leg clasped under his arm blades still locked in tight.

“Don’t be too overconfident…” He said in a mentorship voice now, all the anger was seeping from him, now confused on why he was helping her out…

[Bastille]

Seeing his go for the head-butt and butting her head back at him. At least the double inertia meeting each other would keep too much pain from boggling her sense of thought. Swords gritted together and her crimson eyes caught a few of the sparks. The way his muscles moved, this was going to be a close battle.

“thanks for the tip, but I already know your stronger, faster, and more durable then I am…im only lasting on wits here” she said it with a sigh and a bored smile.

She would let him back her in a corner but so much so he would have to stay in close range if he wanted to get at her. Whatever he did she would press herself against the wall and with as much force as she could muster lifted her other leg in a swift motion to turn in a jerky fashion to her right, twisting her whole body and bringing her other leg to kick into his side or sword to get him away. If it worked she would then touch the ground again only to kick off and use the wall as another push point jumping up and over him and backing away for a moment of recoup before he began another onslaught. She would circle him breathing slightly heavily. His muscles moved in the way a classic fencing masters did without the help of gymnastics or any other form of dance incorporated…stiff yet quick.

This made them even easier to predict, but like it was said earlier…predicting his movements was all she had going for her and so far he had a few blunt hits to her arms. She was not coming out of this unscathed. She thanked the lucky stars she was still wearing her black pumps.

If it didn’t work she would keep their sword grid locked and then go for a second onslaught with forcing back her legs weather he was attached or not and go to use them to push him away by kicking him at full force. She would then duck down and go for another all out onslaught of forward and diagonal cuts as well as blocking his. His speed and strength where much better then his, but her ability to predict his movements helped her find not only openings of his to be able to use her strength to actually get damage but to also dodge his speed in just enough time to save herself damage. But something she was worried about…his durability would out last her any day… this fight would maybe only last another 30 minutes before she decided to call it quits and just leave.

[Gabriel Seran]

“thanks for the tip, but I already know your stronger, faster, and more durable then I am…I’m only lasting on wits here” she said it with a sigh and a bored smile.

Gabriel returned with an angered face, “Why are you doing this? Telling me this all, never let your foe know your weaknesses, at the very least bluff.” He thrust her back angrily, his voice in the tone a guardian’s would trying to harness her strengths and weakness to use them to win.

He pressed her up into a corner which she turned into her strength by kicking at the blade making Gabriel lower it for but a moment before bringing it back up to defend himself once more as she made her way around him. The dance began as they’re movements circled one another before another rallying strike began once more. Rather this time Bastille would go to kick him with her heels, an odd maneuver as far as he could tell as Gabriel brought his blade up into the indent within the shoe twisting it slightly as to disrupt her balance then he’d back away fear her devilish onslaught to come. Seeing it come or pass would change the course of events as he would lean forward for another strike, his breath wasn’t quite as heavy, throughout the entire fight he’d yet to move but three feet only moving her around as to tire her down and it seemed to be working out well.

[Bastille]

Bastille smirked. ‘that’s it...get angry….’ Her mind crooned and suddenly her smirk became devilish. She raised her sword to be behind her as if she would be striking in an up to down motion however she only let it fall further behind her as she leaned back leaving her full front open. But anyone who was a fencer knew better then to attack, this would let her bring down her blade any direction she wished. It was just fancy foot work. She would then let it drop and turn grasping the blade doing a full circle and letting her blade clash with his.

She had meant to clash their blades and grit them as she slid them so their hilt would lock together. Weather it worked or not, well…it was how fast Gabriel decided he wanted to move. Bastille would then switch hands on the blade turning into his chest as if in a dance. With her back pressed to his chest she would then grab his other hand gently with hers. It was more like a ballet move then it was an actual fencing maneuver or much less attack. This position would prevent him from attacking as long as she gridded their hilts together and held onto his other hand.

However if he moved she would then abort the attack and go for a full blocking, resorting to nothing but blocking.

[Gabriel Seran]

Bastille faced across from him as he saw the opening he hesitated. Normally he wouldn’t but he knew how good of a fencer she was from past experience there was more to it than that. The blade dropped as she performed a dancelike move around it. He watched patiently for her blade to move, it would be in a direction he couldn’t detect so he’d have to wait till the last instant before striking else he’d be struck down. And there it was she came at him and Gabriel returned with the block, he hadn’t realized that was her desired move. She turned into his chest as if it were a ballet. An odd move which he felt a bit flattered to be a part of. E leaned in against her providing the friction. Their blades intertwined and would not come apart. Bastille even made sure she held onto his other hand as well. Now it was a dance as Gabriel forced each of the blades down directing them into the carpet so they’d be stuck. Holding he would be easy enough as he gently gripped her palms letting her lead. Is this what the fight had become a dance, but wasn’t that what a fight was just a dance…

[Bastille]

She would let go of her blade. A evil smirk crossing her lips so ridiculously cliché it was almost bone chilling to see. Her crimson eyes closed and she began to resort to the training she had learned not only from Amtrum but other various arts she had modified into her style. This wasn’t her most special technique but it was rather…one she didn’t use very often, for it only really worked with fencers or blade users. Gunmen had no use to clash their weapon with another.

Her hand would take into his and she would swing herself out turning. As she turned she would whip herself fast but gently enough so he could keep a hold of her hand until she would turn back in but she would lift her leg up at the last few seconds giving it ultimate inertia and go to slam it into his gut if she could. If not she would continue anyway going to grab him where the sun didn’t exactly shine and give that a firm grinding flick of her wrist. She would kick up both swords into the hair using her heel and go to grab both weather he let go or not.

Her movements however violent and powerful they where, always stayed graceful like in a dance. For it was true, what was a war but a dance between to countries, what was a lesson but a dance between two minds, and what was a duel but a dance between two blade bearers. Her crimson eyes would almost glow at the way things where turning out, however she continued to neglect any questions she was asked.

[Gabriel Seran]

Gabriel couldn’t quite see where this was headed; in fact he had contemplated whether this was turning out to be a fight at all. His body would show that laxity, that calm completion of focus. Though his mind was hardened and expected retaliation. In her movements, Bastille signaled to twirl and Gabriel moved to lead her there not giving her an inch of leniency to make for the swords. That changed however when an unexpected tug released their presence and she moved to kick him in the gut with those heels. Without hesitation Gabriel moved to clasp her ankle so that he was inches away from stomach surgery, in the same motion he turned his wrists to spin her in mid-air.

If she were to yield Gabriel wouldn’t hesitate to pin her where she lie, he’d fought her enough times to know that Bastille used open space to her advantage. Whereas if she somehow attained control of her motions Gabriel would make swiftly to put himself in front of the swords shielding them away from her grasp.