The thin, dark haired girl faced the three statuesque brawlers with no fear on her face, or the little bit of it that could be seen under her domino mask. She stood almost primly, like a well trained ballerina, ramrod straight and prime on the tip of her toes. Her expression was deadly serious, and all of her attention was focused on the men looming over her. She didn't tremble or shake, or even breathe deeply.
She looked slightly ridiculous, like a little girl dressing up in her mother's old clothes. The black leotard she wore hung off her lithe frame. Her hands, face, and feet were uncovered, and she was completely unarmed. The men were equally still and tense. No one moved.
She was waiting...waiting for a sign or a signal.
One of the muscled men made a reflex-a quick swallow, and a blink that was too fast for the eye to see-but she saw it. When he lunged for her, fist balled and swinging for her collar bone, she was ready for him. She grabbed his hand in her own dainty ones as it moved for her neck and flung herself between his legs, tightening her body like a bow string and becoming a human trip wire for the second man who had leapt for her. He flew over her body headfirst into the wall, hitting it with a meaty smack and stunning himself.
The girl still held onto the first man's hand. He straightened and started to pull her into his body and lift her into the air in an enormous and deadly bear hug, determined to crush the life out of her. His biceps flexed, and her feet hung off the floor, but she suddenly threw her neck backwards with startling force and slammed the back of her head into the bridge of his nose, breaking it and his hold. She grabbed his other wrist and twisted down and outward, snapping it cleanly.
The man reeled back and yelled, dropping her to the floor. She fell and crouched on all fours as gracefully as a Siamese cat. The man held his limp wrist to his nose, which was pouring blood from both nostrils like a sink, and came after her again, roaring. The girl flipped herself backward and exploded into a powerful handspring that brought her heel into his face, shattering his jaw and shoving his ruined nose far into his brain. His face crumpled inward and he fell like a stone, dead before he hit the floor. Fresh gouts of blood mixed with lumpy grey matter spilled from the break.
The second man that had flown into the wall had straightened and came for her, throwing heavy punches. The girl dodged them like they were raindrops, avoiding his attacks deftly for a little while as he swung and jabbed. Suddenly, she darted forward and landed three punches on his face so fast and so hard that the cracks of impact blurred together. The first two causes bruises to blossom immediately, but on the third, her pointer finger flicked out and curled before she pulled her fist back, followed by a spurt of bright red that coated her hand.
The big man howled and stumbled back, one eye hanging loose from it's socket. His scream was cut short as she chopped him in the neck with the side of her hand, but before she could hit him again he grabbed her shoulder and flung her away into the wall. She seemed to float as he did so, defying gravity itself as she met and kicked herself off the wall, bouncing back to him like a rubber ball. Her momentum carried her upwards, and she landed on his back. He whirled and twisted, but she hooked her leg around his throat and let herself fall to the ground in a dizzying spiral.
His spine broke and snapped like dry twigs, loud and final. She kicked him away, his neck hanging at an impossible angle, and crouched low in time to avoid a bullet aimed right at her skull. The third man had removed a pistol from his holster, and he was aiming it dead in the middle of her forehead. She skipped away as a spray of bullets chased her around the room, slamming into the walls and just barely missing her. One clipped her thigh, but she didn't flinch. The mirrors that had been reflecting the battle shattered and fell in deadly sharp pieces. The girl swooped one up and chucked it like a throwing knife with deadly accuracy. The shard of glass glittered as it flew through the air before it lodged itself in the man's throat. His gun fell from his fingers as he sank to his knees, gurgling softly as be drowned in his own blood, and then there was silence.
The girl watched him die coolly, waiting until she was sure she had seen the last of the light fade from his eyes before she stood and looked around the training room, still tight and tense, hardly even breathing hard. The slightest glimmer of sweat shone on her neck and forehead, and she was spattered with blood that pooled in shiny, rancid puddles at her feet. She wiped her hands on her clothes and turned to the back wall, where a large scoreboard hung suspended. Numbers appeared, red and blaring- 96. The girl cursed and kicked the empty gun across the room in anger.
"He's being nice, you know. You did get shot, after all."
The girl spun around to face the shadowy figure that had appeared in the corner, but instead of attacking it, she snorted and waved the comment away. "Whatever, Robin. I didn't get shot-it barely grazed me. He cheated me." The other figure moved away from the wall and into the light, showing itself to be a lean, handsome boy of the same age with toussled black hair and wearing an identical mask over his eyes, clad in sweaty and blood stained exercise gear. Robin smirked and put a hand on her shoulder. He was almost two inches taller than her, but up close they were like mirror images of each other. "Aw, don't be sour, Wren. I was only two points ahead of you. Your timing was better. If that bullet hadn't hit you, you would have beaten me. He knows that." His teeth showed in a wide smile. "I liked how you used the glass...that was pretty aster."
Wren smiled and undid her black hair, wringing it out. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for being nice. That was pretty easy, though...those guys were really stupid. I wish it had been more of a challenge. They barely whelmed me."
Her brother suddenly winced and sighed, rubbing at the edge of his mask. His smile faded. "Yeah, well...you're about to get your wish. We have an assignment, and he wants to see us right away." Wren stilled and glanced at him, all of the joking tone leaving her voice. "Did he say what it was this time?"
Robin shook his head, tense and fearful. "He didn't say anything, only to get you when you were done and report. Immediately." he stressed. Wren gulped noisily and took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well...I'm done. He did say immediately."
Seeing the fear that she was trying to hide, Robin grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles briefly before letting go. She smiled at him weakly, then let his hand slip away. Both of them stepped over the fallen bodies and exited the room without a backward glance.