AN:

So this is my second chapter today! Yay for me! But anyway, here's some action. I hope this pushes the story a little further along as to what it will be more like in the future. Enjoy!

Ch. 4

"Don't move!" he shouted again.

"I'm not moving," I replied as coolly as I could in the situation.

At moments like these, I seriously reconsidered the choices that I made that got me here. I sighed inwardly, which was another thing I seemed to be doing a lot of as of late. I took another long look at this infantryman and saw that he shook ever so slightly. If I could see his face properly I might have been able to tell if he was afraid or not. I wasn't so entirely sure that he was scared or even angry, all I knew was that he was shaking.

Then I remembered something that Zack Fair had told me as I signed up. "I know you new recruits could be nervous, but c'mon, are you that scared of me?" Maybe this guy was a new recruit? I was still in the dark about all of the finer details of Shin-Ra and its recruitment system. He seemed young and eager to please whoever his commander was. Maybe he was trying to not screw something up. Maybe he was like me…

Nah, I mentally chastised myself. No one was quite so reckless and stupid as I had to have been doing something like this. I snapped myself out of my thoughts enough to realize that maybe this guy didn't think I was so dangerous. He lowered his gun so that the barrel was mostly downward, mostly. He eyes ran up and down my small-ish frame and slight build. His head swung gently back and forth, as though he couldn't believe that I stood in front of him. A smile broke out on his face and he laughed. He laughed. I have never wanted to punch someone so much in all of my short fifteen years as I wanted to punch this random infantryman.

"What are you laughing at?!" I glared angrily at him.

"There's no way," he snorted.

"There's no way what?" I spat out at him.

At this point I had lowered my voice enough to where I was almost sure that no one would be able to tell that I was a girl. He continued to laugh, despite my apparent anger. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what he was laughing at. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. My mother always said that if you were to count down from ten that you would be able to calm yourself down enough to handle the situation. I seemed to have failed miserably, though, because, right when he had finished the last fit of giggles that I'm sure only a teenage boy could manage, I walked up to him to hit him squarely on the back of the head.

He rocked forward a small portion with the weight of my slap and his helmet fell off. He looked up at me from his crouched position, confused that I had the guts to smack him. Boys will be boys my ass, I thought, irritated. Although I didn't have siblings, I would not put up with that sort of crap from anybody. He then rose to his full height and looked down at me. He had to be at least a full foot taller than I was.

"What did you smack me for, you little brat?" He questioned fiercely.

I elevated my gaze to look him dead in the eyes. "You were laughing at me," I said. I knew that if I backed down now that I wouldn't be able to regain my confidence with this guy. I'd watched enough brawls break out among guys in the worse parts of the slums, and most of the fights were won by confidence and quick thinking, not pure strength. Or, at least, that's what I had convinced myself of, and I wasn't going to try and change that notion now. So I swelled my chest as much as I could, the binding cutting into my skin a bit, and raised my shoulders to come to my full height before this infantryman. I saw his dark brown eyes widen a fraction at the unspoken challenge and his curly bangs slipped into his line of sight as he tossed the gun away. He backed up a hair's breadth so that he could drop into a stronger stance and he put up his fists in a not-so-welcoming gesture of a fight. Boys are so predictable, I kicked myself mentally for smacking him. Should have thought that one through. Great job, Shields.

"Already making new friends, I see," someone commented behind the infantryman.

I looked at the new addition to our little party and heard the hunter hound growl suspiciously at the new figure that had entered. I had no time to register who it was though, because my "new friend" had thrown a nasty haymaker of a punch toward my facial area. I dodged just in time to see a front-snap kick come my way. I wasn't so lucky that time and received a full-force kick right to the chest. The makeshift bindings were not exactly helpful in me regaining my air. I bit down hard on my cheek to keep from squealing like a little girl, even though I was.

The infantryman so kindly gave me time to get to my feet before he started another onslaught of basic attacks. I dodged most of them, only getting hit once or twice. Then I started to fight back. I wasn't about to be kicked out of the running now because of some haughty guy.

I focused hard on the fight in front of me, looking for something to use to my advantage against one so much bigger than me. I didn't find anything of immediate use, so I used my knowledge and what smarts I had to fight back.

I noticed that my "new friend" was favoring his weight to his left foot so that he could throw more violent kicks from his dominant leg. I also noticed that he had an increasing affinity for haymaker punches, but that these punches, although powerful, did not have speed. I used this information as best I could.

I was his exact opposite. I used my small stature and speed to counteract his punches with smaller, more aimed jabs to his abdomen. He soon felt the effects of such a fight and switched to mostly using kicks and other techniques that wouldn't leave his sides open to my jabs. We circled each other like wild animals about to fight over the last piece of meat for a while, neither one of wanting to make the first move of the round. I took an opportunity and a chance and rushed forward. As I expected he threw another haymaker punch as an immediate reaction to my rush. I dodged and slid down on my knees, and in true slum fighting fashion, punched him square in the stomach as I swept his feet out from underneath him.

He landed on his back, and the air that may have been left in his lungs after my punch rushed out of him now. I stood and panted a little bit. It seemed to have been getting increasingly harder to breathe. I realized, a moment too late, that my chest binds were too tight, that I had been wearing them for too long. I stumbled towards the automatic sliding doors of the Lv. 49 training room. I very vaguely remember hearing someone call out to me before I blacked out.