Hello all! Sorry this is so late: I planned on posting earlier tonight and then slept for five hours instead of the twenty minutes that I was intending on sleeping. Anyway, here is the latest chapter! It's an epic one, so I hope you enjoy it. *heart*
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Chapter 7
Warship
Korra shifted a bit to the side, allowing her actions to be her only reply. Fire was burning inside of her, its red flames filling her center. She drew on them and inhaled to steady herself. She took down over ten of them already; she was more than ready for just one more.
What she wasn't prepared for was how fast he was.
He cleared the gap between them in two strides and used his momentum to whip the baton in his left hand across his chest from his right shoulder out, arm extended at her face.
She ducked in the nick of time and felt the wind from the weapon as it skimmed the top of her head. His front was exposed to her from the maneuver. She lunged forward, her right fist coiled for a punch.
He pivoted on his right foot and brought his arms together at his chest, similar to his first attack. The motion allowed him to rotate his entire body until his front was perpendicular to her side, effectively avoiding her blow. He stretched his left arm, the electrified baton swinging at her cheek.
Korra spun on her forward leg, bringing her left behind her to face the assailant. Her fists were almost up at the ready to prepare for a counter attack, but the man was much too quick for her. She leaned her torso back just enough to dodge the charged end of the stick. She used this opening to her advantage and sent a left jab towards his nose.
He slipped to his right to evade the fist, bringing his baton-arm over to the same side during the movement. He led with his left elbow and stopped Korra's right hook by smacking away her inner wrist with his electrified stick. The end landed on her higher than he expected, colliding with her armband instead of her skin. The fabric insulated the shock that may have otherwise transferred into her body.
The power of his counter forced her torso to twist in the opposite direction of her attack. She used the momentum to rotate the entirety of her body. Once her left foot touched the ground, she anchored it and swung the right back into a spinning kick.
He jumped away from the attack, landing just out of range of her heel.
By the time her toes hit the dirt, he was on the offensive again.
He lunged forward, leading with the baton. His body was narrow and angled in what mimicked a back stance, as if he was just trying to stab her with the stick instead of slashing her with it.
She moved on a diagonal so that her right side was to his back in order to sidestep the advance. Seizing the opportunity, she latched onto his left wrist at the start of her turn, determined to use the force of her rotation to throw him away from her.
Instead, he twisted his arm, first bringing it away from himself in the direction of her pull, then shifting his elbow down into a swooping motion once her left foot lifted from the ground – almost as if he was attempting to throw her himself. Her loss of stability allowed him to follow through with his elbow, moving it upwards over his head until he broke free. He rotated on his right leg and completed his spin so that he was facing her once more, the left side behind him and his chest perpendicular to her.
The defensive move contorted her body, forcing her to release him. Korra spun until she was in a similar stance as his, but with her left side forward instead. The fire raged, urging her on. She sent a powerful roundhouse towards his now-exposed ribs with her back leg.
He swung his right leg behind him to move his torso out of her heel's path. He followed through with his baton, using the end to clip the back of her ankle to parry the attack.
While her boot protected her from the electricity, the force still sent her into an off balance rotation. She slammed her right foot into the ground and pivoted into another spinning back kick, aimed right for his face.
He wasn't expecting the second kick, but managed to smash the middle of his baton into her leg to shift it upward, using the split second that he could withstand the power of the attack to spin underneath her arc. He slid the weapon away to save it from flying out of his grasp.
Korra finished her kick and swung her leg behind her, her right side now facing her aggressor.
His rotation allowed him to mirror her stance, the baton facing her.
Her blue eyes were intense, her pupils spitting metaphoric fire at the Striker. Her panting and sweating didn't seem to stop. She could feel the blue-gray irises of her parents on her, as well as Asami's peridots. She stared into the man's glowing-green sockets, determined to defeat him.
He felt a similar need to break her, to destroy her in her place, though his rage was fueled more by hatred than survival. He stepped to the right, trying to get an angle on her.
She matched the movement.
He repeated.
So did she.
They circled around an invisible center point, neither one of them attacking, each of them burning holes in the other with their glares.
Korra used this opportunity to gather her strength. He wasn't like the other Strikers – that was for sure – and it would take a lot more to take him down. While it had seemed as though she had met her match, she was too stubborn and adrenaline-filled to let that hold her back. She waited for him to slide his foot to the right again, just as he had been during their little 'dance'. The moment he did, she stepped to her left and tucked her right leg for a roundhouse.
He pivoted on his right foot by instinct and rotated his left until it was behind him to move out of her kicking range.
Little did he know that was exactly what she wanted him to do.
Instead of swinging out the roundhouse, she pushed on her back leg to lunge forward, her bent knee already extending to the ground. She rotated on the ball of her foot the instant it touched the dirt and tucked her other leg. Within a split second, she sent a raging spinning kick his way, successful in faking her first attack.
The move took him off guard. She was much too close to him for an evasion, even if he had ducked; she was smart enough to aim for his torso instead of his head.
Smart, or too tired to lift her leg any higher.
He took a firm grip on each end of his baton, moving it over his center to catch her ankle. While the heel didn't hit him, it wasn't enough to stop the force of the blow. The move sent him flying backwards, his footing not quite strong enough to hold him in place. He bounced off of the frozen dirt and tumbled. Once his rolling stopped, he climbed back to his feet a few yards away from her.
She was already charging towards him the second he dug his toes into the ground to rise.
He shifted his stance so that the center of his body was facing her and dodged her right punch by an inch. The left one came and missed just as fast with another slip.
Korra tried a right hook, only for him to avoid it with an outward arc of his torso. She ducked under his right cross and grabbed onto her own wrist with her left hand. She took a step forward and twisted her upper body with impeccable speed, using her grip to steady and aim her right elbow.
He brought his baton up from his hip and snuck it into the small opening between Korra's arms and chest. He used it as a hook as he pivoted on his right foot, pulling on her back elbow with the middle of the stick. Once he was out of her path, he pushed the weapon forward and removed it from her body, effectively sending her away from him.
She spun around on her left leg and fixed her footing, her hands separated and up at her face. The flames spread into her limbs.
The Striker was already on her like stink on sewage. He swung at her with his baton, sweeping it from the left to the right.
Korra took a step back to dodge the attack.
He repeated – right to left this time – advancing a few feet with each strike.
She performed the same maneuver again and again, too tired to do anything else. He was wearing her down and forcing her towards the tree line of the clearing. She could see now why he waited until the end to fight her; if she wasn't defeated by the time the first twenty got through, she would at least be exhausted when it was his turn.
You've got to do something. You can't just keep evading.
She shut her thoughts down right away; this wasn't the time for them to come back. She trusted her instincts and followed whatever force was guiding her through the fight, the mysterious strength that she had pulled from time and time again. Fire raged inside of her, and it burned.
Another swing of the baton and she rolled forward, right underneath his arc.
He rotated and was facing her by the time she was on her feet.
She led with a right cross given their close proximity, taking a step forward as she attacked.
He pushed her arm away with an outward sweep of his baton.
She used the momentum to send a left hook to his torso.
He blocked it with his forearm and forced her away.
She followed the motion with another right fist and an advance in her footwork.
Just as she expected, he caught her with his baton. Instead of swinging her fist away, he tried to circle his weapon around her wrist to twist her to her left, in order to stop her next hook.
Big mistake.
She held her ground for just a moment, using the opening to throw her back leg right up into his groin.
He was helpless to stop her.
Before he could fall, she tucked her knee again and sent a powerful front kick right into his abdomen.
The Striker flew backwards, rolling until he smashed into the tree nearby. He sunk into the ground – baton still in hand – as he gasped for breath.
This time, he didn't get up.
It took her a moment to come out of whatever zone she was in. She was panting and sweating. Soon, her limbs started shaking from the exertion. She collapsed onto her hands and knees and closed her eyes as she inhaled, trying to gain composure. It was the most intense fight she had ever been in – and given her previous days of exhaustion and fatigue – it was the most tolling. Every bruise she got from blocking and parrying, every scrape and contusion she received from falling and rolling on the ground, started to become apparent. They ached. They throbbed. In fact, all of her did, including her mind. She lowered her head, her loose hair falling on each side of her face, as she fought to recover. The flames calmed down, dimming from a raging blaze into a stable glow. Realization dawned on her with each frantic breath.
I did it. I won.
"Korra?"
She twisted upon hearing her name, having forgotten that anyone was even there in the clearing.
"Asami!" Korra ran to her side – ignoring the rush of blood to her head – and knelt beside her, hands hovering over the engineer's body. "Are you alright? Can you move? What did they do to you?"
Asami shook her head. "I can't move my arms or legs. I know they're there, but I can't… I don't know what happened. They jabbed me a few times, and it was like I lost the ability to control my body."
Korra rolled the woman onto her back, wincing at the tear in her jacket where the baton ripped through to her skin. "Don't worry, Asami. I'll take care of you. I'll protect you." She wrapped her arms around Asami and tightened her hold on her torso. "You're safe with me. I won't let anything else happen to you." She released her and set her onto the ground with care. Her tan fingers ran over a small bruise on her pale cheek, her hand shaking to the touch.
She looked up to scan the area. The sight of her fallen polar bear dog caught her eye. Korra slid her arms under Asami's knees and back – the latter through the crook of her shoulder. She cradled the raven to her chest like a sleeping child as she lifted her. Her shaky legs brought them to her animal companion. She rested the heiress in an upright position against Naga's belly and brushed the black locks out of her face. Korra remained there for a moment, her hands buried in her dark hair.
A soft sound escaped her polar bear dog, drawing her attention away.
"Are you okay, Naga?" Korra rose and hurried over to the animal's head. She stroked the white fur by her eyes.
She mewled and tried to move her snout towards Korra, only to fall short.
"It's gonna be okay, girl. I'll get us out of this. Somehow." She stood and glanced around, her eyes falling on her forgotten parents. She rushed over to her mother first and rolled her onto her back. "Mom…"
"I'm okay, sweetie." Senna wanted nothing more than to brush her daughter's cheek or hold her hand or give her a hug. Alas, she was in the same paralyzed state.
"I'm gonna carry you over to Asami, okay? It'll be easier to protect you if you're all together. I don't know if any more of those Striker people are going to come…"
Her mother nodded and closed her eyes as Korra lifted her from the ground.
"Nice and easy." Korra set her down beside Asami a foot or two apart. She turned to her father and approached him, ignoring some of the groaning Strikers around her. "I don't know if I'll be able to lift you, dad. I might just have to drag you."
He chuckled. "Just be gentle, alright?"
Korra bobbed and slid her hands under her dad's shoulders. She gripped his torso and lifted him until the back of his head was against her. She hauled the Water Tribe Warrior through the frozen dirt across the camp. The flames of the fire died down to a dim glow. The area was starting to lighten with the movement of the clouds from the direct path of the moon. "What did they do to you, dad? Do you have any idea?"
He shook his head. "I have no clue. All I know is that the second they jabbed my arms, I couldn't feel my chi and Bend anymore. I couldn't even move them."
"Wait… you couldn't feel your chi? Like, it was blocked?"
He nodded, his eyes heavy from exhaustion.
She furrowed her brow, panting as she pulled her father to Naga.
Why does that seem familiar? Blocking chi?
Korra ignored it for now, too tired to rack her brain on the matter. She positioned him next to his wife and surveyed her surroundings. Her eyes fell on the half-standing ice tent she had slept in not too long ago.
The books.
Korra scurried over and ripped her bag from the structure, ignoring the clothes and pelt littering the inside. She set the carrier next to Asami and knelt beside them once more. "Stay here. Let me know if you see anything, okay?"
They nodded in unison as she rose to her feet. The three of them watched her as she searched for the last Striker she fought.
He was shaking on his hands and knees, struggling for breath near another fallen Striker. The baton had returned to the holster on his back.
Korra growled and clenched both her fists and her teeth. She approached the pair with angry eyes.
"Warship, are you alright?" The man beside him muttered, reaching out for his comrade.
He had no time to reply.
She latched onto the collar of his uniform and lifted him until his insteps were against the ground. The flames started to flick back to life inside of her. "Who are you? Why did you attack us?"
The Striker didn't answer, a scowl crossing his lips. He took a breath and spit right into Korra's face.
If Tonraq and Asami were able to move, they would have lunged right at the man, no questions asked. Asami would have disabled him and Tonraq… the man probably wouldn't have made it out alive if Tonraq could move.
The key word being if.
Their attempts to jump up were actually just anger-filled lurches of their heads. It almost forced them to fall over from imbalance.
"You son of a bitch." Korra pushed him into the tree behind him, slamming his baton and spine right into the bark. Her anger surmounted that of her parents and her friend combined.
Warship winced in pain, unable to move against the forearm jammed in his chest.
Korra used the band on her left arm to wipe the vile fluid off of her cheek. The fire inside of her filled her from her head to her toes. She increased the pressure of her pinning arm. "You fucking son of a bitch." She latched her free hand onto the corner of his mask, determined to see the face of the man who dared to attack her, her family, her friends. The man who dared to spit in her fucking face.
He resisted the best he could, grabbing onto her wrist with one of his hands. "Get off of me!"
Unfortunate for him, she was stronger than he could have ever imagined.
She pushed him further into the bark, sending a sharp pain down his back. She angled herself to hold his abdomen with hers and to pin one of his shoulders with a shift in her elbow. She gritted her teeth, her hand alone slashing through the elastic-like fabric. With another tear, she ripped the front half of the mask right off of the Striker, breaking through his defensive grip.
What she saw before her made her heart drop. She almost released him from shock alone, but her subconscious knew better. Though she kept him in position, the pressure on him lessened. Her eyes widened and everything inside of her stopped for a moment.
"Sentai?"
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