Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: Virtual
My fighter was a dark chick in cargo pants. I'd decided one my opponent even before I picked my own player. Anyone that thinks she can effectively kick ass with her thighs, stomach and the better part of her breasts exposed deserves the beating of a life time regardless of actual existence or lack thereof.
The shell of the gaming apparatus itself didn't let me jump much or perform sweeps so I was pretty much limited to kick and punch, attack and counter. Then there was the fact that sometimes I got a little too into the fight and sped up enough that I had to wait for the machine to catch up.
Despite the attention I was paying to the task at hand, I hadn't failed to notice the people that turned to watch (probably more due to the fact that I was jumping around in my uniform than my fighting skills). My brain, as it always did when there was adrenaline in my system, was processing several things at once. Like the fact that the guy at the game to my right was left handed and the guy to my left was most definitely stoned.
I was on round three with my opponent and the crowd had noticed something beyond my skirt ("Look at her go!"). So I was ready to let the game end when the 'insert coin' sign began flashing but one of my admirers fed it some more quarters with a wink my direction.
In the next round I let my girl take some hits, feigning fatigue. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted, the collective scent of the crowd… changed. Not seeing the cause of the disturbance, I looked to where he was standing holding my coat. He wasn't looking at me but the tension in his muscles said I better be ready to kick some physical ass.
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: Virtual
My fighter was a dark chick in cargo pants. I'd decided one my opponent even before I picked my own player. Anyone that thinks she can effectively kick ass with her thighs, stomach and the better part of her breasts exposed deserves the beating of a life time regardless of actual existence or lack thereof.
The shell of the gaming apparatus itself didn't let me jump much or perform sweeps so I was pretty much limited to kick and punch, attack and counter. Then there was the fact that sometimes I got a little too into the fight and sped up enough that I had to wait for the machine to catch up.
Despite the attention I was paying to the task at hand, I hadn't failed to notice the people that turned to watch (probably more due to the fact that I was jumping around in my uniform than my fighting skills). My brain, as it always did when there was adrenaline in my system, was processing several things at once. Like the fact that the guy at the game to my right was left handed and the guy to my left was most definitely stoned.
I was on round three with my opponent and the crowd had noticed something beyond my skirt ("Look at her go!"). So I was ready to let the game end when the 'insert coin' sign began flashing but one of my admirers fed it some more quarters with a wink my direction.
In the next round I let my girl take some hits, feigning fatigue. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted, the collective scent of the crowd… changed. Not seeing the cause of the disturbance, I looked to where he was standing holding my coat. He wasn't looking at me but the tension in his muscles said I better be ready to kick some physical ass.