Chapter Nine: Reflections V
Misango took a deep breath, clearing his head. He was sat cross-legged at the foot of the statue bearing the Misangan deity. The pitch black of night chilled the air as the moonlight above seeped through the boards of the structure overhead in glimmering strikes of pale white.
To be at one with your god is no easy feat. It takes decades of spiritual awakening to ascend to such a tranquility that your Earthly ties are severed just enough to bring you briefly within the same spiritual realm as your creator. To gaze upon them would be forbidden, of course. No mortal could survive such a thing. No true believer - true vessel - would even dare to consider it. But to hear the voice of your devine entity, though cryptic and foreboding? Well, that was what all Misangan people strived for. That was the inner peace they hoped to achieve.
Misango knew that peace. It was rare for him to actually hear the indistinguishable and ever indescribable voice of the Misangan spirit, but he had been graced perhaps more than any other before him. It was his god who directed him to the ARMS League. It was his god that chose him as chief. And it was his god who now, tonight, saw fit to warn him .
He opened his eyes. The silhouette of a familiar associate stood in the frame of his sacred ground's open archway.
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" Smiled the bright red lips of the clown ahead of him, illuminated solely in moonlight. "S'awful lonely back at the circus... Thought I'd stop by an' borrow a cuppa sugar~"
Misango looked calmly upon the face of his friend. "I know you not for what you appear to be." He spoke commandingly, but with an ease in his tone. "Your trickery will not work here."
She smiled at him. "Big talk." A puff of smoke later and she was undisguised. "I don't mean to interrupt your little prayer session, but I need to borrow your face."
He stared blankly at her. "You are a child. Young and impressionable. Your past transgressions are the result of a lack of faith. A lack of understanding. It is a balance." He inhaled deeply. "Through Misangan learning you find that balance from within."
Mimicutie rolled her eyes. "You're trying to convert me? Usually you send people going door-to-door for that kinda stuff. But I guess it's my fault for walking into a church, huh?"
"You are a woman of illusions. The Misangan deity is no illusion. The connection shared between They and the people of Misanga... Brings forth an inner strength. An inner strength capable of seeing through your trickery. Seeing through your spirit. Seeing into your past." He raised his head high, firmly. "I know now of who you are."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Alright, and what is it that your 'god' sees?"
He looked at her dead in the whites of her pale, ever-shining eyes. " Foresight ."
"...Foresight?" She repeated, puzzled.
"The Misangan spirit speaks not in concise. Their words are specific and chosen with great care. It is our duty to find meaning in them. To find truth, as there shall always be." He got to his feet slowly and struck a finger out firmly at Mimicutie. "For you, the spirit has presented 'Foresight'."
Mimicutie looked aside, thinking for a moment, before the ends of her mouth curved ever so slightly. " Ah. " She smiled. "I get it. That's rather clever, in a roundabout way. I guess it does make sense." She cocked her head to one side. "But does it make sense to you? "
"It does not." Misango stared at her. "Though time will reveal to me, as it always had, the meaning of Their words."
Mimicutie chewed at her lip. "So... Alright, what do you know about me, then? Quantifiably. Not from your spirit, but from the grapevine."
"The champion of our League has informed me of all your prior transgressions. Further information has been supplied each night through the Telling Phone. Starting with your visit to the Master, the Clown, and the Child of Mechanica. And most recently with your battle atop the roofs utilizing the stolen Head."
"Mm." Mimicutie breathed deeply. "Well, only four fighters remain, no wonder they're keeping you all up-to-date."
"From what is known of you, Mimic... You fight unhonourable." He broadened his shoulders. "You trickery extends beyond your illusions."
"That's right." She shrugged. "I do what I have to to win. Honor is for League fighters. And I have little respect for them."
"Honor is commendable. It is through honor that we find enlightenment. It is through honor that we understand true betterment. You believe your reasoning to be just? You will find proof in honor."
Mimicutie's smile fell. She didn't truly believe any of that garbage, of course, but something inside her felt like it was burning. A want to beat him at his own game. A want to play fair, if only to smash his idea of 'honor' into dust. After all - she could get by banking on his inexperience with her as an opponent, right? Besides... She had some rather unique gloves to use. It was hardly your average one-on-one. "Alright." She muttered. "You want an 'honourable' fight? I'm ready when you are."
Misango took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. His small spirit companion appeared out of thin air, glowing golden in the darkness. Then, as the spirit twirled in place, the torches around the temple each lit up one by one.
Mimicutie stepped forward and extended her shining ARMS, the ends of which spun briefly to equip what appeared to be two altered shield-like ARMS, each adorned with a shining surface.
In turn, Misango also extended his ARMS, the braided lengths of bracelet twine ending now in a sharp Skully and a rounded Gusher. He nodded slowly to her.
A fair fight like this... Bleh. It's like she was becoming an ARMS fighter - something she despised . But she had already agreed to an honourable fight, so whatever. She nodded too, in response to his.
And just like that? The fight was on! Misango started up by jolting to the left and striking her with the end of his Skully, causing her to stumble a bit. He quickly charged his Gusher and bounced it after her, sending her onto her back in a haze.
She shook her head, feeling a little dizzy. That'd probably be the poison, huh? Ugh. She looked up to the Misangan warrior ahead of her, who had now equipped his partner as a shimmering blue mask. Speed boost, eh?
With a flip, she got right back to her feet and sent her shields out. One had a bright white surface, not unlike her eyes, and the other had a deep black tint to it. She sent the black one further again, causing it to spin forward quickly as a hit.
Misango flipped to the side to avoid it and, instinctively, sent out his Skully again, forgetting for a moment that she had another shield out. She smirked slightly as it whacked against the White Mirror.
His Skull immediately angled back at him, as if sent back from a Clackback, but at a drastically faster speed. It struck him through the chest in a split second, before he could even realize his mistake.
He yanked it out from where it has stabbed him - a purple dribble of poison slowly dripping from the gash. His head felt woozy now. She used his own weapon against him, hm? Should have figured, given her mirror motif.
The fight continued. He requipped his blue mask and sped around, dodging shots and trying to aim away from her shields. Mimicutie seemed rather annoyed by the strikes that made it through, and tried to focus more on angling her shields in ways that they'd be easily struck.
One such strike from his Gusher met the White Mirror again, causing it to arc upward and fly back at him quickly. It slammed against his face and splattered pink gunk all over his mask. He felt sick again
With his spirit companion thrown off, he decided it was time for a chance of pace - time to focus more on building up a rush. His spirit companion clamped onto his face with a golden tinge and he continued his assault.
Mimicutie smirked once again, starting to prioritize punching with the White Mirror, so the black one could be her primary defence. He soon slipped up and sent his Skully right for it, and it shot right back at him again - though this time at a somewhat slower speed, closer to that of an ordinary Clapback..
It grazed his shoulder, just enough to inflict him with the poi- Huh? He flashed yellow, and for a moment found himself unable to move. Long enough for him to be struck by the White Mirror spinning toward him.
How did it stun him...? Was that glove of the stun category...? Wait, no, that doesn't make sense - he wasn't struck by the Black Mirror directly, he got hit by his Skully. Does that mean...?
He glared at her. The Black Mirror inverts the element of the ARM it reflects, hm? So poison: gradual damage over a long period of time, becomes stun: a quick shot of immobilization. Hm.
Fine - then he'll just avoid the mirrors at all cost. Simple! Though... Perhaps that's easier said than done.
He did his best, of course, but he simply couldn't build a rush well with those mirrors blocking his shots. Every shot he misaimed, or that allowed her to quickly shift her mirror into place for, was a shot against him. And on top of all that she was also sending spinning hits to him too!
Every time he'd be struck, be it with his own gloves or hers, he'd fall back and his spirit buddy would come off. So perhaps a boost in defence would help - if he could tank hits better, he could focus more on aiming his hits. And if those hits were stronger when they did collide with her... Well, that'd be even better.
Misango equipped the red mask, making him more of a powerhouse, if at the cost of his speed and jumping ability.
"Oh?" Mimicutie raised an eyebrow. "Hm..."
As the fight raged on, it appeared as tho Misango was gaining the upper hand again. Mimi was really getting sick of the, well, sickly feeling she got whenever his poison got onto her. Forget honour! She thought to herself, about to fade into another fighter. But something stopped her suddenly.
She had just become too predictable, hadn't she? The White Mirror reflects attacks at a fast speed, and the Black Mirror reflects them back with an inverted element. But what if she brought out... That glove?
With a smirk, she slid back a bit and spun her Black Mirror into a third mirror shield. This one lacked the white or black tint the others had, and appeared to be just a regular mirror, aside from the large splintering crack going through it. She sent the Broken Mirror forward and waited, keeping her assault with the white one up.
Misango kept a careful eye on this new glove. The white shot the speed back faster and the black inverted the element, so... What would a broken mirror do?
It wasn't too long until he found out, as his Skully struck it suddenly and came back about as quickly as it had done with the Black Mirror... But when it collided, it exploded against him, sending him far back and forcing that spirit mask off of his face.
He groaned, getting back to his feet and quickly requiping it. He bounced forward the Gusher without enough thought, and it too hit the Broken Mirror. When it came back to him, he felt an icy chill coarse through his body as tiny specks of frost coated his skin. Huh?! He thought to himself. They were both poison gloves, why did one return as an explosive and the other return with ice...?
Mimicutie continued her assault with a smile on her face - that upper hand he had gained was lost, and she quite apparently had the lead on him now. It soon became clear exactly what the Broken Mirror was for - it was randomizing the element it shot back with. Yikes.
He couldn't keep up with this. Not effectively, at least. It was just too unpredictable - is a returning strike gonna blow you back in a gust of wind? Set you alight in a burst of flames? Drop your ARMS to the floor with a jolt? Or maybe it'd just blind you, or stun you, or freeze you, or-
Misango was out. He had lost. Despite Mimicutie switching a glove mid-match, he seemed to kneel in honourable defeat. Ouch.
"You... Are a strong one..." He panted.
She smiled. "I don't believe in the faith you give your 'honor'." She muttered, approaching him slowly. "Is what I'm doing really 'just'? I don't know!" She picked him up by the shoulders. " I don't really like to think about it. "
He looked at her, dead in the white void of her eyes. He had lost according to his customs, and as a result, did not make any attempt to fight back against her.
Her smile faded. "All that matters to me now is revenge. I've lost everything. It's the only thing I have left." Her grip tightened, and she pulled him in closer, hushing her voice. "And I will make them pay."
A burst of steam transformed her into Misango, and she threw him back hard - colliding him with the statue he had leant over, leaving him fallen on the floor in a huff.
"Three to go." She spoke in his deep, masculine voice.
He looked up at her, a tinge of anger in his face. "Y-You will not win. The spirit of Misanga will be against you!"
His duplicate smiled slightly. "You have too much faith in your god." She flexed her muscles and a small whispy spirit appeared, before fixating onto her new face like a bright blue mask.
Misango watched in horror as the spirit his god entrusted with him betrayed his years of worship and instead latched onto the opposing, godless force. Mimicutie, with her new found speed, dashed off into the darkness and was soon out of sight.
The torches around the area flickered and died, leaving Misango in the dark.