Snippet #1484285

With lightning fast reflexes, and an absurd flexibility that the Captain never ceased to be impressed by, Kali bent herself around his weapon in a flash and then drew her leg up with equal speed and grace, landing it squarely in his torso, just below his diaphragm. His own momentum became a tool against him and his own feet left the ground at the same time as the breath left his lungs. Like ammunition from a catapult he rose into the air in an arc and came crashing down to the ground behind the defender, though he was not taken completely by surprise and managed to land his palms on the hard dirt during his descent, easing into a quick roll.

After a full rotation of his curled up form, Captain Kronis planted his hands once more on the floor and used his excessive upper body strength to push himself up and into another midair tumble, this one a half-corkscrew, that ended up with the soles of his boots gripping the surface of the arena once more, eyes locked on his opponent once more, who then appeared to laugh at her neat little trick while throwing away her weapon and spinning around to greet him.

In her hand was a blade Loger knew well. It was a blade that he knew no one else in the city could use better than her, not even himself. Her job involved using it a lot and it matched her in so many ways. Like her the knife was small and swift, yet packed more of a punch than would be expected. Like her it had an edge so deceptively sharp that one may find themselves unaware they had been cut until some time after it happened. And, like her, it was well crafted, practical and beautiful in all the wrong ways.

Despite his shortness of breath, something he would never have allowed to show in the field of battle, he found himself returning her laugh with a low chuckle of his own.

"Kali, you will not quit until I fell you here, will you?" he asked, throwing away his own sword and taking a grip on his ball-and-chain weapon. He knew well what that ceramic blade meant: It meant they were in business now. This was no longer a training exercise, it was a challenge. The stakes were more than a cut to the face. The only other time pure ferocity of this calibre was witnessed in the arena was a grudge match between guards. Though not enemies, the use of each's own signature weapon always took their fights to the next level and was usually followed by a quick trip to the infirmary to patch up a few wounds. Rarely anything serious but just enough to cast suspicions on them from those they passed on the way.

"Have it your way," he continued as the metal slid free of his waistband and started revolving slowly around his fist as the swung the weight with ease. "I haven't had training as good as this since you took leave." And as the steel balls continued to spin in synchrony the Captain allowed himself the rarest lapse in character. He smiled. Then he struck.

With the lethal speed reached in a matter of seconds Captain Kronis knew he needed to be on the attack to ensure he wasn't forced onto a defensive stance. Few were the soldiers who could use a fraction of a second to their advantage but he was up against one now and he knew that she knew his battle style rather well by now. Which meant he could not risk giving an opening when his weapon was not positioned perfectly for the maneuver he planned.

So he swung forward, dropping to a lower position and wheeling his arm around to send the series of solid balls careening with perfect accuracy at the side of Kali's knee while letting loose a grunt of effort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An odd thing had happened back near the marketplace. The unusual man had been joined by an unusual woman who claimed him to be her mentally inferior brother. Whether this was true or not held no matter for Sebastian, he had seen what he needed to see. He had seen people, strangers maybe but still people, from the same time and place as himself. Or so he believed. He could not be sure but hell, he was desperate.

And so after the commotion atop the haystack had ended and the two from the twenty first century took to the ground. For a few seconds, maybe as much as a couple of minutes, the crowd around him moved, reverberated with anticipation, before the mass of life finally, collectively, decided their latest prophet would not be returning to his stage. The reaction of the people and the lack of any signs of law enforcement led him to the decision that this was a normal occurance around here. Which in turn led to the decision that he was again capable of coherent thought. That was good.

As the crowd began to dissolve into the general flow of people a few outstanding figures could be seen making their way to the man and woman now held with no more regard than himself. They all seemed to have a different air about them, they most definitely didn't belong. They moved in a way that suggested they were trying not to be conspicuous yet had no idea where they were. That's pretty much me right now.

And so he joined them, finally snapping out of his trance-like state and gearing his legs into motion. From each direction wandered people and his teaching sparked up. It's stochastic convergence; each random event has settled and fit into a pattern. Many other theories crossed his mind but none of them could be used to explain how he was here in the first place, or even where here was. Unless we consider the possibilty of of a multiverse, as well as the potential for travel between each parralel existence. Which is preposterous without faster-than-light travel or a device for transcending the boundaries of reality. And so far as I know neither such thing exists...

As his mind struggled to sort things into some kind of logic he carried on walking, becoming increasingly less aware of his surroundings as a debate roared inside his mind. Subsequently he arrived with a frown on his face and bumped straight into the back of the man who had shortly before been enrapturing an audience, finishing his mental sentence aloud with a look of shock.

"-Perfectly!"

He blinked and looked around himself, apologising as he did.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I was thinking about the Anthropic principle and lost track of where I was..." He trailed off, aware of just how true that really was. "...Are you from America?" The question came from nowhere and waited for no introduction. The concept of being in a logically impossible time or place was starting to settle in again and panic started rising through Sebastian's chest, setting his heart pounding once more. He had visited twice but would not be able to place the accent to a region. But that word, 'interstate', had stood out a mile to him. "Because this isn't America, this isn't America at all."

His voice, though bordering on hysterical, was not unpleasant. It was reasonably low without being classed as booming and carried well, the tones were rich with variance and his annunciation betrayed his years of education. He spoke quickly and it did not seem to fit him, it was the fear that caused this, but he was trying to keep himself under control.

In round hands that were clearly not used for manual labour were grasped the gloves he had arrived with, though he had forgotten all about their presence, his fingers seemed unable to unclench themselves.