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Snippet #2822476

located in Father, a part of Impending Pursuit, one of the many universes on RPG.

Father

Not Daddy

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ciara
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"Alrighty! Now repeat what I just said.." Holding a pastry up high, and standing skyward on top of a white-surfaced stool, Celty dangled the bun just out of Ciara's prying hands. The slime woman comedically raising both hands and swiping in fraught intervals. Her manager had made an effort to employ more Pavlovian techniques once they had realized she responded to more primal stimulants..as opposed to something more manageable like common logic. Someone as great as them could surely do much even under such a challenge..but they'd be lying if it hadn't earned their frequent ire.

After a few bitter moments of ultimately futile swings, Ciara finally settled and relented to their rulings. With the upmost confidence, the woman inhaled a steady breath, it almost seemed as if she finally got it. Though as swiftly as a crossing thought, the words that drifted from her mouth only characteristically grasped the base concepts and with no roadmap to connect these otherwise idle words.

"Bike, Stay, Kill, Eat." To reference such as a tasteful summary would be vastly insulting, though Celty, had already overexerted her angry courtesy of numerous occasions pertaining to Ciara's lack of aptitude on a variety of topics. She saw this small improvement as a larger victory. Though, rewarding half-point progress would do no good, especially for someone as effortlessly swayed by either meals or fickle interests. Ciara responded with similar jubilation, undertaking a part-way smug expression as she brought her slightly dipped hand up and out. No doubt to graciously receive the tantalizing rewards the dangled above her.

Celty didn't respond in kind however, instead bringing the carb well past her grasp and slapping her on the forehead with it. "Close but no cigar." A sigh escaped their lips, scowling at their dear competitor before finally softening and tossing them the bounty. Clearing their throat, and inflicting a light chop to Ciara's head, they reached their arms over and pressed the swamp woman's cheeks into a bunch.

"Listen up! I will not repeat myself.."




Stilled inside her rumbling containment unit, Ciara was her standard emotionless self. The white metallic walls, overly pure was a source of discomfort for the slime, though as she heard her specific unit land with a low thud. It was likely she wouldn't have to stay cooped up much longer.

The measured breathes of seasoned warriors, the lusting twitch of frantic hunters. In comparison, Ciara lacked the bloodlust to kill with purpose, and the deft footwork for her frame to even partially resemble a sprinter's silhouette. A stand that could only lend itself to saunter, the announcements that drifted overhead sounded almost watery courtesy of Ciara's lack of ability to focus, though the swamp woman took careful note of the inflections so she at least was conscious of when she should go.

In these times of silence, she thought to Celty's orders..or their attempts at giving orders before quickly growing frustrated.
As the airy hiss of the sliding doors poured into the soundscape, and the beating sun bit into her sensitive skin, a stroke of fortune had Ciara remember her first task.

With a wide upwards leap, Ciara exited her cage with an almost predatory fervor. She was in no means swift, most likely unable to continue the sprint comparatively to the more trained and better ran but such was trivial to her foremost purpose. Holding her hand outwards, a blackened spear, pulsating with unholy energies and formed from her own slime body manifested in her palm. Midleap, she concentrated to keep the mass solid in the blinding heat and javelin threw the weapon over her shoulder.

It flew overhead the competitors that were well above her in the race but as it arced downwards, it found its way to its true target. One of the hover bikes had been placed close to its neighbors, meeting an unceremonious end as the formed weapon zipped through the air and punctured through the top. The spear melted back into a black tar, dormant for a moment of rest before exploding outwards, unstable as it perforated the inner and outer mechanical workings of the hover bike.

Well unstable, the machine exploded from the damage, causing a smaller chain reaction of imploding bikes that took out an even 10 in a singular explosion. Continuing to pace herself forward and run directly into the fray, she leapt up and threw another blackened javelin to take out a group of 5.

Running headfirst into the chaos of the storm, Ciara fought against the ones who chose to stay convincingly. Her own natural strength allowed her to fling the first unnamed mutant she came across with a simple-expressioned punch several meters out. Her forearms grew into sharp curved blades, and the woman chose specifically to keep fighting until she reached the heart of the battle, blending up unfortunate passerby in the process.

As she had achieved some semblance of a clearing, her vision was rained upon by a dance of pitch black feathers. A precursor to a declaration of war, a besuited horned gentleman swooped down with a blade for the express purpose of lobbing off her head, a deft reaction from Ciara allowing her to block for herself with her forearms and face the man in question.

"To destroy the vehicles of your fellow mutants, you're a interesting sort of barbarian, aren't you?" A perpetual smile painted the man's face, light whitish sparks flying as their blades continued to clash. "Doesn't apply to me..however" Ciara response was only a nod, as if she wasn't listening at all.

The mutant's expression shifted at the sound of a half-muted beeping, growing both louder and more rapid. With a pompous grunt, he disengaged just as a scrap-laden grenade was flung between them. A loud explosion erupted the area with smoke and flame where she had stood.

The sounds of a smaller celebration came from the direction it had been thrown, courtesy of a mutant grenadier with both robotic arms and legs. However, as the dust settled, his smirk swiftly turned to meek surprise. While the woman Ciara did not stand there, a puddle of black goop with a moderately sized lump remained in the center and waited. Like the sounds of squeezing a damp rag, horrendous wet sounds filled the air as Ciara reformed back into humanoid form, equipped with a black spear. A glare formed from her eyes as she shot the javelin straight into the man's chest. The similar implosion occurring in turn to the poor mutant's body, the same type she had subjected to the poor defenseless hover bikes.

Shifting her gaze off of the mess of gore and parts, she was the only one who remained at the end of the battle. All the bikes were either destroyed or missing, and the stench of fresh bloodshed trickled into her nose.

With that, she went towards the smell of her own survival pack, the impressive size selling an illusion of being too heavy to steal and previously stowed comfortably on the sides of the area for no prying eyes to see.

Ciara fumbled open the bag, revealing a bounty of loaves of bread. Eyes gleaming at the drool-inducing sight, she begun to quickly refill herself with the feast. Not leaving a crumb unturned, she finished her meal before orienting herself towards the desert.

Bike-less, she rose from her crouch and ambled her way to that cardinal direction.





Seated in their own personal chambers was Celty, a smile painting their face as it seemed that all was going to what they had planned. Despite the unreliable variable that was Ciara herself and the fact that explaining these simplistic instructions to the swamp woman took multiple instances of trial and error, she had performed within expectation.

First order of business was to take out the bikes, Ciara had no hope in fighting or more so steering on those damn things so forcing the fight on foot and removing the unlucky few's chances to escape would allow her dear competitor to eliminate anyone unfortunate enough to be left behind.

When the battle concluded, Ciara would reenergize herself and wobble her way to the finish line. This step in particular would take longer, but the lack of need for sleep allowed Ciara to keep herself only slightly behind the competition. Sauntering behind the hover bikes to avoid the high-speed combat she was susceptible to and reducing the amount of unnecessary fighting.

And if it was one thing Celty trusted her hopeless competitor to perform expertly, it was to wander.