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the-hinky-panda · 2 years

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The Tremont Tempest: Chapter 3

Author Warning: Lots of mention of blood and violence in the first part of this chapter.

There is blood everywhere.

He can hear it dripping; a different intonation when it falls on broken concrete, cracked linoleum, threadbare carpet, and scratched hardwood. He squeezes his hand tighter around the knife wound, trying to slow down the bleeding. It’s pleasantly warm but sticky, syrupy, when it continues to flow through the spaces between his fingers. He feels it soaking through his jeans from the leg wounds, making the denim stiff and abrasive against the punctures. His ears are still ringing from the headblows and his right eye is starting to close from the swelling. His brain feels like a phone call with poor reception, thoughts coming in pieces, chunks of context missing.

Somehow he manages to make it the six blocks to the apartment and up three flights of stairs in the falling down apartment building. His hand, the one not shoved in the knife wound between his ribs, is shaking from shock and slick with blood. It takes him multiple attempts of pawing at the broken doorknob before he’s able to push the door open.

He’s been made.

His undercover persona has been outed, word spread on the street, and he’s now a marked man. Some low-level members thought they would get the jump on him, bring his head to Oscar Papa as a one-way ticket to lieutenants, but he managed to drag himself down a fire escape while they argued about who was going to deliver the final blow. Now, he had to get his informant out like he promised, give her the opportunity to get out of that raunchy strip club and do what she wanted to do: have a life. She was going to go to nursing school, work in a hospital ER, get married, have children…with him.

He was going to finally have a life too.

He stumbles through the door, catches himself on the rickety end table where they always dropped their keys and his gun. He remembers the day when she pulled it out of a trash pile declaring it could be repaired and saved. He had joked that she had done the same thing to him. That memory of her, hazel eyes crinkling in the corner, a flash of white teeth as she smiled and said “I know a good thing when I see it” comes through in stunning clarity.

“Gabby?”

He barely recognizes his own voice. He swallows down whatever is crowding his vocal cords and tastes iron on the back of his tongue. He’s dying. But he needs to get to Gabby. They need to leave together. He’ll break everything in the world but not this promise. He swallows down more blood, it really is everywhere, and tries to call for her again when he trips over something in the middle of the floor. He goes down hard, his reflexes slowed by blood loss. His knees take the brunt of the impact, then his elbow, shoulder, and cheek. His ears start ringing again when his head bounces off the dull wood floor and he momentarily goes deaf.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Blood is starting to pool under him and he has to get up, keep moving. If he lies there, he’ll die. There’s blood everywhere. He forces his eyes open and looks behind him to see what tripped him. It’s a duffle bag, half filled. Pieces of information start to come together in his fuzzy brain. Half filled bag. Left in the middle of the room. The door was unlocked.

“No, no, no…” he keeps repeating the word, hoping that he’s wrong. He grabs the edge of a bookcase and pulls himself upright. “Gabby!”

He stumbles through the living room, smearing blood over the peeling plaster of the walls. When he passes by the kitchen, he sees a form laying on the kitchen floor. The liturgy of “no” continues as he tries to find the lightswitch. When the light does come on, he wonders why he turned it on in the first place.

There’s blood everywhere.

He falls to his knees again. He lets go of the wound on his side. He’s lightheaded, sick to his stomach. There’s so much blood; it creates a sacreligious halo around Gabby’s head. He tries to brush some of her curly hair away from her pale face, her unseeing hazel eyes, but he only smears his own blood across her cheek. He struggles to get her into his arms, cradled against his chest, like she had been just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry, mi vida. So sorry.”

He can hear the sirens, the extraction team, coming to get him. But he doesn’t want to go back. His undercover assignment blew up in his face with nothing to show for it. His promise to get a brave woman out of the hell that was her life is shattered. His soul is fractured. This is more than just failure. He can’t take her with him so he presses his lips to her forehead, silently begging for her to take him with her now.

“Duarte!”

A sob catches in his throat with a swell of blood. Maybe if he doesn’t call out to them, they’ll take too long to find him. But he can hear them running up the stairs, stepping across the threshold of the shithole he’s called home for the last six months. It doesn’t take long for them to find him on the kitchen floor. His captain is yelling his name in his ear but it sounds so far away.

“Duarte! Stay with me! Fuck!”

They’re pulling Gabby away from him but there’s no strength in his arms anymore to fight against the separation. Isn’t there supposed to be a light he’s supposed to move towards?

“Where the fuck are the EMTs?”

There’s the light, flashing in his eyes. He tries to lift his hand towards it, embrace it, follow it, when it moves away. Well, isn’t that his luck?

“He’s in shock.”

“No shit. There’s blood everywhere!”

***

You tap your fingers in an annoyed beat as you stare down Mike. He, on the other hand, remains steadfastly focused on his notes. Every once in a while you see his jaw tick so you know he does feel your annoyance at the situation. It took a lot for you to make that call last night; you told him that much when he showed up at your neighbor’s door and you took him through your apartment. You’re getting ready to say something to him, demand his attention, when there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey Chief, there’s a Captain Benson and Detective Muncy here to see you?”

“Thanks, Anita. Send them in.” You glare at Mike, who gives you a shit-eating grin.

“Aw, look, she brought your BFF.”

You have to admit, seeing Grace right now will be quite nice. “I’m still mad at you for this.”

He stands up from the chair across from you and gives a meaningful look towards the door. “Believe when I say, I’m getting used to having women angry with me.”

“I find that shocking.”

You try to maintain a serious face but the corner of your mouth twitches and he catches it. You didn’t take his comment too seriously but seeing the tense faces of Captain Benson and Grace as they pass by Mike, you reassess his words. Damn. He wasn’t joking.

You stand up, straighten your blazer, and introduce yourself to Benson. Mike had told you about her recent run in with BX9 and that she had a healing black eye but the severity of the injury makes your stomach twist. Grace gives you a smile and head nod but the smile disappears just as quickly as it appeared. That also makes you uneasy.

“Thank you for coming in,” you start, “but I don’t know if it’s really necessary.”

“Someone got into your apartment without your knowledge or permission,” Grace says. “That’s a problem.”

Okay, maybe she had a point.

Benson pulls out a notebook. “Do you have any idea who this person could be?”

You spent the majority of the night last night going through everyone you know and who would be capable of doing this. “I don’t have a clue. Everyone I work with I’ve had a solid relationship with for years. I was thinking it could be a student but I don’t know how they would have gotten their hands on a $80 bottle of wine. That particular bottle is kept behind the counter at most stores.”

“So you’ve known all your coworkers for years?” Benson repeats.

“Yeah.”

Grace looks down at the floor.

Benson sighs. “Except for Duarte.”

You actually laugh. “Mike? That’s ridiculous.”

“He told me last night that he was here for the start of the notes. You don’t think that’s a coincidence?”

At first you think she’s kidding but there's such a serious set to her mouth. You glance over at Grace, who’s giving you a similar look. “You’re not serious about this. Grace, you gave me his number. Told me to call him.”

“I did,” she admits. “But maybe…”

There’s definitely something going on in the other investigation, something that had happened between Benson, Mike, and Grace. But that isn’t your issue or problem right now.

“Well, let me put your suspicions to rest. If Mike were the one leaving the notes and the wine, then he would have had his chance last night to do…whatever he was intending to do. He was in my apartment, searching it and gathering evidence. We were alone there for close to two hours. He offered to stay the night but I told him it wasn’t necessary and he left. That was the end of it. He didn’t try to convince me to let him stay, or go with him back to his place. If he wanted to get me alone, he accomplished that. And when I assured him everything was good, he left. But I’m telling you both, he was nothing but professional. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Grace scoffs. “Tree, that’s real funny.”

“Muncy,” Benson warns.

Grace has been your friend for years and you know of her temper, have been on the receiving end of it a couple times too, so her outbursts don’t scare you. It also means you know how to poke the bear to get to the source of the problem, so you do, despite Benson’s obvious unease of the direction the conversation is taking. But you don’t poke, you do a direct jab. “Grace, what’s going on?”

“Did you know about it?” she demands, without any preamble.

“About what?”

“Muncy, enough!”

But it isn’t enough as Grace drops her phone on your desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Benson sighs in frustration as you pick up the phone and study the picture. It’s literally a tree with scraps of fabric hanging from it. You zoom in on a section to get a closer look. “Is that-”

“Underwear,” Grace spits out. “It’s a fucking rape tree in the middle of Jonas Bronck Park.”

“Jesus,” you breathe out.

“And the guy you just defended,” Muncy continues, “he’s known about this for a year. A fucking year.”

There has to be close to 100 pairs of underwear on the tree. 100 women in the neighborhood assaulted and raped. How many of those women have been in your school? Sat in your office or in meetings about their student’s behavior, grades, or attendance? And here you were worried over a few notes and a bottle of wine. You say a quick prayer and cross yourself before handing the phone back to Grace.

“I heard rumors about…something.” You swallow down a lump of emotion that has risen up in your throat. “The kids talk, exaggerate, it’s difficult to figure out what’s real and what isn’t. I’ve heard of memorials dedicated to violence that BX9 uses to recruit, but I never heard of a tree specifically. But you’re saying Mike knew about the tree for a year?”

“Yeah, and he didn’t tell anyone about it.”

Betrayal. You realize Grace feels betrayed about not knowing about this tree, this abomination in their neighborhood. But you’ve lived here your entire life. Your parents lived here their entire lives. You know and understand the micro ecosystem that is the Bronx. “Who was he supposed to tell, Grace?”

It’s Benson’s turn to scoff. “You can’t be serious.”

You feel your educator persona kick in immediately. “Captain Benson, with all due respect, I don’t think you fully comprehend the landscape that you’ve just walked into here. And Grace, shame on you for not educating her properly on our neighborhood.”

“Hey-”

“Hey yourself,” you interrupt. “You haven’t been in Manhattan long enough to forget what it’s like up here.”

“So tell me,” Benson says, “what is it like up here?”

“It’s a fucking warzone for starters. The chances of you stepping out onto the street and getting robbed, stabbed, or shot by a gang member is incredibly high. And Mary, Joseph, and Jesus can only help you if you wander into a showdown between 19th street and BX9. The local cops are all in Oscar Papa’s backpocket which is why violent crime is so rampant. They’re either paid off or too scared to do anything. Bronx SVU, well, you wouldn’t be here if they were doing their jobs. And Grace, you know the gang unit is taxed to the max. Mike’s been Captain for what, five or six years now? And he’s already lasted twice as long as the last two Captains. So let me ask you again, who was he supposed to tell about the tree? Crooked cops who would have taken everything down, including the tree and burned it? Bronx SVU, who would have collected all the evidence and then ‘lost’ it? And he is the head of the gang unit, there’s no one else above him to tell.”

Both women are silently thoughtful for a moment. You fold your hands on your desk and lean forward. “May I ask you both a question?”

“Of course,” Benson responds.

“Why do you think, after a year, you were the one he took to that tree?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for the last twenty-four hours.” Benson shrugs. “Why?”

“Because I think he finally found someone that he believed would actually do something about it. Someone that cares more about the victims than the violence. I don’t know you, Captain, but I know Grace. And Grace is going to fight with every ounce of her being to get justice for every single woman that is connected to that tree. But you can have all the fight in the world and it doesn’t mean shit unless you have the resources. Manhattan SVU are the resources that this borough has been waiting for. So my suggestion to you would be make whatever peace you can with Captain Duarte, forget about my situation, and remember where you are. This ain’t Kansas, Dorothy.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Grace’s face. “You calling me Toto?”

You smile back. “If it gets your head back on straight, yeah, I am.”

#captain mike durate #mike duarte #mike duarte x reader #mike duarte x you

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nameless-brand · 1 year

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Meta-humans ::

The new world's version of Exotics, I suppose. There's quite a number of them, though they are far less in number compared to the Exotics of the past world which probably amounted to 0.1% to 1% of the population - which equals 10-100 million people being Exotics.

According to LexCorp research [ see A compilation of case reports and extrapolations on extraordinary humans [2]], the number of metahumans that exist ranges in the low millions and maybe down to hundreds of thousands. Furthermore, not all meta-humans are created equal. It is estimated 60% of meta-humans are what people call "spoon benders (derogatory)" and "candle lighters (affectionate)", essentially their powers are very weak and don't really amount to much. Sometimes, being a meta-human manifests in physical changes such as development of a canine head and physiology.

There are meta-humans who derive their powers from magic or divinity supposedly, but they are in the vast minority.

It is unclear if any meta-humans utilize the Impose / Idea method for affecting Reality. Their powers appear to be purely biological and grounded in physical law for the most part. It is said that meta-humans can be detected through epigenetic changes in their DNA, which would explain why powers are not inherited.

Batman ::

A masked vigilante whose main area of activity is Gotham City; he is the most iconic vigilante of the city. It is difficult to pinpoint when Batman started becoming active as eyewitness accounts are unreliable, but the earliest accounts of the "Caped Crusader" are over a decade ago.

He is not the first person to take up the moniker of "Batman." There is an earlier vigilante who was a Bat meta-human back when Gotham City was known as Gotham Town. However, he is certainly the most successful one.

It is unclear what sort of meta-human Batman is. References to many of his adventures - and saving the city of Gotham - all have a common characteristic - that he is a one man army, and he has survived and beat impossible odds. Some say his meta-human ability revolves around luck, others say he has limited precognition given his uncanny ability to show up the right time. Whatever ability he has does not express itself visibly.

A notable characteristic of Batman is that he does not kill. Ever. Not even by accident. Most of his blows to incapacitate enemies involve breaking and dislocating limbs cleanly if he can. Headblows are rare, and looking at the rare video caught of his fights, he avoids blows to the side of the temple if he could help it and will go for jaw blows for knockouts. Other takedowns will usually involve tranquilizers. With that sole exception, he has not been seen using a firearm. Though there have been lawsuits made against Batman for accidental manslaughter, video evidence - usually by the many fans of Batman - usually gets that thrown out.

Static ::

A masked vigilante of special interest, given his ability to wield lightning as a weapon. His operation range includes the area beyond the Gotham River and into continental New York proper. Unlike Batman, Static's entrance into the superhero world is less shrouded in secrecy. Part of a superhero cadre known as Titans, he and the rest of the group as well as additional heroes from outside were responsible for beating a machine overlord-style attack involving many of the Smart Devices in NYC [[ see Tesla Stocks Down After Entrapping and Driving Cars into Buildings at 130 mph / 200 kmh [2] and Remote Temperature Control Raising Temperatures to 110 degrees F / 43 degrees C [4]]]. Though the perpetrator was never found, the Titans were able to stop the broadcasting device causing the Smart Devices to malfunction.

Static is of special interest because his electric attacks only seem to incapacitate, even when blasting someone point black with his powers. This is in contrast to Sasha, whose powers only seem to have only one setting which is lethal. Is this because Static has a finer control over his power, which allows him to prevent frying people or is there something else going on?

What seems to contradict this is that while Sasha can fly omnidirectionally with her own power, Static seems to require some sort of disc underneath his feet which his power acts on. Then again, Static has only been active for a few months on the East Coast. He may reveal other powers, given that Static's operation range sometimes intersects with Batman's [ see Static seen flying into Gotham City, diverts explosive-containing truck from civilians [3]].

#sato's notes //#not visible ic #gotham city #setting ;;#headcanon ;;

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ahzisskoroh · 2 days

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Character notes

Ra'asha

Male Khajiit, late 20s. Either a short Cathay or a Dagi-Raht. White, snowy fur. Red eyes. Long hair. Hair, eyes, nose stained crimson with mountainflowers, something he believes keeps out bugs.

A bit anxious but a bit naive, more in terms of norms than emotional intelligence. Amnesiac from a headblow, can mostly only remember semantic information about the world from before his injury - how to hunt, how to camp, how music works, some geography, some religion, how to read. Only Ivarstead seems to recognize him in Skyrim, but no one can remember his name, just that he was a poacher, shy, and occasionally sold flutes of bone and wood with his leather and meat. Has a Cyrodiilic accent; knows to speak like Khajiit but has little semantic knowledge of Khajiit culture.

Svartr ---

Male Nord. Early 40s. Average height. Built like many Nords, for strength more than stamina. Black hair on the short end of medium, blue eyes. Shaves but rarely enough that he's usually seen with black stubble.

Conservative and prudish by Nord standards. Proud and moral. Views those he considers lesser with contempt, regardless of race or sex. But he's also aware that kind of makes him an asshole.

Of a noble family with ancient ties to Windhelm. While distantly cousin to the clans Shatter-Shield and Cruel-Sea his family has been apart from Windhelm for so long that the only reason his name is still recognized is how many graves in the old cemetery that bare it - and of course that the family still makes sales with Windhelm, registering births and marriages there as well.

Marielle Giroux

Female Breton. Early twenties. Slightly shorter than average. Blonde, shoulder length wavy hair. Brown eyes.

A witch but less interested in the Reach religion and Forsworn movement. Core philosophy revolves around placating the evil eye and obsessively balancing good and evil.

unamed yet Khajiit (Kirjo?)

Mage. Black-blue fur like a silver colored housecat. Something to hide. Befriends Ra'asha

unnamed thalmor

actually intelligent, manipulates Svartr and Ra'asha against each other

to do

write out other people's ocs

ideally add dunmer, bosmer, orc, imperial, redguard, argonians

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stcries · 1 year

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prompts for patching up wounds, accepting!

@arcencielreve wrote: you're gonna have to take your shirt off. (Snow @ Bigby)

god, his head was throbbing like crazy. there wasn’t a doubt in bigby’s mind that his job was dangerous, risking his life to keep the other fables in the town safe, cause he’d be damned if nobody else took up the occupation. sure, the big bad wolf was durable, all fables were, but it didn’t mean they were invincible. there’s a pained groan that leaves his throat, hand reaching to rub at the back of his head, hoping to quell the pain long enough to listen to snow’s instructions.

“ugh, yeah yeah, i gotcha ...” the words come out a little rough and groggy, shifting himself into a more comfortable sitting position against chair, or at least the best he could manage. with consciousness still coming too thanks to the headblow, snow’s words took a few seconds to register, eyes widening in surprise once they truly hit.

“wait, you want to do it? shouldn’t we wait for dr. swineheart to show up?” he didn’t doubt in snow’s abilities, that was for sure. but he’s the one here with the deep wounds, as evident by the crimson staining usually pale shirt. he just didn’t want snow to be confronted by whatever lay beneath, he knew she wasn’t as used to this level of gore as he was. “i mean, it’s not like you haven’t seen me without it before or anything but ...”

#・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . IN CHARACTER ❝ bigby wolf. ❞#arcenecielreve #they....

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heyscroller · 2 years

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Do concussions trigger CTE? Sports physicians and scientists disagree.

AMSTERDAM – For the primary time since 2016, one of the influential teams guiding docs, coaches and sports activities leagues on concussion met final month to determine, amongst different issues, whether or not it was time to acknowledge the causal hyperlink between repeated headblows and degeneration Brain illness generally known as CTE Despite mounting proof and a extremely revered US…

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highdio · 5 years

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One thing seeing Vento Aureo animated really brought home is how much Giorno’s final arc follows Dio’s in Stardust Crusaders.

Both get thoroughly wrecked by a headblow ...

... and appear defeated. Their opponent loses sight of them ...

... before they re-emerge, resurrected and physically transformed. With Dio - a vampire with a supernaturally weird mastery over his form (think flesh buds and eye lasers) - the change is to his own body.

With Giorno, his Stand physically changes ... but Giorno’s own hair also takes on an ‘ascended’ look and he literally levitates.

It’s something specific to Dio and Giorno: if the Joestars are rooted in tradition, bloodline and family, Dio and Giorno are not. Dio kills his father(s) and makes himself immortal, reshaping himself several times in the process. Giorno, whose hair magically turns from black to blond, creates a new family from the people that he comes to care for during his journey. They’re modernist characters in that sense. The “ascension’ scene that DIO and Giorno share feels like it’s tied to those same ideas. They literally become something new.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #dio brando #giorno giovanna #mudad #like father like son #mp #dioposts #dio talk #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo #original #2k

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keeperofthe-mxxn · 4 years

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Prompt: Caress

A little au of mine where Mhol’ito unfortunately went blind after SHB.

Got some Aymeric x wol, lots of angst and softness and G’raha being best boi.

Everyone says they don’t mind the extra help. After all we have Y’shtola. Y’shtola was far more independent then I am right now. It’s a real hit to the pride having to be led around like a child. Just cause I’m blind now. Don’t think I’ll be imitating her little trick so I’m quite literally in the dark. I think they understand how hurt my pride is as they keep telling me this isn’t something I could control anyways. I refuse to get another service animal I feel weak enough already with the two I have. We’re doing it all over again, me being a liability to the scions; someone they can’t leave alone for too long or he’ll break. Oh how the mighty have fallen.....

Everyone scattered to their individual business so I was left with Graha. I’m tryna maintain some independence so I turned to go do my own list of to do’s. “Where you headed?”

“Gridania. I need to speak with Luciane.”

“I see. I just so happen to have-” I know you’re gonna have to escort me so just say it ok. Don’t beat around the bush. “I do have business there Mhol’ito. Believe what you will.” He took my arm and off we went. What did I do to deserve this? Atleast Y’shtola kinda got what was coming. All I got was a hit to the head, I wake up and I’m blind. Ok a lot of headblows but that’s expected from a Lightwarden. Now I know Gridania like I know how to breathe so I broke off from him and navigated to the Archer’s Guild; successfully mind you. I’m gonna have to learn to solely rely on my ears now to compensate so what better place to refine skills?

“Again.” Ive been at this all day my arms are so sore from all the trial and error. “Are you deaf now too? I said again.” You know what, not all of us are good enough for the God’s quiver like you. So shove it before I do just that with an arrow down your throat. We really do take sight for granted I don’t think I’ve landed a single arrow on the target, no ones given me any indication.

I was told Graha had been waiting for me for the better half of the evening in the lobby of the Guild. He must’ve heard how angry I was getting then cause he was silent all the way home. The unmistakable chill in the air and the crunch under my feet told me we weren’t in Mor Dhona. “You have business in Coerthas?”

“No I’m taking you to Aymeric. I figured you’d need a nice night after a more then stressful day.” He walked me all the way to his place then bid me farewell. It did feel nice to sit down with him and be held. No talking about my day which was shit, no tryna give me advice on how to live without sight. I’ll only accept that advice from Y’shtola anyways. I heard one of the dogs come up to us then get in my lap. Science needs to tell me why hugging pets makes me feel better. I’ll probably apologize later to G’raha about getting upset with him. I hope this new life will get easier with time and that I have the patience to better it myself.

#seaswolchallenge #aymeric de borel #ffxiv #graha tia #aymeric x wol

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halidomhappenings · 5 years

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AXES: EDELGARD VS RAPHAEL

ANNA: “Our third round of axes brings us back to Fodlan, where we will have a battle of the... Eagle and Deer? Is that a thing? In any case, stepping into one half of the arena is the Imperial Princess of the Adrestian Empire and leader of the Black Eagle house, Edelgard! On the other, we have Raphael Kirsten of the Leicester Alliance, and a member of the Golden Deer house! I’ve heard many things about the Golden Deer from my sister in Fodlan... Apparently, the deer are to be feared? Let’s see if that holds up today.”

EMM: “Some more Fodlan competitors! Oh my, is that young man trying to bench press audience members as a warm-up?”

CHROM: “Raphael, put that one down. The rules state you can’t bench press more than three audience members at a time.”

Edelgard First Strike: 9

Raphael Defense: NAT 20

Raphael Bonus Strike: 19

Edelgard Defense: 4

Seemingly energised from his unique warm up, he effortlessly blocks Edelgard’s opening attack. Not only that, he forces both of their axes to the side, leaving Edelgard open for him to immediately come back with a strike across the chest.

Raphael First Strike: 6

Edelgard Defense: 3

Stumbling back from Raphael’s sheer strength, the princess is unable to raise her guard in time to protect from a blow lowered to the thigh.

Edelgard: 0 Raphael: 2

EMM: “A very strong start from Raphael. His warm-ups seem to have paid off.”

Edelgard Second Strike: 10

Raphael Defense: 9

Edelgard’s brow furrows, unwilling to allow Raphael to keep such a strong lead. With his axe still low, she is able to dart forward and slash his arm.

Raphael Second Strike: NAT 20

Edelgard Defense: 7

Raphael Bonus Strike: 3

Edelgard Defense: 18

Edelgard is too close: in his next movement, Raphael raises his axe arm to remove her from him, but in the motion slams the weapon into the side of her head. He looks guilty, but attempts to get a second strike in anyway. Though disorientated, Edelgard blocks with the blade of her axe, seemingly out of pure survival instinct.

Edelgard: 1 Raphael: 3

CHROM: “Our first true headshot of the tournament! We’ve had jaws and chins so far, but this was different... I’m surprised Edelgard is still standing after a blow like that.”

Edelgard Third Strike: NAT 1

Lion’s Paw Bonus: 14

Raphael Defense: 14

Edelgard aims low but then scoops her blade in an upward motion, attempting to get inside Raphael’s guard. She must still be dizzy however, as she doesn’t get close enough and catches his own axe instead.

Raphael Third Strike: 18

Edelgard Defense: NAT 1

FAVOR BONUS: 17

Raphael pushes her blade down and catches her hip with the handle of his weapon, netting himself another point.

Edelgard: 1 Raphael: 4

CHROM: “Another point to Raphael. Edelgard seems to finally be recovering, however - but what about her score?”

Edelgard Fourth Strike: 4

Raphael Defense: 12

Edelgard pulls her axe towards herself and then out again, aiming at the shoudlder. However, despite having given herself a better angle, the overall movement proves too slow as Raphael is able to repel it.

Raphael Fourth Strike: 2

Catch of the Day LION’S PAW Bonus: 16

Edelgard Defense: 12

With an almighty roar, Raphael charges forward and rams the thankfully blunt, top edge of his axe into Edelgard’s stomach, pushing her back.

Edelgard: 1 Raphael: 5

CHROM: "This doesn’t look good for Edelgard.”

Edelgard Fifth Strike: 13

Raphael Defense: 7

Springing back into action, the princess shoves the handle of her axe into Raphael’s chin from below.

Raphael Fifth Strike: 11

FAVOR BONUS: 16

Edelgard Defense: 11

By reflex Raphael retaliates. Despite feeling bad for the headblow he dealt earlier, his instant response seems to be to strike whatever he can reach and unfortunately for Edelgard, this happens to be the side of her head again. She doesn’t even have time to shriek before being knocked unconcaious.

Edelgard: 2 Raphael: 6

EMM: “My goodness, is Her Majesty alright? We’ll need to call a cleric.”

CHROM: “I think in the distance, I can hear Hubert screaming for far different reasons than his own match. This time, it seems to be bloody murder...”

RAPHAEL WINS!

#halidomhappenings ;; summer tourney #summer tourney ;; round 1 #summer tourney ;; axes #tourney of shells ;; axes #caraidean #revermause

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