Ranerak - Green
Harley - Red

(Well, milady, shall we dance the dance of combat through the heavens, so graceful and glorious that the very stars themselves burn with jealousy? sorry about that. It's been a good week. I'm a little giddy.)

The Harbinger glided through space, sleek and predatorial, looking every inch like what it was; a well armored, heavily armed, personal war-time corvette-style fighter capable of flying under both zero-grav and in-atmosphere conditions. It had three engines, burning balefully yellow on their Tri-Diridium fuel source, causing it to zip along at a nice clip through the vast emptiness of space. If one looked hard enough at the Feyrdrakeen-crafted ship, they could see upon the thick black armor plating the telltale signs of three different missile pods, each capable of delivering three salvos of deadly ballistic weaponry straight to any target he chose, given that it didn't move too much, two auto-tracking projectile type turrets, for shooting down ships in atmosphere, or smaller targets...say, enemy units. Two plasma-style beam units were in evidence, used for, surprise surprise, shooting down any ship foolish enough to get in his way, and a particle-distributor shield generator was also visible. The ship seemed lightly armed, but in the hands of a master, it was more deadly than most ships twice its size. And Ranerak definitely qualified as a master. Yes, the ship looked every inch like what it was; a Hunter class ship.

Back on his homeworld, others had been skeptical about his choice of ship. Hunters were notoriously fast, of course. They had to be to catch pirates and such, and were usually made off of designs from various pirate races. However, they also rarely carried much weaponry, and if one could outrun a Hunter class, then taking it apart was usually child's play. But then again, one rarely finds a weakness and leaves it to be exploited. Ranerak had long ago figured out that the problem wasn't in making the Hunter faster or stronger, really. It was plenty fast, and with enough precise shooting, strength wasn't all that necessary. No, it needed to be able to take a hit. Even the fastest ships, when hit with a ballistic weapon, will take damage. And usually cease to exist as a ship, so much as fragments of a ship. An armored Hunter, however, stood better chance of catching an oponent off-guard with its speed and keeping damage to a minimum.

Yet, despite all these precautions he'd taken, Ranerak had still been shot down when he first arrived here. Which was precisely why he'd taken his Hunter-class Harbinger out for a bit. He was hunting the foolish creature who had shot him down. He still remembered the ship as it fired at him during his withdrawal. He wouldn't forget, not til he'd regained honor in the face of his warrior pride.

He knew his chances of finding one ADD ship out of the hundreds, if not thousands, out in the vast emptiness were pathetically slim, but he'd gone out anyway, optimistic about his hunt for reasons even he couldn't understand. He flipped a switch, broadcasting personal signal far and wide. It was his Leader signal from his days as a commander of armies, and it was the only signal he'd been broadcasting the first day he'd come to this planet. If the fighter was here, she'd recognize it. He'd stop her ship from moving, and then do what he had done to so many young women since landing on this planet.

He eased off the throttle, letting his momentum carry him through space now that he was at a decent speed. No need to keep the engines burning out of atmosphere, after all. He looked out the viewport with its 180 degree view, looking for any incoming craft. Clear and empty. He glanced at his scanners, then back away...only to swing his gaze back to them. There was a ship. A single ship, personal fighter on the mid-range scope.

Ranerak laughed, an unpleasant, rasping sound, vaguly reminiscent of someone pouring gravel over sheet metal. He swung Harbinger around and began to zero in on the approaching signal. He'd know if she was the one he was looking for, because if she was, then the instant she saw him she'd probably start shooting.

((Let us play love, let us play))

The silvery wisps of smoke crept out of the corners of pale pink lips, dancing towards the ceiling carelessly. The cold distant green eyes shimmered with brilliancy, reflecting the luster of the blue hue the planet outside of the reinforced crystalline metal window in the view room radiated. ‘Somewhere down there…’ Her mind whirled in torrents on the recollections of a young girl with bleach blond hair, laughing joyfully in her presence whilst they laid on the warm grass on a sunny afternoon. In an instant, as soon as the memory had come, it was gone. Something urged her to know that, that girl she longed to remember was down there, on that damned planet. This was of no concern to her, approximately. A warm sensation at her fingertips cued her cigarettes, she casually let it drop to the floor, the heel of her thick, black boots extinguishing the flame. Other than the small movement of her leg, her posture remained unchanged. Straight and precise, one hand clutching the other arm where the cigarette had been previously held, her solemn face mere inches away from the window.

Here, she contemplated for hours. The observation deck, allowed her to look out into the vast emptiness of space. She’d always wondered how a place so filled with planets, stars, and galaxies could feel so utterly alone and cold. None of this mattered though, not anymore. The only thing that mattered was them, the sheer enjoyment of destroying and maliciously murdering every single one of the lust crazed aliens. Her memory was faint of much anything else than the violent rapes she had endured for years. Friends, faces, a family…none of them could be retrieved from the locked door of her mind. Never before had she failed to fulfill her destiny as destroyer of fiends, until him.

She sighed and placed her hand on the window, a look of dedication and anger crossing her face. She’d never forget that ship. Blazing with the deepest darkest black that resided in the corners of space. Much smaller than her own ship, and fast. That was the reason she’d had trouble with him. Rarely did she find her match in speed when it came to Alkalori. In her skilled piloting hands she’d been able to match his every turn and combination of maneuvers. She was a brilliant shot, but his evasive tactics were extremely hard to map- she’d only succeeded in shooting him down, her plasma cannons and the combination of illumina plated missiles had done a decent job of penetrating the fiend‘s shields. The reports claim the ship had landed on the Island…The island she dreaded and hated with a fiery passion. Agent’s were not allowed to pass the threshold of the planet’s atmosphere. This left little room for mistake, and she’d made it. She was unable to decide if the creature was dead or not- this left her filled with a new steam that fueled her solely for revenge.

A digital cue sounded in the Observation deck, followed by an imitation of her own delicate, sweet voice. These days, it never sounded as such, for she rarely spoke without being aided by maniacal laughter or without a dreadful, harsh tone to it. “Harley, a ship is being detected on the radar.” The sound of Alkalori’s voice brought Harley from her daze, and she blinked a few times. Silently she pressed the large black button on the wall. A serious of reinforced steel plates slipped over the window, leaving the room in darkness as she exited.

Harley lowered herself into the gel-filled tank in the piloting room. She could have used the ships original manual settings, but she found it was less fun than the customizing sensory control settings she'd had incorporated into the ship. As she was lowered into a more secure part of the ship, this too, was encased in a series of metallic plates as her head finally submerged into the oxygenated liquid. In moments the Agent was covered by thousands of sensory touch wires that carelessly ripped away at her clothes, leaving her with only coverage of her breasts but a thin black strip that wrapped around her back, and she was released into a weightless, free form room that allowed intense movement, and speech if necessary. Her surroundings were much larger here, than the entrance pod - four large luminescent screens glowed around her. These screens showed her anything she needed to see, and informed her of damages towards her ship, and potential weak spots of her enemy ships. “Alkalori, turn us off.” the command uttered and any signal the ship was sending was instantly disengaged- this allowed for no contact during a battle from any surrounding ships. She worked alone, if anyone got in her way, they knew they wouldn’t be spared. Her eyes, glistening in the liquid searched the screens for the ship, finally coming to rest on the third screen. She nearly lost her breath, “Fool!” her laughter filled the chamber, causing the ship to shudder from her sudden movements. In a flash the ship was no longer floating in orbit around the planet, but racing towards the poor fool who’d decided to attempt a possible escape. “No, No. Not from Harlequin.” she laughed the words her body leaning forward, causing the ships rapid ascention towards smaller ship. An exotic movement with her arms caused the screen towards her left to light up a flaming purple. “Cannons Activated.” The sweet tone rang through the chamber- with no more words exchanged and the nearly nude form of the pilot rhythmically moving in the weightless air, shoots were fired…


Ranerak couldn't help but let out a laugh as he saw the canons on the other ship power up. He urged Harbinger forward, roaring through the vast void towards his quarry. "You'll never touch me with those," he muttered, mostly to himself since he hadn't opened the comm channel yet. "They're just too slow, and I'm ready for you this time. It's quite laughable."

She opened fire on him anyway, despite his unheard warning. Even at this high velocity, moving towards the ship and the shots fired from it, he managed to dodge each plasma bolt. He slid right, using the evasion thrusters placed all over his ship, avoiding the first pair of shots, then rolled left again to evade the second pair. He dipped low for the next several shots, moving lower and lower, then flipped his ship onto its sideways from his opponent's position and slammed it into a straight climb, slipping between another pair of shots.

He rose above the ship of his prey a ways, then arched quickly, gracefully, till he was pointed directly at her once again from above. His own laser canons had been charging up, and he fired, bright yellowish-green flashes lancing out angrily towards his enemy.

He sharpened his dive at the last few seconds, and went screaming just past the nose of her ship, shooting off below her now. His auto-tracking projectile turrets shifted towards her as he locked her in as a target. With bright, silent flashes, high-calibur bullets began to spew towards the enemy ship, strafing at her underside, concentrating on her engines.

He pulled up out of the dive, then swept around in a wide, upward-spiraling turn, fully intent on coming around for another quick, strafing pass if his opponent decided she didn't want to move any faster. He opened a comm channel to her ship. "Remember me? You're the one who shot me down, aren't you? Then you should know that you had better speed up if you have any hope of beating me. This time, I'm ready for you." He laughed into the comm, the barest hints of battle lust seeping through in his voice. He controlled himself well enough against its influence, but couldn't banish it all the way, no matter how hard he tried. He was enjoying himself too much. "Come! I've been looking for you ever since I repaired my ship. My honor will be regained, and you will be my prize." He left the comm channel open. After all, it was impolite to offer banter with one's opponent, then not give them a chance to banter back. Besides, depending on what she said, he might get an insight into the type of pilot she was, and such information might prove advantageous to him.

He finally came level with his opponent's last-known position, and turned sharply towards it, adjusting for the speed with which she'd been moving. Engines flared bright as he pushed forth on the throttle, pushing Harbinger to its maximum speed, truly and completely commited to the battle.

The screens surrounding her outside of the sphere she was contained in were sharp and clear, continuously shifting with colors, changing sceneries rapidly as the two ships danced through the stars in pursuit of each other. She’d predicted if she’d ever met the fiend again she’d have trouble chasing him, his ship was versatile, crafty and fast. It would have easily bested hers without prior modifications made. But this, this is what she lived for. While other agents spent their pay on meaningless trinkets, Harley bought only the bare necessities and her addictions- which were relatively cheap, that and advancements for her ship, a ship that was constantly changing. The ship she’d inherited from her mentor. He, this wretched waste of space, was not the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

A wave of her slender hands caused a rectangular glass to lower in front of her. Her fingers dashed over it, tiny squares of light flaring as she did. A platform rose from the depths of the seemingly endless room, penetrating the sphere, and stabilizing her footing, crystalline brackets clasping around her legs up to her thighs. It was here the manual controls lowered from the main piloting room to come to rest in front of her. True, her preferred method of steering was so much more fun, but it seemed this creature bested her, and she had much more experience manually. Her eyes darted from screen to screen, quickly following his every movement as he darted and weaved through asteroids to avoid her shots. Her lips moved slightly as she counted clockwise his movements. Only a slight bit repetitive, enough to make an accurate prediction of his next maneuvers. She’d toy with him a while longer.

A digital chime echoed through the liquid of the sphere. “Incoming transmission signal. Accept or Deny?” the voice inquired. Her right hand, still littered with wires, waved in the air. A screen rose from the panel in front of her, neatly and in moments they were connected.

She stared into the cold face of the creature she’d failed to kill the first time, and listened to him with careful consideration, A sweet smile spread across her lips through the entirety of his message.

‘Woe is you pitiful creature. A wounded pride it seems? Amazing the arrogance some of these blasphemous creatures display Here, the thing almost lost his life, and instead of counting his blessings he wants to go another round?’ She thought silently to herself, her smile still beaming. If she’d had any capability for pity left in her being, she might have considered displaying some. A round orb in the middle of the panel lit up and she ran her hand over it, increasing her speed as well. She then pressed a button on the keyboard. She’d lost use for the bonding gel long ago, she only preferred it’s warming sensational touch to her bare flesh. However, the gel limited her speech. The sphere drained within seconds, and broke away from her leaving her elevated in the massive room. Her body dried, transferring from a warming sensation to a cooling one as the gel evaporated, leaving her nipples erect and noticeable through the black cloth, her lower half covered by the panel. As she exhaled for the first time, a blue mist emitted from her lungs, ridding themselves of the oxygenated substance. She had no intention of replying to him, but merely blew him a kiss and winked before ending the transmission. The screen lowered itself into the panel once more and the screens glowing brighter without the gel to hindrance their luminescence.

“Trick or treat love.” she laughed hysterically, the sweet maniacal sound bounced and retracted back to her from the room. “Alkalori, end all transmissions. I want no hacking to be done.” She thought for a moment as her hands worked over the spherical piloting controls. She locked on to the raging creature, and fired her Lumina seeking missile. It was then she veered and pulled away her ship, ending her chase for now- the ships exterior suddenly encasing itself in an obsidian colored shield, blending tastefully with the darkness of space, reflecting the brightness of the fiery stars around her. She would wait and watch in silence as her target attempted to avoid her missile. A delectable treat she’d picked up from Blue Haven. It would follow a target until it hit it’s mark. Even with an impeccable shield it would still do some damage, and that’s all she wanted. She powered down her ship and drifted nearly invisible, undetectable by a radar, and she laughed delightfully as the creature scurried speedily away from her missile.

Well, she was crafty, Ranerak had to admit that much. She'd cut off the comm channel after a single, taunting reply, not giving him the chance to analyze her or her systems. And now, to boot, she seemed ready to take him seriously. Normally, he would have cursed himself for a thousand advantages lost. He could have set up a long-range sweep before hand, finding her position and trying to set an ambush, he could have pushed the attack he'd started instead of breaking away...

But could have didn't touch his mind or this battle. He hadn't, and he found himself glad for that. Here was a true opponent. A rare treat indeed. He snapped off the comm switch himself, content with the fact that he now had a face, and the name of her ship, at least. "Alkalori...Harbinger will take you, just as I will take your pilot. Both of you will soon belong to us." His ship did not speak to him, for it had no voice. All the same, Ranerak was positive that he felt a slight shudder in his ship's frame, as though it found the prospect enticing. Or perhaps that was just the shudder of excitement he felt himself at battle.

As his vessel shrieked towards his enemy's, he watched as a dark shield began to cover the ship, making it far more difficult to spot, along with its speed in the darkness of their battlefield. Ranerak merely narrowed his eyes slightly, his equivalent of a grin. "Hide and seek won't save you. I'll find you, soon enough." His eyes widened again as the missiles came flying out of her ship, though, streaking straight towards him. Missiles were always a problem. Still, that was what armor plating was for, and the auto-tracker turrets would help as well. He quickly thought his way through his actions. He knew that it wasn't likely that these were some kind of unguided or heat guided missiles, meaning that they'd follow him until such time as they caught him or they ceased to exist. Continuing onward, he'd only run into them. Even if he did manage to shoot down the majority of them, there would be at least one left to score a hit, unless he hit all his marks without fail, and detonated them all. Too risky. He knew that if he turned to outrun them, the newly-cloaked ship would merely fire upon him, forcing him to try and dodge missils, plasma, and space debris...and then his plan came clear to him. Even with the armor modifications, he was moving in zero gravity, meaning that his ship, built for speed, was weightless, leaving him... "Still faster than the missiles." He finished aloud, his eyes narrowing in their grin once again.

Ranerak veered off, striking out from the current direction at a perfect ninety-degree angle...straight towards a huge gathering of debris and space rock fragments. A veritable obstacle course. He only needed to outrun the missiles long enough to blast them out of existence with his projectile canons. With greater speed, better maneuvring, and a fair amount of skill as a pilot, he could make it through her salvo of missiles. Even better, moving at such a high speed through such a dense cluster of space-clutter would make it nearly impossible for her to get a shot in...and even if she managed, the particle-dissipation shields would make sure that her shots did the most minimal of damage, if any.

He laughed, a low and predatorial rumbling sound, and his ship shot into the clustered debris at full speed, taking sharp turnes, swift curves, ducking and dodging amongst the lethal obstacles with the most precise of maneuvering. The missiles followed him as best they could. His canons roared, and the resulting spray of bullets took two of the missiles closest to him. He continued his reckless flight. As he continued his evasive dance, he roared in delight. Missiles fell to him, one by one, the canons taking their toll on the ballistic weapons. Soon enough, there'd be none left out here to distract him.

(No worries. You're a joy to look upon, no matter what character's skin you wear. ;D)

Her smile quickly melted away as she watched the craft whirl towards the debris field. A hand slid gently out of the bundle beside her pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. Flick… The area around her face lit up with a yellow glow from the flame, white wisps of smoke curling from the corners of her mouth as she lit the cigarette. She inhaled deeply. Bloody brilliant, a move she would have considered. Her eyes glittered and danced across the screens, watching as one by one her missiles were thwarted by the demon. His own bullets firing away, precise maneuvering that marked expertise and lethal accuracy. It was then she knew, she knew she would be unable to defeat this being in the skies.

She walked down through the hallway pulling on her long metallic violet overcoat as she did, the cigarette beaming brightly in her mouth. The sharp footsteps echoed through the emptiness with each step she took. She’d changed now, into something more suitable. A series of straps covering her delicate areas, clasps that hoisted her guns to her thigh, and a blade in it’s sheathe. Other than that, her body was left quite barren, her long slender legs pushing through the overcoat with each step, her tight stomach, and bare back would leave her quite exposed in battle. However, her cockiness exceeding her necessity for armors. She was confident in her skills. If only the being would bite, she had to get him out of the skies and on some kind of ground level.

She threw herself into the large chair of the piloting room. With her head in her left hand she ran her fingers across the glass keyboard bringing up the communication screen once again, connecting with the creature. By doing this, she’d sacrificed her location, but it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t be staying.

“ Demon, I can see you’re well equipped for the skies, but I’m curious. How are you on the ground? Once you’re finished with my treat…Perseia 9- the Arena, I‘ll be waiting…” Her voice was projected through the voice of the ship itself, her lips remained unmoving. With a wink, she closed the channel and her ship sped off, the over shield reflecting the surrounding areas.

Perseia 9, a haven amongst agents. Though Perseia was the rock’s formal name, it had become known as Blood star. It was here many monsters had fallen, and had met their much deserved deaths. The graveyard- composed of, perhaps, thousands of ships. Ships that had been stripped time and time again, many left as nothing more than outer shells of once brilliant fliers. A sense of foreboding lingered in this place, illuminated only by the stars surrounding. Sunrise wasn’t for another 43 hours. A thick, heavy fog lingered, a good thirty feet in the air, only the tips and peaks of massive ships poking through the barrier. It was here she planned to hide Alkalori. She landed craftily, nestling between two shells.

“Though a lovely tourist attraction…this is not where I choose to fight. Surely the imbecile knows what this planet is renown for.” with that the agent slid inside of the lotus pod and ejected from her ship, the locator beacon leaving the ship itself and staying with the pod. “The Arena…” She whispered.

The Arena, highly illegal yet none of the Supreme Justices of the Galaxy dared oppose it. Originally a concentration camp on a barren planet for the monsters in captivity that had been taken alive, over time the agents had turned it into a blood sport when the underground prisons started to fill. Thus, constructing the arena. Here, the agents were put to the test in the eyes of millions, an underground death match. This is where most of the agents were recognized for their skills in combat, these contests, not only where one could gain renown, but the prizes were highly rewarding. Harley had competed quite a few times herself, and she well knew the arena was empty today. The arena was massive, underground mechanisms meant to mimic a battlefield where unexpected occurrences flared everywhere. Ancient Rome rebuilt. Only, the monsters in captivity were never even given a semblance of freedom they were to fight for their life, and even in the end they were to die. It was the Agent’s way. Empty…all to herself and this being, save for the underground prisoners who wouldn’t be able to see the sport if they tried. So far underground they were unreachable without the transports. This mattered not to Harley, this day, she did not wish to compete for glory, no…this day she was going to compete for honor.

Ducking, dodging and weaving, slipping in and out of the cloud of debris, Ranerak, maneuvering deftly, with all the precision of one who'd spent most of his life in such situations. Darting throughout the field of wreckage, he avoided his would-be destroyers, the missiles trying faithfully to track his insane flightpatterns. One by one they fell to the roar of his cannons as they fired burst after burst of metallic death into them. He laughed, paying little heed to the missiles themselves, focusing mostly on trying to slide between floating structures and rocks, attempting to catch a glimpse of his foe, lest she strike when he least expect it. The last of the missiles from the deadly salvo burst into fiery orange flowers, leaving him free to finally track his prey. All he really needed to do was switch screens until he found one that picked up some sort of signature from her ship. That could take a moment, however, shifting through infrared, ultraviolet, thermal...various scanners that had been linked to Harbinger's systems for various purposes, like now. It would still take time, and she might have more than ample opportunity to strike again while he searched for her in the dark void...

He was most surprised when the message light lit up...along with an identifier tag on a section of darkness only a short distance away...relatively speaking. He quirked his head for a moment, thinking and weighing his options. Now was a perfect opportunity to strike, cripple her vessel, and board and take her...still, all in good time. He was enjoying himself immensely. Time for striking later. He straightened and flicked open the comm channel, a decision reached. He would listen to her words. She might have something interesting to say, anyway.

He listened intently as she spoke, fixing her face in his mind. He was sure to hunt this one. Many times. Besides, she had a very pleasant face. "Demon?" He objected mildly in her opening statement. He listened through her comments, shaking his head as she winked at him. "Perseia 9...the battleground. Bloody Star. You mean to challenge me in direct combat? Such arrogance. Fine. I accept your challenge and location." He realized that he'd been speaking to himself, but still, he felt the need to formalize the meeting. It was something almost sacred to him, the declaration of a duel.

He waited a moment, slipping out of the asteroids cautiosly, before kicking his burners to full drive and laying in a course for a prison planet turned into an arena for a hoarde of creatures who thirsted for the pain, suffering, humiliation, and death of others, a haven for those who believed in combat for the sake of combat, killing just for the thrill of it. Just like home. Ranerak thought, eyes narrowed fiercely. He rose and stalked back to the drop-hangar, where he kept all the meager equipment for ground combat.

Slipping into a room slightly larger than the command hub of his ship, Ranerak slipped on several small concessions to the battle. Feyrdrakeen, as a rule, are weapons as soon as they're born. As such, he did not have an expansive room filled with weapons and suits of armor or any such thing. What he did have, however, was more than enough to augment his status from that of a highly lethal, highly dangerous threat to that of a death sentence for whomever crossed his path. He strapped on a bandolier across his chest. On it, he hung several objects, among them smoke grenades and stunners of human make. The stunners, useful for capturing bounty alive, did as their name implied; when primed and thrown, flashes of light and incredible sound, along with sharp concussive waves, took three of the enemy's senses for a short time, leaving them momentarily blind, deaf, and numb. The smokers were also explained thoroughly by their name, emitting a thick smokescreen to cover movement, among other purposes. Another belt went about his waist, to which he strapped a single pistol of his own, a common beam weapon. These were all of the small armory he placed upon himself, however, leaving other weapons behind. There was simply no need for them. He wanted his prey alive, and any more weaponry would only hinder such a process.

The light in the drop-hangar changed from its steady, white luminessence to a pulsing red, signaling arrival to a suitable drop point near the arena of Perseia. An area in the center of the floor opened, the drop hatch, and a small protrusion, looking like a single stair set on a pole, slid from the cieling to hang over the opening. He stepped onto it, and it immediately lowered him to the planet's surface on a hydraulic system. Once he was down, he took one of the objects off of the bandolier and activated Harbinger's slave program. The ship flew off to orbit the planet, conducting scanner sweeps regularly so that it might hide, should it detect any other presences approaching. Ranerak strode to the massive arena and paused at one of the entrances to the combat ground. One of his fingers lengthened and hardened into a claw, and he inflicted a shallow cut upon his right hand. Bright orange blood filled the wound quickly and spread over his palm. He closed his fist, clenching it for a moment, then spread the hand wide and pressed it against the entryway to the colliseum, his silent salute not to fighters who would come and go, not to the deities who considered themselves the patrons of combat, and certainly not to any other foolish concepts like bravery or strength or courage. He already had those. His salute was to himself and his opponent, and mostly to the soul of battle itself, the roaring pulse that filled the mind during a fight. He removed his hand, leaving a bloody print upon the wall, then entered slowly, accessing one of the transports. "Now, human...Harlequin...now will you learn the difference between mere demons and Feyrdrakeen." He said to himself as his transport zipped along towards the arena grounds. "Demons may be defeated by so weak a thing as faith. Those of Feyrdrak, however, may not. There is no defeat for us. Now prepare."

Her slender hands ran along the outline of her body, starting at her succulent breasts, tracing the lining of her mauve trench coat until her hands hit the tie at her waist. Craftily her fingers worked, undoing the tie. The coat slid down her shoulders, releasing her body and falling into her right hand. She carefully bundled the jacket up, and neatly laid it across the wall that was to divide spectators from the arena itself. Her body glistened in the bright moonlight that invaded the arena’s darkness from a large roofless opening at the top of the massive dome.

Her steps were light, nearly inaudible. She’d arrived long before the creature, and she took this time to mentally prepare herself. She found herself in the middle of the arena, her eye’s surveying the scene. She had a home field advantage over her opponent. She knew where all of the arena’s obstacles were, and how they were activated. One wrong step could result in instant death in this place. Death by fire, death by metal, death by painfully slow entrapment that crushed every bone in your body until death came. She smiled at this, what a treat.

Her body, rather exposed but her “clothing” suitable for her needs in ample movement, she let her hands run down her waist and lay dormant on the glock’s that rested in their holsters at her thighs. She fingered one patiently, the rest of her body remained unmoved. Her eyes dead set on the entrance where he was sure to come. She issued a silent prayer, not to any god, but to herself. ‘This creature wants to play, he’ll get one hell of a game.’

Harley had become lost in thought, her mind retracing his skill in the skies when a noise, rather a movement stirred her attentions. Her eyes immediately went back into focus, shifting every few seconds watching the entrance. He was here. That she could be sure of. Her hands gripped the gun’s in her holsters. She wasn’t going to attack straight away if he wasn’t, she was a sucker for theatrics and wanted the fight to be as dramatic as possible. Her eyes surveyed the darkness searching, waiting for any indication he had fully entered the arena.

The arena was a grandiose dome, the actual fighting area in a massive circular ring. In this ring lay seven obstacles that were designed to imitate harsh conditions, and others for pure entertainment of bloody sport. The surface mainly sat on lime stone and thick sand with an arrangement of rocks, boulders, and other structures that could be used for cover or for a hiding advantage. Though agents seldom hid. There, on the northern part of the arena laid a quite large pool of water. There were two entrances, the glorified entrance of the agents to the west, and the rectangular cut in the wall, reinforced with metals for the pitiful monsters. To avoid stray shots into the crowds there was a shielding system installed that surrounded the fighting arena, along with large screens that detected motion (facing away from the fighters) for the spectators to view up close in the action. On the southern side, there was a changeable surface platform in order to suit the needs of elemental monsters, stray from water which was located in the northern area. In the middle was a smaller ring, generally used for unobstructed hand to hand combat. It was here she waited, though she was excited to finally be back in the ring, she was excited to find use for the lovely obstacles that she’d yet to use in her battles. Anything goes in the arena, nothing was illegal, nothing was considered dirty.

(So very sorry about that, really. Didn't mean to be gone that long, but life got hectic for a bit...)

Ranerak waited in silence as the transport descended through its twists and turns, immobile as a statue. He watched the doors with only half a mind, the rest of him turned not to thinking, planning, or preparing, for he was as ready as he could possibly be, there was no need to plan for he had no clue what this place he would soon enter looked like, and thought for the sake of thought was useless and merely clouded the mind, rather than freeing it. This did not mean he wasted his time, however, not in the least. He spent it anticipating the battle to come which, for a Feyrdrakeen, was far more important than making simple plans. If one's heart wasn't in the battle, one would surely lose, and never again would he accept anything close to a loss.

Anticipation was not a hard thing to attain in this instance, however. He recalled his past encounter with Harlequin once more, and this most recent one. The twists and turns, the dodges, shots fired, tactics plied. And now, to face her hand to hand as well...she would soon find, much to her dismay no doubt, that Ranerak was, if anything, more skilled at ground combat than at piloting a ship. He looked down and flexed one hand, watching as the black appendage seemed to take on a sudden metallic sheen, a sign that the flesh had hardened.

Finally, after what was no more than two minutes but seemed like hours to his restless mind, the transport dinged. The sound was not half done before Ranerak's pistol was out and had fired a shot at the sound, destroying the device that alerted the passengers that their destination had been reached. He threw an aggravated look at the smoking ruin of the simple control panel. Of all the foolish things to put on a transport, he thought, why a bell? It's obvious that we're where we need to be. He felt a mixture of pleasure at the fact that he'd reacted so quickly to so small a prompt without warning...and irritation that he'd wasted a shot on something that hadn't needed it. One more testament to his prey's skill. He'd never been this keyed up before. And afterward, after I've won, my reward...my prize... he nearly shuddered at the thought, but managed to keep his reserve as pressed the button to open the door. Wouldn't do to show emotion to an enemy. He holstered his weapon once again and waited as the doors opened slowly, no doubt as a way to build up tension in the crowd before a fight. Humans. Silly creatures. Why would they for an instant believe that the battlefield needed more tension?

The doors slid open, finally, and Ranerak strolled out into...an arena. It was like many he'd seen, the floor covered in sand, supposedly to absorb spilled blood and other fluids, traps, some of which could be easily seen, others that were only obvious once he'd looked harder. These hardly mattered at the moment, for there, in the center, stood none other than his prey. Out in the open...dramatic. He thought with a narrowing of the eyes. He himself rather enjoyed them...though he wouldn't admit it, the idea that such things had no place in a warrior's life being so deeply engraved upon his very soul. He strode forth to meed his opponent. Taking long strides, the seven foot Feyrdrakeen was soon in the inner circle with Harlequin. He tilted his head to one side, studying her with a quizzical look.

"Your bravery is astounding. Few have the courage to direct a challenge to the Feyrdrakeen, and fewer still to me personally." He glanced about once. "You've chosen the battleground well. I imagine you have more knowledge of this place than I, giving you that small advantage...which, actually, makes us almost even. Almost. Make no mistake, however," he spread his hands wide, the dim light that filtered from an incredibly high ceiling shining upon his flesh, showing that he was fully 'armored' and ready for combat now, "You will be mine. There will be no draws, and I will not accept a loss. You are my prey, and now that I've tracked you down, you will not escape me."

Ranerak watched her with a detached mood as she taunted him and his entire race. He'd learned long ago that rushing in because someone said your race was stupid was usually a good way to go about proving it. He wasn't about to make such a mistake here. He watched her flamboyant display, nearly going for his own sidearm as she tore hers out of the holster and fired off a round into the air. After she'd completed her acrobatics display and motioned for his advance, he laughed himself.

A low rasping chuckle issued from his throat. "If you keep that up, there won't be any need for me to wear you down. I may be lower than dirt, but at least I have more intelligence than the dirt. Can the same be said of you?" He began to stalk forth, moving with a slow, heavy tread as though he were incapable of fast motion. He covered about half the distance between them with that slow, steady gait, his steps causing small puffs of dirt to rise from the force of impact as his feet touched the ground...then covered the rest in a rapid sliding motion, seeming to glide forward across the dust-covered floor as he pushed off towards his target.

Suddenly, he dropped his entire seven-foot frame to the ground, turning his rush into a foot-first slide. He swept one of his legs around at Harlequin, trying to sweep hers out from underneath her, not only to put her down for a moment, but also to unbalance her so she wouldn't see what else he was up to; from the bandolier he wore, one of the stunners came free, lost its pin, and was planted a short distance in front of the agent.

Ranerak came up in a roll, twisting until he was facing his opponent once more, then threw up one of his arms to shield from the imminent flash of light and sound that would soon issue from the flasher. This left him unable to see his opponent until after the grenade went off, but he wasn't too worried. If anyone had their eyes open and were pointing them in that direction when that thing went off, they wouldn't be seeing much for about five minutes anyway. Besides, he wasn't just going to stand there, out in the open, to wait for a lucky shot to get through. Detaching another grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin and dropped it at his own feet. About five seconds later, a thick smokescreen was emitted from the ovoid device, the dense smoke coming to cover about ten feet worth of an area within a few seconds. A little longer, and it would take up more space, but for now, this gave him plenty of room to move without detection. Whatever might be said about human technology, it could usually do what it was meant to. The only thing it lacked, like its creators for the most part, was finesse.