Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables- Round 2 (Veronica)

[Marcus Finch]

Marcus was not the superstitious type. He didn’t believe in black cats or broken mirrors; he didn’t believe in any luck that you didn’t make for yourself. But, as he stood in the courtyard for the second time with his eyes closed, leaning back against the wall of the school, he felt that there must have been some Higher Power at work. What else could explain his victory in the first round? It was clear from the start that the punk was outmatched by his opponent, but halfway through the fight the guy decided to quit. While Marcus certainly wasn’t going to complain about the victory, he couldn’t help but feel the whole thing was a bit weird. It wasn’t even like he had the guy pinned to the ground or at his mercy. As far as he knew, they were both still in it, a bit injured, a bit shaken, but prepared to win by whatever means necessary.

He dragged himself from the thread of thought. There was no use dwelling on a dead fight. Instead the punk thought forward to the match that was about to begin. Once again he knew nothing about his opponent, only that they had won their first match. His body still ached from his fight with Liam, and he would be tackling this match with limited use of his injured left arm. Round one had left the arm in bad shape. Marcus had committed every major offense that was possible to commit against a shoulder, and though the medics had been kind enough to screw it back into place with plates and rods, it was unlikely it would ever fully recover. He didn't want to think about what sort of consequences such an injury would have on his music career. It was bad enough that he would be taking on this fight one-handed. All he could do was hope that his opponent would not be a metal manipulator.

With his left arm pinned to his body in its sling, Marcus drew steady breaths and tried to focus. The midday island sun was relentless and his skin was already slick with sweat. He felt more prepared for this fight than the last, though a pervading sense of anticipation threatened to distract him from his meditation. Deep breaths, just do what you know, he reminded himself. Get angry. He breathed in sharply as the clanking of the makeshift gates announced his opponent’s arrival. He exhaled and opened his eyes.

The girl did not appear particularly dangerous, but Marcus knew that things at Ashford were rarely what they seemed. Liam had taught him that. Pushing away from the wall, the punk eyed the girl wearily. She was thin and a bit on the short-side. Her long hair fell in white sheets down her back and it was impossible to say exactly what colour her eyes were. There was a cast on her leg. Seeing the bulky thing was a relief. At least Marcus wouldn’t be the only one with an injury to cope with, but if this girl was anything like Liam then the punk knew better than to underestimate her. After all, she’d won her first match, too, and if the glare in her eyes and the set of her jaw weren’t enough to convince the punk to take the match seriously, then there was the dull ache of his arm to remind him that this tournament was only just getting started.

[Veronica Knox]

Ironically, Veronica had never expected to be escorted in her life but today marked the second time that it had occurred within a short amount of time, and each time lead her to a fight. A fight that would end with someone being badly injured, as her uneven and off balanced steps reminded her, and someone victorious enough to continue their streak in the tournament (however, they didn’t have to be in perfect shape either). Her last match was against a man made of bronze and had been more trying than she thought. A small part of her mind had been continuously questioning why she was here, she wasn’t stronger or smarter than majority of the school, but it had been that fight that silenced it.

A single fight reminded her that she was here to prove something to her closest friends and to herself. That she was capable of handling her own and could take down people who were stronger, faster, and all around more power than herself. It was a grim reminder, as her mind flickered to the thought of having to drown Smith in order to force him into unconsciousness, but a reminder none the less. It was able to solidify the simple fact that she choose to be here and she was going to use it to prove her own worth on this god forsaken island.

With a heavy shove of the doors she made her way into the make shift arena in the courtyard. At this point they at least knew their surroundings and how to work with them, they weren’t heading in completely blind anymore. Yet, there was still a large unknown factor that just so happened to be staring at her as she stood as far away from him as humanly possible. Her red gaze fell on the green haired boy across from her, immediately taking note of his arm. It was either completely immobile or vastly limited, it’d make a wonderful opening. Other than being battered from his last round, he seemed to be in a good shape. His mobility could be her downfall.

Clenching her jaw, she gave him a steady stare for the moment. ’Keep him at a distance until absolutely necessary,’ she thought, taking a second to twist her long hair into a braid so it wouldn’t be a liability. Much like her last match she was wearing a form fitting tank top, however over her legs she wore longer basketball shorts to partially cover her cast that ran from her foot to just below her knee. Thankfully, Smith only managed to break her tibia in two places so she wouldn’t be required to wear a cast that ran the length of her whole leg. She could work with this a little more, even though she would have to pay particular attention to her movements and not over exert it.

“Best of luck to you,” she called out casually, greeting him a in a similar way that she had offered Smith. She had finished readjusting her braid and slid into a defensive stance that was so familiar. Taking a deep breath Veronica made her first move without shifting an inch. Veronica created a small construct in the Dorsolateral prefrontal cortex of Marcus’s brain. The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex focused on planning, abstract reasoning and cognitive flexibility. It should slightly inhibit his ability to plan through his movements, enough to give her a slight edge. Deciding to add an extra edge to it, she shot a volt of pain up his arm and focused it in along his the join in his shoulder. Let the game begin.

[Marcus Finch]

As the girl eyed him from across the courtyard, Marcus held her gaze and gave a slow nod. He would not make the same mistake as he had with Liam, and that meant he would not move to shake the girl’s hand or even open his mouth to respond to her good-luck wishes. A single afternoon had transformed Marcus’s attitude toward the fight. His expression was blank and serious, interrupted only when a flash of pain from his arm contorted his features. The pain wasn’t unexpected. The injured arm was exercising its right to do what injured arms do best: cause pain and get in the way. Marcus tried to ignore it and took a moment to be silently grateful that his clothes hid the other injuries. Somehow his ribs had survived round one bruised but not broken. The ugly marks were stamped to his chest in the vague representation of a pair of shoes, while the bruises on his back were sporadic and accompanied by patches of road rash where his skin was rubbed raw by the floor of the courtyard. Although he forced himself to stand up straight and face his opponent, he was by no means in good shape. But Veronica didn’t have to know that.

Marcus was unaware that the match had begun without Veronica making a single move. He leered at her with his aching arm, but for the life of him couldn’t figure out what to do next. They were supposed to fight and he knew he needed to make a move or something, but when he tried to plan ahead it was like his thoughts hit a wall. “C’mon, Mark, get it together,” he muttered to himself as he bounced on his toes. He refused to move his gaze from the girl despite the fact that she seemed content to stand in her corner, calmly twisting her hair into a braid. Liam’s attacks had come so fast he almost didn’t trust himself to blink, but this was a new fight and Marcus didn’t know what to expect. He made a low growl of frustration. Why couldn’t he think? He had even gone as far as to reject the painkillers he was offered so that he could focus on the match, so why did he feel drugged and stupid? Shaking his head, he thought screw it, just do something!

He stomped once, hard on the ground and sent shock waves of sound under the girl’s feet. It seemed a safe enough opening attack, aiming to take advantage of the girl’s distance and injured leg. Marcus didn’t want to move in on the girl unless he had to. He still didn’t know what her powers were or why she was hanging back, and the last thing he wanted was for the girl to bait him into a trap. At least with Liam it was obvious what he was fighting; with this girl he could only hope that his conservative first move wouldn’t turn out to be a massive mistake. If he could think he might have followed up the attack or prepared himself for a counter, but he couldn’t think and he was left standing in the same spot, gawking dumbly at the girl who had done nothing but play with her hair.

[Veronica Knox]

From a far, it was a bit hard to tell what the boy was thinking or feeling. He was rather skilled at keeping a mask of calm in place, an act that V almost found commendable as she began the match silently. Her red gaze remained on Marcus, her own façade of calmness in place as she created the construct in his mind. It would be shortly after that he would begin to feel the effects of being unable to think ideas completely through or come up with something on the fly, at least at his normal rate. Having that simple construct in play gave a nice safety net, allowing her time to work on figuring out how to knock him out without getting close so soon.

However, it didn’t prevent Marcus from deciding he’d make a move as well. She witnessed the stomp and immediately all her nerve endings were on edge. It had truly begun and as she felt the shock hitting her feet. With a grunt she dropped to one knee, silently cursing her broken leg. Veronica didn’t remain down long, instead a pole took form next to her. It was planted firmly in the ground and allowed her to yank herself back into a standing position. It just so happened to provide her a little extra support as she continued to hang onto it and relieve the damaging pressure on her leg.

’Sound manipulator?’ She questioned silently, her eyebrows pinching together ever so slightly in thought. ’That may work in my favor.’ The beauty of her constructs is that they didn’t produce any sound, as they only affected sight and touch which would at least limit the amount of noise she’d made. Leading to the thought that, at the very least, she’d be able to minimize the amount of sound she created so he couldn’t use it against her. Continuing that thought process another small construct would take form in Marcus’s brain, this time along his temporal lobe. The lobe in the brain that deal with hearing, as well as short term memory relating to vision and audio.

Her only chance at this tournament was to make him as unsteady and unproductive as possible. If she could knock him off of his a game long enough to either exhaust him or to get him in a position where it was safe enough to attack, she might have a shot. Otherwise, at this long rage he had the upper hand. Especially since Veronica had taken the time to create three constructs, reaching her limit of her one gift. Now, she had to rely on her own bodily functions or drop the poke which was preventing even more damage from occurring to her leg. Her only other useful gift at long range was her pain inducement. This would be an interesting fight after all.

[Marcus Finch]

The shock wave didn’t do shit and Marcus wasn’t sure what he had expected. On the other end of the courtyard Veronica fell down on one knee for a moment, but then a pole materialised in her hand and she was back on her feet once more. Confusion clouded the punk’s mind as he struggled to figure out how it was possible for her to make a pole appear out of nowhere. The construct in his mind prevented him from putting two-and-two together to realise that V’s power allowed her to create tangible illusions. He was at a total loss when it came to knowing what to do next and he was becoming more frustrated by the moment.

Settling back on his heels, he stared at the girl and tilted his head to one side. She was just standing there, making no moves to attack while her opponent began to panic. He couldn’t think straight and he didn’t know why. Desperate to do something, he stomped once, hard on the ground to send a shock wave under her feet. But hadn’t he done that already? He couldn’t seem to remember. And then another realisation hit him: he hadn’t heard the stomp. Marcus dug an ear plug out of his right ear and snapped his fingers, listening close. There was definitely a sound, he was relieved to hear, but it didn’t make any sense in his brain. He knew what a finger snap should sound like, but there was something weird and distorted about this one that he couldn’t find the words to describe. His eyes trailed to the girl and he stared at her with his mouth half-open.

“Is it happening to you, too?” he called out to her, but the words sounded all wrong in his head. Marcus was certain that he had said them in the right order, and he knew what he wanted to ask her, but when he tried to process them for himself they didn’t seem to make sense. He rubbed his forehead with his good hand and blinked hard. What the hell was going on? Lifting his gaze to the girl once more, he noted that she didn’t seem bothered by anything. Whatever was happening to him wasn’t happening to her. He knew that should mean something, but he didn’t know what. “I’m losing it,” he muttered in words that didn’t make sense.

[Veronica Knox]

Moments later Marcus attempted to retaliate by repeated the same move. Her only reaction was tightening her grip on the pole and quirking an eyebrow at the boy. It hadn’t been very effective the first time, so why attempt the same move again? Had he really thought it would be a good idea to try such a thing? The answer was clearly her own doing, the constructs in his mind was working and he wasn’t able to think clearly anymore. For a second a small, satisfactory smirk crept onto her face but it wasn’t long until Veronica reverted to her signature cold mask.

If she hadn’t been in a tournament, Veronica almost would have been amused by the sight of Marcus going through the steps of reassuring himself that he could still hear. Watching the teen pull out ear buds (another ounce of respect and approve gained on his part, pre planning always reassured you that you had a decent opponent) and snap close to his ear meant that her second construct had worked. In response to his question she merely tilted her head and answered in a rather bored tone, “What do you mean?” Adding another level of uncertainty couldn’t hurt, now could it?

As the match crept to a state of inactivity, Veronica knew she’d never win by simply messing with the boy. She needed to act, the only problem was how she was going to achieve that. She couldn’t run or avoid counters, she could use her hands but again that would require her getting closer to Marcus than she wanted. Growing slightly irritated with her own limitations she sent a flare of pain up from the sole of his foot to the base of his head, slowly increasing the level of pain as it traveled up his body. If anything that could possibly cause him to bring the fight to her. At this point, staying on the defensive may be easier with the amount of her illusions being at its limit.

[Marcus Finch]

Once again the girl failed to react to the sound-quake, but Marcus was too busy tripping out to notice. The constructs pressing on his brain were not only taking their toll on his ability to think, but also on his emotional stability. Panic swelled in his chest like a firework waiting to blow. The feeling was exacerbated as he watched the girl’s lips move, the sound of the words reaching his ears and stopping there. “What?” he called back, his face an expression of mingled confusion, fear, and rage. It was then that a new pain introduced itself to the punk. Travelling from the bottom of his foot up to his head, he stumbled back as if he had stepped on something sharp. But the pain didn’t stop. It felt like his head was being squeezed by a vise and he pressed his hand to his forehead once more.

“What the f--” the words whipped through the air at the girl. Marcus wasn’t sure how, but he felt that she was responsible for his distress. He wanted to hurt her. The sound manipulator threw the individual words at her, each one loaded with the kind of force that could bowl a grown-man over. His breathing came in heavy, accelerated gasps as he gave up on reason. He was pissed, his mind wasn’t working, and the satisfied smirk on the girl’s face coupled with the pressure building around his head sent him into a frenzy. He hated this school, he hated everyone in it, and now all that hate was concentrated on a single target. Marcus didn’t need to think to hate; It came naturally.

[Veronica Knox]

Marcus’s reaction was going according to plan. The panic and frustration were clear on his face, his mask of calm shattering as he discovered his mind was clouded and senses scrambled. It was a decent enough start and a beautiful way to send someone into a panic frenzy but it would in no means provide a knock out. Veronica was well aware of this and thus she decided to add to Marcus’s unsettled state with a bit of pain shooting through his system. If anything, she hoped that it would kick start the fight to a more physical event. She was well aware that she was limited in this aspect but she was also aware that it had to be done.

However, the way that he had begun the fight was far different than she had thought it would be. She had managed to cling to the pole at her side through the first word quite literally slapping her. As the second one quickly followed she found herself being flung backwards. The third pushing her back until her body slammed against the door that she had just entered from. With her mind spinning the constructs momentarily flickered in his mind until she regained her senses. Clenching her jaw she forced herself to her knees, as her eyes landed on him the constructs would grow in size only adding to the pressure within his mid.

The pole she had been holding onto for support vanished from their sight. “You’re full of surprises,” She said, hoping to hold his attention while it reformed behind him. In seconds it was launched forward, almost as if someone had thrown it at the boy. However, with the angle she was at she didn’t have a very good aim. She had been aiming for shoulders or head but it very well could go anywhere else, even as far as completely missing her opponent. Yet, even with the chance of missing she still felt like she should retaliate on the physical plane as well as the mental.

[Marcus Finch]

If he had been thinking straight, Marcus might have felt some sense of satisfaction at knocking the girl into the wall, but the feeling lost itself under a landslide of anger. That was until the constructs flickered in his brain, catching him off guard as he was struck by a sudden moment of clarity. It would have been the ideal time to act, but he lost his momentum as everything clicked into place. The girl was responsible for his confusion and the sporadic bursts of pain. Marcus might have noticed the construct, too, but as he looked towards the girl it had already vanished. Then the pressure in his head was back, this time even stronger than before, and his thoughts tangled once more into a knot of incoherence.

The punk’s eyes rolled to the girl’s face as she called out to him. He found himself unable to understand her words once again, but this time he expected it. He took a heavy step forward. Unfortunately, the punk hadn’t expected to become a human pinata. Whack. The metal pole struck him clean across the back of his head, catching the side of his face as it went. Stumbling to the side, Marcus bent over and clutched at his face with his good hand. A stream of words too vulgar to be repeated tumbled from his mouth and shivered in the air, hanging, condensing.

A cloud of angry words swarmed in the centre of the courtyard. The sound manipulator gritted his teeth, imagining the pressure in his head transferring to the cloud as he forced the sound waves together. The words became indistinguishable, humming together like a bee’s nest as they condensed. Marcus’s intent was clear. If Veronica didn’t do something to distract or disable the punk, the pocket of air was going to blow them both to hell.

[Veronica Knox]

Mistakes were made. Veronica immediately new that as the pipe hit him upside the head and he began to let loose a slur of words. She had heard all those words before, she’s even repeated majority of them herself but something different happened as Marcus spoke them. It was almost like with each passing word there was a building pressure around the two, pressing down on herself and she was assuming Marcus as well. Her ears felt a slow ache building as the pressure shifted around her, the need to adjust the pressure nearly overwhelming. Thankfully, as the ache slowly worsened the feeling all together left her.

However, the knowledge that she needed to act quickly before the bubble of pressure burst didn’t. Her mind worked quickly, her first power kicking in to help clear and organize her thoughts. It was of the utmost important that she distracted him or finished the fight, immediately. If the pressure gave out it wouldn’t only effect herself, by at the way it was building it would likely cause damage to the entire arena and everyone within a decent distance. As her mind ran through possibilities of executing her desire, she settled on one that wasn’t her particular favorite but had a better chance of succeeding than any other.

Standing up, V slowly started to make her way towards Marcus. Despite her cast, she walked with confidence and ease which was only due to the fact she couldn’t feel the pain that should have been splintering up her shin. However, as she did so the construct along his temporal lobe disappeared, just as the pole that had just assaulted him did. They were quickly replaced with mirror images of Veronica. One standing directly in front of him, inches from his face. The other, slightly off to his side. With a grimace, Veronica knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep up such large constructs for long so she had to act instantly.

While she kept the first construct in front of him still, hoping that it was simply enough to spook him or at least distract him momentarily, the other one came to life. It moved with a lack of fluidity that Veronica would have had, but it still managed to perform a turning kick. The second construct’s aim was to the best of Veronica’s ability being on the other side of Marcus, but it still should have landed in the range along his injured shoulder. Hopefully, if the kick landed it would be enough to shove him forward. In which case the first construct would finally be brought to life, and elbow the already bruising side of his face.

Going off a hope and prayer, Veronica slowed her pace as the evident strain the illusions were taking on her mind and body. Sweat beaded down her back and slipped down the edges of her face. She wasn’t used to handling this many fully moving constructs and it was a large strain. As soon as the constructs were finished with their basic attacks they would disappear from sight. If they had done their job, than he was distracted enough not to blow them into the next century. Letting out a low breath Veronica made her way closer to Marcus, hoping that she’d be able to finish the fight quickly now.

[Marcus Finch]

It all happened so fast Marcus almost didn’t have time to react. First, there was the slight ease on the pressure in his head, but the feeling of relief was short lived as he found the girl suddenly standing just inches from his face. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, taking an unsteady step backwards out of instinct. Before he had time to wonder how the girl moved so quickly, something slammed into his injured arm from the side, sending him off balance and stumbling forward. A moan of agony escaped him as the pain shot through his body, but then a new pain erupted from his face as the first construct struck him with her elbow. Things were looking bad for the punk as he was forced down on one knee, his limbs drawn into himself in a last-ditch effort at self-defense.

There was no way he could hold the pressure in his current state. The air rapidly deflated as the desperate punk struggled to pull himself together. His vision flickered and he squeezed his eyes shut as nausea rolled over him. Even without the girl’s help, the pain in his shoulder was unbearable. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled through clenched teeth. The words radiated out of him with the kind of force one would expect from a charging bull. With his eyes squeezed shut in anguish, Marcus gave no direction to the sound waves. He had no clear target to hit and they pounded through the courtyard, slamming into anything and everything in their path. Breathing forced and heavy, he pushed himself to his feet. Marcus didn’t know what to expect next from the girl, but he no longer cared about winning or losing. He wanted to make the girl, all three of her, hurt.

Wait, he paused, his green eyes flickering from one image of the girl to the next. Three of her? It was impossible and he blinked dumbly as he tried to make sense of the situation. The blinking called attention to the numbness in the right side of his face and he lifted his good hand to his cheek. He flinched at the touch and pulled his hand away to see blood on his fingers, but he couldn’t seem to recall how the injury had happened. Once again, the constructs remaining in his brain were taking their toll. Already, the girl’s presence had slipped from his mind as he stared down at his blood-stained fingers. There was little doubt that the moment of distraction would prove devastating for the punk.

[Veronica Knox]

Watching her constructs preform their tasks was rather satisfying. She had been working on manipulating larger constructs for quite some time. So, reaching the point where she could effectively use them in battle gave the girl a smidge of happiness, even if she could only use them for a few seconds. Letting the prideful side thought die away, she watched as Marcus was brought to his knees in two thought out attacks. She could only imagine the pain splintering through his arm and face. Well, imagine and amplify it by two in hopes to further overwhelm his sense for the moment.

However, as she was nearing Marcus she felt a sudden force slam into the right side of body sending her reeling. Suddenly finding herself on her knees, half of her body numb, Veronica cursed for being caught off guard so easily. Her eyes snapped up, expecting to see Marcus over her and preparing to deliver the final blow. However, she saw no such thing and in fact, nearly the opposite. Her red eyes landed on Marcus starring down at his blood covered hand as if it was the most fascinating thing on the field. Not taking chances on how long the crimson liquid would capture his attention, Veronica launched herself up and towards Marcus.

Coming at the green haired punk from the side, Veronica took the advantage that he had so kindly given her. A bit of concern filled her as she neared, knowing full well her kicks were stronger than her punches. Yet, with the state of her leg already being over worked by movement she couldn’t fix furthering the damage by attempting a kick. Instead the white haired girl was going to have to deliver a well-placed punch. Which is exactly what she did as she closed the distance between herself and her opponent, creating as step so that she was on slightly more even terms height wise. In one fluid motion she delivered a blow to his already weakened jaw, hopefully, with enough power to cause a blackout.

[Marcus Finch]

His head snapped up as the girl charged him, just in time to catch a glimpse of her fist as it hurled towards his face. Wham. Knuckles slammed into the injured side of his face, forcing his neck to snap to the side. Shockwaves of pain echoed through his skull and his head reeled. Marcus stumbled to the side before his knees gave way and he collapsed in a bloodied heap on the ground. The world went silent, though he couldn’t be sure whether he’d caused it or maybe it was just the momentary loss of consciousness that did it. A few seconds later he came to, disoriented and beaten. The punk moved to push himself off of the ground only to be pushed back down again by a burly man wearing all white.

Predictably, the punk immediately began to struggle and spew all sorts of toxic words as the man. Also predictably, such behaviour did not improve Marcus’s situation. A small pack of white-clad medics appeared to pin the uncooperative boy to the ground. He felt the cool pinch of a needle as it slipped into the skin of his upper arm, his muscles relaxing without his permission as the drug swept through his body. Limp and exhausted, he allowed himself to be lifted onto a stretcher as his head lulled to one side and his eyes found the image of a white-haired girl lingering somewhere behind the wall of medics that surrounded him. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t name it in his delirium. Somewhere in the back of his mind The Ramones were singing.

Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated