It was an uneventful day, with unexciting weather and an unenthusiastic blond mutant wandering through the city. She was searing jeans, a loose t-shirt, boots and a leather jacket that had become part of her winter attire. It was warmer weather for the season, especially early February like it was, but she wasn't complaining to the particularly sunny day. With all the trouble they'd been in lately, she was trying to stay under the radar with the moon barely making it's way to a half-phase in the sky.

Trying.... maybe not succeeding though.

When you lived life as a thief, stealing came naturally and sometimes reflexively, which was something Tses battled in the time following her run in with the cops. In many ways, she didn't know how not to steal. Walking past stores and moving through the grocery, sneaking an extra item here or there was a way to survive. She lacked some of the moral conflict that typically came with it. To her, she wasn't stealing; it was just scavenger rights. Steal or be stolen from. While that philosophy functioned well in a post apocalyptic world, modern society seemed to have a problem with this.

And so, when Tses made her way through the streets, she wandered past a street vendor. Their booth was filled with cheep knock offs that tourists often seemed to fall for, and they were speaking to a customer, cash drawer still open. The opportunity was too perfect. As she wandered past, she felt her hand slip into the drawer, and remove two of the larger bills, the action hardly detectible to the people around her. Other pedestrians moved unknowingly beside her, the vendor didn't turn, and it felt like a successful heist. She turned down a slower street, and got a short distance away before she let a little smile cross her face. Ok, so she hadn't learned her lesson, but stealing... it was just a natural reaction for her.

Her smile went away though when she realized one person had watched the little slight of hand.

The roar of a motorcycle engine was just one of many sounds among the many that filled the air on this overcast New York Day. But to Kyle, it was a sound he'd not heard for so long, it might have been the only sound in the world.

Only days ago, Kyle had been the prisoner of a secret government unit, kept in stasis while scientists examined him. He could barely remember how they'd managed to take him by surprise, his memory of that time hazed by drugs and a prolonged time in sleep. The unit, under the command of someone they referred to only as "The General", were tasked with finding a way to harvest a mutant's power, to combine them in a subject to create the perfect mutant. The perfect weapon to wage war against the mutants they so hated. And Kyle, among a few others, had been one of their most promising subjects, for they held a powerful mutation that could hold the key to unlocking the secret.

Thankfully, due to the timely intervention of Aurion, Allison and Aura, Kyle had been spared that fate. With their help, Kyle had managed to break free of the stasis that held him and, after getting his bearing, assisted in destroying the facility that had been holding them. The General had escaped, for now, but at least his experiments were at an end. For now. But Kyle had no doubt he would return sooner or later and when he did, Kyle would be waiting.

For now, however, it was back to life as usual. Or at least partially. Kyle's time in stasis had changed him. Before, his mind and body had craved battle, his personality one born of eagerness to prove himself and a lust for combat that few could match. Some might have called it borderline insanity; others would have referred to him as simply giddy. But that part of him had died during his time in the tank. No, not quite died. But fused with the part of him that rationally handled matters, along with his emotional and caring side. What had left that tank had been a new man, in certain aspects. Now Kyle was, well, not cold, but his expression was often locked into one of serious thought, his actions defined no longer by chaos but control. It was like being born anew. And this Kyle knew exactly what he wanted.

But he was thinking too much, especially while driving a bike through the crowded streets of New York. Bringing his mind back to the present, Kyle's eyes lifted just in time to spy something that caused him to pull over to watch. A woman, blond in the color of her hair and rugged in her clothing, approaching a side street vendor, one of the many that managed to appear on the streets of this city. Folding his arms across his chest, Kyle watched with a slight disgust as the woman reached into the vendor's display and come out a moment later with something in her hand; somethings that were colored and shaped like money.

Beneath his visor, his eyes were cold and calculating. Even before the woman had moved past the vendor, Kyle had driven ahead of her, moving his bike into a spot on the side of the road. Paying the toll with a quick flick of his wrist, Kyle waited until the woman was passing him before stepping in front of her, his face still hidden beneath his dark helmet and his arms held loosely at his sides, his dark jacket and pants hiding the outfit beneath.

"It's not polite to steal, ma'am. Especially from someone who probably needs that money for a reason greater than yours. Hand it over."

If Tses lacked one flaw as a thief, it was probably that she wasn't quite observant enough. Maybe she got away with things so often she just let luck take priority over talent. Maybe she just didn't care if she got away with things or not. The problem with her was she acted like she didn't care, and when things blew up in her face, she tended to get away unscathed. After her last... incident, where things didn't quite work out that way, she probably should have learned to be more careful. But as a street kid, she never was able to afford being cautious.

When she first started stealing, it was from need. It didn't matter if someone caught her, because she would starve to death anyway. She was clumsy at what she did, and there were a few times she would get hit by the purse she was trying to take. But no one turned her in, and part of her always thought they just pitied the skinny little scarred up blonde child.

Then, someone took her under their wing. She never knew their name, and in her mind, they were just a shadow that sometimes swooped in to push her in the right direction. She grew more calculated, planned her actions better and responded better to danger. Under the watchful eye of her guardian thief, she'd grown to be a better street kid, but in many ways, knowing someone was watching made her miss some of the dangers around her. If the thief saw something, they would alert her. Until then, she just went on her way.

New York was different though. People moved so fast they usually didn't even care who was around them. Their wallets and purses got left on tables and on chairs when they went to the bathroom, and it was easy for her to take what she wanted. She didn't have to stage elaborate plans, because the opportunities just presented themselves. It made her a bit complacent, just letting life hand itself to her.

So when she was confronted by the man in the motorcycle outfit, she was surprised, and a bit taken aback.

Composing herself, Tses crossed her arms and frowned at the man, and pushed her bangs out of her face. "Probably needs what money?" She said casually. In many ways, an interrogation was a game of chess. Never jump straight for the kill, or risk having your queen taken by someone's pawn.

The advantage of wearing something that concealed the entirely of your facial expressions was that no one could see your reaction. As long as one kept their body language as neutral as well, a person with a concealed face could be as unmovable as a statue. That cool, cold state was often more unnerving to most then anger or wanton glee. It also spoke volumes towards just how much the being utilizing it didn't care...about anything.

It was a new kind of approach for Kyle, but he'd settled into it with the ease of a master. It likely had something to do with the bottoming out of his mental state, which slowly rose back up to create this new Kyle. Building from scratch was easier then trying to mold a defective model into the better shape, after all. Nevertheless, his new outlook on life and his approach to it had changed drastically...and it was interesting in its own right to see how it now affected the odd experience on top of the casual.

For once, everything was clear to Kyle. And it made it a heck of a lot easier to handle things then before.

In response to the woman who had just outright dodged his words by feigning innocence, Kyle's answer was simple. It was silence. Complete and utter silence, his body unmoving and still as death. Behind his helmet, his eyes watched the woman with a general lack of interest, yet studying her body intently, watching for a motion of any kind that would signal her discomfort reaching a fever pitch. He didn't have to wait long, her body tensing as he mouth went to move again. It was then that his voice came again, muffled by the helmet, but no less dark or flat.

"You know exactly what money I speak of, young lady. And while petty crime is something I could easily have ignored, your terrible choice of victim I could not. Save yourself and me the trouble and hand it over. Now."

There was a certain kind of authority behind that voice now; one that said he wasn't messing around and that if needed, he could back up his words with just the proper amount of action. And it would be action that she would not like at all.

The blond haired mutant gave a little laugh, and she smirked at the individual standing in front of her. She put a hand on her hip, and rolled her eyes, dismissing his threat with a sarcastic scoff. If there was one thing she hated more than getting caught, it was getting caught by some vigilante who felt the need to chide her for her actions, and then threatened her if she didn't. She didn't take threats well. In fact, she just saw them as a challenge.

"Save myself the trouble.... no, I don't think so. See, your whole 'intimidation' thing may work for most people, but I'm not them." She stared straight at him, and her posture was forward instead of away. She held her ground, and it was clear she wasn't backing down.

While she stood, her brain quickly processed the situation. His attempts to intimidate her pointed towards some sort of strength he figured he had to his advantage. While he could be law enforcement, or ex-military, hints pointed more towards a mutant, which left her a bit uncertain to exactly what she would be up against. If things broke into a fight, they had just pulled off to one of the smaller streets, so the foot traffic wasn't as bad and there wouldn't be too many people in the line of fire. There were a few newspaper boxes nearby and other items she could explode as a distraction, and the fire escapes were plentiful in this district: another reason she made her home in this neighborhood. Overall, the situation didn't seem to be tilted too heavily against her. If she had to fight or she had to run, she could work out some strategy on her feet.

The only problem would be her still healing injuries. While most of the cuts had healed, her shoulder still wasn't as strong as it should be, and her wrists still had scabs she'd covered up; the bands on her arms only covered scars, but she knew from experience, many people would see that as a sign of weakness. But the moon had given her enough light for a decent mutant strength. Several large explosives, a few handfuls of smaller ones; unless he was some freakish monster under his helmet, she felt certain she could stand her ground.

There was a slight huff from Kyle at the woman's words; from her perspective, it might not have been much more than a shrug of his shoulders. In truth, it was the whisper of a laugh, barely managing to escape his tightly controlled emotions. The woman put on a tough face, an extremely tough face. It would not be the first time Kyle had encountered such a woman, especially in this town. Weakness attracted trouble and by showing as little of it as possible, you reduced the chance of becoming a victim.

That aside, Kyle's studying of the woman intensified. The woman was putting up a solid front and from the way she casually blew his words aside proved one of two things; she was a master at bluffing or she had cause to be confident. A weapon perhaps, hidden away out of sight. His eyes narrowed slightly in his helmet as his mind considered another option; he was dealing with a mutant. Which just made his opinion of the woman lower if that was the truth.

Again, that aside, Kyle started mentally preparing himself for trouble. He'd come across enough women in this city with powerful secrets to know not to take any of them lightly. But there was something about the way she stood, the way one shoulder was slightly higher then the other. An injury perhaps? Something to take note of.

Casually, he folded his arms across his chest, regarding the woman patiently as he waited to see if she acted. "Oh, is that so? I'm merely trying to end this without violence, though I will not hesitate to use it if cause arises. I'm also stating things as fact; you will return that money to that man, one way or another. Last chance. Return the money to the man peacefully. But try something funny...I wouldn't mind teaching a lesson today."

Tses sighed, and pushed her hair out of her face with almost a bored expression. She kept her posture composed, and her face gave nothing away. Inwardly, however, she was calculating the situation, and whether or not she should comply with his request. It was hardly $100, and she could probably get that back without too much effort. But she found herself resisting for a simple reason: he was trying to make her do it. And Tses wasn't someone who liked being bossed around.

"You can keep wasting your breathe trying to talk me into returning it. It's not going to happen. In fact, I feel even less likely to comply now that you've threatened me. So, I'll repeat a classic school yard quip: why don't you make me." Her eyes sharped with the challenge, and she started tapping into her reserved energy. The energy started moving towards her hands, but she tried hard to keep it just below the surface. Depending on how keep his vision was, he might have noticed just the slight flicker of green light at the very tips of her fingers. Beneath her jacket, though, the energy was crawling up her arms, begging to be unleashed. But she held it back for now. One of the few things she'd learned being in New York. There were times making the first move was not the best strategy.

Last time she'd jumped the gun, she'd ended up passed out in an alleyway with two stranger trying to repair the stitches she'd done on her side. With her bad shoulder, she felt she'd rather avoid a similar situation, and focused instead on piecing together a strategy. The stranger was bigger than her, and in close range he'd probably have the advantage. So she would have to focus more on speed and agility, and use her powers to level the playing field. Perhaps a few calculated explosives could throw him off balance, or one larger one could knock him into the street. Everything depended on what this mutant could do.

It was his move now.

There was nothing that Kyle didn't see. His eyes had been watching her closely, looking for the first possible sign of trouble to appear, whether it be the activation of a possible power or the intent to move. Belatedly, there was the chance that her powers would involve something he couldn't see coming, such as a mental attack or the moving of an element around him. It mattered not; he had laid down the challenge, in a matter of speaking, and now was the time for things to get direct.

His eyes caught that flash of green between her fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly under his helmet at the sight. So...her attack would likely come from her hands or at the very least, require her to move her hands in a way that would signal an incoming attack. That made things simpler, in some aspects. Kyle would not let his guard down over that fact though. He'd come far too close to trouble by mistaking his foes for being weaker then him before. Not this time.

When she made no immediate move, however, Kyle's eyebrow did a trademark lift of confusion. Ah, but of course. She was waiting for him to make the first move, to reveal something about himself before she exposed whatever trick made her fingers tingle green. Clever little duckling. Well, two could play that game, if need be. Slowly and calmly, Kyle lifted one of his hands up towards his helmet and grasped the base of it...only to push a small button built into the right cheek. There was a little click, the hissing of something moving...and then the helmet changed.

Morphed would be more specific. The helmet, custom made for this very purpose, started shifting. Parts moved into different locations, locking into place with a simple click. People on the street, the few that were there, were finally managing to notice something was about to go down and were very slowly moving out of harm's way. That was good; Kyle didn't have time to worry about them if it came down to trouble. With a final click, his helmet locked into place and his eyes,cold and passionateness, stared down at the woman in front of him.

"I'll meet your quip with my own; what makes you think you can beat me?"

His arm flexed ever so slightly, the muscles in his body eager to be put to use again after being restrained for so long. Still, eager or not, making a bad move would be in his worse interest, so he started simple. There was a garbage bag sitting at the entrance to the nearby alley, well within reach. So, with one simple motion, he grabbed the bag and flung it towards the woman, obscuring his sight of her just slightly...and then he crouched his legs slightly. To watch. To learn. And then to act.

Sometimes fighting was a game of poker. You got some cards, made your bets, and had to hope your hand was better than the other guys. And when it turned out it wasn't, then you had to start bluffing from there. As the helmet started moving, she carefully adjusted her stance, waiting for the strangers attack. The end results were surprising, to say the least.

The garbage bag went flying through the air, and Tses reacted out of a reflex; with a strong leap, she back flipped and landed in a crouch, the bag spilling open in front of her. Pain twinged from shoulder, but adrenaline was starting to rush through her, helping numb the pain. The smells made her back pedal a few steps, somewhere between rotten fruit and old Chinese food, but she forced herself to focus. So this was the strangers move, huh? Throw a garbage bag at her. Clever, but obnoxious. She darted to the side, forcing her powers to stay down. If he was trying to make her act first, she was going to do whatever it took not to give him the satisfaction.

Quickly, she yanked her right pant leg up and grabbed her bow staff tucked into the boot. With a few clicks, the metal rod expanded, and she stood defensively with the staff in hand. The metal was thin and light, but strong, and it was one of the best things she'd ever stolen. The best thing was, it was something she could use without revealing her 'cards' to her opponent. She gave it a quick swing, a mild threat, and locked onto the stranger's eyes. She waited for another sign, another hint of an attack, all the while making notes of possible escape routes if it turned out she was getting dealt the loosing hand.

A normal person might have used the garbage bag as a distraction, a way to charge forward while the other was focused on an incoming target to mount a surprise attack. Kyle, however, rarely did what most considered the logical course of action. He was playing a far more telling game. The bag served two purposes, though whether or it would serve only one or both remained to be seen. It would either get her to reveal her power or reveal about abilities that might lie aside from them. Both would give Kyle knowledge and possible insight into how to approach her physically and in a battle of mutants, the slightest advantage could mean the difference.

In this case, the frontal bag attack gave him a good, solid look at how quick on her feet this woman seemed to be. Quick...and flexible. One instant, she had been standing her ground. The next, her feet were flying through the air as she backlipped, from dead standing no less, and landed a few steps away from where the bag hit the ground with a sloppy splash. The wind was in his favor, for the moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't smell the day old refuse that leaked from the torn bag. A smell that made the woman take a few more steps back.

When she looked back at him, her body language was obviously expecting that follow up. Instead, all she would see is him, standing there, arms folded across his chest, his head tilted slightly to the side. Observing her. Waiting to see what play she would choose to make next.

She did not disappoint. In one deft motion, the woman produced a small metal rod from beneath her pant leg, a small metal rod that became a staff in an instant. "A bo staff? Interesting choice of weapons." he mused to himself. She swung it around a few times, an obvious show to prove that she knew quite possibly how to use the thing in a dangerous manner, then dared him with her eyes to make a move. Inwardly, he smirked at this show of defiance. Outwardly, his mask remained unchanged.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled down the zipper of his jacket and removed the article of clothing, revealing the outfit he wore beneath. Most people would scoff at it, something Kyle was all too aware of. He just didn't care what they thought. Tossing the jacket lightly to the side, landing on his bike with practiced ease, Kyle rolled his shoulders...and then flexed his arms. With a small clang, the steel blades that were attached to his arm guards snapped into view, glinting in the reflected light from around them.

His eyes remained perfectly calm, his stance neutral. Until he moved. Then he was a blur; not super speed or anything of those sorts. But speed garned from years of training and fighting and experience. And now, instead of a charge full of cocky arrogance, there was now a silent whisper of cool understanding...and purpose. Kyle knew he had speed and he knew how to use it. In a flash of motion, two more bags were sailing through the air, both level with her eyes. They would fill her entire field of vision...and force her to block or dodge.

And when she did either, Kyle would be waiting, his arm held back slightly for a punch that would aim for her eyes. Yet, he was also being careful; the other arm was ready to block any incoming counter and if her dodge should take her into the way of the arm blade, then he knew how to twist and turn to make sure it didn't cause any damage. Any serious damage, anyway.

From her cat like stance, Tses watched the actions of the man carefully. Any shift in his movement could be a sign of an attack, and she was ready and watching for it. It had been a while since she had a good one on one fight like this, and a small part of her mind was eager to engage in it. But she was also careful; when she was younger, her mentor sometimes acted as this stranger did: calm, collected, then striking when she tried to relax. Getting a punch in the nose and a smack upside the head made her learn never to loose concentration, especially when one's enemy was relaxed. A calm enemy was typically a powerful one.

The removal of the jacket made her tense a bit, but then he tossed it aside, and it registered in her mind as a display and not a threat. Much like her bow staff expansion, the flex of muscles was a counter action. He was stalling, trying to chip away at her; the longer he watched, the more he would have time to calculate actions against her. The only way to keep this playing field level was to control her temper, and keep her powers suppressed until the right time revealed itself. A few explosives may boost her pride, but a few explosives against the wrong enemy was like playing a game of black jack without glancing at the other players actions. It was more than what was visible at the moment; it was about all the little signs of the tricks yet to be revealed.

As the blades came into view, Tses felt a small tingle of fear taint her emotions. Knives were never a good sign against her powers, because as powerful as she could be with her explosive mutations, she was still very vulnerable to human injury. A slice to the wrong artery, you'd be dead before you knew what hit you. And minor cuts were a pain to stitch up. This game was growing more serious, but she couldn't help but smile. Danger could be a little too fun to resist.

Calm....collected; there was certainly danger in this stranger. But it was too late to back out now, and Tses readied for the next attack.

As the bags came flying, Tses rolled to the side, and swung the staff up into a quick block, anticipating further assault. She was not let down. the stranger had moved fast, perhaps even quicker than she had, and she barely avoided the punch he had sent for her. The blow deflected on her weapon, and she felt the lingering vibrations tingle in her fingers. But she held her ground, and engaged in the battle.

Holding tight to the metal with her gloved hands and a firm grip, she tried to pivot the pole to deflect her assailant away. Her couched position may have looked vulnerable, but she was used to using her size to her advantage, and readied to aim for his legs if need be. Her aim was to assess his balance, and attack any weak points. His speed was fairly decent, so she would want to avoid trying to flat out run, but only time would show his strength, stamina, and general agility.

Kyle tracked the woman's progress with that unfaltering gaze of his, keeping her in his line of sight as he closed the distance between them. As anticipated, she evaded the bags by rolling out of their direct path, coming quickly to her feet and bringing the staff up in a cross-body block. It was that simple fact that prevented his blow from getting through, especially considering he had shifted the blade to compensate for her new position.

Steel rang upon steel as his blade smashed into her staff, the slight vibration that tingled up his arm muted easily enough by his guard and strong arms. The moment his weapon had made contact with the woman's, Kyle had retracted from her, adjusting his stance for the counterattack he knew would be coming. Luckily, they would have plenty of room now; what passerbys that hadn't been scared off initially had fled the moment the two metal weapons had made beautiful music. The music of battle.

The woman shifted her body, pivoting herself and the pole towards him, a play to push him away. Planting his feet solidly, Kyle met the staff with his arm, the sound of steel harmonizing with more steel echoing into the open arm again as he did so. Then the woman played for his legs with the other end of the staff, bringing it down to crash against his knee. A simple push forward and steadying of his stance put the steel boot that covered most of his lower legs into the warpath and steel rang again.

Kyle wasted as little time as possible before returning the favor. He sent blows striving for her face, her body, her shoulders...anyplace he could see an opening he could exploit. He switched from offense to defense as quickly as he needed to, beginning the long battle to see who was the quicker on the draw. But he didn't play fair at all; one of his more serious blows he sent for her face, only to suddenly redirect it at an angle towards her chest instead. If that one failed, a feint to her leg that would shift to her side. Then a blow for the chest that snapped up to her face suddenly instead. She'd have to be on her toes to see the motive's hidden behind the screen of blows.

And it was finally starting to get interesting.

Tses was starting to wonder if this guy was really human, or if everything on him was made of metal. It seemed her attacks kept hitting metal, and her arms were starting to tingle from the vibrations of the contact. The sounds were sharp and jagged in her brain, twisting through the nerves of her forehead like tiny needles, and she felt her brow knitting with concentration. If she lost hold of her bow staff now, she was going to be in trouble, and her grip tightened on the weapon.

The pace of the battled picked up to a more terrifying rhythm, and she barely deflected the attacks on her face and shoulders. It was hard to decide where he was trying to strike, and she lucked more than anything in the first two feints. She had fought a few people close range, but they never seemed this fast or this consistent. It was proving to be an uneven challenge in her opinion.

Slightly off balanced, she jumped backwards in an effort to get a firmer stance, trying to shield herself in the slight retreat. But her actions allowed the slightest edge of one of the blades to clip her across the arm, and she flinched slightly at the sting. It was hardly a paper cuts worth of damage, but enough to make her irritated, and this was more than about the money now; it was personal.

She gave a stronger swing of her bow staff, then quickly rotated it, aiming to turn it into an uppercut to his chin. From what she'd gathered so far, he would find a way to work around it, but she hated standing back and doing nothing but deflecting blows.

Around her, she heard little of the New York scenery, her senses overwhelmed by the loud clangs and her own rapid heart beat. Her breathe was getting more ragged, and her lungs had the familiar burn of a fight. But in a way, it was encouraging. The battled sent that familiar drug of adrenaline through her, and it awakened her mind almost as much as a good drink of the full moons energy. Fighting made her feel wild and uncontrollable; she liked feeling like she was the only one who controlled her fate.

She liked a good fight, because if she won, she felt she deserved it. If she had just blown this guy backwards and sauntered off, it wouldn't have been as satisfying. Playing human was a worthwhile struggle in her mind.

Kyle ducked a counter attack neatly, shifting his upper body back so that the edge of her staff missed it by a few inches before shifting his weight forward again to send a punch back her way. A punch which she countered by putting the staff in the way.

The little lady was capable, no doubt about that. She'd managed to evade several strikes that, were she a lesser opponent, would have crippled her ability to fight or put her down hard. True, she was avoiding most of them by the skin of her teeth, but how much you evaded an attack mattered only by a slight. Yes, it would have been more impressive if she had been already long gone before the blow or manuevered it into a powerful counter-attack...but in the fight to stay alive, impressive was a crock. She dodged the blow; that was all that mattered.

She wasn't always lucky though, to Forte's advantage. One of his blades gave her a small nick, nothing serious or fatal. But a slight difference, a little farther into the strike and it could have been. And that mattered.

The hit seemed to drive that point home into the little lady, who suddenly switched her offensive for better. A strong, open swing suddenly became a missile from below, striking up towards his head with violent intentions. If Kyle did nothing, , the blow would likely catch his chin. Being a fighter, he knew what would happen then; if he wasn't flat on his back, he'd be stunned for a moment and that would be unacceptable. But because he was a fighter, he was already aware of this and already moving.

Stepping into the strike and shifting his body slightly, he took the blow on his shoulder instead of his chin. Pain, brief yet loud, shrugged from the area of impact, but Kyle fought it down with the experience of long years of practice. His move had also served another purpose; she'd have to pull the staff back in order to make another move, trapped as it was from going up by his shoulder. He made two quick moves in that moment; one hand reached up to snag her staff before she could move. The other stayed ready for a counter attack.

And his leg snapped out at hers, aiming to buckle her at the knee before snapping up with his own knee to catch her on the down low. She could counter it, if she was good enough, in which case he'd have to act quick to avoid damage himself. But, some small part of him gathered that the surprise and advantage would win him this exchange.

Battle had a way of inspiring quick thought and decisive action. You never doubted your moves, you just acted, and the consequences would reveal themselves finality in the end. Whether good or bad, you could only rely on instinct to get you through the situation, and her instincts were being forced to respond at a speed she hadn't faced in years. She was the underdog: that much was becoming clearer. Every blow, every parry was loosing energy and she would have trouble keeping this up for long. But she wouldn't give up. She never di, and that's what made her different and intimidating.

Tses felt her bow staff move towards it's mark, but rather than hitting the man's chin, it hit his shoulder, and she felt the thud of the impact. Little tingles ran through her arms once more, but it was less painful than the force of hitting metal. Her arms were prepared now, and absorbed much of the energy with the response of her tendons. But even that wasn't enough to change the tide. Rather than retreating in pain like a lesser opponent would have, he acted offensively, and before she could pull the metal staff back, his hand wrapped around the object and she was in serious trouble.

Gripping hard on the metal, she threw her body weight on it and used it to jump upwards, narrowly avoiding his kick. It was a lucky move, which seemed to be the theme of this battle. Luck. Using all her upper body strength, she turned her body midair, sending her elbow driving backwards into him while still holding onto the staff. She moved like a cat jerking through the air: muscles coiling and extending with a memorized pattern. Her mind had one mission, one object: keep hold of the staff no matter what. The last thing she wanted was to loose her weapon, and that meant she would take the risk of getting pinned against him. Having your back to an opponent, even for the tiniest millisecond, invited danger. Her feet kicked down seeking the ground as her tiny frame twisted, trying to yank her staff free. But for a few moments, her light body was clear of the ground, her momentum her only defense.

If he responded quick enough, he could trap her with her own staff, and she braced herself in case the metal came pressing back against her body. Hopefully, at least one of her blows would land. If not, she was mentally reaching for her energy reserves for a more powerful escape plan.