After a crash course in basic martial arts with Master Roshi over the course of nearly a week, Dessica felt like a new person entirely. Though her fighting was sloppy--it had only been a week, after all, and any sort of refined, professional fighting would take far longer than that--she still knew enough to accomplish what she'd set out: to land a part in a totally awesome kung fu flick. Showing up to the set of Someone Dies in Tokyo, everything went according to plan. She demonstrated a few smooth moves for the casting director, was given a basic rundown of the ongoing process, and tried out for a bit part as one of the generic thugs that the main character would be beating up about halfway through the film. It wasn't anything major, but it was something; small progress was progress nonetheless, and anything was better the episodic sci fi serial she was normally confined to.
It was while she was standing idly around the set, casually chatting with a few of the other actors, stagehands, and the casting director--that things took an interesting turn. Off on the other side of the set, a few men in disheveled outfits were talking amongst themselves, occasionally pointing toward Dessica. After a few moments, Terry Aki--the main actor in the film, the protagonist and the leading role in Someone Dies in Tokyo--came strolling from his dressing room, a strangely vacant expression on his face. The disheveled looking onlookers followed him as he walked, somewhat surrounding him--the group of them all moving in a cluster. Boldly, they all walked up to Dessica. "Are you Captain Flash?", one of them would loudly question. Dessica turned, blinking. "Oh, um, no... that's just a character I play on TV. My name's actually Dess-" One of the random men would throw a thrust kick, slamming his ankle high boot into Dessica's chest and sending her straight to her back. The wind was knocked out of her, the poor girl caught by surprise. The casting director started to ask what was going on, only to be slugged in the gut by one of the thugs; likewise, the other actors and stagehands were shoved out of the way, props and equipment getting tossed casually aside to clear room between the mysterious attackers and Dessica.
Dessica kipped up to her feet, immediately taking a loose fighting stance. She wasn't exactly dressed for a showdown; she was sporting a pink T-shirt, with the words HERCULE across it in black print, and a pair of jeans that felt just a little too tight for the sort of gymnastic, stuntwork-based fighting style she tended to use. At the very least, she was toting a newly purchased Capsule Corp jacket, which would give her some mediocre level of armoring if things got too out of hand. "Who sent you guys?" The circle of bounty hunters grinned, turning to each other for a moment. The only one not smirking was Terry Aki, the main actor for the film; he stared forward with a solid, blank expression, though he was the first to speak. "Your stance is weak. Did you learn to fight from television?"
One of the bounty hunters lurched forward, throwing a series of blindingly fast punches. The casting director and surrounding bystanders watched with wide eyes and agape jaws as Dessica blocked every punch, finally countering with a swift karate chop to the base of the man's neck. He dropped with a dull thud, Dessica not wanting to waste time when there were so many opponents seemingly waiting for her. The others did not waste time when they realized Dess wasn't playing around; she threw her forearm up to guard against a roundhouse from one, circling her opposite arm around to deflect a punch from another. The man that had thrown the roundhouse came back around with a lower kick, and Dessica brought her knee up to guard it--allowing the man on the other side to drop even lower, sweeping her foot out from under her. Dessica fell forward, the majority of her weight dropping onto her body and hands as she hit the floor hard. A third of their ranks brought down a hard stomp, trying to cave the back of her skull in; Dessica rolled subtly to the side, the boot cracking the floor as it shot by within an inch of her face. Using the smooth surface of the floor to her advantage, she swung her body around, sweeping all three men to the floor before her momentum carried her back to her feet, like a breakdancer would. The second she was standing again, however, a fourth man nailed her in the back of the head with a solid side kick.
Dessica stumbled forward, and Terry made his first move of the fight--leaping forward with a knee extended, displaying his Muy Thai prowess as he nailed her straight in the chest. She reeled backward, back into the man that had kicked her from behind; her shoved a hard foot to the back of her knee, sending her tumbling back to the floor. The other men, newly recovered, immediately began to stomp on her. She brought her slender arms over her face, struggling to defend herself from her floored position, but she was essentially caged in; each time she tried to roll away, she would only be kicked back to the center by one of the bounty hunters. Onlookers, actors, and other civilians not involved with beating her up would occasionally rush in, trying to stop them, only to be silenced with a quick kick or backhand. Dessica, unable to retaliate with any effectiveness, retreated into something of a comfort zone in her mind--a happy place. She began to think about the things her father had taught her, about pacifism, and peace. About justice. As Dessica's heartbeat began to slow, the insurmountable beating she was taking seemed to matter less and less--time itself seemed to slow down around her. Dessica felt something stirring, something driving her--something ferocious.
As everything slowed to a crawl, Dessica took advantage of the brief moment between hits. Her arms left the defense of her face long enough to plant her palms flat on the floor, and firmly, she hoisted herself upward--thrusting both feet into one man's chest, and knocking him clear across the floor. Somersaulting to her feet, three men rushed her; punches, kicks, she blocked them all with ease and calmness, throwing hard karate chops and empty palms in retaliation. Bodies dropped promptly around her, her bruises and scuffs from previous seeming to mean little to her as she casually knocked out one thug after another. Within seconds, the entire circle of random bounty hunters was taken out, a faint glow rolling off of Dessica's body. The onlookers were practically applauding, some cheering and pumping their fists in the air as Dess took her revenge. However, there was one man left, one man not at all amused: Terry Aki.
Rushing forward, he took to the air--attempting to hit Dessica with another flying knee. Her golden locks billowed dramatically as she idly swayed, barely shifting out of the way of the attack--and calmly watching as Terry went by, seemingly unimpressed. Knees were stuffed down with hard, downward palms; elbows were swayed away from, punches were deflected, kicks were blocked. Everything he threw at her meant nothing. It was all the blind flailing of a child to her; she watched as he threw his attacks, and she countered with ease and grace. Dessica wasn't even maintaining a fighting stance anymore; in fact, about halfway through the encounter, she calmly stuffed a hand in one of her jean pockets, and began to counter his every attack with one hand. Despite his inability to touch her, Terry didn't seem to get frustrated; he was vacant, empty. The entire fight seemed scripted, as neither participant provided any emotion outside of focus and confidence. Upon getting tired of humoring him, Dessica threw out a hard, open palm, sending him hurdling into the far back wall. His body left a firm indentation in the brick, and Dessica calmly restated her question. "Who sent you guys?" Slowly, his head lifted upward--a rather crazed sneer working its way across his tan face. "Red Ribbon."
His eyes slowly dilated, his pupils becoming smaller as his sneer grew more sinister. Bricks were pulled out of place as he jerked his arms out from within the wall, soon ripping his whole body back into the fight. His muscles tensed and swelled, his body mass increasing notably in size before he stepped forward, throwing a hard punch at Dessica. She attempted to deflect it, only to find his strength to have increased too much--she couldn't budge him, and she promptly took a swift blow to the face. It sent her reeling back, blood trickling from one side of her nose. She was beginning to come down from her superhuman powerup, and she was feeling more and more tired as the seconds ticked by; her energy was rapidly depleting, whereas Terry seemed to have discovered some rage-based reserve to combat her with. He threw a punch to her gut; she tried to catch his arm, only to find herself being driven upward, off of her feet, and lifted straight into the air. Terry shoved her straight into the ceiling, a loud groan spilling from Dessica's lips as her spine contorted against the metal bars overhead. He then just as casually tossed her aside--gripping her with his other hand and hurling her into some nearby camera equipment, the steel and cable ensemble doing little to soften her fall.
Just getting to her feet was a battle unto itself. She attempted to use a light fixture to stand, only to have it fall back on her. She was exhausted, abnormally so; she had screwed around in her fight with Terry, and now that her superhuman reserves were expired, she was paying for it. Still in his state of boosted rage, Terry strolled over to her--helping Dessica to her feet by grabbing a handful of her hair and jerking her upward. Once he forced her to a stand, he kept hold of her hair, his other hand launching a hard backfist across her face. Spit expelled from her mouth, as well as blood; her lip had become busted by a knuckle dragging across it. Using his tight grip on her head, he pulled her forward into his abruptly rising knee--only to do it again, and again, finally just tossing her aside like a ragdoll. As she laid there, heaving, she slowly turned her gaze up toward him--starting to drag herself across the floor, sliding, inching away from him. He followed with a slow, deliberate pace; he was beginning to breathe rather hard himself. In fact, he was panting. His muscle mass was going down. He had worn out his rage state, and was now entering a state of deteriorated energy just like Dessica had. Now was the time to capitalize.
As he approached, Dessica--with what little energy she could still muster--threw a frail kick forward, straight into his shin. Terry, in a state of increasingly induced exhaustion and not expecting her to be still capable of retaliating, didn't see it coming. Her foot slammed into his shin, nearly breaking it as he immediately dropped onto his face. Dessica began to build up adrenaline with the prospect of potentially escaping this alive, roughly rolling backwards. She stumbled upon reaching her feet, nearly falling over--but was caught by a few of the stagehands that had been watching the fight. Breathing hard, she nodded her thanks, turning her attention back to Terry--who was beginning to rise, undeterred. Taking to a full stand, he resumed his earlier, calculating stare; it was a blank, emotionless grimace, a face devoid of any thought. "Something's wrong. You're not... you." She slid the Capsule Corp jacket from her shoulders, intent on staying light, quick. She was going to have to outmaneuver him.
Terry lurched forward, throwing weak, exhausted punches. Dessica wearily blocked them, her entire weight getting shifted around by the force of his blows even in his tired state. She retaliated just as wearily, throwing light, idle blows that were easily pushed aside. They were barely even flailing at each other at this point, both gasping for air. "I've seen your movies, watched interviews, gone to conventions... this isn't how you fight. Or how you act!" He threw a wild backhand, and Dessica was forced to hop backward to avoid it. After some distances was cleared between them, they both stopped to breathe, neither immediately advancing. "Either you're an impostor, or someone's manipulating you... Red Ribbon must be messing with your head...!" But what could she do? Dessica wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, and she certainly didn't understand how to un-brainwash someone. She had to think back--what would her father say to do in this situation? What would Master Roshi say to do in this situation?
And then it hit her, the light bulb going off in the back of her mind. Like so much else that Dessica attempted, it would either come off as absolutely brilliant... or incredibly silly. As Terry Aki became satisfied with his moment of rest, he began to lurch forward again. Reeling back, he clenched his fist, readying a strong hook to finally put her down. Dessica's hands came up, palms turned inward, fingers slightly curling in preparation. Just as he began to launch that fateful punch, her hands motioned, her fingers gripped... and she grabbed at the edges of her T-shirt. Jerking her top firmly upward, a pair of large, bare breasts spilled into view, right before Terry's eyes. His hand was stayed in mid-air. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropping as he blatantly gazed into Dessica's exposed rack. Stagehands and miscellaneous actors, still standing around and watching the fight, were awestruck. The casting director took a picture with his cellphone. "I... I..." Terry stammered, his clenched fist slowly lowering. "...Where am I?"
Dessica, with a fiery blush filling her face, promptly shoved her shirt back down over her exposed body. "You were brainwashed, you big jackass." Seconds ticked by--idle, silent seconds as Terry Aki took a moment to adjust to the situation. Finally, he spoke again, confused. "Wait... aren't you Captain Flash? Like, from the TV show...?" Dessica sank her battered face into her palms, heaving a loud sigh. "Dessica. It's Dessica. Captain Flash is just a character I play. I'm here to try out for a bit part in the movie, and..." The casting director put a firm hand on her shoulder, offering a warm smile as he glimpsed from Terry to Dessica. "Don't worry, I'll explain it to him. You look like you need some rest." As much as Dessica wanted to protest, she could barely manage to stand--wiping some of the blood from her lips and underside of her nose with one slow drag of her hand. "Not too much rest, though... I need to do something about Red Ribbon. This is getting out of hand..."
It was while she was standing idly around the set, casually chatting with a few of the other actors, stagehands, and the casting director--that things took an interesting turn. Off on the other side of the set, a few men in disheveled outfits were talking amongst themselves, occasionally pointing toward Dessica. After a few moments, Terry Aki--the main actor in the film, the protagonist and the leading role in Someone Dies in Tokyo--came strolling from his dressing room, a strangely vacant expression on his face. The disheveled looking onlookers followed him as he walked, somewhat surrounding him--the group of them all moving in a cluster. Boldly, they all walked up to Dessica. "Are you Captain Flash?", one of them would loudly question. Dessica turned, blinking. "Oh, um, no... that's just a character I play on TV. My name's actually Dess-" One of the random men would throw a thrust kick, slamming his ankle high boot into Dessica's chest and sending her straight to her back. The wind was knocked out of her, the poor girl caught by surprise. The casting director started to ask what was going on, only to be slugged in the gut by one of the thugs; likewise, the other actors and stagehands were shoved out of the way, props and equipment getting tossed casually aside to clear room between the mysterious attackers and Dessica.
Dessica kipped up to her feet, immediately taking a loose fighting stance. She wasn't exactly dressed for a showdown; she was sporting a pink T-shirt, with the words HERCULE across it in black print, and a pair of jeans that felt just a little too tight for the sort of gymnastic, stuntwork-based fighting style she tended to use. At the very least, she was toting a newly purchased Capsule Corp jacket, which would give her some mediocre level of armoring if things got too out of hand. "Who sent you guys?" The circle of bounty hunters grinned, turning to each other for a moment. The only one not smirking was Terry Aki, the main actor for the film; he stared forward with a solid, blank expression, though he was the first to speak. "Your stance is weak. Did you learn to fight from television?"
One of the bounty hunters lurched forward, throwing a series of blindingly fast punches. The casting director and surrounding bystanders watched with wide eyes and agape jaws as Dessica blocked every punch, finally countering with a swift karate chop to the base of the man's neck. He dropped with a dull thud, Dessica not wanting to waste time when there were so many opponents seemingly waiting for her. The others did not waste time when they realized Dess wasn't playing around; she threw her forearm up to guard against a roundhouse from one, circling her opposite arm around to deflect a punch from another. The man that had thrown the roundhouse came back around with a lower kick, and Dessica brought her knee up to guard it--allowing the man on the other side to drop even lower, sweeping her foot out from under her. Dessica fell forward, the majority of her weight dropping onto her body and hands as she hit the floor hard. A third of their ranks brought down a hard stomp, trying to cave the back of her skull in; Dessica rolled subtly to the side, the boot cracking the floor as it shot by within an inch of her face. Using the smooth surface of the floor to her advantage, she swung her body around, sweeping all three men to the floor before her momentum carried her back to her feet, like a breakdancer would. The second she was standing again, however, a fourth man nailed her in the back of the head with a solid side kick.
Dessica stumbled forward, and Terry made his first move of the fight--leaping forward with a knee extended, displaying his Muy Thai prowess as he nailed her straight in the chest. She reeled backward, back into the man that had kicked her from behind; her shoved a hard foot to the back of her knee, sending her tumbling back to the floor. The other men, newly recovered, immediately began to stomp on her. She brought her slender arms over her face, struggling to defend herself from her floored position, but she was essentially caged in; each time she tried to roll away, she would only be kicked back to the center by one of the bounty hunters. Onlookers, actors, and other civilians not involved with beating her up would occasionally rush in, trying to stop them, only to be silenced with a quick kick or backhand. Dessica, unable to retaliate with any effectiveness, retreated into something of a comfort zone in her mind--a happy place. She began to think about the things her father had taught her, about pacifism, and peace. About justice. As Dessica's heartbeat began to slow, the insurmountable beating she was taking seemed to matter less and less--time itself seemed to slow down around her. Dessica felt something stirring, something driving her--something ferocious.
As everything slowed to a crawl, Dessica took advantage of the brief moment between hits. Her arms left the defense of her face long enough to plant her palms flat on the floor, and firmly, she hoisted herself upward--thrusting both feet into one man's chest, and knocking him clear across the floor. Somersaulting to her feet, three men rushed her; punches, kicks, she blocked them all with ease and calmness, throwing hard karate chops and empty palms in retaliation. Bodies dropped promptly around her, her bruises and scuffs from previous seeming to mean little to her as she casually knocked out one thug after another. Within seconds, the entire circle of random bounty hunters was taken out, a faint glow rolling off of Dessica's body. The onlookers were practically applauding, some cheering and pumping their fists in the air as Dess took her revenge. However, there was one man left, one man not at all amused: Terry Aki.
Rushing forward, he took to the air--attempting to hit Dessica with another flying knee. Her golden locks billowed dramatically as she idly swayed, barely shifting out of the way of the attack--and calmly watching as Terry went by, seemingly unimpressed. Knees were stuffed down with hard, downward palms; elbows were swayed away from, punches were deflected, kicks were blocked. Everything he threw at her meant nothing. It was all the blind flailing of a child to her; she watched as he threw his attacks, and she countered with ease and grace. Dessica wasn't even maintaining a fighting stance anymore; in fact, about halfway through the encounter, she calmly stuffed a hand in one of her jean pockets, and began to counter his every attack with one hand. Despite his inability to touch her, Terry didn't seem to get frustrated; he was vacant, empty. The entire fight seemed scripted, as neither participant provided any emotion outside of focus and confidence. Upon getting tired of humoring him, Dessica threw out a hard, open palm, sending him hurdling into the far back wall. His body left a firm indentation in the brick, and Dessica calmly restated her question. "Who sent you guys?" Slowly, his head lifted upward--a rather crazed sneer working its way across his tan face. "Red Ribbon."
His eyes slowly dilated, his pupils becoming smaller as his sneer grew more sinister. Bricks were pulled out of place as he jerked his arms out from within the wall, soon ripping his whole body back into the fight. His muscles tensed and swelled, his body mass increasing notably in size before he stepped forward, throwing a hard punch at Dessica. She attempted to deflect it, only to find his strength to have increased too much--she couldn't budge him, and she promptly took a swift blow to the face. It sent her reeling back, blood trickling from one side of her nose. She was beginning to come down from her superhuman powerup, and she was feeling more and more tired as the seconds ticked by; her energy was rapidly depleting, whereas Terry seemed to have discovered some rage-based reserve to combat her with. He threw a punch to her gut; she tried to catch his arm, only to find herself being driven upward, off of her feet, and lifted straight into the air. Terry shoved her straight into the ceiling, a loud groan spilling from Dessica's lips as her spine contorted against the metal bars overhead. He then just as casually tossed her aside--gripping her with his other hand and hurling her into some nearby camera equipment, the steel and cable ensemble doing little to soften her fall.
Just getting to her feet was a battle unto itself. She attempted to use a light fixture to stand, only to have it fall back on her. She was exhausted, abnormally so; she had screwed around in her fight with Terry, and now that her superhuman reserves were expired, she was paying for it. Still in his state of boosted rage, Terry strolled over to her--helping Dessica to her feet by grabbing a handful of her hair and jerking her upward. Once he forced her to a stand, he kept hold of her hair, his other hand launching a hard backfist across her face. Spit expelled from her mouth, as well as blood; her lip had become busted by a knuckle dragging across it. Using his tight grip on her head, he pulled her forward into his abruptly rising knee--only to do it again, and again, finally just tossing her aside like a ragdoll. As she laid there, heaving, she slowly turned her gaze up toward him--starting to drag herself across the floor, sliding, inching away from him. He followed with a slow, deliberate pace; he was beginning to breathe rather hard himself. In fact, he was panting. His muscle mass was going down. He had worn out his rage state, and was now entering a state of deteriorated energy just like Dessica had. Now was the time to capitalize.
As he approached, Dessica--with what little energy she could still muster--threw a frail kick forward, straight into his shin. Terry, in a state of increasingly induced exhaustion and not expecting her to be still capable of retaliating, didn't see it coming. Her foot slammed into his shin, nearly breaking it as he immediately dropped onto his face. Dessica began to build up adrenaline with the prospect of potentially escaping this alive, roughly rolling backwards. She stumbled upon reaching her feet, nearly falling over--but was caught by a few of the stagehands that had been watching the fight. Breathing hard, she nodded her thanks, turning her attention back to Terry--who was beginning to rise, undeterred. Taking to a full stand, he resumed his earlier, calculating stare; it was a blank, emotionless grimace, a face devoid of any thought. "Something's wrong. You're not... you." She slid the Capsule Corp jacket from her shoulders, intent on staying light, quick. She was going to have to outmaneuver him.
Terry lurched forward, throwing weak, exhausted punches. Dessica wearily blocked them, her entire weight getting shifted around by the force of his blows even in his tired state. She retaliated just as wearily, throwing light, idle blows that were easily pushed aside. They were barely even flailing at each other at this point, both gasping for air. "I've seen your movies, watched interviews, gone to conventions... this isn't how you fight. Or how you act!" He threw a wild backhand, and Dessica was forced to hop backward to avoid it. After some distances was cleared between them, they both stopped to breathe, neither immediately advancing. "Either you're an impostor, or someone's manipulating you... Red Ribbon must be messing with your head...!" But what could she do? Dessica wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, and she certainly didn't understand how to un-brainwash someone. She had to think back--what would her father say to do in this situation? What would Master Roshi say to do in this situation?
And then it hit her, the light bulb going off in the back of her mind. Like so much else that Dessica attempted, it would either come off as absolutely brilliant... or incredibly silly. As Terry Aki became satisfied with his moment of rest, he began to lurch forward again. Reeling back, he clenched his fist, readying a strong hook to finally put her down. Dessica's hands came up, palms turned inward, fingers slightly curling in preparation. Just as he began to launch that fateful punch, her hands motioned, her fingers gripped... and she grabbed at the edges of her T-shirt. Jerking her top firmly upward, a pair of large, bare breasts spilled into view, right before Terry's eyes. His hand was stayed in mid-air. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropping as he blatantly gazed into Dessica's exposed rack. Stagehands and miscellaneous actors, still standing around and watching the fight, were awestruck. The casting director took a picture with his cellphone. "I... I..." Terry stammered, his clenched fist slowly lowering. "...Where am I?"
Dessica, with a fiery blush filling her face, promptly shoved her shirt back down over her exposed body. "You were brainwashed, you big jackass." Seconds ticked by--idle, silent seconds as Terry Aki took a moment to adjust to the situation. Finally, he spoke again, confused. "Wait... aren't you Captain Flash? Like, from the TV show...?" Dessica sank her battered face into her palms, heaving a loud sigh. "Dessica. It's Dessica. Captain Flash is just a character I play. I'm here to try out for a bit part in the movie, and..." The casting director put a firm hand on her shoulder, offering a warm smile as he glimpsed from Terry to Dessica. "Don't worry, I'll explain it to him. You look like you need some rest." As much as Dessica wanted to protest, she could barely manage to stand--wiping some of the blood from her lips and underside of her nose with one slow drag of her hand. "Not too much rest, though... I need to do something about Red Ribbon. This is getting out of hand..."
