"Against the law?"
A dull roar of an engine sounded, somewhere in the nearby treeline. Approaching, sounded like a motocycle-and not one of those damn noisy Harley's either. Those were annoying.
The mob of people were largely distracted by their random homicidal urges spawned by the fleeing of a simple parachute covered boy, and so didn't much care about random engine noises in the thinned woods.
Though more attention was directed as the source of the sound burst out of the treeline, proving to be a sleek little motorcycle being rode by a female with jet black hair and vibrantly colored blue eyes, hair free to fly behind her head as was her cloak at her back, which snapped in the air that was flying beneath it.
The rider did not turn or otherwise change her course, black leather armor and spiked straps just above her elbow seeming perfect for a typical motorcycle chick, yet the lady had no piercings, no grunginess that suggested so.
She did have a tattoo on the back of her right shoulder, spread across the blade-an outline of a circle, hollow-and on the flawless, naturally tanned skin that most Courtelli Natives shared-was a raised scar, a brand, shaped as two V's, overlapping one line directly in the center of the tattooed circle.
Outlaw. This lady was an outlaw, and rather infamous one.
The few who realized it thought the worst, and began to flee, the boy forgotten. Others, who did not-stood stupidly, even as the lady rapidly approached, no sign of stopping.
People scrambled to be out of the way as she sped through them, even speeding up!
Cutting through the crowd, she left tire marks in the nicely cut grass of the park, more than satisfied to have messed up what she considered an eyesore.
She spotted the walking man, ran her eyes over him-but did not turn her unhelmeted head as she sped past, close enough to ruffle his clothing, but not close enough for her cloak to touch him.
So that must be the opponent.
Fun.
Arian took her left hand from the handle, flipping up a plastic cover on the speedometer-which, one might note, had been blackened out. Speedlimits were hardly an issue to this woman. Brought up her legs, keeping balance still, leaning slightly back on the seat as her cloth boots rested comfortably before her.
With a quiet 'heh' she pressed the button beneath the plastic lid.
Ten seconds. Oh, the fun she will have.
Arian's hands returned to the handles, jerking back on them as her body also leaned back, popping a wheelie-and kicking off, hard, the seat, legs straightening as her body flew from the bike, back arching as her left hand-gloved in what appeared to be nothing more than leather-reached out over her head, right following, body curving back slightly-as her hands touched the ground, arms springing her up again, to her feet, back to the still far enough away opponent, Arian's eyes on the bike, which had shot like a rocket to an even further distance, towards the pond-and before it reached, it exploded.
Fiery chaos, she watched various pieces of bike rain down onto the grass, still red hot or on fire, littering the grass and dropping into the pond, the bare bones of the bike no more than a lump of metal.
Cool.
She was smiling slightly, approving of her own destruction, of the bomb that had caused it. Another successful invention. Another useful toy.
And then...
She is annoyed that the bike is gone. She'd have to walk now, back to her other ones. She had kind of liked that bike...hot damn, if it hadn't been for this fight, she wouldn't have blown it up.
She moved her right leg to kick at the ground, pivoting on her left foot to face him, vibrantly colored eyes slightly narrowed.
She pulled a top hat from beneath her cloak-it had been pressed flat and wedged between her belt and her back, the special feature not dangerous until triggered, and Arian had not triggered it yet.
She brought the hat up without a flourish, full lips pursing slightly as she blew her longish bangs out of her eyes before plopping the top hat on her head, the brim tilted to the side.
The classy symbol of elegance clashed with her cloak and leather armor, the leather gloves and the badass spiked bands strapped just above each elbow, meant to tear a man to pieces. This contrast might have been comical. That is-if anyone was dumb enough to laugh at this woman, the Great and Fearless Arian Lennox.
Glossy dark hair and thick lashes, vibrantly colored eyes that contrasted sharply with her native toned skin and black hair, she was beautiful, no doubt. But…there was a wildness to her, an intensity to those intelligent yet fiery eyes, that somehow made her more appealing than looks alone would have. Her overall look was one of intimidation however, a dangerous air coiling off her like smoke. You forgot she was pretty. You only felt she was formidable. The cloak was closed around her body, meant to make her seem bigger than she was.
In actuality, she was only two inches over five feet tall, and weighed less than a hundred and thirty pounds. Flexible, quick, and deadly.
Nevermind her size.
Arian really was not much of a team player. Hell-she’s yet to meet her team, really. Brief sightings and that was about it. But she’s representing them, was happy to do so since it got her in the tournament. Hat, or no hat.
Violence. It’s a life style.
So, studying him with a mild look of annoyance, Arian spoke her first words, and not exactly in greeting. “I liked that bike.” She stated with mild heat to it, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The words carried a slight, exotic lilt to her vowels, the slight accent not making her hard to understand, but still noted, somewhat pleasant. If she wasn’t accusing him of something, anyway.
Um…what? SHE was the one who had just blown it up! Not his fault, right?!
Crazy b***h…jeez.
Not patient, Arian lifted her right hand, and made a 'come hither' movement with her index and middle fingers. She wanted to start this thing. And yesterday.
"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox
