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The Champion Files: Prologue

Written by Thefirstone :: [Wednesday, 29 January 2020 10:37] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 01 February 2020 14:45]

“Are we sure this is where we need to be?”

“Yes. Remember what we discussed. Not a foot out of place.”

“Please… I don’t want any trouble.”

“Should’ve thought of that earlier, bitch. Now we can either do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice.”

Abruptly, Central Park was lit up by a bolt of lightning, followed quickly by a rumble of thunder. The assailant, a thin, black-haired man in what looked like his early twenties, heard an abrupt WHOOSH before he was knocked several feet backward and into a tree, where he slumped to the ground. A lightly muscular brown-haired woman in a toga, standing just shy of seven feet tall, had gotten between him and his victim, a small, curvy, black woman with green highlights in her hair, at superhuman speed.

She turned to the victim, and had just managed to ask if she was alright before she was knocked to the ground by an abrupt blow to the side of her head. The man had gotten back up and leapt back towards her, delivering a flying kick that would have killed a normal human instantly. As the tall woman got to her feet, she paused, still on her knees. The woman she had believed to be the victim here had drawn a handgun, and was aiming it at her “rescuer’s” forehead.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but she could sense enough magic in the gun and its bullets to hurt even her. She had just enough time to realize this whole thing was a trap for her specifically before the man grabbed her shoulders. Probing the situation with her magical senses, she detected an extensive set of cybernetic enhancements in his body. Seizing control of them she forced him to let go, causing him to scream in pain as his arms moved despite his efforts to stop them. She rose into the air fast enough to create a shockwave that knocked her assailants off their feet, and it quickly started to rain.

Clouds gathered, winds whipped around the area and the two assassins were forced to dodge a succession of lightening bolts as they each unloaded a pair of enchanted guns their target dodged at superhuman speed. By the time they ran out of bullets, she was floating in the eye of a small-scale hurricane, and the rain turned into hail. The black girl telekinetically grabbed a cluster of hailstones and redirected them to the other woman with enough force to actually cause her slight pain. Then something else penetrated her back. She cried out and whirled around as she fell and the storm dissipated, to see a raven-haired woman smaller and less muscular than her, but still a little over 6’6 and athletically built. She was carrying an enchanted glass sword in one hand, and with a wave of the other hand she called an identical sword out of the wound it had made in the other woman, through the air, and back to her and placed both in a pair of crossed hilts strapped to her back. The initial two attackers grabbed the taller woman, one arm each, the girl enhancing her strength telekinetically, and forced her to her knees. From a small hilt strapped to her waist, the newcomer drew a black-bladed knife, glowing with a pulsing black light. The taller woman felt the first actual fear she could remember in a long time as the swordswoman advanced on her with an evil grin.

Her last words were a frightened “Please don’t,” just before she was stabbed in the chest. Then came a scream of agony, which nearly drowned out the other woman’s laughter as power flowed through the knife and into her. After a few seconds, the knife was withdrawn from the victim’s corpse.

The other woman returned it to its hilt, not bothering to clean it because there was no blood on it. Her victim had shrunk to a mousy 5’3, while she had grown taller and more muscular than she had been. She was 7’4 now, with breasts larger than her head and hard, bulging muscles, her victim’s strength added to her own. Her backless red dress was slightly torn in some places, and only came down to her thighs.

Marveling at her new 15-inch bicep, she raised her phone from a pouch opposite the knife’s hilt and dialed a number. “Mission accomplished. Any further instructions?”

She listened for a moment before replying, “Understood. I will claim what is ours.”

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