The Cathedral of Blades

[redford]

John's mouth straightened into a line as he recognized the girl under her finery. Madison Freebird wore a neat dress suit complete with pants, all black trimmed with white in that endlessly classy manner. A mask hid her face. It was a simple thing, made to be of a piece with the suit. It was done all in silver, and free of carving or embellishments. Her hands were gloved, meaning one would have to bare the girl's hands to see that they were not quite hands at all, but vines. A tall order, that. The rest of the girl's body was similar, and just as relentless as the plant nature that made up her form.

He nearly frowned as he sized her up again, but bit it back. The last time he’d met the plant girl in a field of battle, it hadn’t gone very well for him. She tossed him around a giant chessboard like he was nothing more than a nuisance. It had hurt his pride a good bit, and it would have showed on his face, had he not concealed it.

I can’t let my ego get too big, he thought, remembering all the lessons he learned about underestimating opponents. He tried not to be embarrassed, but he still felt a little ashamed that he’d thought too little of the girl.

Come to think of it, she didn’t use any weapons, did she? Well, I guess this arena is just for show then, unless things get interesting. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice here.

He raised a hand, greeting the masked woman.

“Madison,” he said flatly. It was as warm a welcome as he’d given anybody in the last few days. “Care to dance?” he continued, letting armor coat his arms, ready to make it cover the rest of his body in titanium.