5166/Nightwing Vs. Shiva: A Year in the Making

Nightwing Vs. Shiva: A Year in the Making
Date of Scene:	14 August 2018
Location:	Bludhaven
Synopsis:	One year after the deal was struck, Nightwing and Lady Shiva meet in a battle to the death. One of them loses...
Cast of Characters:	Nightwing, Lady Shiva
Tinyplot:	Shivonic Plague

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Nightwing has posed:
    After Damian had departed, Nightwing had continued to check the digital chronometer on the inside of his wrist, his brow furrowing at times. He had stood watch there upon the rooftop of that old warehouse where he had parted company with Shiva one year ago tonight. The moon was much like it is tonight back then, seemingly hanging low in the sky over the river, with the low clouds flowing silently across it to lend the faint light it offers an eerie haze.
    Tonight, however, there are no criminals. There are no hostages. After what happened last it seems as if very few people have even been inside the place considering the scraps of the police tape are still up at various parts of the building. The windows are soaped over and the parking lot gate as well as the doors have chains across them, barring entry, along with a severely unfriendly sign that warns trespassers against doing so and informing them they are likely to get shot.
    But tonight the chain on the door is broken with a twist and pulled free of the damaged door. Just enough to allow the entrance of the young acrobat who had spent the better part of the year under the tutelage of the Dragon and his contemporaries. Tonight will prove if he's a passable student.
    Another check of the watch and he frowns. Still some time. Time enough to ready. Time enough to think. He shakes his head as it's too easy to think too much, to psyche oneself out. He busies himself with standing there in the room next to one of the old broken crates. Slowly he starts to divest himself of the gear that lends him the edge at times while on the streets.
    The gauntlets are drawn free one at a time, the clasps clicking as he undoes them and pulls them free by the fingers and setting them aside. Then the belt is undone and set to rest upon those. He shoulders out of the heavy kevlar and leather harness that provides a place for his eskrima sticks to rest upon his back. Yet only after having done that does he sit down upon the crate and starts to pull off his boots. No tricks will decide this bout, no cheating tactics at the least.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    At precisely 365 days, down to the minute, Nightwing will hear one of those outer doors open and shut. There is no attempt to hide the noise, no sneaking about. This was arranged and he was expecting her so trying to hide her presence was silly.
    Shiva walked through the hallways, remembering her last time here. They had been working together then, joined in the attempt to rescue a kidnapped girl. To attain her help, the deal had been struck. For her, it was one thing. For him, another. As was often the case since she was diffucult to anticipate. She often didn't make her decisions until she was in the moment.
    She had expected his people to be in the area. Yet Gotham was ever needing of their heroes and this night was no exception. Perhaps they would not interfere by choice? She found that doubtful. After the threats she had received from their patron and the deals others had wanted to make. If they didn't show up, she'd be shocked. She fully expected them to but only after she was in combat with Nightwing.
    The door to the room was opened and she walked in, her slippered feet making no noise. She wore her trenchcoat but beneath was not her usual attire. Instead, she wore a black bodysuit that covered all but her hands, feet and face.
    "Punctual. I expected no less. It is good to see you, Little Bat." She slipped out of the coat, laying it atop a crate. Then she stepped out of her shoes, leaving them on the floor by the same crate she'd rested her coat atop.
    She then looked at him as she waited, seeming in no hurry. "When you are prepared, we can begin."

Nightwing has posed:
    The last thing to be set aside was the mask, it came free with a click and he set it down upon the top of that crate, settled amongst the rest of the assorted gear. The hiding of identity was pointless with her, since she has known those she faced simply from the way they stood, the way they fought. But then he turns away abruptly, leaving that part of his life behind him, perhaps in some symbolic way that doesn't quite reach his awareness fully. It's out onto the broad wooden floor that he moves, footsteps light and small wisps of dust appearing and then fading in the same second of life as he walks.
    It is but a few strides that carries him out there in the middle of the floor and he stands there with his side turned towards her. Curiously, under all of that armor and gear, he seems to be wearing almost exactly what she is. The black suit hugs his form skintight and only with an opening for his hands and feet and head. There is no hiding of secrets, no hidden weapon, the only thing that will judge this matter between them is their skill and their desire for victory.
    Blue eyes. How curious that he has such blue eyes when he looks across the way to her. Like the pale ocean during the morning. He gives her a nod and he says, "As ready as I'm going to be."

Lady Shiva has posed:
    Strange. Though he was not a blood relative of Bruce Wayne, the dark hair and bright blue eyes were very reminiscent of the man who had become Nightwing's caretaker. It was uncanny. She had not expected such. Truth be told, she hadn't really taken note of who he might be. She knew Batman's identity but she left his followers alone, except when they chose to seek her out for more training as Tim Drake had. Though she had know him as Robin at the time. So many little birds, all in a row.
    The thought made her smile. Probably not the most comforting of expressions when this was a fight to the death. He was calm. Prepared. She gave a nod of approval as she walked out to meet him in the center of that wooden floor.
    Once there, she did not turn sideways to him. She took the time to bow from the hips, eyes up so they watched him, one fist presented against the open palm of her other hand. Then she stood and her right foot slid back along the floor, her body turning to present that left side to him. Her weight was on her front foot for the moment, left arm held up at the ready, right chambered down by her side.
    Then she waited for him to move.

Nightwing has posed:
    No bow came from him, for his training was not fully... formal. But she was given a respectful lowering of his head, a nod that signified much from the youth that now stood in opposition to her. A year's training all focused on defeating this woman who stood only a handful of feet from him. Once she arose and shifted stance he no longer hesitated.
    Dragon's words still echoed in his thoughts. // She is form. Be formless. She is perfection in action, perfectly ordered, you must be chaos. //
    Words that still played into his thoughts. For he stood with but his side towards her and then it was as if his body moved of its own accord, his right fist snapping out as he lunged forwards, but the first note in the shared composition between them that shifts as he whirls to the side as his back fist blurs towards the side of her head and he flows with a seeming elegance that some would find deceptive.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    As he moved, Shiva was relaxed. Deceptively calm with no tension in her form. But as his muscles tightened, before he even moved, she was adjusting her stance in preparation.
    Her weight shifted to her back foot as she brought up an arm as he drove forward, the fist coming at her with shocking speed. Her forearm met his with a loud /SLAP/ of limb meeting limb, the material of their suits not muffling the sound of impacted flesh. As he spun, she shifted and turned with him, a partner in his dance as she moved with the same motion as he in the opposite direction to maintain their positions and distance from one another.
    The back fist came at her head and another block with her arm, pushing away as soon as the forward motion was halted. Then she fired the flat of her hand toward his ribs, going for a strike of her own to remind him to be defensive even as he went for the offense.

Nightwing has posed:
    She was rewarded with another short sharp smack of flesh to flesh, his forearm pressing hard against hers shifting the strike just enough out of line with that smooth circular motion that allows him to turn his shoulders and hips cleanly as if he were rolling up along the center line of her block and allowing him a moment's chance at his elbow to crash towards her side in passing, hurried with the lift of a knee that seeks like collision.
    It's all such a smooth whirl of motion, precisely executed and such techniques exhibited in the first few seconds of their clash that any number of masters would be envious of simply seeing it in motion.
    He is perfect in that moment. But she is better as she is able to block the twin strikes, is able to seem to control the flow of his movement so that instead of remaining engaged he is past and out of range as the whirl of his spinning kick, bare foot slicing through the air is naturally but an inch from the soft line of her cheek and the firmness of her jaw.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    Unlike other combatants, there is no talk. No banter. Shiva is business, particularly in these type of fights. When someone may lose a life, there is nothing to be witty about. It is a serious time that deserves the lack of levity.
    As she watches him flow and move, she feels a moment of pride at how far he has come in a year. This is more what she knew he was capable of becoming. He had learned much under th tutelage of Batman but there was far more to add to his repertoire. Thanks to Richard, he had done so.
    But a year was not enough unless he had given himself fully to the training. Not to reach his full potential. That which she had seen inside which prompted her to challenge him. He would need time devoted to just combat, just learning. He would need to be stripped bare, exposed mentally and emotionally, then rebuilt into something /more/.
    As his foot passed her face, she remained where she was, suspecting he might shift back around for a repeat strike if she were to close the distance between them. Only when she was certain did she drive forward her own attack, rapid punches and strikes toward face and torso.
    Their movements would be hard for others to follow visually. He was able to block every strike, keep her from getting in that first hit. Her blows were stopped or redirected. She took one of those redirections, spinning with it as she brought up her foot to try and fire a kick at his midriff.

Nightwing has posed:
    That was a small tip that Dragon had told him in training. It was when Grayson had been striking repeatedly in an ever building rhythm against the Shaolin training dummy, its wooden limbs lashing out at him as the elder martial artist would kick it and shove it from behind to make it strike almost brutally at the younger man as he trained.
    // If she is talking to you, and insulting you, that means she's bored and you're dead already. Might as well kick yourself in the head. But if she's silent, then you've got her attention. //
    And in this case it may well be true. She could see in him as he moved further with each strike, could see the trademark signs of each fighter that had a hand in his training. Perhaps for someone such as her she would perceive them as ghostly silhouettes interposed over his own lithe athletic form. That punch that came close only a moment later she was able to slip around but had definitely been Dragons. The twist to the side and the almost brutal elbow as he avoided her kick, that was clearly the Bat...
    But it wasn't until she knocked his strike aside and forced him to reel for a moment. When he twisted and planted a hand on top of one of those other crates that border their fighting arena, and used it to build momentum for a staggeringly graceful scissoring double kick that she might only then see /him/. To see the essence of Dick Grayson, one who could be a master, and no longer a student.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    She was not fighting just Nightwing. She was fighting Richard Dragon, Batman, Batgirl. Even the Robins had given him some pointers though it was the first three who he had learned the most from. The punch was avoided. The elbow was blocked with her leg brought up at just the right moment, pushing away the impact although she felt it through her thigh.
    Then he changed. In front of her. One moment he was a mirror of other techniques, a second later he was shifting his body and using that acrobatic training that had been part of his life from birth. She knew his style often used such things but this time, it was different. This was him becoming. In that moment, he was /more/, the very thing she had been striving for by challenging him.
    Everyone believed it was for his death. They were so wrong. This was all about his birth. The birth of a true master.
    A hint of a smile appeared. Faint, much like the Mona Lisa as though she knows something that everyone else doesn't. Then it's gone as she has to move, fast, quickly dodging to the side of the first leg then ducking the second but in doing so, she actually falters a step. Her footing is off and there is that single instant where she might be vulnerable.

Nightwing has posed:
    Like a whirling pinwheel he comes off of that crate and lands, continuing through the clean arc of movements to try and keep her off on that back foot. His bare feet kick up small puffs of dust upon the ground as he moves, the taut lines of his leg snap through the air each striking past and through where she was but a moment ago as she can feel the utter intent of her opponent.
    When last she had trained with Batman, fought with him... she could always tell there was that subtle hesitation to hold back from a killing blow. But Nightwing is not holding back and is giving the entirety and the culmination of his will and desire for victory... for survival... for perfection. Perhaps on some level he would strike to finish her if he had the chance. Or perhaps he is striking without such reservation perhaps trusting that her... she can survive and endure.
    But the most telling thing that might reach through the moment, reach beyond that enigmatic smile of hers, is that she can't possibly tell for sure. And for one such as her that might be an amazing gift.
    Yet such reflections only have a bare moment to be grasped and considered as the immediacy of his flattened palm lashes towards her chin. His breathing is controlled, sharp, a single /Hut!/ of exhalation coming from him as he strikes out. Then he flows into the clean lines of Japanese styles aiming to keep her pressed with short sharp kicks aimed low and blurringly fast punches.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    When she battles masters, she is seeking something. There is always a purpose. Others may not understand it, but there is some small thing that specific master has which she wishes to see. Sometimes it is about learning more. Sometimes it is about proving they are not what they appear, the false masters who would lead their flocks astray with their poor teachings. Then there are those she challenges simply because she knows they are stagnant, comfortable at their levels within their existence.
    She is a force of nature. She is there to drive people out of their comfort zones and to face the reality of themselves. Few ever are driven as this man before her. Few are willing to take it to that level, to not hold back. He may be doing it because he knows she can counter. Or he may be doing it because this is life and death. He wishes to survive thus she must not.
    Which though? It is impossible to tell. There is no time to read him fully, to pick up the little nuances that might give away which. His speed and strikes are too fast, noo stop, every movement a graceful dance of pain should he land one of those blows fully.
    She continues to counter, Her leg comes up to strike his as he kicks, or to block him from landing a full blow. He is sticking to mostly Japanese styles so she shifts, drawing on some of the Middle Eastern forms and suddenly going on the attack. The blows are meant to hit with heavy force, to drive an opponent down. It isn't because she expects it to work but because she wants him to react, so she can see how he deals with the difference.

Nightwing has posed:
    Outside the moon disappears behind a curling wisp of clouds, casting the interior of that warehouse into a heavy darkness that barely seems to affect them, two creatures who had been raised to be a part of the night. In those long shadows she is barely an outline, a silhouette save for the way her fists snap forwards or when her feet come up and connect hard with his own uncurled and long leg that impacts hard with hers.
    He can tell her change in styles when the placement of her feet turns and the whispers of her body's movements become longer and each impact vibrates through his defending limb. She'll feel him wince subtly as their forearms meet. See him draw back on his rear foot to step out of the way of a sweeping kick. It's only when she drops low continuing to try and rob his balance...
    That he leaps up and catches the low-hanging pipe in the warehouse's structure that allows him to flip up and past her, but as well for him to land and then slash his shin towards the back of her ankle while he tries to take her down, his other leg snapping up as he rises... and trying to crash down with an axe kick strong enough to split bone and sinew.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    It works. He may be surprised but that shin catches her at the back of the ankle. Her foot sweeps out from under her and she is balanced precariously a moment. She was already low so it isn't much of a fall but she lands with a slap of her arms against the floor as the dust erupts briefly around her.
    He's already moving, rising, bringing up that leg and back down. As the axe kick comes down, she rolls out of the way barely in time. His foot crashes to the floor and there is the sound of wood breaking from the blow.
    Shiva's heart races. Not out of fear. Exhiliration. Excitement. She reaches inward and forces it to slow but such is the effect this fightis having. A true challenge. A worthy opponent.
    A chance she could lose.
    It is only when she rolls back toward him that he might realize she fell intentionally. That she gave him that hit so that she could bring her arm around, palm flat, fingers slightly curled but bladed as she goes for a sciatic nerve strike intending on taking his leg out from under him.

Nightwing has posed:
    As that foot came down his hands were held back one near his jaw and the other low next to his hip as he then snapped it up and away, trailing shattered wooden splinters.
    // If you ever get an advantage on her. A second ahead. A position. Leverage. Anything, you don't hesitate. You take it and you exploit it as much as you can. //
    She is rolling away and he leaps up into the air, the first mistake as it does allow the flat palm of his hand so much more impact when he lashes out at her face. Yet it also deprives him of avoiding when she slips in closer, and her powerful nerve strike stabs hard into his leg and she can feel the muscle give way even as the nerves carry an intensity of pain throughout his body. It gives her the moment, suddenly she seizes the initiative as he steps back staggering on the weight of one leg the other suddenly not able to support him as the tingling pain surges through his body.
    One hand reaches out as he falls backwards, trying to arrest his movement.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    As he is falling, Shiva flips her body up and forward, regaining her feet and pressing her advantage. She fires a kick but he falls back and the blow comes up short. The leg is drawn back, foot brought to the floor.
    Now is her chance. She draws her power to her, centering it as her right hand curls into the Jaguar Strike she is known for using often. Certainly Dragon coached him on this, warned him what was to come if she landed the blow. She would be able to go through his skull cleanly.
    She was fully committed, leaping into the air and driving that fist forward for his head!

Nightwing has posed:
    Several weeks ago...

    The steel helmet shattered under the force of Dragon's punch even as he drew back the strike. // Very few people have seen the Jaguar Strike and lived. If you ever see this from her chances are you're dead in the next instant. Not that many ways to counter this... but here are three. //

    Even as she leapt into the air, she saw Nightwing bring up his arm as if that would stop the impact, a typical mistake by victims of hers, giving in to the awe and the fear of such a movement, such a gathering of chi. She was in the air hurtling upwards... and then falling down with her hand chambered back near her head and then when she let it fall forwards, the Jaguar's cry seeming to sound from her as she struck...
    He was no longer there. Nowhere near as fearful as he had seemed he had twisted and rolled to the side, his injured leg perhaps not as injured as she was led to believe. Though even as her punch crashed into the floor adding another hole of broken and splintered wood to the floor he had just slipped out of the way and in turning...
    His forearm had caught alongside her neck and tried to /throw/ her hard over his hip and into the floor, and if executed correctly will leave her striking arm vulnerable. Vulnerable for him to grab with one hand and pin it to the floor with one knee even as the other slides back and comes /crashing/ forwards as he tries to shatter her elbow with a loud shouted, "KIYAI!"

Lady Shiva has posed:
    She had him. She knew it in every fiber of her being. Thus why Shiva had committed so fully. And thus, her mistake.
    As she came down with the strike, the cry torn from her lips while her fist went /through/ the floor, she frowned and turned her head only to find that arm coming in, catching her. A moment later and she was thrown, landing hard on the floor as he held her arm in position.
    As he focuses, she knows what is to come. She has compartmentalize the pain but it still doesn't allow for her to block it entirely. As he brings that blow down, he hits her elbow perfectly and the bones /shatter/ within. The pain shoots up her arm, to her shoulder, even up her neck and down into her chest. Broken. Destroyed although not in a way that won't be able to be recovered from given time. Effectively rendered useless by the blow.
    There is only a grunt of sound from her. It could be pain. It could be surprise. Impossible to tell. There is no scream, no crying, no indication of how awful it really feels.
    There isn't time for that.
    In that moment, he sealed his fate. Not with his death, no. With his life. He had managed to do what no one had previously. She was pleased with this turn of events and thus, she knew she would not kill him. He would live to fight another day. Yet, the fight was to be to the death. The resolution had to be reached and she was not one to lay down and go quietly into that good night.
    He might realize he had made a mistake himself as she shifted. She still had her chi focused from the Jaguar Strike and she simply built on that, allowed it to expand and then tightened it to pinpoint precision.
    Her leg snapped up then forward, full force to the side of his head, intending to send him to the ground but not completely knocked out. She wanted him awake for what was about to come.

Nightwing has posed:
    As he struck her elbow with his knee cleanly he was already rising, bringing his arm back and getting ready to slam a fist into the back of her head or neck. She was not able to see it then, not able to witness that clouded look that flitted through his eyes as he held ready. But he could not bring himself to land the fatal blow. It was only the briefest of hesitations but it was enough as she scissored to the side and spun her hips up and around to bring that heavy kick to the side of his head.
    She could feel the impact jolt through her leg and snap his head back sending him back onto one leg and an arm reaching out to try and stay his fall. But his hand fails to find purchase in the dusty floor, slipping out from under him as he hits the ground on his back.
    Blearily he shakes his head sharply, trying to clear the ringing from his ears and the cobwebs from his head. Only for him to look up and to see the silhouette of his opponent blocking that faint light from the moon above him.

Lady Shiva has posed:
    He would recover soon. There was little time. He was stunned but it wouldn't keep him down long. He was too good for that.
    She used the momentum from her kick to bring her body upright. Then she rose, standing. Her broken arm hung at her side. She could use it if she had to, but it would do more harm than good. She could feel the pieces of bone moving within, something that would have to be addressed and should not be aggravated if she didn't want permanent damage.
    She moved to his side, her body blocking out the light from behind her. A step across his torso as she stood above him, a shadow of death come to take him from this place.
    If there was any doubt that was her intention, it was erased when she lowered her body into a horse stance. Each muscle was tightened as she let her chi flow. Her right hand was brought up to chest level, palm flat in the direction of his prone form below her.
    Slowly, she moved the hand down toward the center of his chest, letting it rest there an instant. Then she drew it back up with that same deliberateness. Her could watch the play of muscles in her arm as she moved, the shifting of her shoulders, the tightening of her abs at the moment that would've been an impact.
    A second time the oh-so-controlled movement of her hand to his chest. The withdraw to bring her hand up into the air, above her right shoulder as she looked directly into his eyes.
    "CCHHIIIIIYYAAAAA!"
    The cry echoes through the warehouse as she brings down the blow full speed, her hand slamming into the center of his chest with all of her focused energy behind it. She keeps her hand there upon his chest, able to feel the result of the blow as the seconds that he has left tick past.

Nightwing has posed:
    To Nightwing it was but bleary movements above him, a darker silhouette against the pale of shadow. He tried to hold up a hand as awareness started to return, only for him to feel the impact of that fist into his sternum, the blaze of pain accompanied by that shriek that shook the room. It was overwhelming, the pain, the noise, the rush of blood in his ears and then the way darkness reached up and encroached upon his senses. It was as if he were falling backwards, back into a distant well and reality was but a sliver of light so far above and getting father away...
    Eventually it all went dark.