the spectrum of panda

[Pandle]

Damn, that was going to hurt. Purge's ears rung with the impact of collision, the aphotic charges of the city swelling in her periphery vision. Swinging in angles she knew couldn't be right, the towering plaza of life reared up around her broken, battered body. How humiliating. Her first crash in a decade and it was on an empty roa-
The voice split in, seeping through the cracks in her helmet to puncture her ears. Not alone. Stifling a groan, Purge pushed herself half upright, the leathers of her usual attire having spared her bones from breaking. Well, that was some relief. Running was so much harder when you had no legs to go on. "Swell," didn't she recognise her? The face was definitely familiar but for neither life nor money, Purge couldn't remember why. She shifted herself onto two feet, swaying precariously as she tugged the helmet free of her face. Hmm, her eyes brushed over its battered, scarred exterior, time for a new head-piece then.

Swallowing her pride -what scraps of that hadn't shattered already- Purge took an unsteady step forward, raking the empty road for signs of her ruined bike. There, it's rioting hull glistening with oil and rainwater, it lay not so close and so far. She wouldn't be able to slide onto it and ride away; not if she wanted to avoid Hell. He'd have demons out already, they couldn't be far behind, a bike could come slicing down at any mome- "where's the traffic?" It didn't matter. The crash, the jarring protest of her muscles as she moved; none of it was important. Hell's demons would be child-play in comparison. "The people, where- which road did you come down?" Purge was plunging ahead of herself, her shaved head spitting an elixir of blood, tears, perspiration and sleet onto her forehead, trickling down in sheets beside her left eye and cascading off nose, chin and jaw. Biking outfits were rarely comfortable in such storms, let alone for a bedraggled, injured outcast. This was bigger than Purge's vendetta or vengeance for Limbo; this was it.

In the deluge every sound was muffled, Purge twisted around, eyeing the vicinity for signs of trouble, of danger. They had four eyes between them, two more than all the others. "We're not alone."

[king_bear]

Whatever may have happened, it was clear that with the fall upon the asphalt, Scar's head had gotten quite a bang and she only started feeling it when she sat upright. She tried to stand up, but black spots blurred her vision and she decided it wouldn't be such a great idea - certainly not with the Demon around.
The redhead blinked a few times, trying to focus again, and it took her some time to see clear, when she remembered the strange shadow creeping up behind her, which had made her inattentive and which had made a motorbike crash into her. With all consequences.
Well, at least she was happy the biker could still answer. If she couldn't or something even worse had happened to her, who knew how the other Demons would revenge her.
The Riddlers would be a dead gang.

Scarlett was just going to reply she hadn't seen any traffic on her way here and she hadn't really paid attention to it, when she was interrupted by the Demon. "Ehh, from-" Another interruption. Hadn't that blondie ever learned that it was darn disrespectful to keep interrupting someone? Especially when that person was trying to answer a question you asked?
Demons with their bad behaviour.

However, when the Demon began to look around with that "I'm not sure if we're safe here"-face, a slight chill ran down Scar's spine. The remark creeped her out slightly. It was true, they were not alone. She could feel it in the air: a tension, like a predator stalking its prey from the low grass. You can see the lion, but the antilope has no idea about the big cat creeping up at him, and it keeps grazing.
Oh, how she hated nature documentaries.
"There was a shadow." Scar dropped, staying on the floor although it might not have been totally safe. She was wondering what the person wanted from them and, most of all, why the Demon had come alone. They usually rode in groups, like birds flew in a flock.
Strange day it was.

[Pandle]

Purge had been hunted once before. Satan, your kingdom must come down. Hadn't that ended swell. It was on a road like this. Street lamps. Didn't everyone have a trigger? Her tabs flared angrily as she threw them toward the woman, Purge didn't even have her name. Names were no use in the after-life; no point asking now. People. High heels. Handbags, briefcases, hats, coats- the torrent was hammering the tarmac now, driving colours from the world as if it were a sin. "You've seen them," not the shadows, nobody has seen the shadows, "-I take it? The aftermath. So which one are you? Riddlers? Night-walkers?" A name might not be useful, but it would be better to know the organisation behind her, should the worse not taken place.

Wasn't that a strange thought? She'd begun the day with a corpse and now, it would seem, she would end with one, if not as one.

On the far side of the street there was movement. A shape darker than darkness, viewable only because its mass was absolute against the sheets of heaven's deluge. Purge started forward, still unsteady, but even as she did so it slank backward, melting into the bricks. The tension dissolved, running down the street as if it had never been there to begin with. From the right the sound of tires against the road began to advance. With a start she leapt away, watching as a landrover took the corner and narrowly missed her bike. Behind it the traffic continued. It was normal. Satan, your kingdom must come down. The demons would be here shortly. She had to get moving. "Guess having another set of eyes saved us. It'll be back, though." Like a warning. Like a plea for help.

[king_bear]

Aftermath. Who was this, some sort of defeatist? Well, miss, the collision of the Earth and the moon and the alien invasion were sadly cancelled since there hadn't been any room in our agenda for December 2012. They considered arriving the 22nd instead of the 21st but they miscalculated their path through space and flew into the sun.
Oh, and the man on the moon used his car to pull the moon away from the Earth. Why? Because he's Morgan Freeman and he can do whatever he wants.

"What have I seen?" The Riddler sighed, raising an eyebrow at the other girl who was already on the other side of the road, not paying attention at all. Right at that moment, a jeep raced around the corner, tooting loudly and with music on max volume. Jerks.

Scarlett shook her head, her red hair tangling with her earplugs. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you surely have no idea what you're doing. I'm out of here." She grabbed her bag, swished the handle over her shoulder and continued her way in the direction she'd been walking in before some kind of weirdo with a bike rode into her.
She was having enough of this nonsense and these freaks that were surrounding her. That shadow, that was weird, yes, but nothing to worry about. As long as she'd stay in the lightened streets and not be lured into the dark corners and alleys, she'd be fine.
And she'd be even more fine if bikergirl wouldn't make her nervous with her talking about aftermaths and its.