For Kate and myself

[JENOVA's SOLDIER]

((Well I hope this is alright, I didn't really know what the heck I was writing but I'm kind of happy with it. I hope my descriptions of the place weren't that horrible and you could follow it well... I also meant to make it longer... but whatever. Have fun replying I guess :3))

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Damon had gotten accustomed to counting the days, counting the hours, counting the minutes… Since he had first been ‘created’. 9186 days, 18 hours and 36 minutes. Nearly 25 years… in fact it was only a month and a half until it was the twenty-fifth year after his creation. Instead of being happy that he had nearly reached twenty-five years of life he was completely disgusted with everything, every last thing. He needed to become stronger, and it bothered him immensely that true power would only come with time.

He sat there bound to the floor by chains in a small ‘cage’ the walls of which were made of a reinforced glass nearly a foot thick. The chains that hung from his wrists, ankles and neck were secured to the floor giving him maybe two and a half feet in which he could move. If that hadn’t been enough that headband around his forehead was buried deep within his skull, wires attached to the base of his brain cutting off most of the power that flowed to the rest of his body. It was a horrible feeling knowing that you should be so much more powerful than you were. Something that drove Damon nearly mad.

“You have to prep him for training.” One of the scientists who kept an eye on him said to her partner. The two of them both looked over at the red haired experiment who was glaring at them from his place sitting in the middle of his cage.

“Of course…” the other responded as he looked away from Damon, directing his attention to a large table covered in advanced computers. He started typing away and Damon felt as even more of his powers were drained, cutting off almost all of the flow between the powers origin in his brain to the rest of his body. This amount of restriction made him feel woozy, made him feel weak, and it kept him from being able to even think properly.

The cage was opened, the entire wall that opened up into the laboratory sliding out of the way with a hiss, caused by the sudden release of pressure. The male scientist walked up to Damon as the female hit a button that undid all of the chains that bound the red haired man to the floor. Damon couldn’t even acknowledge that it was happening, his mind completely out of it.

They bound his wrists together, keeping his hands contained, knowing the amount of damage he could cause if his hand were free. Not that he could do anything in this mentally drugged state. “Keep an eye on him.” The female scientist said to her male counterpart. He nodded to her curtly before grabbing Damon by the ponytail and leading him out of the room.

Damon’s eyes concentrated on where the man had curled his hand into the very long red hair. In his mind he could barely find the thoughts ‘let go of my hair you disgusting pig’ but they were very faint behind the constant buzz that kept him from being able to think properly. He could hardly walk properly. It was probably quite the sight, seeing this ever powerful being stumbling around like a drunkard.

In the end he was brought into a room that they used for training, and it was very evident that it was used often. This was obvious by the fact that the walls were covered in dents and lesions. These were usually caused by large objects being thrown at them while Damon happened to be in a rage, which was something that happened quite often.

Once the scientist was a safe distance away, behind his thick wall of glass he released the restraints on Damon’s wrists and let power flow back into his brain, and slowly his body started to turn back on and he could think better. When he finally found himself able he looked up to where the wall would disappear and reveal who he would be sparring with, another pathetic creature he could feel sorry for … for a fleeting instant before the need to kill it overwhelmed him. Despite how much he hated this place and he hated the people who ran it he did find it necessary to prove himself the most powerful being.

He cracked his knuckles and brushed his hair out of his face, his long red eyebrows furrowing as he snarled slightly. He felt his own power surge and he knew that they were still playing around with the amount of power he was being given in an attempt to get him to go berserk. The moment they let him, he would… and he would make them regret it. He cracked his neck and stretched his arms, his powerful back and chest stretching with it. He laughed slightly, a rather maniacal but a laugh none the less.

The wall between the two was dropped and his opponent was revealed.

[Dancin' Kate]

Oooooooooh yeah, I can so work with this. Emma can be a real badass when I get the chance to write her as such. xD I'm going to write my post on Word first, then post it here. ;)

Emma sat on the floor of her glass prison; her head leaned back against the wall of foot-thick reinforced glass with a calm, almost peaceful expression etched onto her sharp-featured face. Being in her position, most immortals would have been anything but peaceful and calm, but this was a strange one. Her feet were chained to the floor by her ankles and her arms were trapped over her chest in a straight jacket with a clasp closed around her waist that chained her to the wall. 
The scientists watching over her had learned from their predecessors that Emma was an extremely dangerous subject and would do anything in her power to escape if given the chance. That being said, extra precautions were taken to keep her from gaining that chance. The straight jacket not only made it so she couldn’t use her arms, but also made it impossible for her enormous and powerful black wings to come out from their sheaths in her back. Like any other limb on her body, Emma’s wings were powerful, and if used in the correct manner, could kill a human easily.
Taking in a deep breath, she slowly dipped her head down and opened her eyes, staring at the ground with a glazed over look in her gaze. Time didn’t necessarily matter to her after being around for as long as she had. The scientists could claim that she would never escape all they wanted, but Emma knew that she would eventually- she always did. Hearing a dulled conversation through the glass, she lifted her head and tried to make out some of the words. 
“Training session… get her ready…”  
Laughing to herself when she heard those five words, Emma leaned her head back against the wall, shaking it slowly as a twisted smile danced on her lips. When will they learn? she thought to herself with a snicker, moving her position so she was upright and not leaning down towards the right. 
As if on cue, the lead scientist watching over her came through the glass door that opened from the outside only by computer authorization. Raising an eyebrow at the man, she flashed her best psychotic smile as her eyes flashed to a playful lime green before returning to their usual violet. 
“So, who will I be exterminating today, Doc?” she sneered, shrugging her shoulders and cocking her head to the side as she pulled a smirk. For almost thirty years she’d been pit against other inmates in this laboratory for the sake of science and research. The people working here still didn’t understand that a creation of God cannot be beat or defeated; even by the most deadly of experiments. There was one thing in this universe that could actually stand a chance against Emma, and that was another immortal like herself. Of course, should the scientists come up with some unstable new creation, there was the possibility it would be able to withstand her power. But that was a very, very small possibility. 
"Mhm, very funny. You might find this one a challenge, Emma," the man remarked, walking over to her and pulling out a syringe from his pocket, a bright, almost neon blue liquid inside of it. Kneeling down, he rolled up part of her white pants and injected the serum into her bloodstream. Instantly, the effects took place; her eyes dulled in color as did her hair and she slumped down from her upright position. Snapping his fingers, two guards came in through the same door and approached the drugged Fallen Angel with caution. Even in this state, she was still dangerous and could deal out some serious injuries. After a few clicks and buzzes, the chains securing her in place unhinged and released her. Picking her limp body up, the guards carried her out of the cell and into another room where she was taken out of the straight jacket and given another injection of the serum that would only last for the next five minutes while she was escorted to the training cell. 
The drug infused in her blood system turned all of Emma's senses on high alert, making everything seem louder, brighter, and hotter all at the same time. The dull clacking of the guards shoes on the floor was magnified so it sounded like ten bass drums pounding in her ears. The glare reflecting on the white walls of the hall was blinding and made her eyeballs throb. All over, the cotton suit she was outfitted in burned and itched her skin to the point where she whimpered. Her vision funneled and wavered several times as she stumbled along in the arms of the guards into another room where she was detoxicated- a process that removed any and all side effects of the drug. Now fully awake and in control of herself, Emma rolled her shoulders a few times and stretched her arms. Noticing her wrists were still bound together, she turned to one of the guards in the room and gestured for them to undo her restraints. 
"I won't bite," she offered, holding out her hands. Hesitating, the guard decided to take off her chains by pulling out a small silver key and unlocking the clasp. As soon as the guard took off the chains, she was shoved forward into the sparring room with the muzzle of a gun in her back. 
"Hey! I have important appendages back there, dipwad!" she growled, shooting the guard behind her a cold, narrowed glare with her dark violet eyes underneath a strand of auburn hair. Not responding, the guard pushed her forward once more, but a little gentler this time around. Once she was in the sparring room, the door behind her was sealed shut and she was left with three minutes to prepare for the match. 
"This'll be over quick," she mused to herself with a sigh, bitterly mumbling under her breath as she stretched her limbs. The white suit she was wearing was all connected in one piece, but was light and flexible so she could maneuver around in it with ease. The shirt-half of it was a tank-top like piece and showed off her bare arms and was specially designed so she could release her wings from their sheathed position in her back. The bottom half was just a baggy pair of pants that went all the way down to her feet and tucked into her shoes which were just simple flats. 
With a low ding that signaled her three minutes were up, the wall separating Emma from her opponent was lifted and she saw who she was up against. Her first reaction was to burst out laughing, but she stifled that with a low chuckle as a smirk crawled onto her lips. Narrowing her brightening violet eyes that flashed between their natural shade and a florescent green, she tilted her head to the side and examined her opponent. He was an average height, only about half and inch shorter than herself. But what little he lacked in height he made up for in muscle, something than made Emma involuntarily clench her jaw. Letting her ego have its chance to surface from its normally dormant state, she decided to make an impression with her wings. Let the poor bastard know who he's 'effing with, she remarked to herself with a slight chuckle. Rotating her shoulder blades, she braced herself for the coming pain of slip-streaming. The process was much more painful when putting the wings in their sheaths, but nevertheless, it still hurt. Slowly, the joint of her black wings pushed out from her back and popped into place with a gruesome twinge of ligaments locating themselves in place. Once completely out, Emma flared out her wingspan and gently flapped a few times, stirring up the air a bit as she smirked. 
"What that's the matter? Never seen a Fallen Angel before?" she sneered with a flash of demented glee in her eyes as they snapped to a dark crimson.

I may add to this and edit it tomorrow morning if I have any time. ;)

[JENOVA's SOLDIER]

((I think I had a little heart attack or something when I came online and yours ended up being so much longer than mine. You have no idea how impressed I am. Though… I can tell already that Damon is going to flip his shit all over this girlie~ Those few words and he’s already going to go berserk. This is going to be a battle of… who’s more cocky… isn’t it?))

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“Damon… we’re not letting you into Over-Power unless you need it.” The male scientist said through the speaker into Damon’s cage, while he was still separated from his opponent by the large wall. Damon frowned and glared at him, his dead grey, pupil-less eyes examining him in that cocky glare that he was so accustomed to.

“Are you saying that because there is no chance I will need it?” Damon said cocking an eyebrow, the bright red line of hair disappearing underneath the metal headband secured tightly to his head, “Or because I will need it?” He paused for a moment, “No matter, this won’t take long either way.” It would have just been a whole lot easier and a lot quicker if he were allowed into Over-Power, and he himself believed, that if he was going to attempt to train himself to control himself even better in that state than he was actually going to have to use it, but maybe they didn’t want him being able to control it and that was why they were using it as a last resort.

Over-Power was a state in his mind that made his powers go berserk. When affected by a surge in emotion, which didn’t often happen for Damon, or a surge in raw power his powers go haywire and take complete control of his entire system. It is evident by his eyes losing their dullness, turning from their dead grey to a very bright, shining yellow. This is the only physical attribute that changes. The ends of his hairs and clothing twitch upwards as his usual control of the gravity around his own person dissipates. This little change in the gravity is nothing compared to what he could do with his powers after Over-Power has been activated.

There had been two experiments like him before. Cayden and Phelan were two creatures that had been made some eighty years ago and had died some thirty ago after escaping. Eventually bringing themselves to their own downfalls, a shame really. But this was because they weren’t perfect, they weren’t Damon. In the last few decades the scientist team who had been around during the time of Cayden and Phelan had dam near perfected the science that was used to create the other two. This resulted in Damon.

The original point of the two that had been around decades prior was weapons of mass destruction, where the two of them together, with years upon years of training, would be able to crush the world itself. They would have enough control over that gravitational field of the Earth that they would be able to, in a sense, implode it. Damon would be able to do this in a few years by himself, it was part of the reason his powers were so restricted on a regular basis. The people who created him were terrified of him.

None the less his powers now were very close to their full capacity and Damon couldn’t help but test them out a little bit. ’About… 88%...’ He thought to himself, this was a lot more than they usually let him use, but he wasn’t about to complain about that. It was just enough to keep him from escaping he assumed. The very maximum amount they would ever let him have.

He adjusted the high collar of his long black jacket. This device itself had been custom made for him. Since he was technically dead his senses of things like touch had been drastically depleted, which he made up for by being so to himself. With this he can’t sense hot and cold as well as he should and won’t know whether his body is put into a hypothermic state or a hyperthermic state. The jacket has bands in the sleeve that regulate his body temperature to keep him from getting ill, or otherwise hindering his ability to move and fight.

On this note though, the boots and pants he was wearing were also created especially for himself and his predecessors. Both were made of a very resilient leather material. The pants were made so they could be tight to the skin but act as though they weren’t there at all making them easy to manoeuvre in, they were made as a sort of armour and aren’t used for much else. The material is tough and hard to pierce and keeps his body safe. Though he only wears it on his legs and feet. The boots were shaped to the contours of his feet and halfway up his calves, laced together tightly, they also acted as though they weren’t their while giving him added traction, this making it easier to utilize the power of his legs.

When it’s said that he doesn’t have much else when it comes to armour that is the complete truth. The headband around his forehead may act as some sort of protection in certain predicaments. Predicaments the doctors hope they never have to face. But his wears nothing under his long jacket. The fabric is very open in the front only zipped up from the hem of his pants to just below his pectoral. This showed off a wide patch of skin including most of his collarbone and all of his neck. The pale skin very clearly hard and muscled from years upon years of physical and mental training building him up into a very powerful weapon.

He cracked his knuckles as the wall was dropped away, looking down at his gloved palms but bare fingers. Long and pale, they were soft skinned. He rarely had to use his hands, it was the amazing thing about being able to control gravity with the palm of your hand, you didn’t often have to actually go about picking things up.

There was a buzz and the wall parted, revealing his sparring partner. Her initial reaction sparked an automatic fury inside of Damon. He clenched his fists and growled inwardly. His owns eyes flashing between dead grey and florescent yellow, eventually stopping on the dead grey once again. Just looking at her… he wanted her dead. She was far too cocky for her own good, a hypocritical statement coming from someone like Damon but it was how he felt from looking at her.

The wings that spread from her back were nothing Damon, he had seen plenty of creatures with wings before, what were so special about hers. It was no more special than a bird in his eyes. Damon opened his palms again. If she wanted to show off powers he was happy to go along with it. She would be cowering within an instant if he had anything to say about it.

“A fallen angel?” Damon repeated, his voice was low and smooth, it held an ever cocky tone and it had a very insane edge to it, the way he added emphasis was not necessarily normal when he was as worked up as he was right now, and it made the way he said his words sound very strange. “I can’t say I have. But I’m sure you’ve never seen a creature like me.” He said, he crouched placing incredibly weight and power behind his muscled legs.

“I don’t see… what good those wings will do you when you’re as good as grounded fighting me.” He said, and then he let his powers activate, he let it out in pulses first just giving her a sense of the power he could create and then he dropped it like a brick letting his powers envelope the entirety of the room. Increasing the gravity nearly five times, making it feel as though walking through syrup instead if air. He of course was completely resistant to his own powers. The scientists on the other side of their glass walls felt the effects of it in some ways as well, which initially worried the both of them, but in the end they did nothing about it, they would see where it went.

Damon smirked, the smirk very quickly growing into a deranged smile. He chuckled in his low voice, “Are you sure… you’re ready to face me? Like I said… you’ve never fought a person like me before.” Damon had indeed heard about this one. They never seemed to pay attention to the fact that he was eavesdropping on them when they kept an eye on him. They had had this girl since around the time they began working on Damon some thirty odd years ago. She hadn’t known Cayden and Phelan, so he was quite confident in saying what he was saying. Especially since he and his two predecessors had been the only three of this kind.

He wondered though, always wanting to be the one to analyze his opponent, what was going through her head. Now that she was sure she couldn’t win.

[Dancin' Kate]

REPLYING. ;) And thank you. I do try my best on the introductions of RPs. :D And yes, I think it will end up being a verbal battle of cockiness. BTW, I'm stealing your red-letter speech thing. O.o

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, narrowing her eyes as she shifted her weight onto her other foot, cocking her hip out and placing a hand on it as she pulled another, more sinister smirk. Tilting her head to the side, she gave him a hard stare as her violet gaze flashed to a cunning orange, staying there for a few moments as she thought out her plans of attack. He obviously wasn't what she was quite used to fighting which were a bunch of over-confident experiments who she toyed with for some time before she grew tired and finished them off quickly. Of course, there were the occasional off-the-wall experiments that were hard to handle and made it difficult for her to dispose of. At his comment about never meeting a creature quite like him, Emma couldn't hold back a burst of hysterical laughter as she wrapped an arm around her middle as it began to ache.
"Never seen someone like you?" she said after gaining ahold of herself, a sudden and violent change in her expression as it hardened and her eyes grew cold. Taking a few long strides towards him, she flared out her black wings as her head lowered, darkening her violet gaze into an even more intimidating stare.
"I was already ancient before you were even thought of, boy. Do not test me on that," she growled, her eyes briefly snapping to a murderous crimson as a sudden urge of blood-lust crossed her mind. Narrowing her eyes as she paused, Emma then took three more long strides until she was only a few meters away from him, tucking her wings behind her back so the tips crossed over one another. Clenching her fists into tight balls as adrenaline began to pump into her system, she side-stepped as her normal instinct to circle her opponent kicked in. Because she had been around for so long, she was used to fighting a certain way and beginning a battle with a certain ritual. Though most of these traditions had been forgotten with time, the few that had stuck with the Fallen Angel were ones she held very close and used on a regular basis. One of these was the clock-work way she began a fight by circling around her opponent until she had made a 180° shift upon which she would initiate her frontal assault of defense. 
When the gravity in the room was lifted, Emma lost control of her balance and nearly stumbled over, catching herself with a quick reaction of her black wings as they flared out and flapped heavily to keep her upright. Switching her gaze to him, she narrowed her eyes and gave him a cold glare, the vivid shade of violet in her irises darkening into an inky black.
"Are you trying to piss me off with this little prank?" she snapped, her wrathful temper sparking deep inside of her. Gravity manipulation- something she hated with the very fibers of her being. Not because she was envious or anything, but being a creation of God, the original creator, when she saw or was around something that went against the laws of nature which He had made up, it sent her wild with hatred.
"Those arrogant humans think there will be no consequence for breaking the laws of nature…" she seethed under her breath, followed by several more strong words laced with anger. Releasing her hands from their balled up state, she suddenly relaxed and put up a casual front. When she saw his smirk, she raised an eyebrow as her own twisted grin twitched onto her lips, followed by a low chuckle. Lowering her head so her auburn bangs dropped in front of her eyes, tickling the bridge of her nose, she peered at him from underneath her veil of hair. The lower gravity in the room was a disadvantage, yes, but it only made a small dent in her ability to fight. When you've been around for a certain period of time, you learn a few things and have the unique chance to get exposed to many things. That being said, she had already tested out the low gravity in the vacuum of space, so this small change was minute compared to what she had already been up against. She would have to tweak and alter her plans of attack as well, but those were minor things in contrast to everything else in the situation.
"You have a nice little trick, I'll admit; very tersus," she mused, saying the last word in her origin language of ancient Latin. Cocking a smirk, she sauntered closer ever-so-slightly and clucked her tongue as her eyes drifted back to their lively violet. Deciding to have a bit of fun before the action began, she said a small sentence in Latin to toy with his mind. Maybe he was more intelligent than he let on, and this would be useful information when the real fighting started.
"Nempe si te nihil est in creatura maior hominum. Ego oblivisci mentionem?" Of course, it will do you no good against a creature who is older than the human race. Did I forget to mention that? Opening her wings slightly, she ruffled the black feathers roughly and positions her arms by her sides, bending her knees. Now, much to her dismay, she would have to begin the fight. If she didn't, well, there was a lovely little chip in the back of her neck that would send a very painful shock if activated by the scientists. She'd been shocked with it only four times, and wasn't looking to break any records. Hardening her features and darkening her eyes, she flexed her fingers a few times and cracked her neck once more.
"Alright, tough guy; let's cut the sentimental bullcrap and get this over with," she remarked, bouncing on her toes lightly and raising her wings into a ready position as she circled around him. Locking her violet eyes with his flashing yellow and lusterless gray ones, she didn't break the stare until she reached her 180° shift, an internal click inside her as she stopped. For a split second, Emma held the ready-to-strike position and a flash of sorrow turned her eyes to a deep, deep blue. Somewhere inside her, she still hated taking anothers life with no real reason for it. But, if he wasn't paying attention to that slip second flash, he never would see it as she lunged forward. Kicking her leg up like she was aiming for his face or shoulder, she suddenly dropped down to a low crouch and spun on the ball of her foot. Spreading her wings and stiffening them, as she twirled around they swept his feet out from under him easily. The move was a favorite of Emma's, along with a few others, but the leg-sweeper was one one she used in every fight. If was effective and powerful and sent a simple message; 'You have no idea who you're messing with.'

Sorry for the power-play at the end... >.> I needed to do it though to finish up my post 'cause I went brain dead. But, I didn't want to leave it like that.

[JENOVA's SOLDIER]

Dude, so not cool! Damon’s colour is red, pick your own colour XD and yes… I just threw all of those phrases through Google… but Damon wasn’t formally taught the languages.. so the butchered Grammar sort of works… it’s why he’s speaking in small sentences.

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Damon watched every move the other person made, watched the way her muscles moved and the way her eyes changed colours. He had begun to idle count the number of colours her eyes had changed during the course of their brief encounter. A small quirk… that was what this counting habit was, a small quirk which could get a little out of hand when he was exceptionally bored. The way she laughed at him… it made his hate just grow stronger and stronger. It made him not want to laugh, something that he would very often do. It made him just want to get this over with, to finish her off and be done with it. And that is what he intended to do.
He didn’t make any comment to her first few sentences, not caring enough to bother. Also because he was trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do to finish her off as easily as possible. Damon had been told that the easiest way for someone with his select powers to kill a person was to implode their brains and kill them instantly. He had to be in a very close proximity to do something like that though. He would admit to it being and incredibly efficient form of killing a creature… but he had a feeling the toughest part of this fight would be keeping this stubborn woman down long enough for him to be able to put in the final blow.

After a while all Damon could find himself muttering was “You talk too much.” It was in a voice so quiet though that he himself was sort of sure that he had only said it in his head. But his head was so full of thoughts, so busy with concentrating, so busy with building the perfect map of the area… that he could hardly keep track of everything.

When she slipped into Latin Damon’s concentration broke for a second but he quickly picked it up as his mind processed the words that she spoke. Damon had been quick at picking up languages, it was one of the things they taught him to try and calm him, making him more stable. He didn’t know how that would accomplish anything, but he had learned many languages in the past twenty-five years, and if this woman wanted to slip into different languages he would have no trouble coming back at her.

Latin.

“Tu non opus ad. Ego non curare.”You don’t need to worry. I don’t care. He took a couple paces back as she circled him, not taking his dead eyes off of her, watching her every move. He really didn’t care about what she said, it really meant nothing to him. Age was but a number, a number that the two creatures standing in the room right now had nothing to ever worry about. There would come a day where Damon himself could use those words. He did think though… that being as ‘young’ as he was… was what gave him the advantage here.

French.

"Tu ne m'impressionne pas."You do not impress me. The way she moved, she held herself in such a cocky manner, every mover she made was one that showed Damon how powerful she thought she was. It was disgusting to Damon… seeing this creature strut around like she was all superior. She really had no idea the kind of person she was dealing with. He felt his chest heave once, in an effort to keep his body from shaking from the rage that filled him so completely.

Did she not know… this was a practice for Damon? This was more training… they had been spending decades trying to perfect the science that created him. Of course she would be a sort of final hurdle. If he could defeat her wouldn’t they believe he was as powerful as he would ever need to be? There was no way that they would let him die. They had sunk way too much money into him to let him be destroyed. She was just a kidnapped specimen; as soon as they had DNA samples and sufficient notes… what else did they need her for? Damon couldn’t think of anything… albeit, he didn’t really care.

He was shocked, despite himself, by how quickly she could move with the force of gravity so much heavier on her shoulder, he knew that at this weight there was no way she would be able to take off and fly. There wasn’t much room in here to do so anyways. She was grounded but she was still moving fast enough to get one on the red haired man. He went to move his body back when she went to hit his face just to have her duck down at the last moment and go for his legs. From his tilted position she had no problems in knocking his feet out from underneath him.

His control on the gravity around him slipped for a moment as he brought a hand down sending a small pulse of energy down at the ground righting himself before he could hit the ground and upping the power he had been using before. He doubled the weight from what he had had it at before. This would be enough to keep a human being pinned to the floor and it was quite a bit more straining than what he had been doing before hand, but he had to hinder her in order to assess the situation and get this done with.

Greek.

“Eíste anypóforos.” You’re insufferable. he hissed, practically growling at her. He was going to have to finish this up quickly. He would not be able to fully control himself for much longer, he was using far too much or his brain… within a few minutes it would overload and he would go into Over-Power and they would probably end up stopping the experiment.

He lifted his palm to face her, and he managed to summon up the last of what he could consciously control. With a small twitch of his non-gloved fingers the pulse of invisible energy formed in his gloved palm. It wasn’t as large as he would have liked it to be with his mind concentrating so much on keeping the gravity as high as he could, restricting her movement, and slowing her down. He needed to get a hit in.

The pulse in his hand was completely invisible, it was in fact condensed air molecules, brought together by a microscopic gravitational field placed on a small atom of air. It drew the surrounding atoms in without bonding them. It made them dense, it made the air thick. It was, in this state, thicker than the air on top of a mountain is thin, and it was very much tangible. It was solid enough that it could cause damage that it could make an actual ‘hit’. These pulses were a reason for a lot of the dents that covered the walls. And soon enough that was what this girl would be, another dent in the wall.

He didn’t, of course, mean for it to be some sort of fatal hit, just enough to give him the edge. Let him get in close to he could finish it in one quick blow. If they didn’t want her dead they would stop the fight as soon as Damon’s hand touched her head. That was how he would be named the victor, whether she died or not.

German.

He sneered, "Das ist der Abschied." This is goodbye. He said, finally managing to find that laugh that had hidden itself in the back of his throat. And with that throaty laugh he threw the pulse. This was a part of the reason he had physical training, he could throw that thing with enough force that even without it’s natural ability to attract matter it would be like being hit in the gut by a bowling ball, a bowling ball that someone had thrown as though was a baseball, with the speed to boost.

The pulse itself was not affected by the change in the gravity in the room because it itself had its own pull. It would zip through the air towards its intended target. This God forsaken harpy’s Solar Plexus, where it would both be able to push her over and knock the wind out of her, which would be the perfect scenario.

Japenese.

”Shini.”Die.

Glancing over at the scientists… they looked amused but they weren’t reaching towards the dial that would Damon under. They were keeping him up, they looked as though they were expecting something… as though to tell Damon that he wasn’t done yet… there was still some fighting left to go. That look pissed him off and he could feel his control slowly starting to slip away. If this attack didn’t do it… he had no doubt that he would slip into Over-Power and their fun would be over like that.

But… he would have to wait and see.

[Dancin' Kate]

>.< Fine… I have a better color-combonation anyways that I just thought of. Mwahaha! And I did the same when Emma spoke Latin. ;) GOOGLE TRANSLATE! xDD

He had begun to idle count the number of colours her eyes had changed during the course of their brief encounter. A small quirk… that was what this counting habit was, a small quirk which could get a little out of hand when he was exceptionally bored.

Hehe, yes; my personal favorite quirk of Emma's. Her eyes actually can change into… thirteen different shades that match her emotions. O.o

[Dancin' Kate]

Emma has every right to be cocky and strut around like she's all that; 'cause she is. xP Sorry this took forever and it sucks so much, I was really busy this week and my brain refused to work. >.> Perhaps this where you can do the break-out.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath as she quickly bent her spine backwards, ducking just seconds before the small ball of condensed matter hit her body. The speed at which she moved, however, was dramatically reduced from the doubled gravity in the room, slowing her movement to that of a normal human being. However, despite her disadvantage of being slowed down, she still managed to snap back up and bash the side of his head with her elbow, followed by a sharp jab on the back of his neck and a knee to the gut. Had he been expecting that, he probably could've retaliated her blows and blocked them. But, because she had the element of surprise when it came to strength and speed, she was able to get her succession of reflexive hits in. Jumping back, she raised her fists up in a prepared stance, ready to pounce as she bent her knees and watched him. The amount of gravity being placed on her shoulders was tremendous and sapped at her strength, weakening her slowly but surely as time trickled by.
Her wings, she had decided, would do her no good in this gravity as she put them away in a quick slip-stream, flinching as they slid down her back inside their sheaths. Her heart was pounding hard behind her chest causing her breathing to grow heavier and come out in soft pants as she steadily side-stepped around him.
"Es bonum, ego admittere," she remarked after a moment of catching her breath, flashing a dark smile, "sed non quod bonum." You're good, I'll admit- but not that good Rolling her shoulder blades, she winced as pain sparked across her collarbone and shoulder, looking down to see a long gash running up her chest from where the pulse must've grazed. The wound itself was not very deep, but just enough to draw out the golden liquid underneath the skin. I guess I wasn't fast enough, she thought to herself with a bitter curse, narrowing her eyes and tightening her lips. Showing an opponent you could be hurt was the worst mistake to make in a fight where your life was on the line.
Switching her gaze up to the scientists watching the battle, she gave them a glare of hatred and yelled something in an undetectable language at them, her eyes flashing. They needed her for more than just some final battle to see who was the top dog, so why were they doing this? She didn’t fear for her life, but this man defiantly had the ability to potentially hurt her. In truth, she did not know what he was fully capable of; then again, he did not know what she was capable of.
"I'll die when I damn well please, and not a moment before or after," she snarled in reply to his comment earlier, shooting him a firm glare as she began to circle hi again, placing one foot in front of the other carefully.

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