I think “scrifice” is related “edifice,” but I haven’t moved on from there yet. Maybe later, when the dog gets up ...
As long as we stay away from the “orifice”!!!
He was almost to where he had to be to subvert the system, but something told him he wasn't alone.
He stopped just short of the end of a wall and waited.
The room was expansive, expensive, and climate adjusted.
It resembled a telecommunications call center except for the server pylons extending from the floor at regular intervals up ahead between the cubicle stations.
He looked over the glassed areas, noting points that he could use for his defense.
“You can come out, you know I can hear you breathing.” Buaireas hoped the shaking and discomfort didn't color his voice as he said it.
A booted foot snapped from around the corner and clipped the front of his helmet, stinging his nose slightly.
He grabbed the proffered handle, yanked, and then spun in the air to kick rearward with one powerful leg.
His opponent grunted and landed hard.
“You're late” the figure said as it stood back up.
“Sorry, you know how roadtrips are. Lots of rest area stops.” Buaireas ducked a return kick and cast an uppercut punch into his opponent.
Back on The Mage’s Hand, Silash and her immediate crew kept a close eye on the screens before them.
“Heart rate is elevated, he's showing physical exertion. He's in a fight. No video or audio yet.” Ge’lar was the master at such technical things, if it were possible he'd have it up in living color momentarily.
“What was that readout?” someone noticed a sharp spike in one of the telemetry readings.
“Pain.” Ge’lar said clinically.
“Why are you even here?” the voice asked as the form it belonged to thrust the knife it held forward.
“I'm an ordinary man wanting the same thing everyone else wants.” Buaireas blocked the blade and swept a set of claws across an exposed spot.
“You're not a man! You're not even a rabbit! You're an abomination!” if Buaireas didn't know better, he'd swear the person he was fighting was moody, and upset to be speaking to a non-human sentient.
He dodged several slashes and thrusts, then slammed a well timed kick into the mess.
In flight, his opponent made a quick poke at Buaireas’ leg.
As if springs were mounted on their backside, his opponent was back on him.
Already injured by the teleporter and now sporting two cuts, Buaireas felt that he was at a disadvantage.
His helmet faceplate shattered and he quickly removed the malfunctioning equipment.
Then he used it as a hammer and smashed it over his opponent's head, pieces of his helmet flying in multiple directions with parts of the target helmet following.
“That was a good helmet.” he said, the chinguard still in his hand.
“How long has this fight been going on?”
“Too long. Either he's fighting someone who's real good, or he's that hurt to begin with.” Ge’lar was worried, and he was currently looking on how to compensate for the inhibitor field.
Silash was quietly watching the exchange.
An animalistic growl punctuated Buaireas bending a chair over his opponent before launching them through one of the decorative glass plates by the entry walkway.
They retaliated by booting him in the stomach and then pulling into a tight spin to lunge the knife in behind-
-into thin air.
Buaireas had ducked, rolled, and now used both feet from a laying position to launch his opponent into the ceiling.
As they dropped, he slammed a scavenged length of metal into them.
The screens all blanked out, all readings dropped to zero.
“Critical damage. Medical assistance required immediately.” a computerized voice intoned in an unhurried, unemotional fashion as medical emergency alarms sounded.
Silash jumped from her seat.
“BUAIREAS!”