We Don't Talk About Fight Club

 Glittering droplets scattered from his hand as he slapped a handful of it up over his bare chest, flinging a glowing shard straight at cat-girl's face.

She ducked, of course, her afterimage blurring and the cat twining over her shoulders glaring at him. But it let him take another handful, Eddy's barrier of glimmer still letting in the glowy stuff as he dumped it over his skin.

Leaving him feckin' high, but after all the Ki it didn't seem so bad.

He skipped back from a slash he saw before her claws sliced past him, pulling a whip out of thin air and lashing it around her wrist. Yanked her to the ground, but she rolled with it, snapping off the glowing line and throwing out a kick.

She'd do well in a Samurai. Batting her foot away with his arm, he dropped a glowing block on her head. She went down, twisting away from the shard about to stab her leg, lashing out at him as she kicked up and danced back, sharp teeth bared.

He pointedly chose not to grin like a psychopath back, panting shadow peering over his shoulder with its ears pricked or not. Cats aren't for chasing. Bad dog. The thrum of glimmer prickled over his skin, itching in his veins with a pulse that seemed to beat in time with the cheering crowd, heady and dizzying, stone walls and sand under his feet almost real enough to taste.

Maybe I overdid it. Throwing out a handful of shards to bleed a bit off the edge, cat-girl dodging all of them, he blocked her lunge with a glowing wall, using it to shove her back.

She yelped, the first sound she'd made yet. Wasn't exactly a fair fight, skinny girl against grown man.

Launching over the barrier in a blur, she showed him why he shouldn't put down his guard anyway.

He flash-formed a bubble, glimmer wisping down, and her fist rammed straight through it. Quick as a flash, the claws of her other hand bit into his shoulder, sharp teeth snapping for his face.

He let himself crumple with her weight, jabbing a knee up into her stomach and kicking her over his head, right next to the trough. Biting back a growl, he twisted back to his feet, pulling the last of his glimmer into a glowing sun-ball—

Just as the entire trough crashed into him.

She'd wrenched it out of the ground? The hell— He didn't have time to dodge, the thing knocking him off his feet.

And spilling at least a gallon of suffering all over him.

He choked on a cry. In an instant, the world burned pure colour and heat straight into every one of his senses, turning him into a living firebrand burning up on the perfect white lino floor, blood choking his throat and swords dancing across his skin, slicing into his tongue with razor sharp teeth as fangs bit down on his throat and his burnt fingers speared into claws against his will. Even as he threw the light desperately away, yanking the throttle back instead of forward and his spine snapped like a whip. Not enough.

Needed to—

Snarling out a raw cry, he threw a wave of pure weaponised glimmer straight at a cat-lion hallucination monster, the ring and everything in it searing white.

And he blinked back to relative lucidity gasping for breath on the slick floor, his skin feeling like he'd just baked in the mid-summer sun for an afternoon, the familiar feeling of his yuurei fitted snug over his shoulders. The sizzle of glimmer still burned along his arm and side, and he shoved himself away from the puddle, snarling as it bit into his bare not-quite feet and calves, shouts and screams all ringing through his skull.

Damn, he tried not to hurt her and she went and forced him to manifest by dumping the whole trough on his head? Damn him for trying to go easy on anyone, hell's burning arse.

And then the memory of throwing out a wave of heat and light slammed into him. Wait, had he cooked her?

Oh hell.

Oh hell.

He snapped up onto his feet, all the shouting deafening him, but he couldn't smell charred flesh. There was a nice series of cracks on the transparent glimmer shield surrounding the ring, but—

There. Relief crashed through him and loosened the tight knot in his stomach as he spotted her crouched off to the side, staring at him with wide eyes, tail flicking behind her. Not cooked. Good.

He smiled at her.

And an impact punched straight through his lung.

What the hell— He choked on the fizz of a sparkler shoved into his ribs, twisting around, yuurei settling deeper into his skin despite himself as he bared his teeth.

To see a man in a black, skintight suit striding towards him, a sword in one hand, a mask snapping up over the snake tattoo and covering his cold eyes.

The rest of the air in his lungs vanished to the Elsewhere.

This had to be some kind of glimmer hallucination. He fought down the snarl trying to curl his lip, taking a step back and summoning a glowing sword of his own.

Just as the searing buzz boiling in his ribs twisted. He cried out before he could bite it off, doubling over and nearly cracking knees to wooden floor. Shite, he'd left it? Sadist. Feckin'—

Black boots curling with glowing designs strode towards him.

He managed half a laugh, ghostly fur blotting out the tattoos on his arms as he dug claws into his ribs and wondered what it'd do if he tried to tear the thing out. Funnily enough, he could taste iron. This isn't good. Bad, even.

A sword glinted. If it sliced through his neck, would he heal quick enough? God, he'd already died once to a masked madman. Second time unlucky might just kill him. He lifted his sword, but the other just cut through it like butter.

It couldn't be real, but it seemed dead-set on making itself a reality. He gritted his teeth, squinting up at a figure straight from his nightmares, a shudder running up his frozen spine despite himself. Denial. Denial was a tiny hamlet in the Islans and he'd like to make himself a cabin there right now.

"Where are you from, gaijin?"

A blank mask stared down at him, and was it his imagination or was there blood on that sword?

Its hand grabbed him around the throat, real as the claws he dug into its wrist, choking on blood and every ragged sound the shard scraping around in his ribcage tried to tear out of him. Thought he heard a shout somewhere. One of his team.

"Eei... you look Wilish." Could only see his own face reflected in that mask, ghostly wolf ears pinned, yuurei flickering down to mesh with it as another twist dragged a choked gasp out of him, and he clenched his eyes shut. "Maybe you've seen this suit before, somewhere else— a different one. How does this compare? I think it could be enough to kill an obake like you on its own."

None of them... had gloated about it... for a start. He snarled, letting his yuurei enfold him completely, and kicked him straight in the balls with every ounce of fire roaring in his veins, shoving back.

He found himself flung away through a shattered glimmer shield, and crashed straight into the window, a thousand pieces of glittering glass reflecting the sunset.

Tumbling to a stop, he coughed, specks of red peppering the balcony, a breeze catching his hair as he dragged himself up.

For an instant he saw chaos, rich men and women cowering under tables, yakuza shooting and slinging glimmer shards at a hawk obake wielding a sword, a bear obake stabbing one in the eye with a stiletto heel; a cat-girl fleeing through the crowd. Winning? No dragon ace in sight.

Black boots marched towards him, eating the distance, one sword in either hand now. Couldn't afford to play Where's Drake.

He threw up a wall with the little glimmer he had left, grinding his teeth against the violent twist of the shard doing a jig in his chest. It didn't last a second, sliced away in an instant. Dammit.

Stumbling back, choking around wounds slicing themselves open and healing with every movement he made, he reached the end of the balcony, red flecks bubbling on his lips as they twitched in a grin, all teeth. "You're really planning on... taking down an obake? You're—Khk!— ambitious."

The swords flicked out to the side, ready to dice him into pieces as the man picked up the pace, breaking into a run. But Lachlan was already close to the edge. All it took was a simple hop.

He lifted two fingers to his forehead in a salute, his heel brushing air.

And with a stomach-jerking lurch, fell back over the edge.

The sword slashed just a hair from his nose, too late to catch him. Wind rushing past his two sets of ears, he whirled, snatching out at a glinting blur. Claws snapped around another railing with a jerk that nearly tore him in two from the inside, and his fingers spasmed, thankfully locking tight instead of letting go as every muscle in his body went rigid.

He ground his teeth, eyelids clenched shut, dangling above the rushing glitter of traffic too far below. Well wasn't this fun. Gone swimmingly, it had.

He laughed, choking on blood and burning pins and needles. Whose idea'd this been?

God, think I might die a second time.

Turning watering eyes back up, he thought he saw a blank mask staring down through vision that seemed to have lost its colour. A hand stretched over the sky, and a second sun appeared. Another part of a nightmare that'd broken into the waking world. And no Da this time to save him.

"Lockie...."

He closed his eyes.