victoria kristine

She knew she needn’t bother as her dad would be sleeping like a log. He had sleep apnea and used a CPAP machine to help him sleep and would also swallow a couple of tablets to help him get a good night’s rest. The whir of the machine sounded like a quiet vacuum, while her dad lay on his back like a hospital patient with the tube rigged up to his nose. She’d gotten a fright when she’d seen it the first time, but she’d gotten used to it by now.

Roc left the ring, eager to get his wounds treated, though putting on a brave face. As he entered the hypogeum below, Foley met him. “Nice work out there. Just don’t go thinking that your fancy kicks will knock me over like him.”

Roc had the advantage of experience against this style, but his missing arm proved a debilitating handicap. In one regard, it made dodging easier, as he had less mass to move out of the way of Ingram’s attacks, and he couldn’t be slowed down with painful flesh wounds to the missing limb, but it also left his offense and defense on his right side almost nonexistent. Depending on who he was fighting and what type of combatant they were, the severity of such a handicap was variable, but against such a similar warrior, his disadvantage was increasingly evident with each passing second. Back and forth, over and over, they hurled attacks at each other and then pulled back, using their wings to move in and out of each other’s reach.