Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2015 14:51:57 GMT -6
Dasha calmly drank from her vodka as she watched some of Scarlet’s old matches. The fact that Scarlet was a boxer was painfully clear and obvious. The stance, the way her feet moved, the way she threw her punches. All were dead give aways. All made it clear how Scarlet preferred to fight and above all, Boxing had no chance against Sambo when it came down to fighting. What good was throwing punches when you couldn’t hit your target? How did fancy footwork help you escape joint locks? No, this fight would be over once Dasha got ahold of Scarlet and forced Scarlet to fight Dasha’s fight. The last boxer Dasha had fought had been in an MMA circuit. She had not been smart enough to admit defeat after Dasha’s sambo hip throw had left her on the ground and Dasha had followed it up by rolling into the Sambo Calf Crush Slicer. The stupid woman had refused to tap out and thus, Dasha broke the woman’s femur badly enough to cripple the woman. That was the thing. Dasha had no key injuries. Unlike Scarlet who had a spine to protect and other old injuries, Dasha had stayed fairly healthy. The real question here was what would the two women be willing to do when it came right down to it?
Dasha was a sociopath. A stone cold killer, trained to kill without hesitation or mercy. She had done so, many times. It was just part of who she was and had been ever since that day when her life changed forever. Back during the Old Soviet Union, when Dasha, who had already proven herself a genius when it came to Chess, Game Theory, and politics, was in the middle of humiliating a leader of the opposition at one of the few open debate forums the Communist party had to give the illusion of freedom of speech. Of course the ‘Opposition’ was usually Communist as well, just with different views on things. Dasha’s win had been dampened by the news that her brother Sergei had been killed in an attack by Chechen terrorists ambushing a checkpoint… that had been the catalyst that got Dasha involved in the Russian military as well as leadership. Her knowledge, love and skill at Chess and Game Theory gave her the insight to predict how things were going to play out and allowed her to position herself perfectly to rise up the ranks quickly and get to where she was today.
She thought about this as she came downstairs, put her ice skates on and skated along the rink , her hockey stick moving along the ice as she guided the puck moving along the ice, approaching the net. The net in question had 4 targets. Upper Right, Upper Left, Lower Right, Lower Left, set up and Dasha nodded to herself. “Upper Right.” She said to herself and fired a wrist shot that sent the puck flying flawlessly into the target. Dasha skated around the back of the net and collected the puck as she moved back towards what would, in a game, be her team’s area to start again. As she moved, she thought to herself about Scarlet, probably still in Italy, dealing with her Grandfather’s death. She had seen Scarlet try to be tough and talk at her opponents before and to say it was less than intimidating would be an understatement. The fact was, Dasha had all the advantages here. Scarlet was skilled. She had been in New Edge longer. She had connections in that her husband owned the place… but Dasha was an unknown variable. Very few people outside of Russia could tell you with any real degree of accuracy who the Spetsnaz were or what being one meant. Some military special forces knew or thought they knew some things, but no one outside of Russia knew anything about the training other than it was long, hard, brutal and that death was not uncommon since failure was not an option.
Dasha smirked to herself as she circled past the net on her side of the rink and accelerated, her legs pushing her blades across the ice as she picked up speed, narrowing her eyes and focusing on her target. That was what Scarlet failed to realize. Dasha had one goal. Win. Failure was not allowed. Anything less than perfection simply was not good enough. as hard as she was on Boris, Dasha was ten time harder on herself. Scarlet had a family to think about. Dasha had… no one.. “Lower Right.” she muttered as she approached the net, pulled a double deke and hit the indicated target with a backhand shot. Circling around behind the net again, she collected the puck and began her trip as she thought about Scarlet and her family. Another difference. How far was Scarlet willing to go? Not that it mattered because Dasha didn’t have a family to attack. Dasha had only herself. Her only real connection was Boris and he could handle himself. Dasha meanwhile had no problem ensuring that Scarlet had to plan funerals for her children if that’s what victory over her required. Dasha had killed children before, Russian children no less, because cowardly terrorists hid behind them as shields. Dasha remembered that all too well..
Beslan, North Ossetia, Russian Federation:
Dasha walked around the school building in the aftermath of the battle. Outside the wails of Russian parents who had just discovered their child or children had not survived could be heard. Most of the usually stoic Spetsnaz soldiers seem to even be shaken by the sheer carnage.
Dasha is stoic as ever, her eyes cold, unfeeling. She makes her rounds through the building and, upon ensuring there are no terrorists hiding, gives the clear for the medics to come in and remove more of the bodies. As she comes out, a Russian mother runs over to her, slamming her fist into Dasha’s shoulder in a hammer motion as she yells out in Russian. “DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU and PUTIN! GO BACK TO MOSCOW!” The woman continued to spit curses at Dasha as she walked away, her face never changing, not even when the woman wishes for Putin’s death and, without blinking, Dasha turns, draws her pistol and puts a bullet right in between the eyes of the woman before nodding. “Traitor.” was all she said before barking an order causing all the Spetsnaz to ready their own assault rifles as Dasha stepped forward, yelling in Russian. “DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH WHAT WE DID HERE?! WHERE WAS GEORGIA?” She yells pacing back and forth.
“You think those incompetent farmers and peasants can protect you?! You are Russian! They don’t care about you, and won’t fight Chechens to help you!”
Dasha came back to the present and muttered top left as she took a slap shot and hit her goal once more. Ungrateful people, she thought bitterly to herself. She had no patience for people who demanded protection and then complained about the manner in which that protection was provided. But that was one more advantage Dasha had. Military training. Discipline. The ability to fight, to adapt, to not panic. To wait for the mistake that would come and turn it to your favor. To see the opening and attack. To strike before your opponent had a chance to defend adequately. And the killer instinct to put your opponent down and make sure they stayed down. Dasha came around and cut across right to left and took a shot at the last target and hit it, smirking to herself. There would be no miracle on ice this time. There would be no triumphant return for Scarlet Styles. The Revolution was back and it was time to put the opposition on ice,.
Dasha was a sociopath. A stone cold killer, trained to kill without hesitation or mercy. She had done so, many times. It was just part of who she was and had been ever since that day when her life changed forever. Back during the Old Soviet Union, when Dasha, who had already proven herself a genius when it came to Chess, Game Theory, and politics, was in the middle of humiliating a leader of the opposition at one of the few open debate forums the Communist party had to give the illusion of freedom of speech. Of course the ‘Opposition’ was usually Communist as well, just with different views on things. Dasha’s win had been dampened by the news that her brother Sergei had been killed in an attack by Chechen terrorists ambushing a checkpoint… that had been the catalyst that got Dasha involved in the Russian military as well as leadership. Her knowledge, love and skill at Chess and Game Theory gave her the insight to predict how things were going to play out and allowed her to position herself perfectly to rise up the ranks quickly and get to where she was today.
She thought about this as she came downstairs, put her ice skates on and skated along the rink , her hockey stick moving along the ice as she guided the puck moving along the ice, approaching the net. The net in question had 4 targets. Upper Right, Upper Left, Lower Right, Lower Left, set up and Dasha nodded to herself. “Upper Right.” She said to herself and fired a wrist shot that sent the puck flying flawlessly into the target. Dasha skated around the back of the net and collected the puck as she moved back towards what would, in a game, be her team’s area to start again. As she moved, she thought to herself about Scarlet, probably still in Italy, dealing with her Grandfather’s death. She had seen Scarlet try to be tough and talk at her opponents before and to say it was less than intimidating would be an understatement. The fact was, Dasha had all the advantages here. Scarlet was skilled. She had been in New Edge longer. She had connections in that her husband owned the place… but Dasha was an unknown variable. Very few people outside of Russia could tell you with any real degree of accuracy who the Spetsnaz were or what being one meant. Some military special forces knew or thought they knew some things, but no one outside of Russia knew anything about the training other than it was long, hard, brutal and that death was not uncommon since failure was not an option.
Dasha smirked to herself as she circled past the net on her side of the rink and accelerated, her legs pushing her blades across the ice as she picked up speed, narrowing her eyes and focusing on her target. That was what Scarlet failed to realize. Dasha had one goal. Win. Failure was not allowed. Anything less than perfection simply was not good enough. as hard as she was on Boris, Dasha was ten time harder on herself. Scarlet had a family to think about. Dasha had… no one.. “Lower Right.” she muttered as she approached the net, pulled a double deke and hit the indicated target with a backhand shot. Circling around behind the net again, she collected the puck and began her trip as she thought about Scarlet and her family. Another difference. How far was Scarlet willing to go? Not that it mattered because Dasha didn’t have a family to attack. Dasha had only herself. Her only real connection was Boris and he could handle himself. Dasha meanwhile had no problem ensuring that Scarlet had to plan funerals for her children if that’s what victory over her required. Dasha had killed children before, Russian children no less, because cowardly terrorists hid behind them as shields. Dasha remembered that all too well..
Beslan, North Ossetia, Russian Federation:
Dasha walked around the school building in the aftermath of the battle. Outside the wails of Russian parents who had just discovered their child or children had not survived could be heard. Most of the usually stoic Spetsnaz soldiers seem to even be shaken by the sheer carnage.
Dasha is stoic as ever, her eyes cold, unfeeling. She makes her rounds through the building and, upon ensuring there are no terrorists hiding, gives the clear for the medics to come in and remove more of the bodies. As she comes out, a Russian mother runs over to her, slamming her fist into Dasha’s shoulder in a hammer motion as she yells out in Russian. “DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU and PUTIN! GO BACK TO MOSCOW!” The woman continued to spit curses at Dasha as she walked away, her face never changing, not even when the woman wishes for Putin’s death and, without blinking, Dasha turns, draws her pistol and puts a bullet right in between the eyes of the woman before nodding. “Traitor.” was all she said before barking an order causing all the Spetsnaz to ready their own assault rifles as Dasha stepped forward, yelling in Russian. “DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH WHAT WE DID HERE?! WHERE WAS GEORGIA?” She yells pacing back and forth.
“You think those incompetent farmers and peasants can protect you?! You are Russian! They don’t care about you, and won’t fight Chechens to help you!”
Dasha came back to the present and muttered top left as she took a slap shot and hit her goal once more. Ungrateful people, she thought bitterly to herself. She had no patience for people who demanded protection and then complained about the manner in which that protection was provided. But that was one more advantage Dasha had. Military training. Discipline. The ability to fight, to adapt, to not panic. To wait for the mistake that would come and turn it to your favor. To see the opening and attack. To strike before your opponent had a chance to defend adequately. And the killer instinct to put your opponent down and make sure they stayed down. Dasha came around and cut across right to left and took a shot at the last target and hit it, smirking to herself. There would be no miracle on ice this time. There would be no triumphant return for Scarlet Styles. The Revolution was back and it was time to put the opposition on ice,.