Face-Kick
Potential Patron
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2011
OK, some background on this. I actually wrote this a couple of years ago and posted it on the message board at Kick Ass Kandy. The site itself is almost strictly f/m stuff, and so has nothing that really appeals to me. However, I could recognise the talent (and hotness) of the actresses they used, and the high production values of their videos... which basically made it all the more frustrating they they weren't producing any f/m material. And so this story was basically born out of 'wishful thinking'. I dug it out recently, at the request of a poster over at their message board - and having read it back for the first time in years, it occurred to me that the story does seem to have a certain Zako feel to it (despite having only just recently discovered said fetish on this board a few months ago).
Anyway, here it is. Naturally, I'd be interested in any opinions, particuarly from those with fem vs fem and/or Zako interests. Cheers!
In the meantime...
Who am I?
The floor was hard. Cold too. Not that this was an unusual condition for a floor. What puzzled her was why she was so very aware of these details. Two things occurred to her. Firstly, to be aware of the floor's texture, she would have have to be laying on it. Secondly, the fact that she could feel the lack of warmth against so much of her body would suggest that a significant amount of her skin was in direct contact with the floor. And that would mean...
She sat bolt upright, looking down at her body. She was clothed, but only with her black underwear. At least, she presumed it was her underwear. And that was only on the basis that possession is nine tenths of the law. She had no recollection of actually putting the underwear on. Or of taking her clothes off. As she searched her memories further, she discovered there were considerably more blanks. Primarily, she did not know her name. Or what she was doing here. Or even where 'here' was. In retrospect, concerns about the ownership of a matching lace bra and g-string seemed a little less significant.
She stood up and surveyed her surroundings. The room was simple, and offered little to trigger her memory. White tiled flooring, white walls and white lighting did not supply much in the way of inspiration. Unless my name is Snow White, she mused. Snow White. She remembered that. Instead of trying to remember specific details, she began to focus on the memories she could access. Cheese. Ladybirds. Seashells. Guitar solos. Balaclavas. Santa Claus. Crayons. Fifty pence coins. Mobile phones. Carpets. Front snap kicks. Herbie goes to Monte Carlo. Zinger Tower burgers. Roulette wheels. Cold drinks on hot days. The list went on. She could clearly remember things, movies, concepts, ideas... it was just her own personal information that remained frustratingly elusive. And there was something about a bird. A particular kind of bird. A sparrow? A finch? No....
Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise, as a low but audible hum filled the room. On the far wall, an opening appeared as a previously invisible door panel slid to the left. Before the trapped woman could even consider escape, another woman entered the room. She wore a tight black catsuit that clung to the contours of her body like a freshly applied coat of paint. Gloss. Like her outfit, the woman's hair was also black, flowing long past her shoulders. Her features were beautiful, almost exotic. What they were not, noted the room's original occupant, were friendly.
As she took in her guest's appearance, the captive woman suddenly realised that she had no idea what she herself looked like, at least not from the neck upwards. It was a discerning sensation, and one that the brunette seemed to pick up on. The black stilletoes of her thigh length boots clicked against the shiny white floor as she approached the woman with no name and held up a small hand-mirror to her prisoner's face.
I'm blonde, noticed the woman initially. It seemed a trivial piece of information, but it was a strange situation seeing your own face for what felt like the first time. She was cute too, she realised. This wasn't ego. It was simply there. When you're looking at your own face with no previous recollection, it's not conceit to notice that you're smoking hot - it's simply accepting the facts. The face tugged at her memory, a flash of recognition that momentarily lifted the veil that was shrouding her own past. Again, she saw the bird What was it? A dove? A blackbird?
Before she could pursue this mental line of enquiry, the mirror was removed. "So?" said the woman, with a definite Russian accent. "Did that help? You remember who you are now, yes?"
"No." replied the blonde.
"Idiots!" spat the brunette, turning away from her prisoner. "How hard can it be to create a knockout gas that does not affect the memory!!? How am I to question you if you don't know who you are!?"
"I have some questions of my own," said the blonde, noticing her own voice for the first time. She was well spoken, her voice softer than that of her captor. "Where am I? Where are my clothes for that matter? And who are you?"
The brunette smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. It was a smile that would not look out of place on a small child as it pulled the legs off of a spider. And then ate them. "I am Kitanya Irenya Tatanya Karenska Alisoff." She paused. "My friends call me... Well, I don't actually have any friends, so that doesn't really matter. What matters is what you were doing sneaking around our supposedly secret base. Very well, if seeing your own face wasn't enough to jog your memory perhaps I will try more... direct methods."
The blonde wondered for a second what those methods might be. It was, in fact, literally one second, as that was the amount of time it took for the Russian woman's fist to connect with her face. The blow was as much of a shock as it was painful, but there was little time to get over the surprise before another fist cracked into her jaw. The blonde stumbled backwards. She knew she should be concerned, she was being punched by a woman who was holding her captive. Oddly though, her overriding sensation was one of familiarity. Another blow landed, this time into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air. Something was wrong though. Not wrong in the obvious sense that she was in a fight. Oddly, that seemed perfectly normal. No, what felt wrong was that she was losing. A flash of shining metal flew towards her face, the brunette unleashing a roundhouse kick. The heel of Kitanya's stilleto was inches from the blonde's face when her hand shot upwards, somehow blocking the strike at the last possible second.
"Now hang on a jiffy," said the blonde assertively. She stopped, furrowing her brow as something had sparked in her mind. She began to fan the flames, "A jiffy? A jiffy A jiff." And then she saw the bird. Soaring from her subconcious, it darted gracefully through the clouds of old boyfriends and an episode of Bullseye, before landing gracefully on a branch of her temporal lobe. The bird was a jay. "A jay?" mused the blonde. "A jay.... AJ!!!!"
AJ's mind cleared in an instant and she immediately addressed the most important issue about her current predicament. "Those are my boots!" she exclaimed. Kitanya tried another kick, this time AJ blocked it with ease. Another kick was sidestepped, almost nonchalantly. Kitanya attempted to repeat her earlier success with her fists but AJ ducked and weaved every strike, Kitanya now not even coming close to connecting.
"Are you done now?" asked AJ. "Doesn't matter. Rhetorical question." AJ's leg swung upwards, gracefully but with intent. Like a swan carrying a cosh. Her foot slapped into Kitanya's face with a smack, the brunette's head snapping backwards as the kick connected. A roundhouse followed, AJ's sole smacking across the side of Kitanya's face like a paintbrush being liberally applied to a wall. AJ hadn't watched the Karate Kid for nothing. Kitanya was knocked sideways but managed to stay on her feet. Under the circumstances, this was not to prove the best option. AJ executed another roundhouse, this time smacking Kitanya in the other direction. And then another. And another.
"I do apologise," said AJ, almost conversationally, as she played a kind of one woman foot-tennis with Kitanya's face, kicking it from right to left... "But this floor is so very cold... and your face is a little warmer. Actually it's getting warmer all the time. Stings a bit, yes?"
Kitanya grunted as kick after kick smacked into each of her cheeks, trying to defend herself but always just too late to stop AJ's feet finding their target. Suddenly, the assault stopped. And then started again, as AJ drove a knee into her belly. Kitanya doubled over with an "OOOOUUUUUFFFFF!!!!!" and then dropped to the floor like a recently buttered slice of toast, as AJ delivered a knife hand strike to the base of her neck.
AJ looked down at her handiwork, pondering a suitable quip. Quipping was important in this line of work. Granted, her opponent was unconcious, but that was no reason to let standards drop. "Niet chance, Com-" AJ, stopped mid-quip. Kitanya was struggling back to her feet. She was far from steady, but she was still awake.
"Now this is why I don't like fighting women," said AJ. "They're just so much tougher than boys!" Waiting till Kitanya was upright, AJ shook her head and cracked a right cross into Kitanya's jaw that span her around a full 360 degrees before she slumped back to the cold white floor. This time she was definitely out.
"Good Niet," said AJ. "Hmmm.. I liked the first one better."
Turning on her heels, AJ slipped out of the room. There was no time to collect her clothes, the guards would be here shortly. It was time to live up to her name... After all, she thought, I'm Action Jiffy... I mean Jackson!! Bloody memory!!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Who are they?
Cold hands!! Cold feet!! Cold hands!! Cold feet!! Cold hands!! Cold feet!! It was no good. Cartwheeling down the corridor was not helping to keep AJ off of the cold floor for very long. Where were emergency socks when you needed them?
So far, liberation from her original guest residence had not offered much in the way of exit opportunities. For every corridor AJ walked down, around the corner just lay another corridor, and another. The occasional door led only into small white rooms, identical to the one she had recently left. Maybe it's a very, very cheap Travelodge, she considered, coming to a T-junction. Left or right. Neither option offered much, from what she could see, and so she chose right. Which, ironically, turned out to be wrong.
Before she could melt into the shadows, as she was trained to do, two female guards stepped out from one of the white doors. AJ was about to chastise herself for being caught by surprise, before remembering that there weren't actually any shadows for her to have melted into. And she had missed the class for melting into the very bright light, whilst standing in front of a white wall, wearing black underwear.
The two guards were dressed identically. Tight silver catsuits, with matching high-heel ankle boots. One had short cropped dark hair, the other was a longer haired blonde. If they were part of the organisation that had taken her captive, the guards were presumably baddies, most likely scheming to take over the world. That was the thing with evil organisations. They never just planned anything. They had to scheme it. AJ wondered if they had to scheme everything... "We need some milk from the shop, let us come up with scheme to achieve our aim!!" It was a tough life being a baddie. Still, nice outfits.
Whilst AJ had been indulging her internal monologue, the blonde guard had spoken into her wrist. "We've found her. Section B5 Alpha 9."
"What?" said AJ. "You mean this place has sections? You can find your way around? What, did they give you a blank sheet of paper and tell you it was a map?"
A tinny voice crackled from the blonde guard's wrist. "Additional units have been despatched. Restrain her until they arrive." AJ shook her head. "Ladies. You don't want to do that. Really. See, I'm asking nicely and I never to that with male guards. But we're all girls together, sisters doing it for themselves, that sort of thiUUNNHH!!" It was the second time in less than ten minutes that AJ had been punched by a woman. It was also the last time it would happen for the forseeable future.
It had been the blonde who had slugged AJ. The two guards were positioned side by side, directly in front of her. Quickly, AJ dropped into a perfect splits and from her lower position, sent both her fists into both the blonde and brunette's stomachs. The two women doubled over, exhaling in unison with a chorus of "OOOOUUUPPPPHHH!!!", clutching their winded bellies. Staying on the floor, AJ rolled onto her back and drove both her feet upwards, her left and right heels connecting simultaneously with the chins of the still bent-over guards, cracking their respective teeth together like a very short castanet duet.
The two women were sent sprawling from the force of the double heel kick. The blonde fell back through the nearby open door and cracked her head on the frame as she went down, apparantly unconcious. The brunette stumbled a few steps back, but stayed on her feet. She quickly moved towards AJ, who leapt to a standing position and executed a high front kick that caught the guard squarely in the face, the sole of AJ's foot momentarily distorting the woman's features as it made impact.
The kick slowed the guard sufficiently for AJ to pull back her arm and deliver a powerful right cross that caught the woman clean on the chin, the sound of the punch echoing down the corridor. In actual fact, it wasn't an echo. It was simply AJ connecting with another punch, this time a left cross. Another right hit hard. Each punch knocked the woman's head in the opposite direction, causing her to face right, then left, then right... AJ had a further left cross all fired up and ready to go but the guard's legs now appeared to have been replaced by elastic bands, and she slumped to the floor. "Always remember to look both ways before crossing." said AJ.
Suddenly an arm wrapped around her throat from behind, attempting to trap AJ in some kind of sleeper-hold. The blonde guard had not hit her head quite as hard as AJ had thought when she fell. Still, that could soon be rectified. AJ slammed an elbow backwards, connecting with the blonde guard's belly. The woman gasped, and loosened her grip sufficiently for AJ to grab the arm that was around her neck and pull down as she leant forwards, flipping the guard over her shoulder and onto the floor. The blonde grunted as her back hit the unforgiving tiling. She tried to sit up, but AJ's foot smacking into her face soon changed her mind, and she fell back alongside her equally horizontal colleague.
AJ reached down and removed the wrist communicator from one of the women and place it on her own wrist. This might come in handy, she thought. Moving away from the guards, AJ began to progress further down the corridor. She had not gone far when she heard a noise behind her. The two guards were struggling back to their feet. They were side-by-side again, leaning back against the wall to steady themselves. The brunette still had her wrist communicator and raised it to her lips.
"Why don't girls know when to quit?!" AJ was both frustrated, but also a little proud that these guards were so much more resilient than the normal glass-jawed guys she dealt with. Admiration aside though, they were still the enemy. AJ had to act fact, but she already knew what to do...
Cold Hands!! Cold Feet!! Cold Hands!! Cold Feet!! Cold Hands!! Blonde's Chin!! Brunette's Chin!! Blonde's Chin!! Brunette's Chin!! Cold Feet!! AJ's cartwheel kick was a complete success, as her heels impacted successively with the guard's jaws, both guards geting both feet, one after another. This time when they dropped, they were out cold. AJ finished her cartwheel with a flourish, raising her arms and bowing to an imaginary audience. "And the voting from the evil organisation judges is... a perfect 10!"
With both the fight and her obligatory quipping complete, AJ once more headed down the corridor. If the guards had a way in, then presumably she could find a way out.
Anyway, here it is. Naturally, I'd be interested in any opinions, particuarly from those with fem vs fem and/or Zako interests. Cheers!
In the meantime...
Who am I?
The floor was hard. Cold too. Not that this was an unusual condition for a floor. What puzzled her was why she was so very aware of these details. Two things occurred to her. Firstly, to be aware of the floor's texture, she would have have to be laying on it. Secondly, the fact that she could feel the lack of warmth against so much of her body would suggest that a significant amount of her skin was in direct contact with the floor. And that would mean...
She sat bolt upright, looking down at her body. She was clothed, but only with her black underwear. At least, she presumed it was her underwear. And that was only on the basis that possession is nine tenths of the law. She had no recollection of actually putting the underwear on. Or of taking her clothes off. As she searched her memories further, she discovered there were considerably more blanks. Primarily, she did not know her name. Or what she was doing here. Or even where 'here' was. In retrospect, concerns about the ownership of a matching lace bra and g-string seemed a little less significant.
She stood up and surveyed her surroundings. The room was simple, and offered little to trigger her memory. White tiled flooring, white walls and white lighting did not supply much in the way of inspiration. Unless my name is Snow White, she mused. Snow White. She remembered that. Instead of trying to remember specific details, she began to focus on the memories she could access. Cheese. Ladybirds. Seashells. Guitar solos. Balaclavas. Santa Claus. Crayons. Fifty pence coins. Mobile phones. Carpets. Front snap kicks. Herbie goes to Monte Carlo. Zinger Tower burgers. Roulette wheels. Cold drinks on hot days. The list went on. She could clearly remember things, movies, concepts, ideas... it was just her own personal information that remained frustratingly elusive. And there was something about a bird. A particular kind of bird. A sparrow? A finch? No....
Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise, as a low but audible hum filled the room. On the far wall, an opening appeared as a previously invisible door panel slid to the left. Before the trapped woman could even consider escape, another woman entered the room. She wore a tight black catsuit that clung to the contours of her body like a freshly applied coat of paint. Gloss. Like her outfit, the woman's hair was also black, flowing long past her shoulders. Her features were beautiful, almost exotic. What they were not, noted the room's original occupant, were friendly.
As she took in her guest's appearance, the captive woman suddenly realised that she had no idea what she herself looked like, at least not from the neck upwards. It was a discerning sensation, and one that the brunette seemed to pick up on. The black stilletoes of her thigh length boots clicked against the shiny white floor as she approached the woman with no name and held up a small hand-mirror to her prisoner's face.
I'm blonde, noticed the woman initially. It seemed a trivial piece of information, but it was a strange situation seeing your own face for what felt like the first time. She was cute too, she realised. This wasn't ego. It was simply there. When you're looking at your own face with no previous recollection, it's not conceit to notice that you're smoking hot - it's simply accepting the facts. The face tugged at her memory, a flash of recognition that momentarily lifted the veil that was shrouding her own past. Again, she saw the bird What was it? A dove? A blackbird?
Before she could pursue this mental line of enquiry, the mirror was removed. "So?" said the woman, with a definite Russian accent. "Did that help? You remember who you are now, yes?"
"No." replied the blonde.
"Idiots!" spat the brunette, turning away from her prisoner. "How hard can it be to create a knockout gas that does not affect the memory!!? How am I to question you if you don't know who you are!?"
"I have some questions of my own," said the blonde, noticing her own voice for the first time. She was well spoken, her voice softer than that of her captor. "Where am I? Where are my clothes for that matter? And who are you?"
The brunette smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. It was a smile that would not look out of place on a small child as it pulled the legs off of a spider. And then ate them. "I am Kitanya Irenya Tatanya Karenska Alisoff." She paused. "My friends call me... Well, I don't actually have any friends, so that doesn't really matter. What matters is what you were doing sneaking around our supposedly secret base. Very well, if seeing your own face wasn't enough to jog your memory perhaps I will try more... direct methods."
The blonde wondered for a second what those methods might be. It was, in fact, literally one second, as that was the amount of time it took for the Russian woman's fist to connect with her face. The blow was as much of a shock as it was painful, but there was little time to get over the surprise before another fist cracked into her jaw. The blonde stumbled backwards. She knew she should be concerned, she was being punched by a woman who was holding her captive. Oddly though, her overriding sensation was one of familiarity. Another blow landed, this time into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air. Something was wrong though. Not wrong in the obvious sense that she was in a fight. Oddly, that seemed perfectly normal. No, what felt wrong was that she was losing. A flash of shining metal flew towards her face, the brunette unleashing a roundhouse kick. The heel of Kitanya's stilleto was inches from the blonde's face when her hand shot upwards, somehow blocking the strike at the last possible second.
"Now hang on a jiffy," said the blonde assertively. She stopped, furrowing her brow as something had sparked in her mind. She began to fan the flames, "A jiffy? A jiffy A jiff." And then she saw the bird. Soaring from her subconcious, it darted gracefully through the clouds of old boyfriends and an episode of Bullseye, before landing gracefully on a branch of her temporal lobe. The bird was a jay. "A jay?" mused the blonde. "A jay.... AJ!!!!"
AJ's mind cleared in an instant and she immediately addressed the most important issue about her current predicament. "Those are my boots!" she exclaimed. Kitanya tried another kick, this time AJ blocked it with ease. Another kick was sidestepped, almost nonchalantly. Kitanya attempted to repeat her earlier success with her fists but AJ ducked and weaved every strike, Kitanya now not even coming close to connecting.
"Are you done now?" asked AJ. "Doesn't matter. Rhetorical question." AJ's leg swung upwards, gracefully but with intent. Like a swan carrying a cosh. Her foot slapped into Kitanya's face with a smack, the brunette's head snapping backwards as the kick connected. A roundhouse followed, AJ's sole smacking across the side of Kitanya's face like a paintbrush being liberally applied to a wall. AJ hadn't watched the Karate Kid for nothing. Kitanya was knocked sideways but managed to stay on her feet. Under the circumstances, this was not to prove the best option. AJ executed another roundhouse, this time smacking Kitanya in the other direction. And then another. And another.
"I do apologise," said AJ, almost conversationally, as she played a kind of one woman foot-tennis with Kitanya's face, kicking it from right to left... "But this floor is so very cold... and your face is a little warmer. Actually it's getting warmer all the time. Stings a bit, yes?"
Kitanya grunted as kick after kick smacked into each of her cheeks, trying to defend herself but always just too late to stop AJ's feet finding their target. Suddenly, the assault stopped. And then started again, as AJ drove a knee into her belly. Kitanya doubled over with an "OOOOUUUUUFFFFF!!!!!" and then dropped to the floor like a recently buttered slice of toast, as AJ delivered a knife hand strike to the base of her neck.
AJ looked down at her handiwork, pondering a suitable quip. Quipping was important in this line of work. Granted, her opponent was unconcious, but that was no reason to let standards drop. "Niet chance, Com-" AJ, stopped mid-quip. Kitanya was struggling back to her feet. She was far from steady, but she was still awake.
"Now this is why I don't like fighting women," said AJ. "They're just so much tougher than boys!" Waiting till Kitanya was upright, AJ shook her head and cracked a right cross into Kitanya's jaw that span her around a full 360 degrees before she slumped back to the cold white floor. This time she was definitely out.
"Good Niet," said AJ. "Hmmm.. I liked the first one better."
Turning on her heels, AJ slipped out of the room. There was no time to collect her clothes, the guards would be here shortly. It was time to live up to her name... After all, she thought, I'm Action Jiffy... I mean Jackson!! Bloody memory!!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Who are they?
Cold hands!! Cold feet!! Cold hands!! Cold feet!! Cold hands!! Cold feet!! It was no good. Cartwheeling down the corridor was not helping to keep AJ off of the cold floor for very long. Where were emergency socks when you needed them?
So far, liberation from her original guest residence had not offered much in the way of exit opportunities. For every corridor AJ walked down, around the corner just lay another corridor, and another. The occasional door led only into small white rooms, identical to the one she had recently left. Maybe it's a very, very cheap Travelodge, she considered, coming to a T-junction. Left or right. Neither option offered much, from what she could see, and so she chose right. Which, ironically, turned out to be wrong.
Before she could melt into the shadows, as she was trained to do, two female guards stepped out from one of the white doors. AJ was about to chastise herself for being caught by surprise, before remembering that there weren't actually any shadows for her to have melted into. And she had missed the class for melting into the very bright light, whilst standing in front of a white wall, wearing black underwear.
The two guards were dressed identically. Tight silver catsuits, with matching high-heel ankle boots. One had short cropped dark hair, the other was a longer haired blonde. If they were part of the organisation that had taken her captive, the guards were presumably baddies, most likely scheming to take over the world. That was the thing with evil organisations. They never just planned anything. They had to scheme it. AJ wondered if they had to scheme everything... "We need some milk from the shop, let us come up with scheme to achieve our aim!!" It was a tough life being a baddie. Still, nice outfits.
Whilst AJ had been indulging her internal monologue, the blonde guard had spoken into her wrist. "We've found her. Section B5 Alpha 9."
"What?" said AJ. "You mean this place has sections? You can find your way around? What, did they give you a blank sheet of paper and tell you it was a map?"
A tinny voice crackled from the blonde guard's wrist. "Additional units have been despatched. Restrain her until they arrive." AJ shook her head. "Ladies. You don't want to do that. Really. See, I'm asking nicely and I never to that with male guards. But we're all girls together, sisters doing it for themselves, that sort of thiUUNNHH!!" It was the second time in less than ten minutes that AJ had been punched by a woman. It was also the last time it would happen for the forseeable future.
It had been the blonde who had slugged AJ. The two guards were positioned side by side, directly in front of her. Quickly, AJ dropped into a perfect splits and from her lower position, sent both her fists into both the blonde and brunette's stomachs. The two women doubled over, exhaling in unison with a chorus of "OOOOUUUPPPPHHH!!!", clutching their winded bellies. Staying on the floor, AJ rolled onto her back and drove both her feet upwards, her left and right heels connecting simultaneously with the chins of the still bent-over guards, cracking their respective teeth together like a very short castanet duet.
The two women were sent sprawling from the force of the double heel kick. The blonde fell back through the nearby open door and cracked her head on the frame as she went down, apparantly unconcious. The brunette stumbled a few steps back, but stayed on her feet. She quickly moved towards AJ, who leapt to a standing position and executed a high front kick that caught the guard squarely in the face, the sole of AJ's foot momentarily distorting the woman's features as it made impact.
The kick slowed the guard sufficiently for AJ to pull back her arm and deliver a powerful right cross that caught the woman clean on the chin, the sound of the punch echoing down the corridor. In actual fact, it wasn't an echo. It was simply AJ connecting with another punch, this time a left cross. Another right hit hard. Each punch knocked the woman's head in the opposite direction, causing her to face right, then left, then right... AJ had a further left cross all fired up and ready to go but the guard's legs now appeared to have been replaced by elastic bands, and she slumped to the floor. "Always remember to look both ways before crossing." said AJ.
Suddenly an arm wrapped around her throat from behind, attempting to trap AJ in some kind of sleeper-hold. The blonde guard had not hit her head quite as hard as AJ had thought when she fell. Still, that could soon be rectified. AJ slammed an elbow backwards, connecting with the blonde guard's belly. The woman gasped, and loosened her grip sufficiently for AJ to grab the arm that was around her neck and pull down as she leant forwards, flipping the guard over her shoulder and onto the floor. The blonde grunted as her back hit the unforgiving tiling. She tried to sit up, but AJ's foot smacking into her face soon changed her mind, and she fell back alongside her equally horizontal colleague.
AJ reached down and removed the wrist communicator from one of the women and place it on her own wrist. This might come in handy, she thought. Moving away from the guards, AJ began to progress further down the corridor. She had not gone far when she heard a noise behind her. The two guards were struggling back to their feet. They were side-by-side again, leaning back against the wall to steady themselves. The brunette still had her wrist communicator and raised it to her lips.
"Why don't girls know when to quit?!" AJ was both frustrated, but also a little proud that these guards were so much more resilient than the normal glass-jawed guys she dealt with. Admiration aside though, they were still the enemy. AJ had to act fact, but she already knew what to do...
Cold Hands!! Cold Feet!! Cold Hands!! Cold Feet!! Cold Hands!! Blonde's Chin!! Brunette's Chin!! Blonde's Chin!! Brunette's Chin!! Cold Feet!! AJ's cartwheel kick was a complete success, as her heels impacted successively with the guard's jaws, both guards geting both feet, one after another. This time when they dropped, they were out cold. AJ finished her cartwheel with a flourish, raising her arms and bowing to an imaginary audience. "And the voting from the evil organisation judges is... a perfect 10!"
With both the fight and her obligatory quipping complete, AJ once more headed down the corridor. If the guards had a way in, then presumably she could find a way out.
