Shift Break Brawl at the Hoi Polloi

Bittercup looked on in astonishment as Tora quickly locked the door to the conflagration that was Tank's office, whistling brightly as she slammed it shut. Everyone else in the Hoi Polloi was clearing out in a hurry, but Bittercup simply couldn't look away. Did this chick just throw a fucking fireball at the boss? That's something people can do? That's so wild and so goddamn unfair; there have been so many bosses over the years who needed so many fireballs, and Bittercup hadn't gotten to be the one to ignite a single one of them. Like fucking Keif, that little sticky-fingered paycheck-docking--

The dancer was so deep in her fantasies of manager immolation that she couldn't hold back a loud squeak of alarm when Tora blasted the door handle with a surge of ****, the metal grip wrenching around in its insert to jam it shut. A heavy crunch rattled the whole wall a moment later, proof that Tank was both still kicking and setting about smashing his way out. But if Tora was concerned, she hid it too well for Bittercup to notice. "Hey, what's the deal with that guy who was out front?"

"Uh...wha'?"

"The guy." Tora slipped off her jacket, cocking an eyebrow as she extended it towards the nayaling. "The guy out front."

Bittercup had already taken it before she knew what she was doing. "The guy...you mean, uh, Bruno?"

Tora snorted. "Probably. He looked like a Bruno, no question." The wall-shaking crashes against the door were getting stronger, but Tora simply continued nonchalantly unbuttoning her dress shirt. "He got a big cock?"

"Uh?" Bittercup distractedly took the shirt as well when it was handed to her. "Um, yes? Actually?"

"Nice." Tora quickly began undoing the wrappings around her chest, stripping down to her pants as hardlight plates briefly flickered into view around her body. "A good ride's the best thing after a fight. Bike works, but dick is better. Don't you think so?"

If Bittercup had a response, it sputtered away on her lips as Tora let her sarashi drop to the ground and squared her shoulders, her body and the breadth of her markings laid bare. Crimson lotuses bloomed over a field of green and gold across her arms and shoulders, the perfect hunting ground for the pair of long serpents that coiled within their petals and around her chest. But it was the vast demon mask that covered Tora's back that Bittercup found she couldn't look away from, its golden eyes demanding the subservience of her gaze.

...wait. Bittercup squinted; is that an abacus in its mouth?

The nayaling had so many questions, but Tora didn't seem to be inclined towards answers at the moment. She lifted the smallish sword strapped to her side, taking hold of the sheath and handle as she spared Bittercup a final backwards glance. "You should move."

The dancer didn't have to be told twice, scampering away just as the door exploded outward and an absolutely enraged Tank stormed through, his once braided beard in smokey tatters and his eyebrows entirely singed off. He shrieked in wordless fury, axe raised in a cannonball-charge directly for Tora as the the gold in her tattoo began to shimmer. She darted backwards as Tank brought his axe down in a killing blow, the jerboan letting out a scream of victory as the weapon slipped past her summoned plating and impacted directly between her breasts.

Only for it to bounce off to no effect when the serpents began coiling around Tora's chest, their scales flaring in neon as they repelled the blow. Tank staggered back in disbelief, eyes bloodshot with anger. "Fuckin'...grah!"

"Oh definitely."

Tora's agreement only further incensed the already-furious bruiser, the man lashing out in a vicious swipe when he saw the woman attempting to activate another tech. This time a glowing shield of hard light burst up to block the strike. "FIGHT FAIR BITCH!"

"Nah." Tora ducked under Tank's blind back swing, her speed and agility overclocked to superhuman levels as her blade snickered out for a sharp bite of the jerboan's side. She dipped backwards, throwing up another shield to knock aside another strike, and then suddenly there were four of her.

Tank had to pause in her furious ****, lower lip quivering as he swallowed back something halfway between a whimper and a snarl. "I hate you so much."

All four Tora blew Tank a kiss, and then surged forward. The bruiser did the best he could, axe swinging in massive arcs, but even as he sliced through one of the illusions his foe's sword continued snaking for slice after slice. Tank was torched, bone-tired, bleeding from a half-dozen cuts, and rapidly beginning to regret the day he first laid eyes on the Hoi Polloi. But then his axe smashed into a Tora and it turned out to be the real one, the woman sent rag-dolling to the ground in a stunned heap."

"YES! FUCKIN' YES!" Tank almost choked on his own shout of victory, his throat raw and sheer exhilaration the only thing giving power to his spent limbs. He quickly pressed his boot to Tora's stomach, pinning the struggling woman to the ground as he raised his axe high.

...Only to let it thunk to the ground as it slipped from his boneless hands, his eyes rolling back into their sockets as the bottle of booze Bittercup smashed over his head nipped what little he had left to give in the bud. Tora let out an oof as the burly man fell on top of her, the battered woman straining to wriggle her way out from under his dense bulk. Still, she couldn't resist giving the nayaling a crooked smile between pants for air. "Did I say second best choice was whatever's strongest? Make that first best, with a bullet."

Bittercup cocked one hip to the side, cheekily flashing a peace sign as she displayed the broken neck of the bottle. "Perfect defense against the grotesqueries of this world."