[u]Cordelia Lynn Holmes[/u]

If you ever want to truly learn about someone, fight them. The visceral rush of kill-or-be-killed, the routines of adrenaline junkies, reveal quite a bit about one's character. There were the Amandas and Sylvias, charging headlong into battle, the Peters, reacting with cold logic and strategy, and the Nikkis, going fetal and hiding away.

There were also the Cordelia Lynns. As the alarm blared, Cordelia didn't flinch, she merely lazily flicked her eyes up and began to ready herself. It was a strange looking ritual, one of gently shaking her legs and arms. Lynn stretched out her arms casually, flinging them to her back, grasping her hands and rolling out, then back in, cracking her neck to one side then the other. All the while, her features were calm, eyes closed and muscles relaxed. She was getting in the zone, finding her chi, readying to kick some ass. Lynn's style of fighting was a bastardization of the others around her. There was the part of her that had taken more punches and dished out more than most of the kids here, the part that was hungering for battle and longing for a chance to snap Morticia's spine like a toothpick, the part that watched the luminescent Alex, eyes flickering for any would-be attackers. The heat of that part of her, however, had been tempered by a great many street fights, to the point that she threw out no trash talk, gave no furious shouts. She merely ran through her list of possibilities, probabilities, and gathered herself. The lights around her extinguished and Lynn's shadow seemed to fill the absence, growing and stretching. And, one tiny part of her, it curled up and hid away, deep inside herself, to wake back up when the bloodshed was over.

Peter hit the ground a split second after Lynn's shadow, moving at speeds humans could not reliably visualize, lifted her up off the ground. She reacted to this, albeit just barely-there was a look of surprise followed quickly by practiced acceptance-she and her shadow, they worked, fought, bled in tandem. They moved in more-or-less perfect rhythm, and any action that seemed erratic to the other was quickly understood a moment or two later. As the entire arena burned with lightning, Lynn was spared the tingle of electricity, the current washing harmlessly over the shadow's immaterial feet. "Thanks," she murmured, her arms clinging around the shadow's neck princess-style. The shadow nodded its head, perhaps said a word of silent encouragement, and eased her back down. It collapsed to the ground, resuming its post as a normal, two-dimensional shadow.

Eh? Nightlight and the roomie had run off. "Tin Man," Lynn barked. "I'm the battle buddy you mentioned. I'll watch Gabe and Alex." without giving Iron Man a chance to shoot down or approve this, she took off at a steady jog after the two, who were easily tracked with the light they were giving off. All in all, this was a pretty solid strategy. Lynn had pride, but she knew when to bend it. She was cool yielding to Dick Cocks, who apparently had spec ops training or some shit, because he was throwing around a bunch of crazy terms. At first, Lynn had thought pincer formation meant the scorpion guy, but then she realized it was, like, a metaphor. They were all the pincer. Click-click-clack.

Lynn caught up to Alex and Gabe fairly quickly, but not too quickly-rope-a-dope, that was the name of the game. There were a lot of fuckers here who were going to go full throttle and burn out fast. Lynn didn't have the raw physical power to match anyone here (but the guardian angel that trailed behind her, silently watching for danger...?), and although her senses were improved in the shadows, the harsh light Gabe was giving off kept interrupting her abilities. No sense tripping and spraining an ankle on the first day. No sense at all. 

Another interesting side effect of Lynn's ability was the somewhat reckless nature in which she was able to move. While Lynn was cautious and controlled, she was simultaneously able to throw everything into her attacks and movements-there was a safety net waiting for her. It was similar to a high ropes course-up to a certain point, your body's still too afraid of heights to successfully tiptoe across the wire. Once your higher processes manage to convince your lower glands that, hey, your ass ain't going anywhere, shimmying across is much easier.

And Lynn's higher processes had a couple years to make their case.

"Easy, it's Lynn," Lynn announced as she moved up behind them. Just common sense to announce your presence as a friendly when running up to two rather dangerous individuals, in the dark. Her voice was low and soft, audible over the lasers but only just. I'll be playing bodyguard for you two." Lynn gave Alex a firm clap on the shoulder and a reassuring nod. "Don't worry, Mary Poppins. I gotcha."