Novasurge and Lightning Chaser - two mechs, whose names speak of speed and primordial elements.

Isabelle and Quar - two pilots who have been touched by the same spark, albeit in different ways.

Their mechs dance across the platform, each breaking cover, firing, swinging back behind outcrop or metal. Munitions blast craters in the platform or detonate out in space - making for miniature stars of their own - as the two do battle and Isabelle gives herself over to the fight entirely.

[Clearing her last condition]

It's something that cannot be described to those who have not piloted before - that moment where conscious thought evaporates. No longer is one's brain saying that it's time to fire this shot, or to move here, or go there, or dodge this. Instead, your hands go lose on the controls, the pressure of the harness stops registering as a restraint and every jolt and shudder that hits the mech becomes a movement of you - of your body - your hands - your legs - your arms. 

The anger that Quar feels is building. That much becomes obvious as the fight progresses and as Isabelle demands more and more of her opponent. No, you can't hold back. Remember how they said Solarel fights? She gives it her all. No restraint. No regrets. Push! Push harder and harder! Whatever costs you will bear later, use that to spend for an advantage now!

Missiles streak out, only to be met with defensive autocannon fire - exploding in great flowers of red and white. Plasma shots trace lines across the stellar expanse until the capacitors start to glow with heat.

She forces Quar to commit. To stretch. And in those moments where the Zaldarian tries to bring it all to bear. To convert that sacrifice to victory ...

Isabelle is gone. In that instant where Quar took her eyes off her, Isabelle vanished from her senses and everything she was now feels the absence.

[i]Chase. Then break.[/i]

That anger drives Quar to do the only thing left to her - to commit more. To double down in her pursuit. Until Isabelle is no longer running but [i]leading[/i] the dance. A dance that takes the two partners down one of the chasms and around a blind corner.

And into a waiting blade.

[Rolling to fight. Taking +1 forward from the read-a-person: 3 + 4 + 3 = [b]10[/b]: Isabelle chooses to inflict a condition, seize a superior position and take a string.]

You should flee. Disengage. Get some distance. Because staying here in the confines of these narrow walls, giving into that anger of yours and meeting Isabelle blade for blade? 

Well, that's the path to defeat. But ... at the same time ... are you [i]able [/i]to turn away from this woman? This Tenarian who fights with skill whilst taunting you with words of the great enemy? And do you recognise her style? That vanishing move she'd pulled earlier?

Because, if you recognise it - you might also recognise that you are in danger now. More than ever before.

But a small part of you wants to face what comes next. Prove you can withstand it. Or, failing that, prove that you are brave enough to take it head on.

What will you do?

[Spending the string immediately: Stay here Quar and meet your end. Isabelle will be gentler than Solarel ever was.]