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Game Word Association Thread v. Let's Join Hands!!

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Unsurprised that her krav maga skills, so constrained by the need for silence, were more than sufficient, she calmly strode out onto the beach and surveyed that atoll from the beginning with the storm coming. Then she smashed some pots to get rupees and relieve stress.
 
Her manner was restrained in order to avoid calling attention to herself. She felt better after smashing the pots and now having sufficient rupees if needed. She glanced at the horizon and knew from her studies that the coming storm would not threaten the atoll where she had first landed and recouped. However, it was time to find some shelter.
 
Rather than go back into the hut she'd just left with the beheaded and otherwise incapacitated guard, she instead composed herself and walked toward the concrete dome at the reef's edge.
 
She walked with a steady pace toward the dome. With a quick nod she acknowledged General Ackbar, a catfish she knew could not be bought with rupees.
She took a deep breath and let the calm wash over her as she approached an entrance into the dome that was not visible to the untrained eye.
 
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But her eyes were trained, and saw instantly the second trap that was waiting for her inside the invisible dome doorway. For a fraction of a second, her entire body tensed in anticipation of the complex leaping-drunk-crane-tiger pose that was the only response with any hope of success. Then she lunged.
 
Her adrenaline was immediately heightened to a peak. She knew she had one chance to disable the cyborg that awaited her.
Time seemed to slow, and she assumed the leaping-drunk-crane-tiger with a counterclockwise spiral. Her body was taut but not tense as her brain shot the information on her training in cybernetics to every muscle fiber.
She launched forward and awaited the hard contact of her boot heel with the small panel that, if crushed, would immediately render the power supply inaccessible.
 
She was tired! She needed to access that panel to shut the robot down. Now it was coming right at her, and the union rules say you only get one flying crane drunk dragon claw monkey pose per episode. Could she summon the stamina of Rhonda Rousey to end the robot with only her fists?
 
The cyborg moved forward slowly conveying a human-like air of confidence that she was tired and now unable to access the one vulnerable spot aligned to its power source. The cyborg had made a mistake with its slow pace. She summoned all the anger, frustration, and grief she felt and spun through the air in the flying-crane-drunk-dragon-claw-monkey pose and felt her boot heel make contact with the panel.
The cyborg let out an odd whistling scream. She checked to ensure it was powered down and leaned against the wall with no small amount of exhaustion.
She took a realistic internal inventory of her frame of mind and remaining physical endurance to scale the wall, the last barrier to shelter from the growing storm. She could hear it whistling, and knew it would turn into a roar soon enough.
As she approached the wall, a scaling rope with a sling seat was lowered to her. Friend or foe at the top of the wall?
 
With a loud groan she collapsed into the saddle. A shudder tickled her through the seat, and the cable pulled taut, firmly but gently carrying her to her unknown savior. "This is not smart," she thought. "That could be anyone up there. What if it's another 'cyborg'? Or Bikini Atoll Guard? My Krav Maga skills are worthless in this device."

Her steady ascent up the thousand foot wall allowed her a view of the approaching Category XIV Typhoonami, and she remembered that's why she ran for the concrete dome in the first place. She didn't even know what was on the other side of this stupid wall, but now her fate rested atop it.
 
She resigned herself to the decision to take this mysterious lift; this was no mere haboob rapidly approaching. Also, the defeat of the cyborg had come at a high physical cost.
The second move she was forced to make, the flying-crane-drunk-dragon-claw-monkey pose, was more draining than she liked to admit. Scaling the 1,000 foot was certainly within her prowess, but presumably friends or foe had spotted her.
She knew her enemies would like to question and kill her slowly, but in lieu of that they would certainly settle for a well-placed bullet. Conversely, a friend would be welcome to navigate the perilous descent down the well-monitored inner face of the wall.
She decided to enjoy the ride, as her Zen Buddhist training taught her. She also slowly pulled a poison-tipped five-inch blade from a hidden sheath in her authentically-crafted ninja suit. There was no higher rating than hers for lethal tactical usage in close-quarter combat. A smile slowly crossed as she hummed a tune from her all-too-short youth.
 
The Student (there can be no masters) just sat atop the wall. As a true bodhisattva, he had attained satori many times; yet chose to retain connection to the realms of duality and physicality, to aid others to enlightenment. Ones such as her. As he just sat and watched the pupils ascent, he was also the coming storm, and the wall.

The rope continued to snake upward, though no mechanism was apparent but The Student. In anticipation of monkey mind he severed his connection with infinity and returned to the duality of human mind. He did this by allowing a brief memory to affect his attention.

The Student's memory was of the rising pupil. Terrible. Always leaping around as though on ADD meds. Flying high kicks here, flicking paper stars over there. Constant noise. At least fourteen dead servants, replaced by ten times as many robots, all quickly decommissioned.

The fish she caught with her bare hands in the atoll, she brought back uncleaned, still flopping, only to descale and gut them on the communal breakfast table. The other pupils, young as they were, either ewwed at the guts or admired the grossness (all based on typical gender stereotypes, even inside the wall on the other side of the world). It never appeared to be malice or intent. She simply enjoyed the unscheduled disassembly of objects and life.

As she grew older, no signs of compassion were apparent. That she was Shiva as avatar, indeed the matted hair and blue throat, would be unquestioned--were she to show any hint of transformation. Of paradox, hers was the lack thereof.

With a subtle inhalation, The Student exited time to confer. Is this the only option? He asked. We must know, and soon. She grows stronger daily, but this challenge should exceed her limits. It is unfortunate to sacrifice one as this, but the alternative, that she survives and thus proves our suspicions, is too terrible for this Cycle to face. It is an End.

An exhalation and time resumed. The rope continued to snake upwards through air, bearing the Last Pupil.

Word is: Apple.
 
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. . . gets flayed from the bodies of her practice pieces.
 
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"You can hang all the thick acrylic slabs you want around me, but you can't confine me forever!" cduggle's alter ego hollered from the confines of her thread.
 
I have a whole post trapped in my drafts as I respond to something else. So don't let her go up the wall too far. Mmmm...sweet anticipation!
 
May as well let it escape. She's at the top already, over it, went on the challenge, survived as an avatar of Bizarro-Shiva, now she's trapped in Perspex* branded poly(methylmethacyrlate). You know, like those dead-tarantula paperweights.


(Bonus trivia: did you know you've likely never used Styrafoam* before? Instead you've only used expanded beads of polystyrene. Sytrafoam is a specific brand of the DOW chemical company, and will find you if you misuse the term.)
 
No she's not. That's a horrible ending. She would elude such a fate. I have faith in her and about 2/3 of a great post, so...
 
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