Bronx, 10:20 a.m.
Isabelle points her large blood sword at Levreeshka. She's in bad shape, pushed to the very edge of the dome, which is barely holding together. The wound on her shoulder is still far from fully healed.
"It's been a long time, General Levreeshka Dulcar. I'd like to say I'm glad to see you after all these years, but I'm not — not after what you've done. Prepare yourself for our last clash — but this won't be training this time. Get ready, I'm coming!"
And an instant later... CLANG!
Isabelle's large blood sword comes crashing down in a violent vertical slash. Levreeshka steps back just in time, narrowly avoiding being split open. The blade passes a hair's breadth from her forehead.
The ground beneath their feet splits open into a deep crack as the strike carries through into the ground.
But the blast of air throws Levreeshka off balance, and Isabelle seizes the opening instantly. She lunges at her and drives a flying kick into her stomach.
