Super Ultra Alpha Pandora Chun-Li preview/announcement/discussion (Patreon)

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Round 2 - ???

She awoke in a dark chamber lit only by harsh, glaring red warning lights. Her ankles, wrists, and neck were cuffed to a table that was diagonal to the floor. The sound of cheering and brutality could be heard somewhere nearby.

The machines around her beeped. Suddenly, the magnetic locks on her bindings disengaged. She climbed off the table, rotated her wrists and ankles to make sure they were still working, and cocked her head left and right to soothe her stiff neck and shoulders.

“Subject 673. Proceed to the arena,” a voice ordered over the intercom.

She obeyed.

Dressed in the tattered remains of what was once an intricately designed blue jumpsuit, her toes poked through the holes of her fancy and once durable trainers. Her body ached, but there were no outward appearances of injuries. She ignored the phantom pain and did as she was told, the soles of her rubber footwear flapping and echoing loudly in the small, red glowing, isolated chamber.

She examined the room on her slow way out. Her senses were highly attuned to her surroundings. She gauged the exits quickly (just the one) and examined all of the obvious objects of interest. She’d been hooked up to that metal slab. Up in the ceiling were metal tubes. She looked at her arms and legs. They bore imprints of being attached to some sort of steely devices. She must’ve been engaged in combat before already and had been nursed back to health. But she still hurt.

She paused in her tracks. Better to explore her body and see what she was capable of before she got thrown in the ring with no preparation. She knew this body could fight. She could feel it. Honed in training, forged in combat. Even without her memories, she knew she was a warrior through and through.

She instinctively raised her arms up and in front of her, hands turned to the side so that her pinkies faced her opposition. She parted her legs and instinctively took a stance that her body was familiar with.

Before she knew it, she performed a kick faster than she could’ve fathomed. Her back leg had charged forward, and her striking leg was high in the air. It could’ve taken someone’s head off.

This was who she was.

She stepped through the lone metal doorway with cautious confidence. Despite her prowess, she knew not to be overconfident.

The door whooshed shut behind her as soon as she cleared it.

She was still standing in the same complex that housed her recovery chambers. Same dark red glow, same walls. But this room was much larger. In the center was a large boxing ring where two fighters were currently going at it. It didn’t look like a sparring match. They were fighting to kill.

They were getting tired and sloppy. Otherwise, she would have watched the fight more intently. But when it got to this point, it was a matter of willpower and which one could go beyond their limits and find the winning blow as both fighters tried to catch their breath and muster up strength. Technique went out the window. There was no strength left in the body, the mind far too exhausted to worry about things such as that. So she continued to examine her surroundings.

No visible exits, she noted quickly. Everything was locked down. That wasn’t good.

There were unidentifiable electronics everywhere. Even with her personal memory seemingly blanked, she knew she wouldn’t have recognized any of the dials, readouts, or displays that were mounted about one floor above where they stood. And above that, large opaque glass panels. She could only assume that there were people on the other side of them, watching, monitoring.

And above all of that, hovering just below the ceiling, seemingly unattached and unsupported by anything, was an enormous gray cube. It glowed pink at periodic intervals—no, not just glowed. Throbbed. Pulsating. Alive. The cube had strange runes etched into each of its faces, their sinuous lines looking as if they were moving, becoming blurred before returning stationary to her blurry, unfocused vision. She found that she couldn’t stare at it for long.

Suddenly, a huge cheer erupted. One fighter had landed a nineteen hit combination, brightly and proudly displayed by the huge panels along the wall. The other fighter was out cold. She knew at a glance that he was dead. No life left in that body.

The sound of a deep, alien heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She looked back up at the cube. It was shockingly neon pink, bright lines emanating from the runes as if they were cracks concealing an inner light. And then it returned to gray.

“Subject 673! It is your turn in the ring! To the fight you go!” the disembodied voice ordered.

She did as she was told, to the jeering and grunting of the other participants. Her opponent standing in the ring was high on adrenaline after his victory, but she knew that he had spent most of his resources and his health was not doing well. She, subject 673, ignored the pain in her libs and body as she climbed into the ring.

“FIGHT!”

She immediately took the fight to her worn out opponent, flew past his exhausted and wayward punch into close quarters, leaned back, and extended her right leg upward, striking him squarely on the chin. His body went flying into the air like a ragdoll before arcing out of the fighting ring.

Still in her striking pose, she looked up at the ceiling above. The strange box was pulsing once more, then relaxed.

“All subjects, you are to attack subject 673 at once!” the voice boomed once more.

She heard the announcement and immediately put her leg back down. There had to be 30 assailants coming for her! Is this how she’d gotten injured in the first place? Where was she? Who was she?

She immediately put up her guard and sought to put distance between herself and the group of assailants. There was no way to fight that many people at once, but her instincts kicked in. Let no one get behind you. Seek to isolate and fight one on one. Then run.

“Kikoken!” she yelled, thrusting her ass upwards and bending forward at the waist, palms connected. A coherent ball of energy rushed forth from her hands, knocking people from one direction away from her. But as powerful as she was, her fireball eventually dissipated to bounce harmlessly off of the other advancing fighters. Still, it was enough to stagger the timing of the upcoming onslaught.

Making her retreat, she backpedaled as she held off her opponents with fierce palm strikes, catching her opponents in the solar plexus and winding them. The conga line of fighters stumbled behind them, and she launched another fireball to blow them off their feet.

Unfortunately, they were soon upon her. She put up her guard, but some of them swept at her legs, so she crouched into a little ball with her arms covering her head. Just two seconds, just for two seconds, let no one land a haymaker overhead. She just needed two seconds of undisturbed concentration to charge and build enough energy, and she would be able to...

“Spinning bird kick!” she yelled, slamming the floor with one hand and turning upside down. She flung her long, long legs outwards into a perfect, even split, her sculpted muscles whirling like helicopter blades, keeping her head above the floor as her feet and shins sent opponent after opponent flying away.

She kicked them in the face, sending them out of the ring. Or the chin, swiveling their heads and knocking them out cold as they twisted like ragdolls in midair. Some she caught in the chest, driving her foot deep into their bellies easily before continuing on her spinning path, knocking the wind out of them and dropping them to their knees.

The cube above them all throbbed ominously, bulging larger than ever before.

Finally, she ended her attack when she ran out of momentum and flipped gracefully back into her standing guard. Only one opponent was left, and she was tossing the failed fighters out of the ring by gripping them by the chin and tossing the useless lumps of flesh over her shoulder.

Subject 673 immediately put up her guard. This opponent was dangerous!

The soulless, automata looking woman reminded subject 673 of someone. Her long, shimmering blonde pigtails that descended down well beyond her slim frame all the way to her powerful thighs. She was short, lean, forged in combat, and dangerous. Her red glowing eyes looked blank and vacant.

Subject 673’s opponent’s hand glowed, conjuring a sharp energy blade around her fist. Then she began to charge.

“Kikoken!” She launched a fireball at her oncoming assailant. The pulsating cube pounded above them, struggling to contain the energy that was trying to burst out.

The made-of-flesh automata sliced through the fireball with her energy blade and continued to charge. Subject 673 dodged, flailing wildly as she tried to avoid the ethereal weapon her opponent was brandishing. She cried out in pain as it nicked her on the forearm as she attempted to retreat. Blood dripped down her elbow.

She had to avoid that weapon at all costs!

The runic cube above beat even harder, seemingly powered by the battle lust and viscous, sanguine liquid that was being spilled.

Subject 673 clenched her fist and willed herself to stop bleeding as she focused once more. Her body ached, pushed to its limits. But thanks to the battle high, she had enough for one final attack before her strength gave out entirely.

The masked puppet leapt diagonally into the air and vanished. Subject 673 closed her eyes, unwilling to be fooled by the superficial visuals. A moment later, her assailant reappeared above her, legs extended, toes pointed, spiraling downward toward her with a golden glow.

Subject 673 read the move perfectly and parried to perfection. It felt foreign... how could she do that?

No time to dwell on it now. With the last of her strength, she mustered up her desperation stance. Her entire body was coated with a gentle blue aura as all of her strikes gained enhanced power and speed. She was capable of moving so fast that afterimages would duplicate her movements—and they would strike too.

She had seven seconds before her strength gave out. With a double palm strike that crushed her opponent’s midsection and sent her flailing, Subject 673 unleashed a torrent of punches and kicks that would leave reinforced concrete stunned.

The combo counter on the displays ticked up. 12, 26, 37, 54... how high could it go? In the background, unbeknownst to the subject, the scientists and overseers were half giddy with anticipation, half worried about what would happen if they succeeded. The armed guards were ready to charge in.

Subject 673 continued her assault. The doll clearly beaten, but if she conjured her psycho blades, all it would take was one misstep for Subject 673 to seal her own fate.

“Hyakuretsu!” she chanted as her leg became a blur, each lightning fast kick duplicated by her afterimages.

She crushed her opponent’s wrists to make sure none of those psychic knives could be used against her again. Then she struck everywhere—head, torso, hips, and legs. The combo counter continued to increase, all the way up to 99.

The box was beginning to leak its purple power.

Subject 673 had one second left before she collapsed in exhaustion. She put everything into her final flurry of kicks.

The counter was pegged at 99 as the numbers continued to try to update and failed. The runic cube above wobbled perilously, its unsecured hovering no longer looking very secure.

Subject 673 launched her final kick. Her afterimages tripled the blow. The doll went flying into the combo counter, smashing it to pieces.

Subject 673 fell to her knees in exhaustion. If there were further fighters, she was defenseless.

The runic cube above her burst.

Beams of purple alien power beyond human comprehension surged toward the victorious fighter who had broken the seal on the box. They pierced into the spent fighter’s beautiful body, infusing her already substantial ki to towering heights. Greater than the best fighter known to humanity. Subject 673’s long, coffee brown hair began to turn white, first at the roots, then traveling down to their healthy tips. Her eyes turned from their light brown to a compelling red, and her muscles tightened to superhuman levels: harder than the hardest steel, yet still as flexible as she’d trained them to be.

Her light blue aura turned black and purple as a costume formed on her body, a tracksuit of white with pink markings and decorations along its entire length. Subject 673 found herself able to breathe easily once more as the sweat vanished from her body. She felt no pain, no exhaustion, no fatigue... only power. Pure, unadulterated, power.

And when she stood back up, still being showered by the broken cube’s energy, already the most powerful human to ever walked the earth, a second influx bombarded her.

She broke those new limits she had just achieved. Shattered them into a million pieces and scattered them to the wind.

She screamed in pure pleasure as the mere vibration of her supercharged, overpowered body began to cause the entire installation to quake. A twitch of her new, super strong fingers was enough to blast a hole in the wall to all of the subject rooms. When she arched her back, the mer thrust of her expanding-by-the-minute, sexually overwhelming to look at bosom shunted the air into the one-sided glass above, sending spiderweb-like cracks thundering through the thick pane before it too, succumbed to Subject 673’s power.

The scientists and soldiers were aghast.

“Go go go! Shut her down! Neutralize her!”

The soldiers all pointed their assault rifles at Subject 673 who was floating in midair now, a dynamo of beauty that induced instant sexual longing to whoever laid eyes on her. Her long limbs were splayed out, toes pointed, back arched in sexual ecstasy as her mind absorbed and accepted that alien power, inviting it in as her body clenched in climax.

The soldiers fired.

The bullets pinged off of Subject 673’s invulnerable outfit. It couldn’t even pierce the alien fabric that she wore, let alone her skin! Bullet after bullet greeted every inch of her luscious flesh, only to compress and bounce off of her to no effect. She was being bathed and baptized in a shower of metal, and all she could do was continue to receive the cube’s energy in literally world-shattering pleasure!

Finally, the cube was spent. It fell onto her body, her nipples making huge dents in the underside of the alien metal with a deafening clang before falling off to the side uselessly.

Subject 673 fully opened her half-lidded, glowing red eyes.

With a sexy sneer, she flew right up to the second level, completely unaided. The soldiers quickly reloaded their guns and began to fire another volley.

“Hahaha!” Subject 673 laughed, her voice simultaneously deep and echoing, erotic and overwhelming.

Her hand became a blur just like her famed kicks—those kicks she had trained her whole life. Except now it was completely effortless. With no training at all, she held in the palm of her unbreakable hand a small pile of bullets, precisely pinched out of the air on her whim in under a fraction of a second.

The rest of the bullets pinged off of her as she sexily brought her palm to her upturned lips. She parted them slowly, making sure that her pathetic human captors could drink in every second of it. She wanted them to savor their deaths, to know how she had caused it, and how effortless it had been. Breathing in deeply for show, pushing out her jutting bosoms for all to see, she blew lightly across the palm of her hand, sending her collected bullets flying.

Those deadly projectiles left her palm with far more force than when they’d been fired from the guns. They penetrated through the soldiers’ body armor, then through their chests, before the little metal pellets broke apart against the back wall.

Subject 673 laughed, her voice rumbling throughout the entire room, causing the foundations to shake. She turned her gaze to the other side of the arena where scientists were fiddling with some sort of controls. One of them was speaking into a radio device.

“The Pandora experiment wa--!”

Subject 673 turned in midair, the toes of her pristine feet still pointed downward as her svelte, longer legs and fluid childbearing hips turned lasciviously in midair. Her abs clenched into appearance, each muscle tightly defined, looking so, so feminine and strong. She clenched her fists as her red eyes turned bright white at the center where her pupils should be.

Two beams of pure energy emitted from her pupils incinerated the very dust between Subject 673 and her target. Those thin, narrow beams held more destructive power than humanity had produced in their most powerful, atom splitting warheads. The air crackled and popped as her beams instantly flashed onto the scientist trying to speak to the outside world. She punctured his brain neatly, burning two circular holes through his skull as the energy beams continued undeterred, through the wall, and out over the horizon. A cloud evaporated into nothingness despite not being directly struck, her laser vision radiating far too much heat. It continued into the vacuum of space, shattering meteorites and space dust, its power not at all attenuated after millions of miles of travel.

The entire station was in panic now. Nobody was trying to fight Subject 673 any longer. Everyone was trying to escape.

Subject 673 turned horizontal in midair, languidly stretching her limbs and yawning for show. Then she cocked her index finger by curling it into her thumb, pointed it at the floor. And flicked.

“Kikoken,” she whispered.

The entire facility was obliterated by her energy projectile. There was nothing left but a five mile deep crater. Subject 673 herself was flung far into the jungle, landing somewhere in the unknown.