"Lock the door."
"That ain't gonna hold, man!"
"Lock the damn door, Johnson!" the man said, and his bodyguard looked at the frantic man standing in front of him before stepping towards the
entryway and locking the door. Around him, several of the guards looked tense, even if they didn't know enough about who he'd pissed off to be nervous
or consider deserting.
Which was really all that was needed. Robert Smythe was no fool. On some level, he realized that running and hiding weren't going to last much longer. But
neither was he spineless enough to simply give up without a fight. He hadn't known his hired muscle would stumble across a Crey staging point, much less
that it housed a new type of powered armor that until recently, he'd assumed belonged to more of Recluse's Destined Ones.
Which was when they started hunting him.
***
"Can ye open it or nae?" the lavender haired woman leaning against the wall in a dark suit and skirt combo asked impatiently.
"With time, but by then they'll have noticed we're coming," responded another, this one with alabaster white skin and long wavy black hair
that dropped past her shoulders. She was quietly fitting a glove like object onto one hand.
"So? It's not like they can do anything about it." A third woman, younger than the other two by at least five years, with flaming red hair. Her
attire tended towards dark purple in a chinese cut, though her skirt was cut short for mobility, accented by a pair of thigh length long stockings. "Just
leave it to me. No one's getting out of that building without my say so."
Lavender grunts in elaborate irritation, before nodding. "Fine. Robin, blow the door."
The fourth of their number nods. For the most part, her looks are almost utterly indescript. But then lightning crackles along her fists as she slams them into
the door, and it concusses inward, hitting the far wall with an audible slam.
***
Inside, the bodyguards snapped into action at the sound of the building being breached.
"They're here!"
"Everyone, take positions!" Johnson yelled as he pulled out his own rifle.
"How many?" Smythe asked.
"No word yet, sir!" One of the bodyguards responded.
"Wait, does anyone else hear that?" someone asked, quietly.
"Hear what?"
"Someone's...singing."
It came from all around them, a young girl's voice in the cadence of a nursery rhyme...but as they listened, the words began to clear...
One by one, you've got guns. Two by two, we're coming for you. Three by three, you can't stop me. Four by four,
bodies hit the floor. Five by five, no one gets out alive....
The rhyme cut off with a childish giggle as Smythe's eyes twitched around them. Which was when the first bodyguard turned and shot the man next to him. And
it erupted into chaos. The first traitor was gunned down almost immediately, but then another opened fire, and Robert watched as his entire security detail
began to blow itself apart in a fratricidal domino effect. He turned to run, but the door behind him slammed shut in front of him as the handle glowed and
melted.
When he turned around again, no one was left alive...and an elegant looking Japanese woman with pale skin was withdrawing a pair of curved metal claws from
Johnson's back. Smythe's spine crawled as she looked up at him with eyes as red as the metal claws on her hand, only part of which was bloodstains.
Behind her, a young girl stepped into the room with bright red hair, her eyes glowing with some sort of internal circuitry pattern as she hopped over a few of
the bodies. The pale one, meanwhile, put a hand to one ear. "The room is clear, Miss Madigan," she said in an aristocratic accent.
"Aye, good work," said a striking lavender haired woman who walked up behind them. "Very good work, Nena. It's good t'see th'
confidence in yer skills is nae unfounded," she nodded, patting the girl on the shoulder. The redhead, Nena presumably, grinned and made a little
"V" sign with her fingers, getting a bare flicker of amusement from her icy partner.
Madigan ignored the byplay as she stepped towards Smythe. "Robert, ye've been pokin' yer nose in th'wrong places. Y'should've known it
wasnae wise t'be lookin' too close at Crey operations. And now here we are. Ah'm afraid ah have no choice but to kill you."
"You can't! I...I have another copy of the data recordings. Let me live and I'll tell you where they ar-"
"He's lying," Nena noted with a sigh from behind her, drawing an unpleasant smile from Madigan.
"That's unfortunate, Mister Smythe. If ye'd been smart enough t'do such a thing in the first place, we wouldnae be meeting under these
conditions. Anyway. Nena?"
Nena nodded, bending down and picking up a pistol from one of the dead thugs, which she handed to Robert, who looked at it like some sort of hallucination.
They were giving him a weapon?
Nena smiled at him, and her golden eyes flashed with circuitry again.
Put the gun in your mouth....pull the trigger.
***
As the women stepped outside, Madigan looked over as Robin rejoined them. "Ye adjusted th' pipes?"
"Yeah."
"Good," she noted, removing one glove, revealing a hand of red alloy beneath it. She controlled her grimace at the sight, knowing that the shipment
of replacement parts was almost to the Isles. But for now....flame leapt into being in her palm, and she made a sharp gesture, the small fireball flying
through a window....and contacting the gas leaking throughout the building for the last fifteen minutes. The four women walked away as yet another Haven
brownstone building exploded into flames behind them.
***
This may or may not have been the direct result of my seeing Push this Saturday. Who
knows?
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
"That ain't gonna hold, man!"
"Lock the damn door, Johnson!" the man said, and his bodyguard looked at the frantic man standing in front of him before stepping towards the
entryway and locking the door. Around him, several of the guards looked tense, even if they didn't know enough about who he'd pissed off to be nervous
or consider deserting.
Which was really all that was needed. Robert Smythe was no fool. On some level, he realized that running and hiding weren't going to last much longer. But
neither was he spineless enough to simply give up without a fight. He hadn't known his hired muscle would stumble across a Crey staging point, much less
that it housed a new type of powered armor that until recently, he'd assumed belonged to more of Recluse's Destined Ones.
Which was when they started hunting him.
***
"Can ye open it or nae?" the lavender haired woman leaning against the wall in a dark suit and skirt combo asked impatiently.
"With time, but by then they'll have noticed we're coming," responded another, this one with alabaster white skin and long wavy black hair
that dropped past her shoulders. She was quietly fitting a glove like object onto one hand.
"So? It's not like they can do anything about it." A third woman, younger than the other two by at least five years, with flaming red hair. Her
attire tended towards dark purple in a chinese cut, though her skirt was cut short for mobility, accented by a pair of thigh length long stockings. "Just
leave it to me. No one's getting out of that building without my say so."
Lavender grunts in elaborate irritation, before nodding. "Fine. Robin, blow the door."
The fourth of their number nods. For the most part, her looks are almost utterly indescript. But then lightning crackles along her fists as she slams them into
the door, and it concusses inward, hitting the far wall with an audible slam.
***
Inside, the bodyguards snapped into action at the sound of the building being breached.
"They're here!"
"Everyone, take positions!" Johnson yelled as he pulled out his own rifle.
"How many?" Smythe asked.
"No word yet, sir!" One of the bodyguards responded.
"Wait, does anyone else hear that?" someone asked, quietly.
"Hear what?"
"Someone's...singing."
It came from all around them, a young girl's voice in the cadence of a nursery rhyme...but as they listened, the words began to clear...
One by one, you've got guns. Two by two, we're coming for you. Three by three, you can't stop me. Four by four,
bodies hit the floor. Five by five, no one gets out alive....
The rhyme cut off with a childish giggle as Smythe's eyes twitched around them. Which was when the first bodyguard turned and shot the man next to him. And
it erupted into chaos. The first traitor was gunned down almost immediately, but then another opened fire, and Robert watched as his entire security detail
began to blow itself apart in a fratricidal domino effect. He turned to run, but the door behind him slammed shut in front of him as the handle glowed and
melted.
When he turned around again, no one was left alive...and an elegant looking Japanese woman with pale skin was withdrawing a pair of curved metal claws from
Johnson's back. Smythe's spine crawled as she looked up at him with eyes as red as the metal claws on her hand, only part of which was bloodstains.
Behind her, a young girl stepped into the room with bright red hair, her eyes glowing with some sort of internal circuitry pattern as she hopped over a few of
the bodies. The pale one, meanwhile, put a hand to one ear. "The room is clear, Miss Madigan," she said in an aristocratic accent.
"Aye, good work," said a striking lavender haired woman who walked up behind them. "Very good work, Nena. It's good t'see th'
confidence in yer skills is nae unfounded," she nodded, patting the girl on the shoulder. The redhead, Nena presumably, grinned and made a little
"V" sign with her fingers, getting a bare flicker of amusement from her icy partner.
Madigan ignored the byplay as she stepped towards Smythe. "Robert, ye've been pokin' yer nose in th'wrong places. Y'should've known it
wasnae wise t'be lookin' too close at Crey operations. And now here we are. Ah'm afraid ah have no choice but to kill you."
"You can't! I...I have another copy of the data recordings. Let me live and I'll tell you where they ar-"
"He's lying," Nena noted with a sigh from behind her, drawing an unpleasant smile from Madigan.
"That's unfortunate, Mister Smythe. If ye'd been smart enough t'do such a thing in the first place, we wouldnae be meeting under these
conditions. Anyway. Nena?"
Nena nodded, bending down and picking up a pistol from one of the dead thugs, which she handed to Robert, who looked at it like some sort of hallucination.
They were giving him a weapon?
Nena smiled at him, and her golden eyes flashed with circuitry again.
Put the gun in your mouth....pull the trigger.
***
As the women stepped outside, Madigan looked over as Robin rejoined them. "Ye adjusted th' pipes?"
"Yeah."
"Good," she noted, removing one glove, revealing a hand of red alloy beneath it. She controlled her grimace at the sight, knowing that the shipment
of replacement parts was almost to the Isles. But for now....flame leapt into being in her palm, and she made a sharp gesture, the small fireball flying
through a window....and contacting the gas leaking throughout the building for the last fifteen minutes. The four women walked away as yet another Haven
brownstone building exploded into flames behind them.
***
This may or may not have been the direct result of my seeing Push this Saturday. Who
knows?
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."