09-17-2015, 09:26 PM
The Watchers here were only cameras lined along the grey, dulcet tones of bare walls. Leading up and down one corridor and the next, the endless Labyrinth of hallways and space went onward. Each led deeper and deeper within the infrastructure of the Merciful Knight (really its garage and storage space), and none held the benefit of identifying markers that would be helpful in finding the way up. There were numbers on panels beside doors, ventilation ducts, and more security sweeping devices: motion detectors, infrared (heat dispersion) scanners and even mounted digitally rendered bio-scanners. All to give the illusion that this entire level was important to the proprietors of the establishment. However, its emptiness suggested only the appearance of prestige was required down here. And of course unless a person knew the access point to the main-level (which Sarah didn’t), he or she would be effectively lost among familiar greys and narrow walkways.
Every now and then – as she stepped along with only the quiet echoed footfalls to keep her company – the Ghost would try a door. Most were locked, though there were some that opened with a good shove and revealed their contents to her. Nothing of value to her in them, just supplies to be used by employees. Anything that held and potentially incriminating information was no doubt barred to her by the, oh-so-many, security measures she had noted and remembered while the minutes ticked on. Speaking of which, it actually didn’t take long for her distraction to fall in place.
She heard gunfire and the various noises that hinted at combat, begin. They were muffled sounds, strangely pleasing to the ear at such a distance – even got her heart rate up a few beats per minute – but nothing to worry about (out of the ordinary). After all, she needed Kiln to keep the dispatched forces busy until she could complete her task. Yet, the utter lack of any other response, bothered her. Besides the devices meant to keep intruders out of certain rooms, and the cameras, there weren’t any visible signs of where defenses could be activated if needed. Where were the turrets; the choke points and guard checkpoints?
The underground infrastructure was frankly too void of anything. In the unlocked rooms there were tables, chairs set up for meetings, with remnants of white stains and dust upon them. However, none had been touched in quite some time. It was as though the entire level had been changed from a multi-purpose area to a simple back-entrance. The reasons for this were unclear to Sarah. Perhaps there had been an issue in the past that had developed into a work hazard? Obviously, this place wasn’t nearly as secure as it could be. With the faults clear in the lack of other viable defenses, save for keeping out invaders. She couldn’t help but wonder though, what if they weren’t intent on focusing their power on stopping individuals from infiltrating the ground level, but instead in trapping them there? With the emptiness and narrow passageways, any would-be threat could be neutralized swiftly.
Several minutes of wandering and still no end in sight: no stairs, no elevator at the end of this or the next corridor. She could feel the strain from the exertion to maintain her cloaking field, and subsequently began trying any entryway without a keypad or scanner to duck into for respite. Thus far, surveillance had only been in the main hallways, and not in the rooms themselves; she just needed to find an open one. Darting down one passage and another she routed corner after corner – eyes swiveling back and forth searching for any signs of change in the layout pattern – before coming to an intersection of four corridors leading in all directions. Opting to first try straight-on-ahead she continue stepping becoming more frantic as her willpower was continually ebbing away into naught. Finally, after several more locked doors, she rammed up against a wooden-frame one and fell into a manner of janitorial closet. Thereafter, she immediately became visible.
Her pupils were dilated sweat clearly glimmering on her cheeks and coating her entire body. The suit clung as tight as it ever been against her skin, but the wave of relief that swam overtop her was immense. Breathing in deeply, she groaned and then sighed. Concentrating and honing her mind, she could still hear the tell-tale sounds of a battle taking place. Focusing past the audible garble, she reached out for a familiar mind to see if it yet thought. It did. Her eyes closed and she watched the Boy’s oncoming storm through a stream of his consciousness. In a way this was more relaxing than merely leaning against one wall of a closet in the dark. It also kept the questionable odors of the room in check nicely.
In her mind’s eye images took shape responding, resounding out, spanning like waves cracking along a shoreline. Everything became loud (rushed), clear (blurred), crisp, (distant) and ever so brutal (not real). But, she didn’t see guards and thugs armed with blasters or sub-machine guns, instead she saw the conflict within his memories. They startled her, as she assumed he had none to begin with. If they were ‘his’ perhaps that meant that he truly did only forget as a side effect of being torn from one reality to another. However, that didn’t really explain why ‘everyone’ in the Omniverse didn’t forget their pasts. That or . . . Omni wasn’t infallible.
Monsters beat against the threshold. They smelled of rot, decaying flesh and plague. Waning moans enveloped the air, with an aroma so strong that one whiff caused Sarah to gag. Can’t breathe. The thought a simple one – an instinctual one – (primal in essence) that she fought against. Not real. Her reassurance did little to stem the brooding fear rising up in the pit of her stomach. Standing, she rammed against her captors: the dead that walked, wailed and creaked; then there was a bright light of shimmering blue, and the grey walls of the corridor again. She hadn’t cloaked, and the cameras were all upon her. Although at this point, being detected hardly matter. Relief to be free from the Undead was enough. Then, something hard struck the wall with a clang of metal upon metal. It scraped coming closer, towards her.
She blinked, regaining natural sight and peered in its direction. The source: a woman dragging what appeared to be a short steel stick along part of the corridor. She had another held in the opposing hand. Modern dialect would name them Tonfas. However, Sarah had never seen anything quite like them. Regardless, it was clear enough that her own ‘welcoming company’ had finally arrived. Approaching in a rather delicate, almost teasing, manner the Woman swayed with the type of step most keenly attributed to that of a dancer. Her words though in stark contrast, pierced like the fang of some serpent. “Oh, well would you look at this: you’re going to be quite fun Red. Sir Gawain is a bit preoccupied at the moment, so I’ll be your entertainment for the duration of your stay. Now, now don’t look back, the Boy is being dealt with.”
Sarah eyed the distance – the void of space between them – fifteen meters at most and closing. With her rifle still slung on her back, there wouldn’t be time to draw, aim and fire. Her adversary would be on top of her before that. Narrowing her gaze her vision swapped between viable obstacles to slow an advance; there were none. As with all the others, the floors were barren behind and in front of herself. She longed for the shimmer, hum and familiarity of her psi-blade (its function not yet restored). This ‘Kat’ (name gleamed from a simple thought) armed herself and knew what type of armaments would be of use in an enclosed space. The ‘steel sticks’ may have been crude, but steel would break bone easily enough. In the few moments that passed, the Teenager decided on a course of action.
“Silent strong type huh? They always scream the loudest when they’re helpless.” Words spoken of experience. On the other hand, the Ghost merely glared back and acted without a word. Closing the gap first, energy welled around her pupils. The whisperings of purples, violets and blues hovered, materializing from pure will alone – the quiet sort of energy applied to force. In a burst, an invisible blast spanned outwards engulfing the immediate area in front of her. Wall panels tremored. Her foe though – not one to be knocked around easily – crossed the Tonfas in front of her and jumped. Each of her feet served as an anchor on one wall, holding her upright, and most importantly, still. A terrible smile stretched across Kat’s face. She nearly wanted to laugh. “Is that all? Tantrum done, okay, well: my turn!”
Before even finishing Kat nimbly leapt off, up and forward from her initial position. One of her shiny metal beams lunged, stabbing through the air at Sarah’s chest. The other swept left, flying right and upward, heading for a devastating facial impact. In a millisecond a million or so thoughts honed and refined options in the Teenager’s mind. Her window so short she could only partially go through the myriad of possible outcomes. Raising a palm, she deflected the blow for her chest, buckling Kat’s arm by striking at the back elbow. Thereafter leaning left she dodged the initial extended jab, and the Tonfas spiraled back out bearing into a crisscross from one another.
Swung, then wildly, they viciously went for the midsection without respite. One struck its mark, although a glancing blow, still enough to dent a rib. Not a murmur escaped the Ghost’s lips, but any warmth (or friendly demeanor) fled from her pupils, leaving them barren, thoughtless and cold. The counterpart bludgeon tool, instead met the careful application of a telekinetic force. Sarah held the arm in place for only a moment, however, that pause was enough for her to strike down with her own elbow and force the metal bar from Kat’s grasping hand. It clattered unto the floor. Eyes swimming with power the Ghost wasted no time pushing herself back, creating an empty space between them. Levitating the fallen armament, she almost playfully directed it every which way. But surprisingly let it drop, and her opponent quickly retrieved it.
In that timespan, more Telekinetic energies reverberated off everything; a natural vibration that shook through every object around. An illusion to deceive (to play coy to the eye and distract) and provide for an attack soon to come, for Sarah would only be able to maintain the barrier for a short while. Still in that brief instance: beautiful. The shimmering violets and blues maintaining a barrier between one half of the corridor and the other. Kat began to slam, stab ram and bash against it. With each strike, it quaked and fizzled, losing its overall integrity. Finally when a blow seemed to break through, the conjured power blasted forth in a great wave. Sarah donned her rifle, and bursts of bullets rang out once, twice and thrice again. Its ejected clip fell onto the ground. Materializing another she levitated the spare into the voided chamber.
Dodging bullets isn’t an art, it’s the careful application of skill and a lot of luck. Kat managed to slip past the initial burst running along one wall. The shock-wave (or whatever it really was) may have thrashed her about, but it certainly hadn’t stunned her battle senses. The subsequent ones though, pelted flesh, steel and cloth. They left welts, pierced skin and smeared blood. They stung like all hells, but the lasting damage would only be minor if tended to. Yet, the scowl that formed on her face told the tale of a fatal wound. She looked down at the chunks of her dress in tatters on the floor. Each hole in fabric brought a crimson hue upon her cheeks – not from embarrassment rather sheer rage. “Feisty little cagna aren’t you? It’s quite rude to tear up your date’s clothes without first buying them a drink. I’ll have to punish you later.”
“You…” Sarah panted heavily the undertones of the conversation completely slipping past her mental filter, “talk too much.” She let the rifle gently fall to the ground. “I think I’ll just kill you. That sounds fine.”
The words barely parted from the Teenager’s lips before Kat regained composure and charged. Tonfas whirled, left right, up and down, and Sarah watched every movement learning the subtle nuisances and fluidity that came with wielding this interesting weapon. When the first of the multi-step form followed, she weaved between one of the swipes, swept a hand down to parry another, and back up to knock a lunge away. Then, struck a blow herself a swift knee to the gut to provide a gasp of an opening. Her other hand darted for one grip of a Tonfa and held it in place giving time for its counter to chop the arm. Kat dropped the stick. It tumbled to the floor, and Sarah kicked it away. Thereafter jumped back, as another lunge came on through. Stepping forward in one fluid motion she caught the following advancing, downward strike and held the arm up with both hands. Applying pressure she restrained it there, and rammed her foot down upon Kat’s. There was a brief cry as the motion was repeated, and finally the last Tonfa dropped. Bones were no doubt broken, repaid in full.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah spiraled out and brought the arm in question behind the back. Locking it there, she released it and wrapped her own around Kat’s neck. Sarah kept her body firm up against her adversaries to keep movement restricted. Quite a sight: the pair of them drenched in sweat, Red and Black locks in a disheveled, messy array of nonsense (sarah’s ponytail had long since fallen apart. The struggle that ensued did not last long, but became brutal.
Together they slumped, rammed and slammed into either side of the hallway until the Teenager was able to raise her arm and position its opposite hand just beneath the temple. While her last hand crept just below the lower portion of Kat’s jaw. In a fine jerking motion, Sarah twisted, and snapped the neck. Breathing heavily, she rested against a wall, tossing the body as she sat. It thumped, and she stared momentarily into the lifeless eyes. With a slight smirk, she shook her head and reached a hand up to her communicator. She pressed the button aligned with her headpiece. It sparked to life. No response. Kat’s blood was on her hands.
Several hundred meters above on the main level, Sir Gawain shut off a monitor. As an older man, he had grown accustomed to loss, but the suddenness caught him by storm. At times he also knew emotions were power. The rage would fester until it practically boil, and he would unleash on these fools that dared enter his domain. “Empire dogs,” he spat out. The cane that he used to support himself splintered into pieces, shattering from the pressure. While the beat of the club throbbed on, he turned his back to the information hub and walked towards the exit. The stairs took him to a lift that lowered down behind the major attractions. Encased in shadows only illuminated by the harsh glow of neon light, he disappeared into the far end of the Merciful Knight. Several more silhouettes followed suit, vanishing from varying portions of the crowd. Those in attendance might have been surprised that at the time, the only staff present consisted of the severs and a handful of bartenders.
Meanwhile Sarah relaxed, resigning herself to the fate of facing the reinforcements; a Company which after many mind numbing minutes, did not arrive. Nearly laughing she tentatively ran her hand along her torso. Maybe he’s not worthless. Wincing she let out a sharp cry as it pressed upon the tender area around her broken rib. Careless, she thought, slowly stumbling upright. Despite the piercing pain that rose up and into her chest, she felt more drained than anything else. An overestimation of the current state of her Psionic abilities. She looked up at the security inlays, flicked each and every one of them off and then turned her back and began mirroring a path backwards (along the way snatching up her rifle) – to retrace whence she had come.
They knew where she was, no point in wasting energy establishing a cloaking field. While she retreated, she tried the communicator again. This time, it worked. Upon making contact, Sophie’s voice screamed in her ear. Why is she yelling into her headpiece? Sarah could only wonder while her head throbbed over and over. For a moment, she imagined the end of a psionic blade’s emitter sticking out through a hole in Sophie’s chest. Then the feeling passed – although hardly gone since Sarah found her superior just a tad bit irritating. Unable to understand, Sophie’s ‘excitement’ at a base level, the Teenager instead harbored those dark twisted thoughts as a means of coping with the terrible monstrosity within herself.
“Sarah! We’ve been out of contact for nearly two hours now. What’s going on down there?’
“I killed someone.”
“Gawain? I thought it was clear that we wanted him alive for extraction?”
“Not him, Kat – a bodyguard – his lover I believe.” Mental pictures resurfaced: definitely lovers. Sometimes she wished she didn’t delve within someone’s past. You never know what you might find there and all. However, learning about someone’s history would be the best way to determine a weakness within in them. It’s a dual-edged sword. Information bleeds more than any open wound, if enough of it leaks around, it doesn’t take much for a person to wind up dead. Learn about the target’s daily rituals and all of a sudden as an assassin you have the perfect shot lined up.
“Does he know?”
“Kiln, if you can hear this (understand this), fall back we’re getting out of here now!” Sarah ignored the moronic question. Of course HE knew.
“You’re leaving . . . but –“
“I’m in no condition to continue. Radio silence from now until extraction. Sarah out.”
Back at headquarters Sophie stared blankly at a digital hologram. The read-out mapped the progress of her two agent charges, and how far they actually managed to infiltrate within the complex. Although without cameras it would be impossible to see the exact details of what transpired, indicators (and bugs) attached to the equipment that had been given out filled in some of the blanks. Abandoning the assignment was not something she had expected from a harden operative, but then again, the pair did only arrive in the Omniverse a day ago: what more could she really expect? Regardless, she would at least respect the command for radio silence until they could make a clean getaway. So with a gesture, she flicked away the multiple displays before her. Sighing she exited the room, now, there were preparations to make. If any of their Intelligence about Gawain rang true, he wouldn’t simply let two operatives of the Empire out of his turf alive, especially not after one of them murdered his favorite pet.
In yet another part of the Merciful Knight – where construction was less complete and structure barely held together – Kiln kept the Goons busy. Goons with guns to be specific, they had fired out him over and over again. The bullets ricocheting every which way as he darted about from one cover to the next. His breathes came quicker (harsher), now haggard and overblown. There were only two this time, but the others that he had fought before left their own remembrances. Rounding a corner he suddenly stopped; the guards still made chase. He turned donned his shield and ran forward. Clips from machine guns were ejected, active reload already occurring. Spinning out he slammed the closer of the two. Then, reaching at his side his sword flashed forward in a lunge. Blood splattered. He retreated back a step, leapt forward and (while parting his shield-arm to one side) he horizontally slashed his other foe, while the trooper scrambled to get off a clean shot. They would bleed out in a few minutes. He left them there, first walking past them, trying not to look at the gory mess, but Sarah’s voice caught his attention.
Stopping cold in his tracks, he listened and heard the frustrated tone. Knowing he still needed to reach her, he wondered how to proceed. He titled his head in all directions, attempting to get some hint as for which route to take. Unlike the Ghost, he couldn’t recall the exact path he took to get here. There had been too much going on at the time to take ‘notes’ in a manner of speaking. That and fatigue clouded his mind. For a time, confusion overwhelmed him, and he only stood there, as blood pooled meters off directly behind him. As he managed to catch his breath though, he peered around at the trail of destruction he and his adversaries as left. He thought blankly for a moment, then followed the havoc out of the maze. It wouldn’t be a restful trip, at any moment he expected more yelling, more ‘bangs’ and the rushed steps of advancing footfalls. They didn’t come however, and the entire garage became strangely silent.
Passageways crept by in a blur to the Teenager. Wobbling in and out of focus she slowly let the fatigue wash over her; she let her brain up adrenaline, and let her heartbeat race. Whereas she had been merely walking, now she jogged, barely stopping to observe the cameras that captured her every movement. Eventually, she found herself by cars, somehow managing to exit the labyrinth of empty office space, storage and supplies. At times thoughts told her to lash out at the tech equipment: just smash it up a bit – let out some of that boiling self-depreciation, but she restrained herself. Having already failed to further infiltrate the Club, the last thing she needed to do was mindless to destroy private property. Her abilities would no doubt be under scrutiny now, and her state of mind could come into to play if things got dicey with the Empire. Ghosts by the very nature of how they were created, aren’t stable minded individuals. They constantly teeter on the edge of insanity. Failing at a mission – at what they believed their purpose to be – would drive any mad.
Sarah leaned against one of the cars, hopped up and thereafter sat on the hood. There, she waited, shutting her eyes and calmly seeking out the mind of the Boy. Hopefully that would be enough to draw him in the proper direction, but honestly she had never tried maintaining this sort of bond with anyone before; it was all really one big guessing game. This isn’t over. She reminded herself, as there was one thing she hadn’t told Sophie (even if sophie had figured it out for herself): Gawain would follow them. Revenge like any emotion could be exploited. Yes, she had retreated, but that in itself could be a strategy . . . and while she camped out, she replayed the memory of Kat’s death over and over. Emotions, so utterly useless. She told herself, and believed she felt nothing, but the Omniverse had already begun to alter her conditioning.
Every now and then – as she stepped along with only the quiet echoed footfalls to keep her company – the Ghost would try a door. Most were locked, though there were some that opened with a good shove and revealed their contents to her. Nothing of value to her in them, just supplies to be used by employees. Anything that held and potentially incriminating information was no doubt barred to her by the, oh-so-many, security measures she had noted and remembered while the minutes ticked on. Speaking of which, it actually didn’t take long for her distraction to fall in place.
She heard gunfire and the various noises that hinted at combat, begin. They were muffled sounds, strangely pleasing to the ear at such a distance – even got her heart rate up a few beats per minute – but nothing to worry about (out of the ordinary). After all, she needed Kiln to keep the dispatched forces busy until she could complete her task. Yet, the utter lack of any other response, bothered her. Besides the devices meant to keep intruders out of certain rooms, and the cameras, there weren’t any visible signs of where defenses could be activated if needed. Where were the turrets; the choke points and guard checkpoints?
The underground infrastructure was frankly too void of anything. In the unlocked rooms there were tables, chairs set up for meetings, with remnants of white stains and dust upon them. However, none had been touched in quite some time. It was as though the entire level had been changed from a multi-purpose area to a simple back-entrance. The reasons for this were unclear to Sarah. Perhaps there had been an issue in the past that had developed into a work hazard? Obviously, this place wasn’t nearly as secure as it could be. With the faults clear in the lack of other viable defenses, save for keeping out invaders. She couldn’t help but wonder though, what if they weren’t intent on focusing their power on stopping individuals from infiltrating the ground level, but instead in trapping them there? With the emptiness and narrow passageways, any would-be threat could be neutralized swiftly.
Several minutes of wandering and still no end in sight: no stairs, no elevator at the end of this or the next corridor. She could feel the strain from the exertion to maintain her cloaking field, and subsequently began trying any entryway without a keypad or scanner to duck into for respite. Thus far, surveillance had only been in the main hallways, and not in the rooms themselves; she just needed to find an open one. Darting down one passage and another she routed corner after corner – eyes swiveling back and forth searching for any signs of change in the layout pattern – before coming to an intersection of four corridors leading in all directions. Opting to first try straight-on-ahead she continue stepping becoming more frantic as her willpower was continually ebbing away into naught. Finally, after several more locked doors, she rammed up against a wooden-frame one and fell into a manner of janitorial closet. Thereafter, she immediately became visible.
Her pupils were dilated sweat clearly glimmering on her cheeks and coating her entire body. The suit clung as tight as it ever been against her skin, but the wave of relief that swam overtop her was immense. Breathing in deeply, she groaned and then sighed. Concentrating and honing her mind, she could still hear the tell-tale sounds of a battle taking place. Focusing past the audible garble, she reached out for a familiar mind to see if it yet thought. It did. Her eyes closed and she watched the Boy’s oncoming storm through a stream of his consciousness. In a way this was more relaxing than merely leaning against one wall of a closet in the dark. It also kept the questionable odors of the room in check nicely.
In her mind’s eye images took shape responding, resounding out, spanning like waves cracking along a shoreline. Everything became loud (rushed), clear (blurred), crisp, (distant) and ever so brutal (not real). But, she didn’t see guards and thugs armed with blasters or sub-machine guns, instead she saw the conflict within his memories. They startled her, as she assumed he had none to begin with. If they were ‘his’ perhaps that meant that he truly did only forget as a side effect of being torn from one reality to another. However, that didn’t really explain why ‘everyone’ in the Omniverse didn’t forget their pasts. That or . . . Omni wasn’t infallible.
Monsters beat against the threshold. They smelled of rot, decaying flesh and plague. Waning moans enveloped the air, with an aroma so strong that one whiff caused Sarah to gag. Can’t breathe. The thought a simple one – an instinctual one – (primal in essence) that she fought against. Not real. Her reassurance did little to stem the brooding fear rising up in the pit of her stomach. Standing, she rammed against her captors: the dead that walked, wailed and creaked; then there was a bright light of shimmering blue, and the grey walls of the corridor again. She hadn’t cloaked, and the cameras were all upon her. Although at this point, being detected hardly matter. Relief to be free from the Undead was enough. Then, something hard struck the wall with a clang of metal upon metal. It scraped coming closer, towards her.
She blinked, regaining natural sight and peered in its direction. The source: a woman dragging what appeared to be a short steel stick along part of the corridor. She had another held in the opposing hand. Modern dialect would name them Tonfas. However, Sarah had never seen anything quite like them. Regardless, it was clear enough that her own ‘welcoming company’ had finally arrived. Approaching in a rather delicate, almost teasing, manner the Woman swayed with the type of step most keenly attributed to that of a dancer. Her words though in stark contrast, pierced like the fang of some serpent. “Oh, well would you look at this: you’re going to be quite fun Red. Sir Gawain is a bit preoccupied at the moment, so I’ll be your entertainment for the duration of your stay. Now, now don’t look back, the Boy is being dealt with.”
Sarah eyed the distance – the void of space between them – fifteen meters at most and closing. With her rifle still slung on her back, there wouldn’t be time to draw, aim and fire. Her adversary would be on top of her before that. Narrowing her gaze her vision swapped between viable obstacles to slow an advance; there were none. As with all the others, the floors were barren behind and in front of herself. She longed for the shimmer, hum and familiarity of her psi-blade (its function not yet restored). This ‘Kat’ (name gleamed from a simple thought) armed herself and knew what type of armaments would be of use in an enclosed space. The ‘steel sticks’ may have been crude, but steel would break bone easily enough. In the few moments that passed, the Teenager decided on a course of action.
“Silent strong type huh? They always scream the loudest when they’re helpless.” Words spoken of experience. On the other hand, the Ghost merely glared back and acted without a word. Closing the gap first, energy welled around her pupils. The whisperings of purples, violets and blues hovered, materializing from pure will alone – the quiet sort of energy applied to force. In a burst, an invisible blast spanned outwards engulfing the immediate area in front of her. Wall panels tremored. Her foe though – not one to be knocked around easily – crossed the Tonfas in front of her and jumped. Each of her feet served as an anchor on one wall, holding her upright, and most importantly, still. A terrible smile stretched across Kat’s face. She nearly wanted to laugh. “Is that all? Tantrum done, okay, well: my turn!”
Before even finishing Kat nimbly leapt off, up and forward from her initial position. One of her shiny metal beams lunged, stabbing through the air at Sarah’s chest. The other swept left, flying right and upward, heading for a devastating facial impact. In a millisecond a million or so thoughts honed and refined options in the Teenager’s mind. Her window so short she could only partially go through the myriad of possible outcomes. Raising a palm, she deflected the blow for her chest, buckling Kat’s arm by striking at the back elbow. Thereafter leaning left she dodged the initial extended jab, and the Tonfas spiraled back out bearing into a crisscross from one another.
Swung, then wildly, they viciously went for the midsection without respite. One struck its mark, although a glancing blow, still enough to dent a rib. Not a murmur escaped the Ghost’s lips, but any warmth (or friendly demeanor) fled from her pupils, leaving them barren, thoughtless and cold. The counterpart bludgeon tool, instead met the careful application of a telekinetic force. Sarah held the arm in place for only a moment, however, that pause was enough for her to strike down with her own elbow and force the metal bar from Kat’s grasping hand. It clattered unto the floor. Eyes swimming with power the Ghost wasted no time pushing herself back, creating an empty space between them. Levitating the fallen armament, she almost playfully directed it every which way. But surprisingly let it drop, and her opponent quickly retrieved it.
In that timespan, more Telekinetic energies reverberated off everything; a natural vibration that shook through every object around. An illusion to deceive (to play coy to the eye and distract) and provide for an attack soon to come, for Sarah would only be able to maintain the barrier for a short while. Still in that brief instance: beautiful. The shimmering violets and blues maintaining a barrier between one half of the corridor and the other. Kat began to slam, stab ram and bash against it. With each strike, it quaked and fizzled, losing its overall integrity. Finally when a blow seemed to break through, the conjured power blasted forth in a great wave. Sarah donned her rifle, and bursts of bullets rang out once, twice and thrice again. Its ejected clip fell onto the ground. Materializing another she levitated the spare into the voided chamber.
Dodging bullets isn’t an art, it’s the careful application of skill and a lot of luck. Kat managed to slip past the initial burst running along one wall. The shock-wave (or whatever it really was) may have thrashed her about, but it certainly hadn’t stunned her battle senses. The subsequent ones though, pelted flesh, steel and cloth. They left welts, pierced skin and smeared blood. They stung like all hells, but the lasting damage would only be minor if tended to. Yet, the scowl that formed on her face told the tale of a fatal wound. She looked down at the chunks of her dress in tatters on the floor. Each hole in fabric brought a crimson hue upon her cheeks – not from embarrassment rather sheer rage. “Feisty little cagna aren’t you? It’s quite rude to tear up your date’s clothes without first buying them a drink. I’ll have to punish you later.”
“You…” Sarah panted heavily the undertones of the conversation completely slipping past her mental filter, “talk too much.” She let the rifle gently fall to the ground. “I think I’ll just kill you. That sounds fine.”
The words barely parted from the Teenager’s lips before Kat regained composure and charged. Tonfas whirled, left right, up and down, and Sarah watched every movement learning the subtle nuisances and fluidity that came with wielding this interesting weapon. When the first of the multi-step form followed, she weaved between one of the swipes, swept a hand down to parry another, and back up to knock a lunge away. Then, struck a blow herself a swift knee to the gut to provide a gasp of an opening. Her other hand darted for one grip of a Tonfa and held it in place giving time for its counter to chop the arm. Kat dropped the stick. It tumbled to the floor, and Sarah kicked it away. Thereafter jumped back, as another lunge came on through. Stepping forward in one fluid motion she caught the following advancing, downward strike and held the arm up with both hands. Applying pressure she restrained it there, and rammed her foot down upon Kat’s. There was a brief cry as the motion was repeated, and finally the last Tonfa dropped. Bones were no doubt broken, repaid in full.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah spiraled out and brought the arm in question behind the back. Locking it there, she released it and wrapped her own around Kat’s neck. Sarah kept her body firm up against her adversaries to keep movement restricted. Quite a sight: the pair of them drenched in sweat, Red and Black locks in a disheveled, messy array of nonsense (sarah’s ponytail had long since fallen apart. The struggle that ensued did not last long, but became brutal.
Together they slumped, rammed and slammed into either side of the hallway until the Teenager was able to raise her arm and position its opposite hand just beneath the temple. While her last hand crept just below the lower portion of Kat’s jaw. In a fine jerking motion, Sarah twisted, and snapped the neck. Breathing heavily, she rested against a wall, tossing the body as she sat. It thumped, and she stared momentarily into the lifeless eyes. With a slight smirk, she shook her head and reached a hand up to her communicator. She pressed the button aligned with her headpiece. It sparked to life. No response. Kat’s blood was on her hands.
Several hundred meters above on the main level, Sir Gawain shut off a monitor. As an older man, he had grown accustomed to loss, but the suddenness caught him by storm. At times he also knew emotions were power. The rage would fester until it practically boil, and he would unleash on these fools that dared enter his domain. “Empire dogs,” he spat out. The cane that he used to support himself splintered into pieces, shattering from the pressure. While the beat of the club throbbed on, he turned his back to the information hub and walked towards the exit. The stairs took him to a lift that lowered down behind the major attractions. Encased in shadows only illuminated by the harsh glow of neon light, he disappeared into the far end of the Merciful Knight. Several more silhouettes followed suit, vanishing from varying portions of the crowd. Those in attendance might have been surprised that at the time, the only staff present consisted of the severs and a handful of bartenders.
Meanwhile Sarah relaxed, resigning herself to the fate of facing the reinforcements; a Company which after many mind numbing minutes, did not arrive. Nearly laughing she tentatively ran her hand along her torso. Maybe he’s not worthless. Wincing she let out a sharp cry as it pressed upon the tender area around her broken rib. Careless, she thought, slowly stumbling upright. Despite the piercing pain that rose up and into her chest, she felt more drained than anything else. An overestimation of the current state of her Psionic abilities. She looked up at the security inlays, flicked each and every one of them off and then turned her back and began mirroring a path backwards (along the way snatching up her rifle) – to retrace whence she had come.
They knew where she was, no point in wasting energy establishing a cloaking field. While she retreated, she tried the communicator again. This time, it worked. Upon making contact, Sophie’s voice screamed in her ear. Why is she yelling into her headpiece? Sarah could only wonder while her head throbbed over and over. For a moment, she imagined the end of a psionic blade’s emitter sticking out through a hole in Sophie’s chest. Then the feeling passed – although hardly gone since Sarah found her superior just a tad bit irritating. Unable to understand, Sophie’s ‘excitement’ at a base level, the Teenager instead harbored those dark twisted thoughts as a means of coping with the terrible monstrosity within herself.
“Sarah! We’ve been out of contact for nearly two hours now. What’s going on down there?’
“I killed someone.”
“Gawain? I thought it was clear that we wanted him alive for extraction?”
“Not him, Kat – a bodyguard – his lover I believe.” Mental pictures resurfaced: definitely lovers. Sometimes she wished she didn’t delve within someone’s past. You never know what you might find there and all. However, learning about someone’s history would be the best way to determine a weakness within in them. It’s a dual-edged sword. Information bleeds more than any open wound, if enough of it leaks around, it doesn’t take much for a person to wind up dead. Learn about the target’s daily rituals and all of a sudden as an assassin you have the perfect shot lined up.
“Does he know?”
“Kiln, if you can hear this (understand this), fall back we’re getting out of here now!” Sarah ignored the moronic question. Of course HE knew.
“You’re leaving . . . but –“
“I’m in no condition to continue. Radio silence from now until extraction. Sarah out.”
Back at headquarters Sophie stared blankly at a digital hologram. The read-out mapped the progress of her two agent charges, and how far they actually managed to infiltrate within the complex. Although without cameras it would be impossible to see the exact details of what transpired, indicators (and bugs) attached to the equipment that had been given out filled in some of the blanks. Abandoning the assignment was not something she had expected from a harden operative, but then again, the pair did only arrive in the Omniverse a day ago: what more could she really expect? Regardless, she would at least respect the command for radio silence until they could make a clean getaway. So with a gesture, she flicked away the multiple displays before her. Sighing she exited the room, now, there were preparations to make. If any of their Intelligence about Gawain rang true, he wouldn’t simply let two operatives of the Empire out of his turf alive, especially not after one of them murdered his favorite pet.
In yet another part of the Merciful Knight – where construction was less complete and structure barely held together – Kiln kept the Goons busy. Goons with guns to be specific, they had fired out him over and over again. The bullets ricocheting every which way as he darted about from one cover to the next. His breathes came quicker (harsher), now haggard and overblown. There were only two this time, but the others that he had fought before left their own remembrances. Rounding a corner he suddenly stopped; the guards still made chase. He turned donned his shield and ran forward. Clips from machine guns were ejected, active reload already occurring. Spinning out he slammed the closer of the two. Then, reaching at his side his sword flashed forward in a lunge. Blood splattered. He retreated back a step, leapt forward and (while parting his shield-arm to one side) he horizontally slashed his other foe, while the trooper scrambled to get off a clean shot. They would bleed out in a few minutes. He left them there, first walking past them, trying not to look at the gory mess, but Sarah’s voice caught his attention.
Stopping cold in his tracks, he listened and heard the frustrated tone. Knowing he still needed to reach her, he wondered how to proceed. He titled his head in all directions, attempting to get some hint as for which route to take. Unlike the Ghost, he couldn’t recall the exact path he took to get here. There had been too much going on at the time to take ‘notes’ in a manner of speaking. That and fatigue clouded his mind. For a time, confusion overwhelmed him, and he only stood there, as blood pooled meters off directly behind him. As he managed to catch his breath though, he peered around at the trail of destruction he and his adversaries as left. He thought blankly for a moment, then followed the havoc out of the maze. It wouldn’t be a restful trip, at any moment he expected more yelling, more ‘bangs’ and the rushed steps of advancing footfalls. They didn’t come however, and the entire garage became strangely silent.
Passageways crept by in a blur to the Teenager. Wobbling in and out of focus she slowly let the fatigue wash over her; she let her brain up adrenaline, and let her heartbeat race. Whereas she had been merely walking, now she jogged, barely stopping to observe the cameras that captured her every movement. Eventually, she found herself by cars, somehow managing to exit the labyrinth of empty office space, storage and supplies. At times thoughts told her to lash out at the tech equipment: just smash it up a bit – let out some of that boiling self-depreciation, but she restrained herself. Having already failed to further infiltrate the Club, the last thing she needed to do was mindless to destroy private property. Her abilities would no doubt be under scrutiny now, and her state of mind could come into to play if things got dicey with the Empire. Ghosts by the very nature of how they were created, aren’t stable minded individuals. They constantly teeter on the edge of insanity. Failing at a mission – at what they believed their purpose to be – would drive any mad.
Sarah leaned against one of the cars, hopped up and thereafter sat on the hood. There, she waited, shutting her eyes and calmly seeking out the mind of the Boy. Hopefully that would be enough to draw him in the proper direction, but honestly she had never tried maintaining this sort of bond with anyone before; it was all really one big guessing game. This isn’t over. She reminded herself, as there was one thing she hadn’t told Sophie (even if sophie had figured it out for herself): Gawain would follow them. Revenge like any emotion could be exploited. Yes, she had retreated, but that in itself could be a strategy . . . and while she camped out, she replayed the memory of Kat’s death over and over. Emotions, so utterly useless. She told herself, and believed she felt nothing, but the Omniverse had already begun to alter her conditioning.
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