"Mireille!" No response. "MIREILLE!" The voice came, far more urgent this time. It hinted at a scream of desperation, her hair swirling about her face from the force of her cry. Black, black locks. The same color of her gun and hands. She could feel the cold metal against her flesh, and she gripped it tighter, hoping that perhaps it would somehow bring control over the situation. One shot had always been able to solve the problem.
"Come back, Mireille!" she called again, her ears straining to hear those footsteps that echoed down the emptying corridors. The sharp double bang of a revolver rang in her ears, the sound of leather on metal grates ceasing for a moment. What on earth was the blonde thinking!?
Gasping for breath, the pale featured girl sidestepped over the hand of a still body and fled downwards into the darkness. On either side, the walls of an underground world loomed, slowly closing in with each footstep she took. She dug in her toes, shoving off as hard as she could manage, careening around a corner and slamming into the wall on the other side. Refusing to let a sound escape her lips she stumbled forwards and made double time. The bruises would heal, but you couldn't bring the dead back to life.
The blackness ended suddenly, opening up into a belly of metal, white eyes staring at her and spiraling down, down. The faint glow of red and the pump of machinery echoed, bouncing off the walls and travelling upwards to exit far above her head. She girl dug her feet into the slippery surface on which she stood, but that scene kept coming forwards and finally the ground fell from beneath her feet. The voice of shock escaped her mouth, sliding the polished walls to the end. She wasn't going to die just yet, she determined, dropping her gun to catch herself on the precipice. Her fingers did not oblige and they scraped against the smooth metal, burning and peeling the flesh that kept her from a bitter end. There was no time to really realize what happened, but Kirika knew she was falling, the flames of hell rising up around her, those eyes following her all the way down.
- - -
"You bastard," a heated voice echoed above the humming of modern machine. Clad in red and black, with a lipstick embellished face, a blonde woman's hands shook around the grip of death. Her eyebrows were closer together than they'd ever been before, steel eyes reflecting a red world from underneath the shadows. She found herself hesitating again, unable to shoot. Every time it nearly cost her life, and Kirika had always been there to save her. However, in her anger she'd left the black haired girl behind. This time, though, she needed nothing. That trigger would be pulled.
"Noir," it spoke, its voice light, calm and sully. Mireille hissed, no one showed fear or emotion. Out of everyone they tackled with death was not a thing they feared. If that bullet hit them they'd consider it a wonder.
"Do you want to feel the bullet cracking through each and every rib until it sends the shards of your own flesh into your heart?" she growled, dropping the gun lower to point towards the stitched outline of a breast pocket illuminated by the massive chamber behind them. "Show some fear!" she hissed, leaping forwards and slamming him against the wall, jamming the cold, hard metal into the soft give of his stomach. It wasn't right! She was here, terrified that a bullet would come at her, left, down, right, up. Perhaps it would pass through her brain, creating a keyhole shape from the extreme angle it entered at. Then it would exit in an explosion that would litter the opposite wall with the last remains of any thought.
The man lurched and coughed, his saliva dripping dowards onto her hair, but his own chuckle followed. Enraged, Mireille shoved forwards farther and let her finger pull back. The bang that followed was satisfying and dreadful. It left her empty inside, yet sighing for relief. For a moment, the two were suspended motionless, and then the weight of the dead slowly increased on her shoulders. Disgusted, the blonde rolled him off onto the floor. For a moment she stared at those eyes with lay transfixed on the ceiling. They'd lay there for eternity. Someday he'd fade into dust.
A sick feeling entered her throat, but she ignored it, escaping out the side door. The drip of a broken water pipe greeted her, placed covertly underneath a hollow stairway. It was a steep climb to say the least, but it led up and out of this world of haunting dreams. She reached out with a hand and jerked herself up three flights at a time, pausing only when her toes slipped and the sharp edges her heavenly way cut red into her knees. Grunting she pulled herself up, using the railing as a hold, but her failing strength conquered her and she too suffered the same fate as her friend.
The sound was far more defeating than the pain that did not follow. She knew that she'd landed back first, heard the smack of her flat contacting with the surface she'd so recently escaped. The plop of water escaping from its face boomed in her ears and the soft, cool splash hit her temple and slid down to her jaw.
"Tch," she muttered, rolling over and gasping as the pain suddenly decided to rush in. She could battle her way through a horde of people, but she couldn't climb stairs to safety. In a moment they'd discover her, and it would all be over.
She could only hope that Kirika made it out alive.
- - -
She sat staring at the yellow light shining so far away. Her fingers were curled around it, for it felt so close and so warm, yet she could not capture it and get away. It spoke of love and smiled at her gently, offering a gentle caress on her dry and weary eyes.
Her name was Kirika Yamuura, but that wasn't really her name. She had no name, other than Noir, and no existence other than to kill.
And now she was dead, silenced in hell. Voices flooded her senses, silence was replaced by that eerie rumble from deep below. She was not dead, she reminded herself. Only hanging on one bitter thread, ovals of metal pushing into her back and many more rising above her, Kirika existed. She could see the intricate frame folding its way above her, escaping into many black voids along the way.
Resisting no longer she shoved herself up and onto her feet, performing an acrobatic display practiced time and time again. Warily she climbed onto a bar stretching into the infinite depths and leapt. Her hands caught on the rung above her and she pulled. Over the top, repeat, until at last she could see the darkness beckoning her a short distance away. She shifted onto her toes and slowly worked in a crouch towards that escape. She could see them, watching her from below, but they couldn't get her up here. Those eyes would stay there forever, watching where she would no longer be in a few moments.
She reached the edge and crawled to her safety. This ground was at least moderately solid. It would not crumble beneath her if she suddenly lost her balance, nor would it draw her down, down.
"Funny, that one of you always makes a mistake," a voice emerged from the shadows. Kirika froze, raising her gun.
But it was not there. With a grimace Kirika remembered it had fallen. She could do without it. She took a rush into the shadows, wielding every bit of skill she could remember to overcome the odds. A hand caught her arm, ripping her sideways. She aimed for its jaw, but another slammed her in the gut. She doubled forwards, her own insides begging for mercy and the breath she so desperately needed fading from her lungs.
Shots rang out all around her. She felt her legs crumple beneath an overwhelming force. She could not support herself anymore. Finally she felt the pressure on her skull and blackness filled the lights in her eyes.