Soma Point

Chapter 4

Isabella has been standing at the front window since the night Once-ler left. As the rest of the family sits in the parlor, playing card-games and talking, she sees something off in the distance. A large group of people, all clad in red, their gold masks gleaming in the midday sun walk towards the mansion, perfectly uniform, even in each step.

"...Ubb, come here and look at this." Isabella says. Her older brother stands from his worn leather easy chair and walks to the tall window. Pulling the deep red curtain back a bit further, he sees them, too.

"Isabella, go get your bolt action and go to the roof." he turns to the rest of the family. "Grizelda, grab the Winchester 38 40 and give a 20 gauge to Chett and Bret each." The rest of the family does as the patriarch says as he grabs his own 20 gauge Mossberg.

"Uncle, what's going on?" Bret asks, confusion in the young man's voice.

"We're going to have to fight. A shit-load of those freaks your mother and I told you about are about to break in."

"Uncle!"

"Bret, you and the rest of the family just need to do whatever the hell I tell you right now, okay?" Just as the slow-witted boy was about to ask another question, a gunshot rings out and they hear Isabella cheer from the roof.

"Did you see that fucker's head explode!?" she cries, glee in her voice. "Look at this bullshit; all they have are swords! Swords! This'll be a fuckin' cake-walk!" Ubb knits his brows-his sister was always far too sure of herself. Several of them bust through the window, and Ubb opens fire, taking out three of them at once with the munitions spray. Grizelda follows suit, unloading clip after clip into the Brotherhood Assassins. Bret and Chett stand dumbly, their guns in their hands.

"Damnit, you two, do something! Shoot!" Ubb spits, taking out two more. He kicks over a table, "at least take cover, retards!" He slips behind the table to reload his shotgun, popping back up to fire again. On the roof, they can hear Isabella laughing like she's lost her mind in between gunshots. Ubb looks up to his corpulent wife. "Grizelda, take the second floor. Too many are getting past Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumbass here, and I can't handle all these Brotherhood Assassins myself. Get up there and keep them off Isabella." She nods and heads for the stairs, shooting down any red-clad enemy she comes across.

Ubb stands back up, firing into the crowd. Bret stands, firing alongside his uncle. For a moment, the older man looks over at the younger man, smiling. Taking his queue from that, Chett stands and fires, too, obliterating the head of a nearby Brotherhood Assassin. The three men spread out, shooting down any red-clothed invader they can find; blowing off limbs, shattering swords, pulverizing heads.

"Bret, Chett, the two of you head to the East wing, I'll handle what's left here, okay?" The twins nod and head off East. As they leave, a group of Assassins crowd around Ubb. He smiles, defiantly, and fires into them. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. They fall and only three remain. Ubb fires again and only a click comes from his gun. He backs up, fumbling in his pocket for more rounds. "Shit," he thinks as the three of them converge on him. They grab him and throw him to the dining room table, casting his gun aside. Quickly, they tear his clothes open and tie him to the table. With long, gold knives, they slice into his abdomen. Ubb grits his teeth through the pain-screaming would give them what they want. Red blood spills onto the dark wood table, dribbling to the carpeted floor and pooling in dark red stains.

Bret and Chett run around the East wing, firing at the Assassins until they come to a man clothed in pure white, his snow white hair neatly combed. He smiles at them.

"Once-ler's brothers, the twins. How nice to meet the two of you." He nods and before the dimwitted boys can do anything, they are knocked unconscious. Two people wearing black hooded cloaks completely concealing their faces step from shadows. With thick, fat needles threaded with black yarn, they sew the two boys face to face, mouth to mouth. Going along their bodies. They do not stop until Bret and Chett are one entity. They leave them there.

Upstairs, Grizelda and Isabella work, picking off Brotherhood Assassins as they try to climb the stairs. Almost flying over the corpses of their dead brethren, they continue to ascend the stairwell at the two women. Isabella fumbles with her bolt-action, trying to reload it. Her hubris is shattered, and she is beginning to panic. As an Assassin closes in on her, Grizelda fires, hitting the half-human monster in the side of the head.

"That was my last shot, Isabella." she says, worry in her voice.

"Then use the damn thing as a club!" she snaps, finally reloading her gun. She is down to her last round, too. Still, more of them advance and the two women, in a panic, split up; Isabella running to the right and Grizelda running to the left.

Grizelda dashes as fast as her rotund body will carry her down the left hall until she reaches the end. She looks back at the window as a group of five close in on her. She contemplates jumping. At the back, she sees a black clad person, their face concealed, dragging a metal chair behind them. She grasps her rifle by its barrel and begins to beat the Assassins down, bludgeoning them with the stock as if it were a club. Her arms are grabbed, and four of the remaining Assassins force her into the metal chair, tying her to it. A white-clad man stands at the end of the hall.

"Hello, Grizelda." He smirks. "I've already met your twin nephews and can't wait to meet your youngest nephew." He strides to her, his robe flowing around him. "You know, you really are a piggy, aren't you, you fat bitch?" he says, his face only inches from hers. She spits in his face. Laughing, he wipes the spit away. "Oh now, that's not very lady-like, is it?" He turns to the black-clad person and the remaining Assassins. "Roast this piggy." The five of them douse Grizelda in kerosene and light her on fire.

At the opposite hallway, Isabella has holed herself up in a small bathroom. Hiding in the bathtub, she holds her gun close to her.

"If I could just get downstairs, there have to be a few rounds left...Oh God...why? I know I've not been the best person: I'm greedy, I'm arrogant, I demand way too much of everyone around me. I've been a terrible mother; to Bret, to Chett, to Once-ler...why the hell did I even name him that? What the hell kind of name is that?" Outside of the door, she can hear more of them scurrying around, kicking down doors, stabbing through closets. In the distance, she can hear flames roar and can make out Grizelda's screams...for a while. She shuts her eyes, trying to prepare herself for what she knows is coming. There is a knock on the bathroom door and a sultry, male voice says in a soothing tone:

"Are you in there, Isabella? Are you decent?" She holds her tongue. "I know you're in there. Why not make it easier on yourself and come on out now? I also know you only have one shot left. Why not fire it now? You might just get lucky and hit me. Wouldn't that be great?" Isabella grits her teeth, fighting her urge to do just what that mysterious man suggested. "How would you feel to know that, without even realizing it, your sweet little Oncie is headed right to me?" he chuckles. "He's walking right into Soma Point and doesn't even realize it." She can hear him place his hands against the door, his face close to the light-yellow painted wood. "How does it feel to know that the very thing your whore mother died to stop is happening, but to your son instead of your brother? Just how much does that piss you off, Isabella? On a scale of 1 to 10?" With that last remark, Isabella loses her composure. She stands in the bathtub and fires to the center of the bathroom door. A moment later, a white-haired man pokes his head through the splintered hole. "Nice shot, but you still missed me, Issie."

"You bastard." she says, with tears in her eyes. He snaps his fingers and a large group of black-clad people enter the room. Isabella's eyes widen. "...O-Order Priests. God, no! No!" She tries to run, but they grab her by the arm, yanking the gun from her other hand. The white-haired man throws his head back and laughs.

"Where's your attitude now, Isabella? Oh yes, I believe you know what we have planned, don't you?" She struggles in their grip and the white-haired man smiles, the bottoms of his eyes wrinkling up. "Take this bitch downstairs to her brother. Crucify her upside down at his head. It'll be a thing of beauty. A work of art." Isabella screams as they drag her down the stairs. A small group of them split another table into two halves and bind it together, making a cross while others gather nails, a hammer, and rope. Isabella screams and nearly collapses when she sees this.

"God! Please, God, no! NO!" They drag her over to the cross and lay her down on it, on her back, and hold her still. She squirms as she sees them gather the nails. "Please! You don't have to do this!" she cries. Two of them hold her right arm still as the third drives a single long, black iron nail through her arm, between the radius and ulna. Isabella screams in agony as blood bubbles out around the wound. As those three go to her left arm and repeat the process, another ties her arm to the cross, ensuring that she won't slip down. As the nail pierces her other arm, she screams again, and they tie her arm to the cross, just as they had done with the right. They then move to her feet. Holding them together, they drive two nails in, at each foot and bind her ankles to the bottom of the cross. Finally, they bind her at the waist to the middle. She gasps and sobs, blood running from her mouth. A group of them hoist the cross, upside down, above Ubb's head and fasten it into the wall with six long, thick nails. The white-clad man stands, smiling; admiring his work.

"Great job here, all of you. Lessgo!" he turns and the few remaining Brotherhood Assassins and Order Priests follow him out.