For the six heroes, so quickly cut down from eight, the week proved more exhausting than excitement. The training Ryuko had put them through was no less exhaustive than the month prior, and from what they could gather, the terror had rend, scattered, and shattered the luxury district's inhabitants to the four winds, rending through platoons in an instant. When a man stepped in to that green perimeter, it was a miracle if he did not lose his head a second later.
Yet the beast still contained some intelligence; it darted in and out of attempts to bait it, with demonic trickery. Projectiles had proven as useless as a straw against a charging bull, and thrown in to fear of the unknown, few were willing to face it head-on.
But in the underground chambers of Nudist Beach, two men - and one girl - were working on a single project, that Friday morning.
"Nui. How was this sewn?" muttered Inumata, tracing over Nui's discarded uniform, her upper and lower covered in a shirt and pants.
It had been a wonder to find women's clothing in that flamboyant base, and the shirt fit like a white garbage bag over her.
"Ooo! Now you're the one asking for tracking shit, Inumata-mata!" she preened, rocking the infirmary bed. "It's a simple -"
- the steel doors opened, and in burst Ryuko.
"Inumata - Nui - meeting. Now."
"Does it need to -"
- Inumata's blood froze as he turned to those piercing eyes, the woman now every bit of a drill sergeant as her sister. He quivered, then gestured vaguely to Aikuro.
"Hm." smirked Aikuro, shaking his head like a parent scolding a child. "I'll continue the experiment."
"My - my apologies, Lady Ryuko." murmured Inumata, as he and Nui followed the leader out to the corridor. As they drew closer to Gamagoori's room, what the six had decided as their impromptu discussion chamber, low murmurs could be heard, the tone of secretive planning. Ryuko opened the door, then sat at the head, as her sister had done before her.
She would never admit to enjoying the authority, no matter how horrible the circumstances.
"Speak." said Ryuko, gesturing to Gamagoori.
He shook his head as the two joined the four already sat. "I finally get to tell Inumata something, for once."
(Sanageyama) "Enjoy it."
(Gamagoori) "A few minutes ago, Ragyo finished a public appearance, announcing that her portion of the Cultural Arts Festival would no longer be televised, and that she had two 'special announcements' to be made."
"She's - still attending the Cultural Arts Festival, with all that's occurred?" said Inumata, shaking his head and wiping one set of analytical skills from his mind for another.
"There's that, too." muttered Ryuko. "Probably be some big sympathy party. She said that though she'd like to take the week off for grief, she knew it wouldn't be fair to the people who already paid for their tickets."
"Every shithead gets their own fanclub." said Nonon. "There's people online posting about how she's such a kind woman, because she's giving every REVOCS employee a month off without pay."
"First vacation days in five years." Ryuko muttered. "Still, we're just as stupid. It's an obvious trap - and she knows we have to take it. If we don't kill her there, she'll flee the country - and we'll never find her again. We'll end up fighting her goons for the rest of our lives."
A murmur of assent traveled through the room.
"We can't stay with Nudist Beach forever." said Gamagoori. "We all signed up for this, after all."
"Correct." said Inumata, the collective of their spirits raising in his voice. "Lady Ryuko - shall I formulate a redesigned version of our previous plans, then?"
"Yeah. We'll have to disguise ourselves - Nudist Beach has some plainclothes, wigs, stuff like that. We need to make sure our Specters are stronger than our old uniforms, too."
A nervous nod went through the circle.
"It - they should have their full power and attunement by now, fortunately." muttered Inumata, the false confidence in his voice again.
Ryuko nodded. "Right. Still, there's something we need to do, too. If we go through the front entrance, it's much riskier - anyone from Honnōji would be able to recognize us if we're with the crowd, disguises or not."
"Especially Gamagoori." muttered Sanageyama, shaking his head ruefully.
"The cons of being this wide…"
"Yeah." said Ryuko. "That's why I want you and Nui to stay here - in case something happens to Satsuki while we're gone Monday."
"What if someone tries to kidnap me again, Ryuko-ko?!"
"Who would want to kidnap you now?" said Nonon, then quickly gestured to Nui's scissor blades. "Uh - I mean, because of these! They wouldn't want to go near you."
"Um - yeah - that's why you get to stay here," chimed Ryuko cheerfully. "Thankfully, with Outcast in the luxury district, it should be an easier escape out of the arena. Ragyo said most of the directors are dead - I checked with the news, and… It could be a lie, but…"
"Let alone the vulnerability to Absolute Submission. It's a certainty she's taken Nui off the exceptions list, now."
"Ooo! Do I get a Specter?"
"Exactly what I interrupted." grinned Ryuko. "Aikuro can handle the rest of the process, right?"
"So long as Nui gives him all the information he requires. The only reason I could create the backups so quickly was because of the extensive testing we had performed with them on in the past years."
"Good. I did a bit of analysis on my own for how we're gonna get in, too." said Ryuko, pulling her phone out and setting it at the center of the table. Upon it, a picture of a balding man, his face wizened and portly. "He gave an interview earlier this morning - Kei Akiyama, one of the directors. He mentioned having to flee his home in the luxury district - a quick look through the tabloids, and I found the address to his second home in Osaka."
"Say no more." muttered Nonon, catching the trend of the imminent murder. "We get tickets, make sure our Specters are all good - and get to beat some skulls."
"Exactly." chimed Ryuko cheerfully. "We'll train for another two days, then you, me, Inumata, and Sanageyama will head out. I've got something special in mind with your orchestra, too."
"It's settled, then." murmured Sanageyama. "We shall kill Ragyo - to avenge Lady Satsuki, and to avenge Lady Ryuko."
The six nodded, safe in the knowledge that their squadron would end in six corpses, or one.
The daughter and her father were two passing trains that Sunday night. He was set to arrive the morning after Ryuko and the other three were set to leave, and though she wished desperately she could see her father before her possible death, as did he, she clung tightly to the intrinsic motivation it gave her to return.
Yet she needed no more than that, and her own anger.
The four stomped through Osaka's districts, their faces hooded like juvenile delinquents, a scowl and a sneer for every passerby. Along paved sidewalks, they passed by towering walls, the perimeter that had housed Osaka's academy and student district only a week prior. It had still not been rebuilt, and what former students they encountered on that late night were no less lost then than they had been in battle.
Ryuko was silently grateful they had not recognized their former opponents. She wore long black hair akin to Satsuki's, waving about her as if a flag marking the most beautiful woman in the world.
All around them were skyscrapers, dimly lit apartments, the last lights snuffed out in the windows, and an unyielding silence as they passed the nightlife behind. The four knew their target well.
The sidewalk underneath soon turned fresher paved, and the gaps between the buildings grew as their heights shrunk, making way for more personal and less cramped housing. They were coming close to their true target in the corridor of homes, where the sidewalks grew narrower, and the perimeters became gated. Near the end of the dead-end street, and on the opposite side of the road, lay the home for which they were searching.
As with Nui's home, it was a strangely modest affair. The mansion was two-floor, black and blue paint that melded with the night, and thick trees shrouded both the front and backyards. A tall fence wove around the perimeter, and a balcony with white columns extended around the second floor, that at last laid a protruding platform.
"No guards." murmured Ryuko, seeing nothing but dark windows.
"Front, or back?" replied Sanageyama, a white wig like a hair metal artist streaming down his shoulders.
"They'll figure us out if I play a single note." murmured Nonon, her pink hair now a brown as unassuming as any other.
"If they're expecting us - they'll have guards set at the back. Front." muttered Ryuko, coming with a gentle step to the front gate. "Nonon - don't play unless I order you to, or if we get spotted. Let's go."
"Yes, Lady Ryuko." muttered Inumata, black hair and blacker sunglasses.
A singular motion, four figures leaping and vaulting over the fence, and they hit the ground running; instantly they heard a chaotic calamity begin within the mansion, windows lit by flickering lamps, and with no time to waste, they shot like meteors over the pavement, running underneath marble columns and to the front door. A swift sweep from Sanageyama sliced the double doors in half, and as they entered through to the wide hall with golden chandeliers, it became clear that Ryuko's prediction had come true - on both accounts.
From the back of the mansion they heard doors slamming and opening, frantic bootsteps of men as they heard the invaders, and up the stairs shot the three like lightning. At their backs, Inumata stood stout at the bottom, the illusory phalanx riding with him once more as they formed to life, an impenetrable and identical wall of figures at the base of the circular stairs.
By the confused clamor she heard above, Ryuko knew that for all of Kei's preparation, he had not expected a front entrance. The three came to the second floor, a hall like the others and veered right, where two more corridors lay ahead and to their left. These were illumined by chandeliers and bore red carpets and walls, marble busts and statues, doors that were locked and closed.
"Sanageyama - left - Nonon - with me!" grunted Ryuko, shooting past the new doors as Sanageyama turned left, two frantic figures as they hacked the doors to bits. Alongside the conductor, Ryuko encountered a variety of rooms - bathrooms of silver, studies of great bookcases, filled to the brim with tomes that surely had never been read.
By the screaming of swords against knives she heard below, she knew a pitched battle was taking place, the rending and slashing of Specter against steel. She came to one casual door near the end of the corridor, and as she caught her breath barked a single order;
"Nonon - check on Inumata below!"
"Yes, Lady Ryuko!" shouted Nonon, rushing back the way they had came.
Again, as it had with the others, a dozen lacerations served to buckle the portal inward. Inside was a bedroom, a single affair with more bookcases strewn along the walls, and as she rushed to check behind the bed -
- a portly figure leaped to her, and at the center of the room met obsidian and steel, sparks lighting angered faces. Kei's uniform was a black business suit, hastily put on and barely used, as if he had not expected to be found at all. His sword clashed with Ryuko's blades, the two snarling like animals as they met;
"Sanageyama!" grunted Ryuko, daring not to separate from the clash for a moment, "Found the worm!"
A single shout, echoing through the halls, cracking like lightning: "On it!"
With a yell, Kei separated again; he shot back as a black streak, seeking desperately the wide window at the end of the room - yet no matter how fast he ran, Ryuko was there again. The former speed and strength of her Kamui had returned to her in that unnatural and psychic armor, rushing to block his path so swiftly it was a wonder the books did not fly from their cases as if pulled by a tornado.
And her blades were no less swift. They carved and breached desperate blocks of a sword, cracking the metal with such ferocity the entire sword was nearly sundered in one strike; their blades clashed again. Inch by inch, the pressure of her strikes forced Kei further; he stumbled stupidly back over his bed, dodging sluggishly as he fell to the ground behind, vaulting to his feet just as quickly.
And Ryuko was among him with a rush and a gigantic bound. The blades sliced deep red valleys through the suit and licked crimson slits, and as Kei threw a final, desperate strike -
- the obsidian spikes ejected from Ryuko's left shoulder and affixed his wrists to the walls. Crimson sprayed in a vicious geyser, painting her face the same shade of red as her hair. As the same mistake she had done only a month earlier, he thrashed violently about underneath the sudden counter. Torn skin and mangled fabrics ejected from his sleeves; yet bizarrely, his pace of writhing grew by the moment, as if -
"You're not fucking killing yourself." grunted Ryuko, and a swift bash of her obsidian hilts against his skull knocked him unconscious.
And from the door erupted a familiar samurai, his katana unsheathed in his bloodied grip, a steel that still dripped. He, too, had been engaged in battle.
"Where is -"
- he paused, and stared stupidly at Ryuko for an instant.
"… Ah." he murmured, slightly flustered.
Ryuko couldn't help but laugh. "Check on Inumata and Nonon."
"Y-Yes, Lady Ryuko." murmured Sanageyama, and ran just as quickly out as he had in.
The battle was vicious, yet confirmed that the power of their Specters had returned. What few men under Kei's command had fallen like chaff, their corpses stuffed in to empty rooms. The police would write their own story on what had occurred once the four left the following afternoon.
Yet one matter had not been addressed, and it was to there their efforts were focused.
When Kei awoke, he was tied to his bed, undressed, with a scorching light above his features. He saw four black silhouettes with gleaming grins.
"The Elite Five." he grunted in the tone of a beaten animal, that would soon be mangled.
"Didn't even need all of us to kick your shit in." said Ryuko. "I'll make it simple - four of us - back entrance of Shizouka Stadium - tomorrow."
"You can either deal with us, or Outcast in the luxury district." grinned Nonon, pleased to have found such a portly target.
Kei's eyes shot open, then just as quickly shut. His face contorted in a bizarre mix of contemplation. He had seen the terror's path of destruction in person, but did not know what horrendous beast out of which it had spawned.
And just as quickly, he laughed, gasping on blood.
"Hoping to assassinate Ragyo while she makes her speech, then?"
"Precisely." muttered Inumata.
"That, and something else." grunted Ryuko, her blades hung precariously over Kei's wrists. "Why did Rei attack us? If she could mind control Satsuki - why not just pick us off one-by-one?"
Kei's eyes rolled. "Mind control? Do you think this is a comic book?"
"Wrong answer."
A single sweep, and a blade affixed Kei's right wrist to the bed; their four grins were painted crimson, and with a decisive strike down, Ryuko flayed a thin line of skin across; instantly Kei shrieked in pain and writhed like a mouse caught, and as Ryuko removed her blade -
- a soothing melody began to close the wound.
"I -" he panted out, catching the trend of it quickly - "- all Ragyo told me was Rei would deal with your seven all at once - and now your eight, now that f-fucking couturier is with you."
"That's more like it." chimed Ryuko. "Why all at once, then? Absolute Submission doesn't have limited uses. She could have had Satsuki call us, one by one."
"Are you seeking a spot as strategist?" grunted Kei.
Again, a blade through his right wrist, gouging and tearing veins at a ferocious pace. The conductor's melody was as horrific as one untuned.
"F-Fine!" said Kei, gritting his teeth to keep from writhing. "Tomorrow - Shizouka Stadium. Do - whatever you want with her - though you'll be dead to Absolute Submission, regardless. If you have such a death wish, I'll escort the four of you to the back entrance."
"Much better." grinned Ryuko. "How many Life Fiber infused girls will be there?"
Kei raised his eyebrow, incredulous. "I - what? Life Fiber infused girls?"
His confusion set the rest flustered.
"I - the Life Fiber infused girls. The infants you infused with Life Fibers. White suits."
"I have no inkling what you speak of." muttered Kei, his eyebrows dipping. "My men handle kidnappings - they bring them to Ragyo's. I don't ask questions - and she promises it will be fruitful for all of us."
"He has no clue - on Lady Satsuki or other matters." muttered Sanageyama. "There's no need to give him more information, Lady Ryuko."
"… Yeah." grunted Ryuko, shaking her head, scattered theories forming.
"Pointless, regardless." said Kei. "The four of you will be dead to Absolute Submission, and the other four much the same."
A scattered theory formed a single point. "As if you could ever kill Satsuki." said Ryuko, shaking her head.
Just as quickly, her eyes widened. "… Wait. Kill her? If you can control her, why bother killing her?"
"Renewed orders. I received them just this morning - and your guess is as good as mine as to why." he commented wryly. "And I suppose I will never know - Ragyo will kill me for aiding you, or you'll kill me for aiding Ragyo."
"And my music makes my torture way worse." said Nonon. "Better think fast who you'll side with."
Ryuko shook her head. "When Satsuki and I inherit REVOCS, if you help us kill Ragyo - we'll spare you. We're immune to Absolute Submission - and you've seen how strong our uniforms are."
Sensing an imminent objection from the other three, she held her hand up. "No arguing with my orders."
"… Yes, Lady Ryuko." murmured Inumata.
"Rogues together, then." agreed Kei equably.
"Quiet."
The crowds were thick, packed to the gills at the front entrance to the stadium, which shone with rainbow lights around the horizontal.
And as expected, the back, only guarded, by men who did not know the plot they were aiding. They were clad in blue garb, stadium staff, stood in irregular positions on the paved lot that led to the back entrance of the stadium.
The five approached the perimeter's gate, and with a brief, discourteous exchange passed between Kei and the guard in the booth, the director more vicious with the lower than the upper class, they came through to the lattice pavement. The back entrance was shaped like the halve of a white dome, curves of paint that slid around the double doors.
"I told them you're extended family." grunted Kei, as if Ryuko's daggers were still at his back. "The rest won't arrive for another hour. I hope you've brought something to entertain yourselves."
"Don't push it." muttered Ryuko, as they came through the doors and passed to the hall each had memorized over the years. They saw that this was still empty, and once the doors had closed behind, they rushed to one casual door and threw themselves in to the room beyond, one of the chambers they had memorized only last month. There were ivory couches and gold-trimmed mirrors along the walls, and velvet curtains between.
Ryuko shut the door behind. Something in the way her head bowed caused Kei to watch her sharply.
"Of course, if any of the rest of the directors - what few are left - catch sight of you four, they'll know immediately - disguise or not." He shook his head warily. "I can't very well claim Ryuko as my niece in front of her own mother, after all. Good luck on your success - for my sake. I shall stay here, and once I've heard your success, will make my own escape."
"Of course. We'll sit in the front row, of course." muttered Inumata, scraping his knife with his suit.
"Yep." grinned Nonon, the orchestra at her back.
"Correct." grunted Sanageyama, his scabbard ringing with the katana unsheathed.
Catching the trend of it, Kei closed his eyes, and sank limply back in to the couch.
"… Of course."
"You didn't think I was actually gonna let you live, did you?"
Instantly there began a swift and short flurry of blades - knives - katana - a single burst of a chaotic note, and the man was dead before he could stand to accept it; torn, gashed, mangled, and bleeding from a score of wounds both old and new, his torso cleaved in half so his chest slid off from his legs.
"Easy enough." chimed Ryuko. "Inumata, did you bring the straws?"
"Of course, Lady Ryuko." said Inumata, and pulled them from the breast pocket of his suit. He handed these to Ryuko, who clenched her fist around and ensured they appeared a similar length, and with a wild grin under her eyes, drew one at random for herself.
The other three repeated the same, and as they glanced over the others' -
- they breathed heavy sighs of relief, and Ryuko, a groan.
"Looks like it's Lady Ryuko." grinned Nonon. "We'll find some other room to wait in, and you get to deal with hiding the body."
"How did I even lose?" muttered Ryuko, shaking her head ruefully as the others shuffled out behind her.
She was silently grateful her mother's corpse would not require the same care.
The three heroes, Tsumage, Gamagoori, and Aikuro, stood outside of the steel chamber, nestled so deeply within the base that it had taken fifteen minutes of walking to reach it. Further up the corridor were guards lining the walls, their demeanors stoic. They knew their task was important, but knew not to ask questions why.
The guards were not even aware it was Isshin, the wizened man who had passed by them with Satsuki and Nui in tow. In his youth, he was recognizable by the orange gleam of his hair that billowed about him, and in age, by the white rays that still shone in the light. Before he had prepared for surgery, he had requested Nui as his assistant. A woman composed of both Life Fibers and flesh required couturier and surgeon.
From within the chamber aside, the three heard the sound of rattling. Gamagoori, gazing listlessly at the wall adjacent, shot to his feet at the sudden sound, his eyes as wide as the others'. The past hour had filled with many hopes, and as it had each time, it was only the jostling of some instrument or another. The mad surgeon and mad couturier were hard at work.
By the murmuring beyond the walls, they knew he and the imp were speaking, but could not make out the trend of the conversation, so quiet were they mumbling and so reinforced was the chamber.
Gamagoori slumped against the wall again.
"They - should be done soon. Right?"
"Right." muttered Tsumage, nodding to add to the confidence. "He is not a man who minces words. If it were a failure, he would come outright and state it. That the two are still hard at work in there shows that there is a chance for survival."
There was a strange and comforting logic to the man's words.
"Correct." murmured Aikuro. "If anyone can do it, it would be those -"
- an alarm raised through the complex, and the three immediately roused to action, unsheathing their devices and ability just as quickly. The noise rung like a lightning bolt and rapidly switched pitches between high and low, and the guards turned to three heroes in deference.
"An attack. Of course - they must have discovered the others have left." said Aikuro over the uproar. "Gamagoori - guard the entrance to this corridor with the others. If the situation turns dire, tell our surgeons to prepare for transport."
"On it." grunted Gamagoori, the kraken's tendrils surrounding his body like the petals of a fierce rose.
He would kill a hundred for that woman, and sink the ship of a hundred more. The violence from his adolescence had never left him.
The entrance to the stadium was guarded, but had proved easy to negotiate. What was inside the walls was what was to be feared.
The applause rang in their ears like the tolling of church bells, an adulation for the rich and powerful of the world. They were sat near the front of the rows and lines of seats, bordered with a VIP section that each had noted with a laugh was far less populated than the last Cultural Arts Festival. They joined alongside the applause with the rest, so as to not reveal the ruse.
And from within the double doors below, like an apparition come to life, she was there. Her gray robe, tattered in a mock display of stress, billowed about her like Sanageyama's cloak, her features no less ghastly than before. She appeared to glide across the ground as she crushed bare grass underneath, snaking with a narcissistic demeanor as she waved to her adoring fans in the audience.
Ryuko bowed her head in a fake deference, and in a shrouded glance, noted that the president had no followers left, that strode with her on that grass. She would be in good company with her assistant soon enough.
In a slow, exaggerated display, Ragyo swept her fingers around a microphone. Her voice cracked, and her grip curled, like bones set to break.
"Good evening, darlings!" shouted Ragyo, her hair seeming to fill the arena in that bizarre rainbow light. Ryuko felt as if she were in a surreal painting, the crying cheers and shouts for a woman so monstrous, who was dead walking. Wealth wiped away all sins.
"We, at REVOCS, hope you are all well, after the terrible monster tearing through the luxury district!"
A low murmur of assent flew through the crowd, as if she could hear them.
"The police and military are still not certain from where the beast has come, but there is no longer any fear to be had, under the diligent work of REVOCS' scientists!"
Ryuko's eyes grew wide. Her heart pounded like a mallet against her chest as she saw Ragyo sweep her hands in a bombastic display to a nearby screen, tall enough that all in the arena could see. An image flashed to life upon it, and the tension came as one sharp gasp.
The feed appeared as if it were live, and the screen was two angles of the same scene. Ryuko saw on the left what appeared to be the main lobby of REVOCS, taken from the upper right corner of some tremendous enclosure. There were chains of a durable metal set along the floor, and as her eyes adjusted with the brightening of the video, Ryuko stifled a shriek.
A dark, monstrous silhouette was laid against the walls of this prison, pressing its body like a wounded hound against the chains. Thick claws extended from misshapen, bloodied and crusted hands. Its limbs were bowed back above its maw, extending like a mangled eel as it tried to bite weakly through the encapsulating links. Crimson splashed across its features, black blood boiling like a mangled cauldron and pooling underneath its legs.
"The obsidian terror, tamed! What a horrific sight! He had taken over a thousand in his wake, and my daughters and the Elite Five were injured in the struggle, to say nothing of the terrible loss of life - but now, REVOCS has ended our nightmare! It is chained like a feral dog at REVOCS headquarters, and not a single drop of power will be left with it, once our scientists have finished their examination of it. The newest line will be formed from its pelt!"
The arena dulled to low silence. None dared to be the first to speak, and their faces were pitched in shock as they stared, blankly, comprehending slowly both Ragyo's words and sight.
A single clap cracked, which was followed by another. An exponential display, the whole stadium shot to their feet, cheering roars as loud as the beast that had been captured. Dazed and confused, the four heroes stood with hatred. Their rage was a bond between the four, their captured comrade a tether that chained them tighter than any rope.
"Now?" muttered Inumata over the uproarious applause of the crowd.
"There were two announcements." replied Ryuko. "After."
Sanageyama grit his teeth, clenching his seat as he sank back. He wished to erupt in to the field and kill the dishonorable coward now, to see her body sliced, gashed and mangled, torn and ripped.
Yet none burned brighter than Ryuko. A thousand years could not enact the entirety of her vengeance. Her mother was a conduit for every drop of boiling blood that coursed in her veins, gripping the hated countenance of the woman in her mind with the ferocity of a starving but cornered beast. Her eyes gleamed with intensity, her Specter ready to execute, as she saw that devil incarnate sweep herself across the field, and begin to sashay back to the door from where she had entered.
"But of course, I would not leave so suddenly with no good reason, darlings!" she shouted to these husks in the crowd, these simulacrums and vampires that coated the seats with their barely-human visages, their eyes in adoration for so ghastly, so skeletal, so horrific a woman that would soon look a skinless corpse. "There is a secondary matter, that REVOCS alone is attending to!"
Ryuko froze in her seat. She saw the woman discard her microphone as she strode back to the doorway, the tin of the metal on the grass, the piercing voice, the eyes that now stared directly at the four seated so quaintly only feet above.
"The death of Nudist Beach."
And she was gone through the double doors.
Instantly the four shot to their feet; they vaulted over the waist-high barrier, a jade, white, black, and red streak as they smashed against the ground. The portal buckled inward as a swift sweep from Ryuko sliced it in half, chasing like a feral dog after the devil that was now facing her at the other end of the hall. She ran as a meteor past the doors she knew well, the corridor wide, with many entrances and exits.
"Desperate Hallucinations!" shouted Inumata behind. By sound and sparks lit at her back, she knew a pitched battle was taking place behind her, the rending and slashing of claws and blades.
"Kiwami Overdrive!"
"Sovereign Symphony!"
She heard another door burst open behind her, and knew it to be opponents against Sanageyama and Nonon. The conductor required protection for her work, and began to play a raging melody like the thrash of waves against rocks as she sank back in to a chokepoint, a tremendous thunderstorm that sped their movements and gave them strength. The ambush was planned, the final directors clashing like men on their last legs in these halls, and as Ryuko rushed to the final destination still waiting -
- at the center of the corridor they shot and clashed, Ragyo's nails screaming against obsidian blades, a tremendous display of sparks lighting their faces grit as tightly as their mutual glares. Around them the battle erupted in to calamity, Ryuko's guard pouncing their foes and clashing much the same, the tearing and rending of a fiendish battle.
"I told you before!" shouted Ryuko as she craned Ragyo's back underneath immense might, "I'll wring your fucking corpse like a dishrag!"
In a whirlwind of blows and gray tatters they revolved around the corridor, the next flurry of strikes from Ryuko's blades penetrating far deeper than the last. The jagged edges gouged and cut, and the obsidian licked crimson slits.
No matter how ferocious or nimble Ragyo had appeared before, the unexpected strength of Ryuko's Specter and the failure of Absolute Submission was wreaking havoc on her senses. Inch by inch, she was forced further down the corridor, an eruption of vengeance carrying through in to Ryuko's strikes; her nails chipped as she threw a desperate series of blocks, and no sooner than they met with Ryuko's blades did a horrific hailstorm of jade spikes perforate Ragyo's skin and flay her flesh in thick chunks.
"Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!" shouted Ryuko.
She kicked Ragyo to the wall, a deep crater left in the steel, and in the next instant she was rushing at her again. Her dripping blades had pierced and gouged enough crimson and Life Fibers to kill a dozen women, and still, her foe was fiercely attempting to stop the steady flow of blows. Nails and gray tatters flew about as mangled fabrics, and as Ryuko craned Ragyo's right wrist against the wall to prepare for crucifixion -
- the ghoul's grip shot to Ryuko's left - it snapped her wrist back, and thrown in to pained confusion by the sudden counter, Ryuko's fingers dropped a blade to the ground - it was pilfered within an instant, and thrashing like a boar Ragyo broke free of the remaining grasp. Now it was Ryuko set on the defensive again, obsidian and obsidian scraping against each other with a screech every bit as horrific as the one the conductor was putting on the other end of the corridor.
Ranketsu's eyes swept underneath every single strike. Ranketsu's wearer swept underneath every single strike.
Before Ryuko could realize what had occurred, she was being cornered as viciously as a shark, and the gray animal smelled blood in the water with each mangled strike. The pressure and swiftness of blade and nails forced Ryuko further and further down the hall; her foe was seeking to catch Ryuko against a wall, to slice her throat or neck open, and as Ragyo thrust the obsidian dagger against Ryuko's chest -
- a series of obsidian spikes drilled through the whites of Ragyo's eyes, spraying white and red on the walls. As a blind animal, she screamed and thrashed violently about, dropping the pilfered blade at her side as she shot and sputtered. Blood and white fluid streamed down the tunnels to her skull. Life Fibers like frayed roots cracked from her gray robe, and once more, Ryuko was seeking to paint her face red.
In an inferno of blades and nails they clashed again, but the blindness of the woman was underlining her inevitable fate. The maneuver had left Ragyo staggered; she stumbled, writhing, tripping and assuring her balance with blind hands and slicing in drunken circles, yet not a force in the world would prevent Ryuko from feasting.
In a swift and singular movement, Ryuko shot like a tornado around Ragyo; she butchered her blades deeply against her back, and in one, decisive, violent swoop, she lopped the woman's head clear from her shoulders. Blood like acid rain sprayed from the stump of her neck, which coated Ryuko's face and blinded her in searing red. She ripped Ragyo's bloodied head from where it had fallen, down the body of the woman like a mangled ball down a hill.
The rainbow light in her hair deadened. Her limbs sank, and became rigid.
Ryuko's revenge had been consummated.
A far different liquid cleared a path down her cheeks, a red sheathe coated her limbs. Her anger burst out in loud yells, forcing the jade nails with single stomps in to every exposed wound where her blades and spikes had perforated. Fat and flesh cratered in hideous contortions, Ragyo's skin as portals being whisked away and degloved.
Through vision no less blind, a berserk haze clouded Ryuko's eyes. She swept away the crimson paint, clipping Ragyo's head with a single obsidian spike to the back of Ranketsu, like a horrific trophy.
At her back, she heard screams that were not of her squadron; she turned, and the dogs were running, corpses limp and scattered, terrified of the same spectacle occurring, their loyalty to the woman washed away in the face of a death so horrific. By a triangular sweep of his katana, Sanageyama decapitated a director by the shoulders, the arms and head lolling by single veins, mirroring on to his foe almost the same grisly fate the terror had performed to Sanageyama.
The loyalists were running - staggered, the last of the directors melting, wilting and slamming directly in to the blue phalanx, upon which the clones trampled and trudged, flickered and stabbed, midnight black gloves flashing red knives.
But there was no time to celebrate. The final loyalists were still marching upon Nudist Beach, and as four, joyous but anticipatory figures, the heroes made their escape through one of the exits, and disappeared as red sheathes in to the night.
The scene when they arrived was one of utter cacophony. The lower decks were packed to the gills with men, half-nude and bloodied, stepping ankle high in the dead and the freshly killed, corpses of both friend and foe smattering the floor like a field of crimson weeds. When a man went down he did not get up underneath the stomping boots and whirling blades. Ragyo's men were fighting their last battle with foes that had spent their entire lives preparing for it.
But superior strength counted too. At the corridor where Satsuki was held was the fiercest battle of all, the kraken set to burst, his tendrils snipped from him like a bird with no wings, crusted and painted in blood. A dozen men were at his feet, not all of them foe, but he was being pushed further and further back to the entrance, swords and knives seeking desperately to quell the beast that proved far more resilient than the nudists.
Ryuko and the three ran down the stairs over dotted corpses, dehydrated dead where the devices had claimed their victims, and at the center of it all and weaving their bodies between the knives were Aikuro and Tsumage, panting like feral dogs in a fight that would not let them be exhausted. In an instant Ryuko carved to pieces their assailants - but like the hydra they were attempting to save, another dozen would rise again. If they were not quick in their movements, they would be trapped in an endless battle. They were rushing, carving red carpets in new layers as they ran to the behemoth, who was still pitched in a fierce battle.
The conductor's melody screeched in their ears as she ran - the men were weakened, but not yet deadened. No amount of support could match the difference between the two groups, the loyalists with their black garbs and uniforms. They swept a red line, the pressure forcing the squadron to fight; a hallucination felled a dozen men in single swipes, and still, more men were pouring through the entrance which Ryuko and the others had shot through - seeing a single opening like a hallway of blood, they rushed to Gamagoori, who was engaged in battle against ten.
Sanageyama's blade spattered blood and left a wake of writhing figures behind him - then they were through the milling mob.
Quickly, Gamagoori gestured for the rest to follow him - then they were smashing and shoving through the corridor where Satsuki was held and shouting for the nudists to cover their retreat, the slash of swords against bare flesh ringing in their ears as they ran. By an almost too gentle hand Gamagoori threw the door open. Inside were the couturier and Isshin, working as fast as they could - they saw Isshin had made a deep incision through Satsuki's spine, skin like a gash peeled back, and Nui was sewing a red ball of Life Fibers through the discs.
"We need to go, Isshin!" shouted Gamagoori over the ruckus that was growing closer by the second.
With no perturbation in his step, Isshin rushed to the opposite wall, working with his hands just as quickly as he had in the surgery. He pushed one casual section back, and the entire wall melted to an adjacent, hidden chamber. Nui scooped the yarn in her hands as the precious artifact it was. The patient had barely survived one cut - she would not survive a second.
"The path here leads beyond the grate -" said Isshin, as a suddenly loud, horrific, ear-piercing screech scraped their ears.
By way of another wall that melted like the other they made their way to a steel bridge that curled left and led outside, nestled in a strategic spot against the outer workings of the main grate, which as they rushed out as seven, was now peeling back, the ringing of fighting from within still piercing the air. With a throw of his hands behind, the hidden way closed, and they ran further to the extension placed precariously over the water, the beach air hitting their faces, parked at a dangerous height.
"This platform will allow us to board the back entrance - when the damnable thing is here!" shouted Isshin, a brief lull that at any moment could be pierced with another bout of fighting.
And on the horizon, their salvation was fast approaching. A black ark the likes of which the six had never seen before was approaching like a widening speck on the horizon, cutting through the waves and the tides. As it approached, Gamagoori suppressed a gasp, as did Inumata, at the sheer size of the beast. An aircraft carrier would have looked as a child next to an adult.
The beast was as wide as its engines could carry, as tall as the grate would allow, and as it began to approach, the fighting within the base began to turn to preassigned positions where its west and east bridges would drop, a third at the back, a flat and slanted ramp higher than the others, for just such an escape. It smashed like a true kraken, bending and twisting the remainder of the grate in its wake, like a naval battering ram; then from its head, two narrow bridges lowered, and the seven and their comatose cargo pressed through to the back bridge, steel floors and walls closing behind them.
They rushed with flying feet down the ramp, which lowered to the back deck of the ship.
There were a series of enclosures and rooms at the center of the front and back decks, streaming scores of new men to the front entrances; the navigation sat at the tip of this tower, these black rooms with clear windows. They saw that these were a mile long, and with a hand at Nui's back to assure her swiftness, Isshin began to rush to the center like a man possessed; but sensing that there was no time for the journey, he paused suddenly, and resolved to resume the surgery.
"See to the front - if a single man gets through to here, even I can't save her. Gamagoori, stay by our side in case any stragglers break through, or find the hidden entrance at the back." said Isshin, as calm as a lake and his hands with no quiver as the couturier and surgeon set to their work again.
The milling mob ahead was perilous, packed with men again; but if Ragyo's army were fighting their last battle previously, they were truly fighting in death ground now. Their faces, shrouded by black masks, were covered and coated in nudist blood, shoving the men overboard on the bridges as they trudged, and the stockpile of devices was rapidly dwindling. No matter how ferociously they fought, the nudists had no chance without their counters; they were being scattered, slaughtered, routed. An undressed sight could not stand against a dressed.
"Inumata - left - Sanageyama, right!" shouted Ryuko, rushing like a madwoman to the right bridge, where a score of men attempting to board were carving their way through. She threw herself in to the fray, slashing and hacking in a whirlwind of madness, but even she could scarcely stand for more than a few seconds on that doomed entrance. The seas were running red, and what nudists were still left outside the boat were leaping to climb as if their lives depended on it. As well, die beneath the currents than beneath the blade.
An uproarious roar rang from the center of the ship, and sensing the imminent departure, Ryuko and the squadron retreated from that inferno of blades; she saw Aikuro and Tsumage leap at the last second, and vault themselves over the black walls of the ship and on to the end of the bridge, but another set of figures were hot at their heels.
Their foes knew that if they lost their targets here, the president they still believed to be alive would have them killed; they were leaping with far more ease, landing in a licking of blades, as the last hundred men and women of their kind erupted in to battle against the last thousand. There could not have been a more mismatched fight; even the elite squadron were being pushed back, foot by foot, leaving a floor of corpses upon which the men trampled.
They broke through - the nudists fell back as a single red and final line, but now carving their way to the center of the ship, were a group of masked, feminine figures like the ones the terror had cannibalized. Ryuko shuddered, knowing them to likely be Life Fiber infused girls, but fought them like they were men all the same. Only six were left, but only six would be needed, and the rest of the soldiers would handle the rest of the nudists with ease.
And at the back of it all, one battle was going far poorer than the rest, if it could be believed. The conductor had no protection but from the nudists; with Inumata, Sanageyama, Ryuko engaged in their own clashes, she was a sheep fearing shearing. Her orchestral beat paralyzed the single woman making her way to her, but now another rose up, skipping the crowd altogether in a single bound. A divided mind could not maintain an equal battle; she was forced further and further to the wall against the duet slaughtering their way through.
If the three were only even with the girls with the support of the conductor, they would be straw in their hands without it. Before she realized it, the prey had been backed against the wall, and as one predator drew her blade back -
