Fate()
11.0
The mercenaries recover quickly, despite being flung all over the room. And suddenly everything is sound.
Guns fire, the exploding gunpowder much louder than anything I've heard in movies.
The deafening echoes in the small confines exacerbate the loudness, until all that anyone can hear is throbbing meaningless pain.
A wall of bullets, enough to kill a man several times over fly towards the enemy at the edge of the room.
But the floating statue of a young lady's bust isn't there. It has disappeared from view, there one moment and not the next.
I find out where the Process is when the room pulses red from a direction I do not expect.
The orbs glow brightly, still floating above the Young Lady, a tint of red overpowering the white of their surface from within. Silently, bursts of red lash out again, drawing thin lines of laser-like effects in the air, stabbing into the ranks of soldiers struggling to react.
More bodies crumble. The men hit by the rays do not scream. They don't have the time to as they becoming statues themselves. The earlier victims crumble into white dust as the Young Lady sedately floats towards us.
If that attack hits Paige…
With the reminder, I jerk my attention back to my girl.
The low vantage point from where the Transistor now rests gives me a limited angle right in front of Paige's chair. The bottom of the seat fills my viewpoint, hiding most of her, allowing me to see only her limbs and her head.
And every bit of her I can see is pulling against her restrains. Her legs, her hands and the top of her head are straining, jerking against the interrogation chair, throwing herself against the metal frame with all of her strength and limited movement.
I can see her hands twisting in the line of manacles built into the armrest. Her head is turning into an unhealthy red, no doubt from pulling at the collar around her neck. Metal chains loosen and snap tight as she kicks out with her feet.
"Paige! Paige, stop!" I shout with concern. I reflectively try to talk to her down despite knowing she can't hear me, thinking she has finally lost the fight with her panic, "Panicking can't help! Calm…"
But her eyes tell me otherwise.
There's this intensity in her stare, a look she directs over the top of the chair seat's edge towards me.
It is not the eyes of the scared, nor that of the defeated.
A moment later, and I understand.
I'm in the Transistor.
She's looking at the Transistor.
The Transistor is right in front of her.
Her toes are only three, no, two inches away from its handle. If she can touch it…
But her feet might as well be on the other side of the county, for all the nonexistent progress she has done.
The chair remains bolted to the floor, not even swaying slightly as she struggles. The chain and buckles are too sturdy, arranged too well.
Still, she does not give up. Each time she throws herself at the buckles it probably hurts a lot, but she continues to try to get free, not caring for the pain.
I continue to look at Paige, silently encouraging, willing against reality for miracle.
Harsh red lines bisect the room a third time, but I give it no attention.
They can all go to hell for all I care. They put her here, in this spot.
But the Process in the room is a different matter. I turn towards the Young Lady. The unnaturally white torso is floating forward, too close for comfort.
Beyond it, behind it, some of the soldiers head towards the hole in the wall, the only exit out of the deathtrap. Whatever they want to do, to help or to run is interrupted. Familiar flashes of light brighten the room from outside. Shouts and screams of surprise are suddenly silenced.
A much harsher blast lights up the room. The orbs of the Young Lady fire again, the rays blasting right past my vision, filling in the thin gap between Paige and me, above and around us.
Four more soldiers die where they stand, cowering behind the only cover in the room. Paige.
The shots have been too close for comfort.
In my opinion, those bastards' choice of cover has been poor. They deserved their end.
But I realize too it is about to get worse for Paige; all the soldiers in the room are now dead, the last four only starting to crumble into dust.
All the immediate threats are gone.
The Process will now deal with what's left.
The Young Lady leans forward, the orbs hovering above the white torso also hovering above Paige's head.
"Damn you!" I hear, the spoken voice now audible without gunfire getting in the way.
The villain, the interrogator in the full body sock is in the corner of the room where he's been thrown. His left leg is obviously broken, judging by the unnatural bending of one knee.
Guns lay around him, but he does not pick them up and raise it against the Process, choosing to shout instead.
I tune him out as he adds expletive after expletive. Swaggering coward, that one, I've seen the type too often. They prey on the helpless, but when things get tough, they crumble into pathetic little men.
But that does not solve the problem Paige faces right now.
She's straining harder now, her movements desperate. The steadily deepening light of the orbs are diffused by the dust from the crumbling soldiers around her coloring the air itself in red.
Is this how it is going to end?
Captured by a mistake, chained like a dog by a coward?
Made vulnerable and weak, and helpless to prevent her death?
I… I don't want this. Paige McAbee… I… I'm…
Three clanks announce rifles falling onto the floor, released by hands turned into dust.
The fourth fall on the Transistor, onto its pommel guard. Both weapons separate from the impact. The gun clatters away from us, from Paige. The handle shifts in the other direction…
"Paige, now!" I shout reflectively, urgently, but she does not need any prompting.
She stomps down, her insole smashing painfully onto the handle of the Transistor…
… and twilight falls.
I look up. I feel a bit weak in my metaphorical knees.
She too slumps into her seat, her eyes a bit wild as she looks at the four lances of red hanging in the air, right above her head.
We stay like this for a while, in shock at how close things have been.
Long moments later I spot a small little trickle of blood. The skin of her ankle was torn and bleeding around the buckle, probably from straining too hard earlier.
The injury reminds me there's still quite a bit more to do before we're out of danger. Escape from the chair. Get out of this room. Find some clothing. Find out where we are.
But for now…
"Oh my god that is too damned close." I exclaim, knowing she can hear me now, mirroring her thoughts while hamming it up, "Any closer and your hair will be ruined! My most favorite hairstyle in the world, feathers and all, RUINED!"
She looks down at the Transistor, at me, a look of anger on her face. Her mouth opens as if to retort.
The expression turns to puzzlement, as the absurdity of what I said catches up.
And finally she laughs. Large peals of laughter fills in the twilight.
But soon, as I expected, it changes.
The laughter has been a crack in the dam. The horror, terror, pain and torment, the strain of the last few hours finally catches up to her.
Her emotions burst. She cries. She cries with wild abandon, the kind of sadness painful to even look at because it's all so real, so much, straight from the heart.
But for now, I stay by her as she continues to sob. "It's no hurry. Let it out. Let it all out."
She may still be naked, chained and is still very close to getting killed…
But we're safe now.
We have all the time in the world.
"Shall we?" I ask.
Paige smiles and nods, careful not to scratch her scalp onto the spikes of light still floating above her.
It's… not a nice smile; she's still chained to her chair, so her head's a mess, tears and snort fighting for space with an entire bushel of stray wild hair sticking where it shouldn't.
We'll fix that, once we get free.
The lines in the sand have already been plotted. All it takes is to trigger it.
The Tinker sword flares.
Perdition's effect on the Transistor proves its worth once again, as we appear outside the room. It pulls only what we want with us as we change locations in an instant, leaving the chair and all its restraints behind.
There are a few Processes beyond the hole, Jerks all, but we've accounted for this. Explosions rip through the corridor even before the Turn ends.
Another ability flare, this one powered by a soul in the Transistor called Bastion. A force-field rises around us, protecting us from any survivors. And more importantly it imposes a barrier between us and the Young Lady.
Temporarily safe, Paige leans down to grab the Transistor's handle.
She stumbles.
She's obviously still weak from the hours before.
"Hey!" a voice interrupts, "P…please! Help me!?"
We both look in the direction of the voice.
The interrogator is still where he is, in the corner of the room, with the Young Lady between him and freedom. As the Process floats slowly towards him, he raises one hand towards us in desperation, trying to appeal to us, "Please, that… that thing will kill me! Help me!"
The nerve of him.
Asking us to save him? After all that he had done?
"Paige, I know as well as you you're a bit weak right now," I snarl, "but that a bastard who needs killing. A single lance in his direction should be easy enough."
Then again, I know her. She's not likely to do that. She's likely to go in the other direction…
Paige smiles sadly as she looks at the snake themed villain.
"Oh… oh no you don't," I stuttered in shock, "That's a Villain. Capital V-i-l-l-i-a-n. You don't need to…"
She nods as she readies the Transistor on her shoulder.
"Paige…"
She abruptly turns and leaves, walking away.
"No!" the despairing wail echoes behind us, "No, you can't leave me! Come back! Co~ *urgk*"
"That's cruel, Paige, giving that bastard a little hope before the end."
She smiles again, a coy little thing.
"Good job."
