8
Sekhmet sat up, wincing as she moved sore muscles, and looked around. She was on a comfortable couch inside a modest looking apartment. The smell of baking cookies hit her nose immediately. She sniffed a few times, then her stomach growled. She obeyed its call and followed her nose, her eyes looking for the light that had saved her.
Her nose brought her to a kitchen, where an elderly African-American woman was just pulling cookies out of the oven. She saw Sekhmet and smiled. "You're right on time. They're nice and hot, fresh from the oven." The woman slipped her spatula under one and offered it to the cat girl.
She hesitated, then accepted the cookie gingerly. It was hot, but Sekhmet was careful not to drop it, instead taking a small bite from it. The deliciousness of it made her eyes widen, and she finished it quickly.
The lady smiled. "That's it, child, eat it up. You'll need all the strength you have to get over that cold in time." She began to place the cookies on a platter. Sekhmet blinked, then sneezed. "Gesundheit," she replied. "Another cookie?" Sekhmet nodded. "Please."
"Help yourself. Oh, and don't mind the candy dish."
"What?" Sekhmet looked up at the old woman as she reached for another cookie. Too late, she felt her tail hit something and heard it hit the floor with a crash. She winced.
She smiled. "That candy dish."
Sekhmet looked at her, startled. "Who… are you?" She held out a hand. "They call me the Oracle." The catgirl blinked as she accepted the older woman's hand. "You see the future?" "Something like that." She smiled. Sekhmet looked around. "Where am I?"
"You're in my home. Seraph brought you here."
"Seraph was the light?"
"He's been described that way, yes." She began to put away her baking things. Sekhmet sniffed the air for a moment, ordering her brain to ignore the scent of the cookies. "You… are a program?"
"In a matter of speaking, yes, I am... you're going to need a Band-Aid for that foot."
"How can you be a program 'in a manner of ‒' ouch!" she yelped as her bare foot came down on the shards of the candy dish. The Oracle pulled out a broom and began sweeping up the shards, handing her a roll of gauze bandage. Wincing, Sekhmet sat on a chair and pulled some of the shards from her foot, then bandaged it. "Where is… Seraph?"
She pointed to the doorway. "Turn around in about five seconds."
Sekhmet stared at the Oracle for a long moment, then turned as a handsome Asian man dressed in black and white and wearing round sunglasses entered. Sekhmet looked from one to the other, then gave up trying to figure out how the Oracle had known. "I see our little friend has finally awoken," Seraph said kindly. She smiled shyly and offered him an Oriental bow of greeting. "I thank you for saving me," she said softly.
He bowed back. "It was my pleasure." Sekhmet smiled again, and found herself wondering if Marcus was all right. "If you're wondering about the vampire... he'll be fine." The Oracle replied. Sekhmet's face went blank for a moment. "Can you read minds as well, Oracle?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. You were just about to ask me." Sekhmet sighed and gave up.
"Although the form you find him in may not be the one you remember."
Sekhmet stared at her. "What do you mean?" "He has a choice ahead of him." the Oracle replied. "And either way, he may not come out of the experience whole." Sekhmet's eyes widened. "Marcus…" "But I'm sure he'll make the right choice. Candy?"
The catgirl politely declined. "Well, then, you must be tired. Seraph, would you take her to her room?" the Oracle asked. Seraph bowed. Sekhmet hesitated. "I shouldn't… I'm putting you both in danger…."
"Nonsense," she replied. "You're safe here, child."
"But… Agents and the Merovingian are…."
"...not going to find you here," she finished. Sekhmet nodded and gave in. "All right… if you're sure." "Positive," she replied.
Seraph stepped to the side of the beaded curtain. "Shall we?" Sekhmet nodded and followed him. He led her to a different apartment in the building, next to the Oracle's. "If you need anything, all you have to do is ask." She nodded. "Thank you, Seraph." She held out her hand to him. "My name is Sekhmet."
He took her hand in his, kissed it, and bowed. "You already know my name." She blushed slightly. "Seraph… why did you rescue me?"
"The Oracle told me you needed help. So I went to find you."
"But why help me in the first place?" He smiled. "Why not help you?" "I… I belong to the Merovingian… and he installed a subprogram in me… an assassin…."
"That does not worry me," he replied. "You needed help. I gave it. It is as simple as that."
Sekhmet looked into his eyes, uncomprehending. Seraph smiled. "Do not worry about it." At last the confused exile nodded. "Sweet dreams, Sekhmet." Seraph then started down the hall. She watched him for a moment, then entered the apartment with a sigh.
***
"Pyre... ya reealah need ta' realize.... this isn't Earth... it's not real." Poni sighed. "Try ta come at me again... and this time, mean it."
Pyre growled and then rushed Poni, just to be slapped against the ground once more.
Watching them on the green screen, Red grinned and longed for popcorn. He loved watching the trainees spar with Poni.
"Hey, Red!" came a very deep female voice from across the room.
"Yeah?" he called back. "Remember that info you wanted on those Rogues?"
"Y' have it, Sal?"
She nodded. "And then some." Red grabbed his whiskey bottle and sauntered over. "Whatcha got?"
"The sunrise and a wrecking crew."
"Lemme guess: th' vamp was th' wrecking crew?"
She nodded.
"Hmmm… what else ya got?"
"They both went rogue... although the vamp's been rogue for... since before the One."
"I kinda guessed they were rogue when they helped Pyre outta 'er jam wi' th' agents."
"That's another thing... the vamp disappeared into the sewers.... he's being chased by an Agent as we speak." Red frowned. "I'm goin' in."
Salvo raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Poni won't like it."
"'As that ever stopped me before?"
"That's why I already set up your entry point. Get in the chair."
"You're a doll, Salvo. I owe ya," he said, taking a swig of his White Lightning and hopping into the chair.
The plug jolted into the back of his neck, and, suddenly, Red was in the construct, the weapons racks quickly zooming forth to meet him. He grinned and started arming himself, chanting, "Guns, guns, guns, guns," the whole time. His chant did not change, even when he started picking out bladed weapons ‒ a pair of Oriental sai and as many Japanese shuriken as he could carry.
His cell phone began to ring melodically, to the tune of an old Irish drinking song.
He answered. "Yo."
"Are you done yet?"
"Yup!" he said cheerfully.
Suddenly, the world shifted and he "fell" into the old warehouse. As if a switch had been flipped, he sobered up instantly. "How far away is he?"
"Hit the sewers. He's headed for the some side tunnels that not many people know about. He's outmanoeuvring the Agent, but the suit has the speed advantage. You'll have to be quick."
"On it," he replied, hanging up and making his way to Marcus and the agent trailing him.