16
The elevator opened to the group of rebels: Poni in her long black coat, white shirt, and baggy black pants, Pyre in her red coat, with yellow leather pants and a red leather jacket, tight leather tank top, and fingerless yellow gloves, Archangel in his white Chinese-style jacket, loose black pants and loose blue muscle shirt, and Red in his jeans, leather bomber jacket, and green shirt.
Poni adjusted her black sunglasses and stepped off into Hell, crew in tow. "I hate this club," Red muttered. "Everything started 'cause I came here when I was an idiot eighteen-year-old." ""Then let's make it quick." Pyre replied. "And get through the coat check as fast as possible."
"Uh, about th' coat check…."
"Yeah, Red?" Poni asked.
"It's a weapons check too."
"I'm perfectly aware of that."
"Oh, good."
"Anthin' else I should know about?"
"The patrons're all bondage-type people… highly symbolic now that I think 'bout it…."
"Everyone ready?" Poni asked as the elevator beeped.
Red and Archangel nodded. Pyre nodded. "Like I was born to." The elevator creaked open, exposing the coat room of Hell.
"Shit," Red observed as he realised they had a lot of guards this time around. "Holy shit! It's Wing... hey, wait a minute, that's not Wingless!" one of the goons called out. Archangel blinked, looking down at himself. "Why do I get the feeling I missed something?"
"Whatever. Let's get this over with." Poni dove forward and pulled two pistols from her coat, launching out a barrage for the goons. Red drew a pair of MP5s, tucking them close to his sides and letting the bullets fly while Archangel went for a more direct approach, fighting them hand-to-hand.
Pyre rolled to the side, pulling a sawed off shotgun from her trench and letting loose a few barrages of shells. The goons immediately leapt to the wall, only one going down under the maelstrom.
Archangel requested covering fire while he focused his chakra, then followed them onto the walls. One of the goons leapt to the ceiling above Pyre and shot a few spurts from an Uzi. The small hacker leapt away to a column, pushing off the side and leaping to the same level as the thug, using her momentum to propel a kick into his torso.
Archangel leapt across the room in a kick that gave him the appearance of flying before slamming into another goon's gut; Red dropped his empty guns and went for brute force. Poni rushed to the wall, running up the side to avoid a goon's bullets and countering by pumping the thug's body full of lead.
Another goon faced Archangel angrily. "What are you, Wingless' clone!?" Archangel dispatched him. "I do not have the slightest idea of what you're talking about," he informed the unconscious body as Red's fist sent another man crashing into and nearly through the wall.
Pyre slammed the butt of her gun into the thug's crotch before he could react, slamming the goon into the floor with a sickening double thwack, making him crawl on the floor with pain and vomit into his gas mask.
Archangel looked around. "Who is this 'Wingless' they all kept referring to?"
Poni shrugged. "Prob'ly a program."
"Who looks like me?"
"Don't worry 'bout it, kid," Red advised, his green eyes dark with anger. "Shall we?" Poni gestured with a gun, towards the exit of the coat check. Red lead the way.
Schwarz was getting worried. He'd never admit to fear, but he was definitely worried for the little cat-program sleeping beside him. "Dammit… Will, stay away… please…"
"House call," the Merovingian gleefully announced from beyond the door. "Wake ze kitten, I 'ave a visitor for her." "Go to hell," Schwarz said in the same tone, putting a gentle hand on Sekhmet's shoulder.
"I intend to," he replied.
"I didn't mean your orgy club."
"Just wake 'er up, unless you want me not to meet your boyfriend and 'is friends."
There was a twitch from the blond man, but he shook the catgirl gently. "Hey, Kätzchen," he whispered. "Mmmnh?"
"Frenchie's dropped in for a visit." She sat up, pushing her tawny hair from her eyes. "I would like you to meet someone, Sekhmet darling." She growled at the 'darling' comment, but rose to her feet. Schwarz did as well. The door opened, revealing Marcus... but he didn't look like Marcus. His eyes were completely devoid of all emotion -- all spirit, all feeling.
Her eyes widened. "Marcus…. Marcus!" She looked to the Merovingian. "What did you do to him!?"
"'E brought zis upon 'imself."
"Reprogrammed," Schwarz said quietly. "Personality either overwritten or erased…" Marcus stood, still as stone, eyes not fixing on anything -- in fact, completely blank. Sekhmet reached out a small hand for him, but Schwarz stopped her. "He isn't the man you love, Kätzchen. He's… someone else now."
"'E is no one now."
Schwarz glared at the Frenchman, feeling his inborn desire to kick French ass rising. "You bastard." "But of course. Now, if you'll excuse me...," he closed the door, cutting off Marcus from the catgirl, "I 'ave guests to meet."
"Marcus!" Sekhmet screamed, throwing herself at the door. Schwarz growled. "You're gonna get yours, Frenchie!" There was no response. The German growled and began trying to knock the door down. "One more sing," the Merovingian suddenly said. "What is this, Jackie Chan Adventures?" Schwarz demanded. The door opened. "Marcus, beat her to a pulp." The soulless vampire grabbed the German by the throat and pulled him out of the chamber, locking the door again behind him.
"Schwarz!" Sekhmet cried, wondering why the Merovingian had called the German man 'her'.
Schwarz growled and managed to slip out of Marcus' tight grip. Marcus replied by backhanding the German. The other man reeled but stayed on his feet, dropping into a combative stance and wishing he had a gun… or at least a crossbow with a wooden arrow… or holy water… or a cross… or something.
Marcus strode forward, undeterred.
Well, Schwarz thought, Germans may kick French ass… but we all know that Americans kick German ass. Damn it.
Marcus's foot launched out in a roundhouse kick, straight for Schwarz's head. The younger man blocked it, but was sent flying regardless. Marcus was there almost before he hit, flashing out another roundhouse kick for his head. Another block, another flight. Marcus closed in on the German, letting out a long volley of hard, fast punches. All of them connected, throwing him back and into the wall. "Fucking… ow…."
Marcus kicked out in a thrusting side kick now, straight for the German's gut. Schwarz's eyes widened in pain; on board ship, his unconscious body coughed blood to match the programmed blood in the Matrix. He fell to the ground, curling up.
Marcus continued to beat him for a bit after this. At some point, the German lost consciousness. He was then thrown, bloody and broken, into the cell, no emotion ever coming to Marcus's face.
Sekhmet cried out in shock as she saw what he'd done to the human. "Marcus…." She looked at him pleadingly. He made no response and shut the door. Tears running down her face, she tried to clean Schwarz's wounds before any of them got infected.
Red paused as his cell phone went off. "Bootleggers Anonymous… he what!?" Poni shot him a quick look. Rage filled the Irishman's face. "Thanks for the update. Bye." He hung up and growled, suddenly becoming menacing.
"What's wrong?"
"Merv reprogrammed Marcus so he doesn't 'ave a personality, then made 'im beat th' livin' shit outta Schwarz."
Pyre blinked. "They what?" Red sighed. "You remember Marcus? Th' vampire?" She nodded. "The guy who saved my ass."
"Yeah, him. He's a program."
"But the reprogramming thing... that's got to be one complex program. How could someone just... up and rewrite that?"
"Who knows? Merv is Merv. One o' his minions prolly handled it."
Poni stepped out into the club. "This just means we need t' get them out faster." "Yeah… if he's killed 'er, I swear I'll --" Archangel laid a soothing hand on Red's arm. "It is not Marcus' fault. Remember that."
"Keep yer aggression bottled... we hafta make our way through a sea of bodies."
"No kiddin'. I really hate this place…."
Archangel's sharp eyes caught the entrance of the Merovingian, and pointed it out to Poni. Poni nodded. "I see the frog well enough." Red cracked his knuckles. "Careful Red... if we kill the Frenchman, we lose our chance t' get our friends out."
"Hn. Jus' be prepared t' trade me fer them."
"That's not happening," she replied, and then stepped out onto the dance floor, oblivious as she walked towards the Merovingian's balcony. Archangel reversed his jacket so that the white was on the inside and slipped away. Red hadn't noticed, so intent was he on the Frenchman.
Pyre was the least sure, hands on her shotgun just in case. "Relax, lass," Red muttered. "It's me he wants dead." The music suddenly stopped, and the patrons parted, making a path to the Merovingian wordlessly, staring intently at the newcomers. Archangel had by now blended with the crowd and vanished from sight; however, Red was enough of a distraction by weight of his sheer size.
"Back so soon, Monsieur Poitin?" the Merovingian sneered. "Let Schwarz go," Red growled.
"And why would I want to do zat?"
"'Cause if ya don't I'll crush yer head wi' my bare hands."
"It will be hard to do zat...," suddenly, everyone in the crowd pulled out a gun and pointed it at the group, "if you are all dead."