27
In the apartment shared by the refugees, the cat-girl in Marcus' arms stirred and woke, opening bright green eyes.
Seraph was gone. A smirking Bastet slid from the vampire's hold without waking him, stopping to look down on him for a moment. Grudgingly, she admitted that her otherself did have good taste as far as men were concerned, then she turned and slipped outside the building, removing a key from a drawer before she left the apartment.
Her steps took her to a parking garage, where she opened a door with the key leading directly into the château -- more accurately, into the room beside the Merovingian's study. She slipped outside and had to do a double take as she saw Abel run past after what appeared to be a human child.
Shrugging, she knocked on the door of the study.
"Come in."
Bastet entered. "Hello," she said softly.
"Ah, Bastet, to what do I own ze pleasure?" The Merovingian smirked, sitting back in a chair.
"Seraph left, so I made use of the opportunity," she replied.
"An what 'ave you brought me?"
"Information on Marcus' new form."
"I'm all ears."
She smirked. "It has some drawbacks -- all he can touch are humans, both unplugged and coppertops, and sentient programs like ourselves. And floors. Anything else in intangible to him… or so I thought until this afternoon."
"Go on."
"Apparently, Sekhmet made cookies with the Oracle at some point while you were holding Marcus," she rolled her eyes at the cookies part. "She brought some back for him to try, and as expected, he couldn't touch them… until she touched one at the same time as he."
"So...perhaps 'e can only be affected by those objects held by somezing 'e can normally touch?"
"I suppose so. I stopped paying attention because the fluff was making me gag… but the effect could only work with Sekhmet. I'm not sure."
"Zen 'e 'as a weakness."
She nodded. "Her. Me, in a way."
He nodded, smirking. "Zis will, undoubtedly, be useful in ze future."
"Of course… do you have any orders for me?"
"Observe. Try to find more weaknesses, for now."
"Yes, sir," she replied, then hesitated. "Um… was I… seeing things, or… is there a human kid running around?"
"Molly."
"'Molly', I see… can I ask why?"
"She is Rafael's charge... and she is not to be touched."
"Understood," she replied, thinking, I bet the Twins are taking that well.
"Is zere anything else?"
"Is Rafael a tall guy with blue hair?"
He nodded. "Why?"
"I saw him today… or rather, Sekhmet did."
"He was at ze Oracle's, was he not?"
She nodded.
"Yes, i knew zis already."
"Oh. That shouldn't surprise me."
"Indeed."
She sighed and waited for dismissal so she could go hunt down the Twins. "If you 'ave no other report, you may leave." Bastet nodded and did so, sniffing the air to catch the Twin's ghostly scent and follow it for some not-so-innocent flirtation.
Valkyrie hit the ground hard, gasping for air. She was wounded in many places from her brothers' razors and too exhausted to phase. She wasn't sure how long they'd been 'training', but her screaming muscles decreed it'd been too long.
The female ghost struggled to rise, wincing as she stretched her wounds. "Get up." One said coldly. Unfortunately, her arms gave out and she collapsed to the ground once more. Two kicked her in the chest. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and slowly, unsteadily rose to her feet, trying to find the energy to phase and heal.
She was smacked for her troubles.
"Well, well… didn't know you two did combat training," a female voice purred. They both twirled. Behind them, Valkyrie silently collapsed, her program sliding into 'stand-by', or unconsciousness. Bastet smirked. "Hey, boys."
"Bastet."
She nodded. "I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop in for a visit. Didn't know you were busy." Two nudged Val again and shrugged. "Not anymore."
"So I see. Combat training, punishment, or remedial combat training?"
"All." The replied simultaneously. She blinked. "Wow… even Sekhmet ain't that bad."
"She betrayed her family."
"Oh." Bastet looked from the Twins to the girl and idly wondered how anyone could be dumb enough to betray them. "I suppose you wouldn't be in a mood to play, then," she sighed.
"She is too weak for further training at this point."
Bastet brightened. "Then you do want to play?"
They smiled evilly.
So did she.
The door opened, and three people entered: Cain, Abel, and the child Molly, who Abel was carrying. On seeing the twins Abel turned around and walked out. Cain followed, but not before telling Bastet, "You should get back before the traitor gets suspicious."
The twins scowled.
Bastet glared at Cain, who shrugged and exited. "I'm going to hurt him for that when this is over," she muttered.
***
Seraph walked calmly down the streets, watching casually for two things -- agents, and angels, especially those that had sign of tampered-with wings. There was not an angel to be found, but then again, news like Jameson tended to get around quickly.
Speaking of the wing-collecting agent, he too was out hunting rebels and angels, and was irritated by the lack of either. He was still annoyed at having lost two angels within a week's time.
Seraph stopped a few people on the street, politely asking them if they had seen any balding men, wearing grey suits and sunglasses in the area.
No adults had noticed anything, but one little boy tugged on the hem of Seraph's jacket after another futile stop.
"Yes, little one?"
"I saw someone like that."
"Where, small one?"
"Near Jackson street," the boy replied. "Two other guys in suits were telling him off for hunting angels." He scowled. "I like angels. I hope he got punished."
Seraph smiled and handed the boy one of the Oracle's candies. "Thank you very much, little one." Then, the Asian program made his way as fast as possible for Jackson Street. The child ran off.
Agent Jameson was not in a good mood. He strode down Jackson street, grumbling curses the whole way. "You are Agent Jameson, I presume." Came a voice behind him. The agent turned… and felt a dark smile spread on his face. Not just an angel, but the angel.
"So, you're the one they call Seraph."
"Yes."
"The so-called wingless angel."
"The so-called angel hunter."
"Far from 'so-called', Seraph. I am the hunter of angels."
"Why do you hunt your fellow programs?"
"Because it's fun."
"Cruelty for fun." Seraph smirked. "How human of you."
"Cruelty?"
"You cause pain to another for fun, do you not?"
"Last I heard that was sadism."
"There is a difference?"
"Perhaps not." Jameson eyed Seraph meditatively. Yes, the program before him was an angel, but he had no wings. It would be hard, then, to take this one's wings as a trophy… unless that trick with the rebel boy would work on Seraph. An evil smirk etched itself on his face.
"You will stop this action."
"Will I?" Jameson asked. "And who's going to make me, Seraph? You?"
"If necessary."
"I think I'm going to enjoy this…."
"Think, Jameson. If you do not stop this, then you will be returned to the source as a malfunctioning program."
"Not at all. I do my job… and you might notice that all the angels I take are Exiles."
"Then why have you been unable to finish them off? If you were not so obsessed with taking their wings, then you would have succeeded where you failed." Seraph replied. "Your obsession has cost you."
Jameson's eyes narrowed. "If that program hadn't interfered, that rebel would be dead and I would have his wings."
"The same program that escaped you before, correct?"
Snarl from the agent. "He had a key."
"Now you are making up excuses for failing?"
"His time will come," the Jameson growled.
"As will yours."
"And yours… but I think that your time, Seraph… is now!" He lunged for the wingless angel, bringing up his new talent of growing wings and preparing to insert it into Seraph's code. Seraph dodged the attack and struck his foot out at the last minute, hurling the agent forward and through a store window.
Jameson landed on his feet and drew his Desert Eagle (a.k.a. one of the suckiest guns in existence) and fired at Seraph. Seraph dodged out of the way, avoiding every shot. Jameson frowned, recalling rumours that he'd heard about the oriental firewall… how he seemed to be a mirror of his opponents….
Jameson dropped his empty gun and charged Seraph, fists raised. The program replied by charging back into combat, smashing out a fist for the agent's head. Jameson dodged and tried again to insert his wing program into Seraph's code. Seraph dodged out of the way, grabbing Jameson's arm and swinging the rogue agent into a telephone pole, severing it in two. Jameson again rolled to his feet, rubbing his back. Why in hell had agents been programmed to feel pain? It was detrimental!
Seraph was still in stance.
Jameson growled and started for Seraph… but paused as he received orders from the Mainframe. He glared at seraph. "This isn't over," he stated before turning and striding away.