The katana moved as a blur, razor edge cutting cleanly through the heathen's gun arm. It fell to the floor with a sick plop, and the man yelled. Screaming and moaning, he stumbled back against the wall, red running down the white plaster. The tip of her blade whipped around to rest behind her, and she could feel the blood rising in her veins. Yumie crouched down, then launched forward with a yell, adding to the man's terror. Her grin of fervor changed to puzzlement as she was brought up short. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that her weapon had sliced through the wall and jammed.
She released the handle, and shrugged. "I'll have to do this myself." Like lightning, the berserker threw herself onto the half-dead heathen, fingers fastening around his throat. He sputtered as she tightened a grip that was already like iron, and smiled in his face. Quietly, she whispered, "Repent." The word held the hissing edge of madness. He continued to cough, turning a delightful shade of purple. She blinked, pulled him away from the smooth surface, and then smashed his fragile skull into it with resounding force.
"Repent."
His head met the vivid crimson-splattered white, his face blue, his skull cracked.
"Repent!"
No answer from the idiot, so she did it again.
"REPENT!"
Splatters of bright scarlet landed on her cheeks.
"REPENT!"
Again and again, over and over, her arm became a frantic machine, crushing the life out of him. Soon all traces of plaster-blankness were obscured by ruby splashes. It ran into a puddle at her feet, soaking the stupid stockings that Yumiko insisted on wearing. They looked better red anyway. Then again, how DARE he bleed on her!
So she did it some more.
His throat turned to so much leaky meat, and his shattered cranium crunched with each blow. He'd wet himself at some point, and the stench only added to her excitement. "Die. In. Fear. Of. God. Heathen." Yumie punctuated each word with a slam. She detested those that opposed their Lord and sinned. And oh, how she loved bringing them to justice. Killing in His name was the ultimate opiate. She began to laugh in pure, undiluted joy, the sound of mirth sharply filling the small living room. The constant smack of raw meat on wood proved to be the perfect accompaniment.
"YUMIE! STOP, YUMIE!"
The voice was distant, so she ignored it. If it got in her way she
would kill it. No one opposed divine justice. Rough hands seized her
and yanked, forcing her to drop the corpse. They whirled her
around and slammed her into the opposite wall, then shook her. "Vat the
Hell are you DOING, YUMIE? He ist dead!" Yumie only continued laughing,
all thought of killing her assailant gone. It was just Heinkel. Her
'partner' shook her again, eyes wide, expression panicked… and fearful.
"GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF! VAKE UP YUMIKO!"
Yumiko shot up out of a deep sleep, tears streaming down her face. She
shivered, the blurry room shifting around her. One of her frail hands
gripped the sheet, white-knuckled, and the other lifted to shakily wipe
the water from her eyes. Queasiness shifted in her gut, forcing her to
stumble out of bed in the semi-darkness. The sister only just made it
to the toilet in time.
It seemed like the retching would last forever. Every time she came close to finishing, she'd see the poor man's broken face again. Then the sickness would start again. Eventually there was nothing left to bubble up in her throat, and she weakly knelt in front of the bowl, then smacked the lever with a quivering hand. The crashing gurgling seemed like the loudest thing she'd ever heard, aside from Yumie's laughter. Absently, she wondered if the noise would wake anybody up. She sincerely hoped not. Weakly, the young woman rose to her feet. She staggered over to the bathtub, and turned a knob. The braid that confined her hair at night had released half of the locks it was meant to contain, and the strands stuck to her sweat-soaked brow. Yumiko pushed them away, and padded back into her tiny room while the teensy bathtub filled. She curled up in her bed, squeezing her eyes shut and listening to the reassuring thunder of the tap. Just a dream. I'm sure it didn't happen like that.
A lump formed in her stomach, and her pulse increased. Despite herself, she was frightened… and her glasses were across the room. The familiar rage swirled in her heart, the predator beneath the surface.
-But Yumiko, it did happen just like that. -
Yumiko screamed out loud, throwing herself from the narrow bed and onto the cold floor. In a blind panic, she crashed to the other side of the room, knocking the contents of her little table to the floor in her rush for her lenses. Her hands flew over the scattered items on the ground, over broken glass and smooth wood. Her hands fastened upon the two pieces of thin glass that would be her savior, and a sharp pain sprouted in her finger.
Time froze as blood welled up in the little nick.
Something had broken, and Yumiko had cut herself on it. She only had time to feel the drop of blood roll down the tip of her index finger before everything began to fade to black. NO! The anger and viciousness poured up and out, pushing the sweet nun into a prison made of her own mind. NO! She screamed and cried, fought and pulled. Her body remained frozen as Yumiko battled for her own sanity. No, Yumie, it's okay! I'm fine! I'm safe, and we're not working! Go to sleep! PLEASE!
- No. I can feel it. You're frightened. –
No! YUMIE!
Her world faded to black, a floating darkness she couldn't escape. When Yumie had first started appearing, the darkness had scared her, and she'd kicked and yelled and cried. Then, slowly she'd come to realize why. This darkness was God's gift to her, because He loved her. He spared her from the agony of watching Yumie work. He'd put them in one body, and then protected her, and she loved Him for it. This way His will be done, both her part and Yumie's. So she spent that time praying, pleading for the souls of those men and women she could only guess were dieing at her own hands.
But then at night, the dreams came.
Visions of blood and viscera, of all the men and women Yumie had sent to judgment. Yumiko knew each one had done something evil, something terrible. They didn't send her and Heinkel to take care of jaywalkers. Still, Yumie's thoughts and deeds haunted her come nightfall, destroying her, plaguing her with guilt. This was God's way of reminding her that death was not glorious. The lesson seemed lost on Yumie, however. Yumie loved every second of it. Yumiko let her consciousness sleep, now that the situation was far out of her hands.
And in Rome, Yumie opened her eyes.
Heinkel was woken by a crash.
She leapt out of bed, grabbing her belt that hung on the bedpost. The gun was out of its holster in an instant, and then the strip of leather slid from her fingers to pool on the floor with the faint clank of a buckle. The woman threw her back against the cold wall, and slowly reached to her left with her free hand, and flicked on the light. She swung the pistol to point at the middle of the room, then her hand darted to each corner. Clear.
Silently, she strode on bare feet to her bathroom door, then threw it open. Again, nothing. Vat the Hell? Heinkel padded over to her bed, and slipped into her boots. Then swiftly, she opened the door that led out into the hall, and covered it in both directions. Completely clear. She let the firearm fall to her side, and raked a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. Am I overreacting? It vas just some sleeping brother tossing und turning. Nothing to be so vorried about. Heinkel was about to turn and go back to sleep, when a muffled curse sounded from Yumiko's room.
The gun snapped back up, as did the assassin's eyebrows. No gute nonne uses that kind of language. Oh, mein Gott.
She carefully pressed her back against the wall next to Yumiko's door, then slowly reached out and turned the knob. It clicked, locked. All scuffling in the room stopped, and Heinkel distinctly heard the faint whisper of steel. It can't be… "Yumie? Ist that you?"
Silence, and then, "Heinkel?" That was not Yumiko's voice. Something had happened.
"Da. Let me in, vill you?"
"Oh, yeah." There was shuffling, and then some mild cursing as Yumie fiddled with the lock. Heinkel let herself slide down the wall a bit, and clicked the safety on her gun with a relieved sigh. It vas just Yumie. Well, 'just Yumie' was an understatement in any context. Heinkel tucked the pistol into the waistband of her pants just as the door swung open, and an agitated Yumie stood in the doorway. "Come in."
Heinkel did so, and carefully picked her way around a pile of shattered glass on the floor, exploding from underneath a facedown portrait. A cross lay discarded on the chilly wood, and Heinkel automatically picked it up and set it lovingly on the wobbly table. Yumie uncaringly crunched over the glass in her bare feet, and then tossed the unsheathed katana in her hand onto the bed. It landed next to its black sheath. Yumie stretched, and yanked the tie from her braided hair. Heinkel carefully moved the sword over, and sat on the bed, slightly hunched over her knees. "So, vat happened?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe she read a scary book or something equally stupid, then took off her glasses and cut herself. I don't know!" From the look on the berserker's face, she didn't really care. She then carelessly ripped her hair out of its braid, and the dark strands tumbled over the shoulders of her lavender nightgown. "That's better." The locks let off a faint sheen, healthy and glowing. "I really hate how she has to wear that stupid thing… a wimple?" Yumie turned, fixing her only friend with an imperialist gaze. Her dark halo swirled around her shoulders, coming to rest lightly-
"Heinkel, what the hell are you staring at?" The lighter-haired woman shook herself, embarrassed she'd forgotten her sunglasses. The lenses hid her stare from the world, giving her freedom in what she chose to examine. That, and it was rare Yumiko would allow Yumie to escape her when no one's life was endangered. Because of her status as a nun, Yumiko's hair remained hidden at almost all times… and when she was Yumie, the woman was moving so fast that one couldn't really see her. So normally, Heinkel didn't get to see the long, waving locks. She'd taken the opportunity to stare, and look where that'd gotten her.
"It's nothing." Yumie gave her the strangest look, and then shrugged.
"Whatever. What time is it?" Heinkel shook her head no. She hadn't checked her clock on her way out to investigate the disturbance. That had been the last thing on her mind. Yumie walked over and kicked the picture frame out of the way, then scanned the pile of items for a clock. She unearthed a small alarm clock, and groaned at the time. "It's four in the morning. What was she doing up at four in the morning?" Heinkel grunted, and then massaged a stiff shoulder through her white tank. This was going to be unpleasant.
She stood up, and gingerly sheathed the katana behind her. Yumie turned around, and regarded her with suspicion. "Heinkel, when are early morning prayers?" The other woman crunched over the glass, and lifted the battered spectacles from the floor, clearing dust from the lenses with a thumb. "Five."
Yumie's eyes widened, and she clenched a quivering fist. "You wouldn't."
Heinkel looked up at her with clear grey eyes, and replied in a weary tone, "Yumiko ist alvays at morgen prayer, Yumie. They vill come to check on her if she ist not there. So da, I vould." Yumie sighed, and moved close to her friend.
"Just a little while longer? You don't know what it's like, floating in that blackness, just KNOWING she's trying to get out of taking jobs, letting heathens run free. It makes my blood boil!" She clenched her teeth, and slammed her fist onto the worn table. Heinkel did not flinch.
"No, Yumie. She needs time to bathe und dress."
"I won't go quietly."
"I know, freund."
Yumie launched herself at Heinkel, throwing them both down onto the narrow cot. The berserker had Heinkel's hands pinned in the blink of an eye, and straddled her waist. She flashed a contented grin at the woman beneath her, but only realized too late the assassin was in motion. She drove a knee into Yumie's crotch, paired with a murmured, "Sorry." Yumie flinched, and Heinkel took the opportunity to throw herself forward, freeing her hands. She grabbed Yumie's head of dark hair, dragging it back, and messily slammed the spectacles onto the berserker's face. Yumie grabbed both of Heinkel's shoulders, and froze before she got the chance to shove her away.
Long seconds passed, and then Yumiko opened her eyes… and found herself nose-to-nose with Heinkel.
The heat rose in her cheeks as she realized what she was doing. Both of her hands were around Heinkel's shoulders, and she had her legs wrapped around the assassin's waist. She was practically in the other woman's lap. A weight at the back of her head revealed that Heinkel's hand was tangled in her hair. The reddening increased as neither moved. Heinkel let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and felt the stiffness leave her limbs. Danken Sie Gott. Then Yumiko shifted in her lap, yes, her lap, and Heinkel awoke to the rather compromising position they were in. Her cheeks flamed red as she unceremoniously shoved Yumiko off her, and stumbled out of the cot. The nun gasped as she tumbled onto the floor, and then surveyed the broken glass, and discarded katana. What happened?
"Sorry." Heinkel grunted as she awkwardly knelt down and retrieved her gun. It had fallen out of the waistband of her pajama pants in the scuffle with Yumie. "Morgen prayer ist in less than ein hour." She quickly strode over to the door, opened it, and said with her back turned, "You may vant to prepare, und I beleif your bath ist overflowing." Then she was gone.
The door shut softly, leaving a very confused nun on the floor of her cell.