Here is the next chapter in my little didy here. I really enjoyed writing Tira, she is a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I apologize that it took a bit longer than expected to post this chapter, I was hit by a huge Star Wars based idea, and have had to do some massive research for that. I will continue with this story though, so no worries about that.
Thank you for the reviews so far, I hope to continue to do pleasing work for you. The next chapter will come very soon, if my wife doesn't poison me in my sleep or anything.
Enjoy!
Dances Of Death
Flames danced in the mansion's hallway, its cackling song providing the harmony for the chorus of screams that pierced the burning air. Confusion and anxiety settled into Tira's stomach as she crept deeper into the mansion. The screams she heard were those of her squad mates, of that she was sure.
There should be no screaming, except the death cry of the victim they were sent to assassinate. The rich old merchant possessed no skills that would be any threat to five highly trained assassins. Nor did he have any guards that could impede the job either. Yet the cries continued, anguished, pitiful sounds of great suffering and pain.
Tira continued forward, carefully avoiding the growing fire. She was not sure of what was going on, but she would not allow the job to be left unfinished. It was not her professionalism that demanded this, or else she might be satisfied allowing the fire to destroy her target. No, she would kill the old man herself, she would gaze into his eyes as his soul fled his body. She needed to see him die, wanted to drink in the sight.
The thought of her partners dying did not sadden her, but instead served to increase her bloodlust even more. She reached the door to the target's bedroom, where her comrades had entered just moments before. Swiftly she slid through the door, prepared to face any threat with murderous glee.
The room was ablaze, with fire dancing down the long curtains and cavorting across the top of the large canopy bed that was situated in the center of the room. The old merchant, her team's intended target, lay dead on the bed. On the far side of the room lie one assassin covered in blood. Between Tira and the old man's bed stood the other assassin. He was covered in blood, but not that of the merchant. The assassin stood motionless for a moment, with a look of utter confusion contorting his features. When he noticed Tira, he tensed and raised his sword.
Tira smiled, her need to kill someone, anyone eating at her sanity. She brought her ring blade up to bear, and prepared to parry his blow. The assassin swung his blade, but not at Tira. Instead he brought it around on himself. With one swift motion, the assassin committed suicide by decapitation.
Fury burned in Tira as she was denied the kill. Before the body could even begin to fall, Tira lashed out with her ring, and removed both arms from the dying man. She then swung her blade around and cut a huge chunk of torso off the body. Though she was highly irritated by being denied a kill, she did take some comfort in dismemberment.
Tira turned her attention to the target, noting that the man did not have any visible wounds. She was not sure what had killed the old fool, but it was not a blade. Maybe he died of fright at the sight of the assassins or maybe whatever was driving the assassins mad destroy the merchant. Tira did not truly care, except for the fact that she was not the cause of the fatality.
The popping, crackling heat of the fire lapped at Tira's senses, reminding her of the danger around her. She rolled her eyes, annoyed by the fire as well. She decided that it was time to depart, since there was no one nearby to kill. Tira slinked over to the window, and cut off the burning curtains. She thrust her ring through the glass, twisting the blade to clear out shards.
She then threw herself out the window, landing as gracefully as a cat. She then quickly made her way through the shrubbery of the estate and out the back gate. The inky darkness of the night met her, and wrapped her in its comforting void. She might have missed her target, but she could dispatch a homeless person or a prostitute on the way back to the clan's hideout.
She moved swiftly down dark alleys, twisting and turning her path several times, just in case the authorities were in pursuit of her. She knew they would not be, but it was safer and more exhilarating to imagine they were. As she neared the abandoned building that served as the entrance to her clan's underground compound, she veered her course and sprinted up the dark street.
No more than a few blocks up was a notorious alley where ladies of the night plied their trade. Even with the excitement of a huge estate fire less than a mile away, there would still be girls and johns each looking for a little payout, monetarily and carnally.
Tira entered the alley and discovered that there was only a single girl there at the moment. The woman was dressed in a skintight dress that at one time had been a proper Victorian gown. The ruffle and hoops had been torn from the bottom, leaving it with only enough fabric to cover her if she did not move much. The bodice was altered a slight bit, allowing a deeper view of her cleavage than originally intended. The entire suit seemed to be made to where the woman could expose every erotic part of her body without needing to disrobe.
When the woman noticed she was no longer alone, she looked up with her best come-on smile, only to have it drop at the sight of the scantily clad young woman.
"I'm not into girls honey. You'll have to wait for Dominique to come back." The woman turned and glanced down towards the other end of the alley.
"Oh, I think you will do just fine" Tira hissed.
The woman turned back to Tira to protest, but was not given the chance to. Tira swiftly removed her ring blade from her hip and brought it around in a wicked horizontal swing. The blade sailed an inch in front of the woman's face, startling her. The prostitute thought for a split second that Tira's attack had missed, but then from the corner of her eye caught sight of the sharp prongs protruding from the outer edge of the ring traveling straight for her face.
The prongs caught the hooker's left cheek and removed it, leaving a gaping hole. Before the woman could allow a scream to escape from what was left of her lips, Tira brought her blade back around in a graceful arc. Continuing in the same direction, the young warrior dropped the arc several feet and brought the blade much closer to the prostitute. The blade ripped through the woman's stomach, deep enough to allow some intestine to fall through the gaping gash, and keeping the woman from being able to any sound whatsoever.
Ecstasy flowed through Tira, the smell of blood and pain revitalizing her spirit. She lived for such moments. She lived for death. The woman crumpled to the pavement, blood flowing from her face and stomach.
"What…. What…. Do you…. Want?" gasped the prostitute.
"People are the most beautiful right before they die" Tira answered fiendishly.
The woman looked up with pleading eyes, and Tira just could not contain herself any more. With one swing, her ring blade separated the woman's head from her body, leaving a gush of blood to stain the alleyway.
The sight of the woman's blood quenched Tira, if only for a moment. She needed to kill, and kill she had. Now she could return to her clan's base and sort through the mess that had happened this night.
When Tira entered the base, she found it completely deserted. She knew that two of her comrades were dead, and figured that at least one more had perished at the mansion as well. She fully expected the other four to return, including her master. Tira waited for about an hour before she cleaned herself of the prostitute's blood.
Tira's bath was prolonged as it always was after a kill, with her taking a great deal of time cherishing the memories of the kill. After she was finished with herself and her clothes, she once again returned to the main hall of the base, hoping to find her master there.
She was disappointed when nothing but emptiness greeted her. Fear began to grip her heart. To fight away the dark feelings, she began to sharpen her ring blade obsessively.
Tira was not sure how much time had passed when she came out of her trance like state. A glance up at a small above ground window revealed that it was already daylight, and well into the day at that. Her master had not returned, and Tira now knew that he would never again come. There was no doubt in Tira's heart that he had perished, though in what manner she did not know.
The young warrior ran to her master's quarters and began tearing through his possessions. She knew that her clan was not a single entity, but instead a cell in a larger group. The cells were isolated, with only a single contact from the overall head of the organization. The only thought Tira had was that if she could find the contact, she could move to another cell, and have a new master.
She was not strong enough to make it on her own, she needed a master to serve. She needed someone to focus her killing instinct, someone to provide her direction. The idea of not having a guiding influence devastated her and left her in a frantic state. She tore through everything she could find in her master's room and found nothing to lead to a contact.
Logically, she knew she would find nothing, if the connections between cells were so easily discovered, the entire organization would fall. Tira's rampage finally drained her, and she collapsed on her master's bed, weeping uncontrollably. Her tears rocked her to a fitful sleep filled with nightmares beyond all imagination for the young green haired assassin.
The cloak of night had fallen deeply when Tira awoke. Her rest did nothing to clear her mind, and the confusion and pain continued to wrack her. She did not know what to do, but knew she could not stay there. She slipped out of the base and into the shadows of night in search of her life.
That night did not provide her any answers, only more confusion. She could not discover the fate of her master, or any of the rest of her team. The authorities were unusually cautious and alert, bringing more frustration to Tira.
Without focus, Tira wandered that night, killing any homeless person she came across. Though she lived to kill, she was no fool, and did not dare go for open targets that might bring about attention to her activities.
When morning came, Tira began to head back to the base, but stopped short. She could not bring herself to enter the place, or face the memories of her master. Instead the young warrior stumbled and finally collapsed in a burnt out building. More nightmares flowed down on Tira in her sleep.
Several days passed with Tira doing nothing more than wandering and killing. She did not eat, could not think clear enough to provide any food for herself. She did nothing more than the basic things imprinted in her mind. She forgot who she truly was, or what she was doing. She was nothing more than a mindless beast ravaging her surroundings.
One morning Tira collapsed in a dark alley, unable or unwilling to find shelter for that day's sleep. The hunger ravaged emotional wrecked young warrior did not know that this would be the decision that would forever change her life.
At midday that fateful day, a well dressed man happened to be walking down the street, and caught sight of the green haired woman lying in the shadows. The man stopped in his tracks and began towards her.
"Tommy, go and fetch some water, quickly!" the man called to his young son.
The young boy darted away, and out of sight.
The man kneeled down by Tira, and called to her gently. Tira slowly opened her eyes and took in the sight of the man. He was tall and middle aged. He was well dressed, in a black suit, topped with a tall top hat. His face was kind and gentle, showing no menace in his eyes.
Tira could not think clearly through her hunger, but did not pull away from the man. He radiated an aura of strength and resolve. He reminded Tira of her master, and a glimmer of hope sparked in her soul.
"How old are you, little one?" the man asked.
"Seventeen" Tira said in a groan.
"You are no streetwalker, of that I am sure. What has happened to you?"
"My master died, and left me alone" Tira answered weakly.
The boy ran up with a small bowl of water and the man helped Tira take a sip.
"I cannot leave you here in this shape." The man turned to a stately woman standing back by the street. "She's near dead from hunger. We have to help her."
"Is she one of 'those' girls?" the woman asked apprehensively.
"No, I don't think so. She says her master died, so I think she might have been a pleasure slave."
"Poor thing! Tommy, run ahead and get the spare room ready!" The woman hurried to the man's side.
Darkness danced around the edges of Tira's vision, and she was only barely aware of the man picking her up. He spoke to her, but she was unable to understand him, and did not even attempt to answer. The last thing she remembered before unconsciousness took her was entering a warm house, and being laid on a feathery soft bed.
