This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.
SACRIFICES
III
-x-
"Update on the jamming!"
The technicians were bent over their computer screens, typing away furiously at their keyboards. They were trying to triangulate the source of the electronic interference that was jamming their datalink.
"The interference is quite strong, sir. They are trying to brute force the frequencies."
The Ops officer gave them an incredulous look.
"Surely their barrage jamming doesn't have the strength to override our signal!"
The technician shook his head.
"It's not quite strong enough, but it's close. We are commandeering commercial antennas to boost our signal strength."
She took a deep puff from her cigarette and considered the situation.
If this external actor had the hardware to jam their datalink like this, then their next target should be…
Her eyes lazily glanced at the white figures moving about the maze, oblivious to the revelry taking place just a hedge wall away. They were all lost in their own little desperate dramas.
The angel dropped down from the ceiling gracefully. Her pistol, now held at her hip, was still calmly pointed at him. He could only stare at her with stupefied eyes, unable to believe what was happening. The man thought to say something but his mind failed to provide him with any words.
She spoke first.
"Where is she?"
He stared stupidly at her. The angel's lips twitched in irritation and she raised her weapon to level with his head. She got the message across to him.
She repeated her question again, slowly and more loudly.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know who you're talking about…"
"The girl. The girl with grey hair. The one who warned you in the house. The one who helped you escape from me. Where is she?"
His eyes widened when he heard her words.
It was the angel! She was the one who chased after him at the house, the one who tried to hunt him down.
The severity of the situation came crushing down onto his shoulders.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know any girl…"
She was so fast that he didn't even see it coming. The first thing he registered was the hard steel surface of the Beretta's magazine floor plate crushing into his jaw.
She pistol whipped him with such force that he fell to the ground, clutching his bloody mouth.
Once again she pointed the suppressor directly at his head and cocked the hammer with an audible click. It served no real purpose of course, but it did make him understand her intentions.
She repeated her question one more time, slowly and severely.
"Where. Is. She?"
He shook his head fearfully.
The angel readied her pistol. She considered shooting him in the knee, where it would really hurt. But that would only slow the man down if she needed to run with him. She might still need him.
In any case, a gunshot was not that painful compared to other things she could do, even though she knew that he was not the hardy type.
She reached for her tactical knife…
Loose!
…and Malyana dodged the pebble flying towards her head.
It was the audible crack that had given it away; the sound of the pebble sailing through the air was distinctive, especially if one was familiar with it.
And Malyana was very, very familiar with it.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
How did the soldier see that coming?
She reached for another pebble from her satchel and loaded it into the pouch of the shepherd's sling. Then she repositioned the straps in her hand and began swinging again.
Malyana grabbed him by the scuff of his neck and pushed him forwards roughly, taking cover behind his body. He felt the metal suppressor of the pistol pressed up against the back of his head.
She was positioned behind the man, with her knees slightly bend and the pistol pointed directly behind his skull. The way she held him meant that her entire body was covered by the hostage in front of her.
Malyana exposed nothing: not her hands, her face or even her pistol.
She turned him around to face the direction that the slingshot had came from and peeked her eyes several inches over his shoulder.
"Try anything and I shoot!" she said loudly.
The sling straps dug into her small, delicate hands as she continued to swing. The circle was narrowing. Her experienced eyes carefully gauged the distance.
The distance was not far, nay, but it was the position. The girl could barely make out her figure from behind that of the killer. It was as if she had turned into his shadow.
The soldier was no amateur.
The girl wetted her finger with her mouth and held it out to the night, beckoning the winds to answer her. And indeed they did as they swept past.
An east wind.
She could only catch a tiny glimpse of her head; the opening was very small.
It'll do.
Malyana scanned her eyes carefully from over his shoulder. Unless the girl had a scoped rifle she was not going to make the shot, certainly not with something as primitive as a slinged pebble.
She knew that she had the upper hand, but there was only silence greeting her. She realized that the girl might be making her way around the pavilion's opening so that she could get a different angle.
I should send a message…
She slid her finger off the trigger guard of the Beretta pistol and pressed it into the man's skull. This sudden movement caused him to panic and jerk his shoulders upwards.
Malyana took a step back as she grabbed him roughly by the neck. The man started to shuffled his feet, but she managed shut down his panic. He stopped when he realized how strong her grip was: he was not going anywhere.
She was sighing in relief at his resignation, just as the pebble struck her in the head.
Tis' not meant to be!
Her hands did not fail her, nor did the wind, nor the pebble or the sling.
Alas, it was the man himself!
The moment she let loose the pebble, she knew that it would connect with her head: that it would strike true.
But then the man began to struggle and the soldier shifted her head. As the trajectory began to reveal its course she realized that it would most likely strike her at such an angle that it would bounce – or skirt – off immediately after impact.
It would seem that Fortune smiles upon her…
Her hands reached down for another pebble.
If so, I shall have to make my own!
Her thoughts were interrupted by an audible whip of a suppressed pistol being fired and the loud piercing scream that followed.
From her days in the Alps Malyana knew that a pebble, slung from a shepherd's sling with an experienced pair of hands, could rival that of a pistol's bullet.
Still, she had no time to dwell on the buzzing ache in her head.
She could only take solace in the fact that the distance must have cushioned the blow. The pebble had bounced off her head after impact: not a direct hit.
Malyana shuddered to think what a good shot would feel like.
The man was shaking now, feebly struggling against her grasp but she whipped him with her pistol again. She shoved the suppressor against his head and whispered savagely into his ears:
"Keep moving and I'll do a lot worse than shoot you in the hand. Try me, I dare you."
He glanced fearfully back at her and realized she was not joking.
Another short silence.
Malyana began to consider another warning shot to send the message across to the girl, but it seemed like that was not needed.
"Let him go, it's me you want."
She peeked her heard carefully over his shoulders, fearing another cold pebble to her head. There was none. So her eyes began searching.
That's when Malyana finally saw the girl.
She hadn't had a real chance to look over the girl the night her team captured her. But now, in the dim moonlight, she finally had a chance to see her in her full glory.
She looked nothing like the girl in the dossier's photos.
The photographs had told her the story of a young girl who had been whisked away by secret magicians to their hidden dungeons; a child torn away from her youth and thrust into the merciless world of magic.
It was the story of a girl with her back pressed up against the cold stone walls of St. George's Cathedral. Her hands were bound tightly in a strait jacket. They had covered her in a plethora of restraining spells and seals, as if her captors – the Anglican Church's finest – deeply feared some evil that lurked within the girl.
But the most striking thing was her hair.
Her blonde hair was giving way something else creeping upwards: an ashen grey in the color of the dusty snow, of a cremation's remains.
Back then there was no life in her eyes. It was blank with emotion as if she was a lifeless doll.
Yet, this girl standing in the moonlight was no doll.
Malyana could see that the girl's face was haggard and thin with stress. Her tattered summer dress was dirty and ragged from abuse. It was as if the little girl was a street urchin, some poor child who had been abandoned to the streets by her own family.
It was as if she was a completely different person.
Her eyes were no long blank and lifeless: instead there was a quiet strength lurking behind her emerald gaze. But even at that distance, her piercing eyes met Malyana's own as if she was standing right in front of the soldier.
She remembered the Latin words that had been carved into the ancient shelves of the Apostolic Archives:
Here be the scribe of times lost…
Here be the speaker of forbidden truths…
Here be the old master of masters…
The Beretta's suppressor hissed without Malyana even remembering to pull the trigger. The hot muzzle contact and loud noise of the pistol being fired on his shoulder made the man wince.
But once it began she did not stop. Round after round came sputtering out of her pistol, each slicing through the air with a frightening hiss as they tumbled towards their target.
But instead of finding flesh they only found the innocent grass.
The girl had anticipated this.
She began to dodge before Malyana's finger even started to pull on the trigger. The last thing she saw through the blur of her Beretta's muzzle gasses was the girl's form disappearing into the dark recesses of the hedgerow paths.
Malyana growled angrily and pushed the man forwards, sending him flat onto the ground. For a moment she considered shooting the hapless fellow lying in front of her. But she thought better of it.
Instead of receiving a bullet to the back of his head he tasted the sharp, merciless whip of her pistol's butt again as it smacked onto his head. There was a sickening crack as his head smashed against the stone floor of the pavilion.
Malyana quickly stood up and went after the girl.
"This is Alpha Two, shots fired! Shots fired!"
The operator knelt on his knees as he cycled through the radio channels. However he was only met with broken static and incoherent noise. Overwatch was still unresponsive, leaving them only in contact with the team on the ground.
Finally he managed to get a line to Overwatch.
"Alp… Two, th… is …rwatch, repeat yo… last! …peat your last! Wh… is contact? Over!"
"Overwatch, this is Alpha Two! Shots fired from the middle, I say again, shots fired from the middle! Be advised, transmission is poor! I say again, transmission is poor! How copy? Over."
The answer was a mumble mess of static and butchered words.
The operator grunted in frustration. It seemed like they were having communications issues with the drone overhead.
Luckily for them their tactical radios were still working fine. That allowed the calm voice of the team leader to reach his team on the ground.
"All Alpha call signs, this is Alpha-Actual. All units are to push to the center. Out."
The pair of men in Alpha Two glanced at each other and got up again, pushing forwards into the shadows of the maze.
Three turns.
It took three turns before Malyana lost the girl completely.
It was not about speed. Malyana was absolutely faster on her feet compared to the girl, especially since she was limping on one leg.
But somehow the girl seemed to know the entire maze like the back of her hand. She slithered past dark corners and disappeared between hidden entrances without any hesitation.
Twice the soldier had almost caught up but she slipped away at the last moment.
After the third turn Malyana knew it was pointless. The girl was gone. She immediately decided to go back to the center – to extract the killer from the maze and interrogate him.
When she began to turn she heard the little girl's voice calling out in the darkness.
"Help, officer! There's a –"
But her voice cut off abruptly just as it had began.
Malyana froze.
The operative was glued to her spot, with her pistol at the ready, debating fiercely whether or not she had heard that call. Was it just a trick of her ears? Perhaps it was a spell from the girl meant to confuse her?
But Malyana couldn't let such an opportunity slip past. She needed to gamble.
The soldier swallowed her throat and advanced forwards, slowly moving towards the spot where the voice came from. It must be from the girl.
Then she heard it.
No, it was not the voice of the girl. Instead it was something else. It was something that Malyana was very familiar with.
It was the sound of the boots quietly crunching on the grass. It was the sound of a pistol rattling slightly in its holster. It was the rasping sound of body armor shifting on the operator's chest as they turned around the corner.
The girl was now running from someone else.
Malyana realized who it was.
The snakes.
She gritted her teeth grimly and tightened her grip on her pistol.
This was not welcome news.
If the snakes are here they must be hunting Malyana, or maybe even the girl if they knew who she was. If she had her own team on hand she might be able to fight it out – or not, because Malyana remembered their incompetence.
Malyana was alone.
The operative stopped and listened intently, trying to figure out where the snake was. Her pistol was pointed at the hedge walls. If she was lucky and the opportunity presented itself, she might be able to shoot through the hedge walls at the operators before they sensed her.
But then the girl suddenly materialized from the undergrowth again, frantically looking around. She had came out from the shadows noiselessly, without sound or a whisper, like a ghost. Malyana saw the girl look around before she spotted the soldier.
Maylana shot her in the knee.
The bullet hissed through her form without any contact and hit the dirt behind her.
An illusion.
The girl turned to a different direction and gave out a shrill cry just as her form dematerialized itself. It faded away like mist in the wind.
Malyana instinctively swung around with her pistol to face the direction that the girl had pointed, to see what she was trying to show her. However the operative only found herself staring down an empty path of the hedge walls.
A ruse.
A simple child's trick.
It was too late.
By then the snake, dressed in an Anti-skill uniform with a pink band aid on her nose, had materialized from the dark undergrowth. She met Malyana with a flying tackle.
Both of them went rolling onto the grass.
"Move. Move. Move."
They came forwards like a pit of snakes slithering forwards towards a target. They swept through the paths in pairs, flanking around the opening of the pavilion and taking positions surrounding it. They had the pavilion covered from three different directions.
"Alpha Two in position."
"Alpha Three in position."
"Alpha Four in position."
For a moment they simply held their position, scanning the opening through the green hue of their night vision as their lasers danced around the pavilion. The operators could make out the form of a man lying unconscious on the pavilion's floors.
"All Alpha call signs, this is Alpha Actual, hold your position until I arrive. I repeat, hold your –"
But the static cut in through his voice.
"Neg...tive! Negat…! This is Ov…watch! Ove…e that order, I …gain, override …der! All …all signs in positi…to move in …apture the target! …say again, all Alpha … in pos…ion …to move in! I say again, all Alpha call s… in positi…are to –"
"Alpha Two acknowledge. Moving in, out."
"This is Alpha Three, wilco and out."
"Alpha Four copies. Out."
Alpha Two's point man adjusted his hands on the polymer grip of the P90 submachine gun and turned to his partner behind him.
"Cover me."
His partner answered with a quick thumbs up.
The lead man shouldered his submachine gun and stepped out into the open, shuffling quickly towards the pavilion. His eyes were focused on the thin beam of laser resting on the target: a man lying on the pavilion's floor.
The crisp trigger felt heavy against his fingers.
The operator resisted his urge to check his surroundings as he moved in. It would be pointless anyways, because the night vision goggles were limited in their field of view. In any case his teammates were covering his movement.
He did hear it.
He heard the quiet whistle in the air.
But he did not realize what it was until the knife had embedded itself deeply in the side of his throat.
"All Alpha call signs, Overwatch is back online. I repeat, Overwatch is back –"
"Contact. Contact. Contact to the east."
"Man down. Man down."
"Suppressive fire to the left. To the east, the east."
"Alpha Three pushing."
"Four covering. Go. Go. Go."
She puffed a deep breath from the cigarette and watched the familiar scene unfold on the screen. She closed her eyes and allowed the symphony of suppressed gunfire and calm voices to tickle her ears.
As befitting of good professionals, the team kept their calm and reacted swiftly to the contact, spreading the operators out behind cover. She could already see them suppressing the area with a hail of fire. The flanking elements were pushing up to setup crossfire on the contact.
If anything, the weakest link was Overwatch.
"Ah…"
"Overwatch, contact is to the east, I say again, to the east. We are taking contact from the east corner of the clearing. Overwatch, please track the target and advise, over."
"Yes, Overwatch is trying to track –"
She squinted at the masses of black shades on the screen and spied the white figure darting quickly between the hedge walls, maneuvering around the overlapping fields of fire from the team.
"Ah….give us a moment –"
"Top right of the screen, between section A3 and B6," she drawled out, shaking her head in silent disapproval.
"Ah y-yes! Overmatch has acquired target! Alpha Two through Four, be advised, contact is moving on the south side of the opening, using the hedge as cover. Alpha Three, push 30 meters south and then hook right. Be advised, be advised, contact is a lone shooter, I say again, contact is a lone shooter. Over."
"Roger that, Overwatch. Moving to engage. Keep tracking the target, over."
"No."
The communications technician looked at her but – realizing how inappropriate it was – quickly turned back to face the Ops officer.
The Ops officer didn't need to check with her. He agreed.
"Switch the camera feed away from the center. Alpha Two through Four will manage. Focus tracking on the primary target and direct Alpha One and the rest of the team to intercept the target."
She smiled at his words.
Even incompetence has its limits.
"Call signs Alpha Two through Alpha Four, this is Overwatch. You are to continue engaging contact and extract the secondary package. Break. Alpha One and call signs Alpha Five through Alpha Seven, you are to proceed to intercept the primary package, which is currently moving through the south side of the maze, heading north towards…"
Four.
First through the gap in the hole between the two paths, then there should be a cross between the alleys, after which take the next right and then immediately take the left afterwards and follow the corridor down to next false corner, push through that and hug the ring of circles counter clock-wise and then there should be a hook, but no, it was wrong, there was a wall, perhaps she misremembered, but no, no she was right, she was right, she just didn't see it as clearly from high up, so it was indeed a hook and then after that two more hooks to the left, in quick succession and then to the right, the right…
Five.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
There were five of them following her now.
How matter how hard she tried, they were still hot on her trail. If anything, her attempts at throwing them off only succeeded in attracting more. She could hear the loud noises of their clumsy boots crashing through the grass as they closed in ever closer to her position from three –
No.
Four.
Four different directions.
She was sure none of them had kept her within eyesight.
Eyes…
She looked up at the murky night sky.
She was not afraid of the men. While undoubtedly skilled at their craft, they needed to force a confrontation in order to capture her. And she would never provide them with such convenience.
It was not difficult to evade them.
Unless…
With a blessing of the spring night, she closed her eyes and inhaled a large breath of fresh air to calm her screaming lungs. She paid no heed to the pained screeching of her mortal shell.
Indeed, it mattered not for she promptly ceased her breathing. The girl took a step back and dissolved into the branches, with only the faint glow of her blue eyes betraying her presence.
To them, the night was silent in its wordless song. And such was the nature of men and their arrogance, to be lost in the delusions of their own grandeur.
Whether be it through revelry and song, itself nothing but a façade of a game of make believe, or be it through the clang of steel and fire, a meaningless struggle of one's greed against another, they heard not the night's song.
Only she, the old master of masters, was privy to the night's whispers.
Thus the old master did, in her great wisdom and humbly so, beseech the night.
Nobody heard it.
And of course they did not. Why should they?
They were all lost in their own encompassing dramas, chatting away with each other and swirling glasses of champagne in their hands. They were talking about the garden maze, about the stock market, about so-and-so's marriage, about this divorce or that corporations quarterly report.
They did not hear it, no. Nor should anyone expect them to. After all, what use would it serve them?
Yet it must be noted that this deafness came not of inability or lay ignorance of the Art. It was simply inattentiveness.
Because they could have heard it, if they simply tried.
Yes, it was far away. It was located at the edge of the park, certainly. And of course it came from the large willow tree that was shaking gently in the wind.
But they certainly would have heard if they listened.
They would have heard the faint sound of cawing.
And the night gave its mute reply.
"Alpha Five..ah…move 30 meters to your south. Alpha Six, move 50 meters to the north and follow that path. Alpha Seven, maintain course until you come to the intersection. The target is…"
Another pause as the technician nervously searched for the little white figure on the big screen. But it was not his fault because she couldn't see it either.
The girl had taken cover in the hedge's bushes somewhere.
"Ah…Alpha Six, hold fast, Overwatch is tracking…"
The image shifted over slowly and readjusted the zoom. Once again the masses of black and white blobs began to sharpen and gain focus on the giant screen. There were several white figures with the distinctive blipping on their back all congregated in one section of the maze, slowly working their way through each of the corners.
At the direction of the Ops officer the pilot shifted the drone over and began repositioning for a better view.
The communications technician slowly watched the screen with alert eyes.
"Ah, Overwatch has eyes! Overwatch has eyes on the target. Alpha Five you just passed her, she is leaning against the bush about 15 meters to the south along the – "
The camera feed began to stutter and the image distorted momentarily as it lost focus again.
The Ops officer shot a glare at the electronics technician but he just shook his head.
"We are still under interference, but it's under control. It's not the datalink sir."
The pilot slowly shifted his stick and readjusted several settings, but the image continued to shake with and stutter.
By now it was not only the focus of the camera lens; the instability was getting so bad that they couldn't even get a coherent picture.
"What is this turbulence? Did we have any weather patterns over Academy city? What is –"
There wasn't.
The command team had checked beforehand before clearing the drone for operations. The support staff would have caught any bad visibility or weather patterns.
The image began to shake more and more as the camera angle began to wobble like a can in the wind. Even the center of gravity was rocking violently back and forth. The shapes became more and more indistinct as the entire screen blurred into a painting of black and white masses.
The strangest thing of all was how the screen seemed to be flashing on and off with dark shapes.
It was as if something was making passes across the drone's camera vision.
A slight tremor vibrated through her hands.
"It's her."
The Ops officer turned with a confused stare, but she was not paying attention to him. Instead her glass eye was staring intently at the screen; she was watching every movement with great concentration.
She pointed at the optics technician.
"Zoom out."
The zoom of the camera was pulled back. The image shifted from being a view of a section of the maze until it was covering the entire maze. Finally it pulled back enough to see the entire park.
The change in zoom caused camera to change its focus from the objects far away and redirect it at what was close to the drone.
That's when they all realized what was causing the shaking.
It wasn't the datalink.
It wasn't the weather.
Instead it was something very real and tangible. The shaking of the camera was caused by the small shapes that were all swarming quickly around the drone.
It was crows.
She smiled.
The crows were swarming around the drone in an organized fashion, swirling about it in an semi-circle like a school of fish, like a great whirlpool in the sea.
Everyone in the room watched in shock as the circle closed in on the hapless drone.
The Ops officer was the first to snap out of it. He yanked the pilot by the collar of his shirt.
"Evasive maneuvers! Take evasive maneuvers immediately! Get out of there!"
The pilot snapped out his shock and yanked the stick savagely to the right. The screen became a blur of motion as the drone swung into a desperate turn, powering through with its rotor fans at maximum speed.
However the maneuver was too sudden; the drone lost its balance, swerving from a turn into an uncontrollable barrel row. But it didn't matter.
As long as the steel razor blades could cut through the crows closing in they could always regain control later on.
There was a moment of tense silence as the entire room stared at the screen, with the only audible sound being mechanical creaking of the stick as pilot repeatedly yanked it back and forth to the sides.
The screen descended into a haze of swirling movement. Even by just looking at the feed they could all feel it – the contact of the blade slicing through the crows' flesh as it maneuvered wildly to free the machine from their grasp. The camera began to cloud with dark spots of blood and flesh.
They could only stare in silence.
The pilot gave his stick one last yank and the mass of shifting shapes disappeared from the camera's view.
Freedom.
But this new found triumph was short-lived. The image began to tumble and the world turned into a spinning image of the sky, the ground, the sky, the ground, the sky, the ground…
The drone was descending towards the ground in an uncontrollable spiral.
The pilot tried, he really did, but only in vain.
The Ops officer began barking again.
"Regain control! The drone is falling!"
"Negative, negative! The momentum is too much, sir. We are in uncontrolled descend."
But the Ops officer still had some tricks up his sleeve.
"Stop the rotor. Deploy the parachute."
Recognition flashed through pilot's eyes. He quickly pressed some buttons on his control panel.
The camera's vision went black temporarily. Unfortunately for them the rotor was connected to main power supply of the drone, so killing the propeller meant switching off the entire drone.
The command team was already on it.
"Turn the damned thing on –"
"We have power, sir! The drone is coming back online!"
"Good. Run diagnostics on all systems, I want to see how bad the damage was. And give me the altitude points as the drone descends."
"Roger that, sir."
She glided about face, coming around with her wing spread open to its full length. She carefully spied the silky white canopy that had opened up from the device, noting its dimensions and size. She could see that there were several of her stragglers swirling around it already.
She cawed to her brethren once more, and they followed her.
"200 meters!"
"Checking power supply. Power back online, clear."
"180 meters!"
"Initiating camera defogging, ETA 15 seconds"
"160 meters!"
"Camera defogging complete, video feed operational."
The Ops officer impatiently tapped his feet at the call outs. If they went below 100 meters the drone would become conspicuous. It could even be spotted by the naked eye, especially by the guests at the party.
He needed the drone to cut the parachute and be operational as soon as possible
"Checking wiring, electronics communications system."
"140 meters!"
"Quick!"
"Communications network online. Checking electronic countermeasures system."
"Quickly, damn it"
"Countermeasures at 60% capacity, initiating trouble shooting."
"120 meters!"
"No time. Start up the rotor now."
"Checking propulsions system, standby…standby…"
"Oh, for fuck's sa – "
"Propulsions back online! Ready to – !"
"Starting rotors! Preparing to disconnect parachute. Disconnecting – "
"100 meters – no, 90 meters! 90 meters! 80 meters and descending fast!"
The Ops officer growled and clenched his fists.
What? Why was it falling so fast? Did the parachute cord get cut prematurely? Did it deploy improperly?
Why was it falling so fast?!
He needed answers to questions that he did not have the luxury of asking.
"Restart the motor now!"
"70 meters!"
"I said restart the damn motor –"
"Motors online! Full throttle upwards!"
"65 – no, ah…67 meters! 68 meters! 69 meters! The drone is beginning to gain altitude, sir!"
The entire room breathed a sigh of relief. The Ops officer motioned at the optics technician.
"Redirect the camera feed, I want to see why the drone was falling so fast."
The technician quickly obliged and rotated the camera around the drone and they saw why the reason.
Clinging onto the sides of the drone were a small flock of black crows, all with their bodies turned down to the surface, rapidly beating their wings.
They were trying to drag the machine downwards.
The Ops officer bit his tongue back from swearing profusely. But then it occurred to him that it was a good thing.
If the damned birds couldn't trap the machine and they didn't have enough power to counteract the propellers…
He smiled.
Out of tricks now, are you?
She disagreed.
"Turn the feed upwards."
The camera was now using the night vision lens since the drone had just rebooted – it was the default setting at night. As the camera rotated upwards, the feed through the drone's own propellers slowly became clear.
There was something.
A cloud? A balloon? Another drone? Perhaps it was their own parachute floating downwards?
No. It was something else.
It was something that they could not make out or recognize. It was some sort of a black mass that was swirling above the drone.
And strangest of all, the mass was climbing higher and higher.
"Turn on thermal."
The thermal camera was switched on and it focused on the black mass that was gaining altitude on the drone.
That's when they realized that it was not a drone, a cloud, a balloon, or their own parachute.
Instead the thermal vision allowed them to see that the mass not black. No, it was white.
It was white with heat.
It was a white mass that burned brightly with heat. It was the heat of hundreds and hundreds of wings fluttering together in close quarters against each other, all moving in unison as it climbed and climbed before...
It began to dive.
She reached for another cigarette and lit it with calm hands. The room was so silent that the sound of her cigarette tobacco crunching and sizzling in the fire could be heard.
She took another puff, leaned back into her chair and quietly said:
"Run."
The Ops officer numbly tapped the pilot's shoulder.
He already knew what to do. The pilot immediately jerked the stick to the left, ready to send to drone into a controlled roll, away from the giant mass of crows that was descending on them.
Nothing happened.
He jerked it again, but it was the same.
Nothing happened.
"Move it! Don't just stay there like a sitting duck, move it!"
"I'm trying, sir, but I can't…"
"Move it!"
"The datalink."
The Ops officer immediately realized what she had meant. He turned to find the electronics technicians furiously typing away at their computers, trying to regain control of the frequencies again.
"The electronic interference is back, sir. Someone is jamming our datalink again! The drone may be unresponsive to our commands!"
The screen began to stutter and blur again with static. The last thing they saw was the giant mass of crows coming down on them and swallowing the drone whole. The video feed began whirling around again, showing them the ground, then the darkness, and then the ground, and then again and again.
Each time it swirled about they could see that the ground getting closer and closer.
Finally the video feed disappeared entirely beneath the hundreds and hundreds of flapping wings.
"50 meters and rapidly descending!"
"What can we do?!"
"Steering is jammed, but other commands may still work, sir!"
"40 meters!"
"Pilot, full throttle! If you can't steer it, then give the rotors full throttle!"
"Yes sir!"
"30 meters!"
"Initiate flares! Smokes! Any countermeasures! Give it everything you've got!"
"20 meters!"
"All Alpha call signs – no, all stations! All stations! Net call! Net call! This is Overwatch! Overwatch is going down, I say again, Overwatch is going down! Overwatch is –"
It was pointless.
"Impact! Impact! We have impact!"
The screen went black, but not with static, distortion, coverage or even blood.
There was only a message repeatedly flashing on the screen:
CONNECTION LOST.
The silence in the room was only broken by the sound of her chuckling as she took another long, deep drag on her cigarette.
Damn snakes.
The viper met her with a takedown tackle, flying through the air and hitting Malyana from the left side. Her hand came reaching down under Malyana and pushed the operative off her feet.
It was going to end up on the grass regardless. Malyana let it happen. They both hit the ground rolling, tussling for the grapple.
The most important angle was controlling Malyana's right hand: it was still holding the pistol. As they hit the deck both of them immediately reached to address the problem.
The viper twisted for Malyana's pistol hand in a classic BJJ hook, pushing down on her with the weight of her shoulder and deigning to bind her arm in a lock.
But Malyana did not oblige her with this courtesy.
Instead she chose to meet the viper's hands with her tactical knife. The operative came stabbing forwards with her knife in such an arc that would it force the viper to give up the lock and address it instead.
This would give Malyana the time to reposition her pistol.
But the viper did not address it.
Instead she allowed the stab to follow through. As the stab came in, she turned her back to face the knife…
…and caught the strike under her right armpit, trapping Malyana's hands between the vest and her arm.
Malyana tried to push the knife forwards but it was caught between the viper's arm, the stab vest and – most damningly – the Velcro pouches on her vest. The knife could not move forwards or backwards.
Her knife was stuck.
Snap!
The vipers' grip locked onto her pistol hand and began twisting it.
Hard.
The Beretta 92F is not a small pistol, not by any means. In this case the most important part of its size was its length; the pistol spanned a total 217 mm across its side. It also had a suppressor – 100mm long – attached to it.
In a close grapple where an extra inch could decide the outcome, this was far too long.
As the viper's hands closed in onto Malyana's pistol, they both knew that it would be useless unless the operative could somehow unbind the grapple. At the very least the viper needed to be careless enough to not contest it.
And the viper was not careless.
But Malyana did not give up her grip on the pistol easily, as strong as the viper's fingers were. She was too experienced for that.
Deadlock.
Her shoulder.
Yomikawa felt something warm and wet soaking through the side of her Anti-Skill uniform.
In the ecstasy of the grapple she had noticed that the operative's left shoulder always seemed to be a little slower, a little less secure. Now she could tell that there was a spot on her left shoulder that was wet with…
The Anti-Skill lieutenant smiled.
…blood.
A wound.
The viper turned again.
Malyana's knife was still caught under her arm. Her pistol was bound in the lock. The operative did not understand what she was trying to accomplish until she realized that the viper was simply prepositioning to make space for her elbow, to create a window for a…
Malyana immediately gritted her teeth in preparation of the –
…savage jab to her left shoulder, right at the spot where the boy had send a knife into several days ago, back in the dusty, flour coated warehouse.
The pain was sharp and electric.
It send shudders rippling across her body. Mentally it was nothing new or special for Malyana. But unfortunately her body – specifically her hand with the Beretta – betrayed her with a slight flinch.
It was just a small flinch, but that was all the opening that the viper needed.
The very next moment her steel fingers had managed clawed their way through Malyana's defense, slowly eroding away her fingers' control on the grip of the chrome Beretta. Soon she would disarm Malyana of her sidearm.
Fine.
The old solider knew that it would come to this, regardless.
In a straight grapple it would always come down to this. But she always made sure to conceal it, because it would lull her opponents into a false sense of security.
And she would only use it when they least expected it.
The viper, in their typical arrogance, in the famed hubris of Academy City's finest, had chosen to take Malyana on a weapon. Instead she tried to grapple the operative in straight melee.
Trying to take her prisoner through non-lethal means, no doubt.
It amused Malyana how the viper chose to meet her like this.
If she didn't know any better the operative would have just said that the snake was an amateur – someone wet behind her ears – but that was not the case here.
Malyana knew that she was a true viper: the best of the best among Academy City's snakes.
And yet she still chose to fight Malyana without any weapons. With only her bare hands. Like some fucking hero.
Malyana's let go of her pistol.
The viper's hand immediately shot forwards to catch it, leaving the other hand to hold Malyana's arm down.
With another quick, energized jolt, Malyana contested this bind effectively, allowing her arm to temporarily free it of control and slither up the viper's shoulder.
Malyana's left hand let go of the knife.
The viper's trick with her arm worked only because she had caught Malyana's hand high up, close to her face. With the knife out of reach, it allowed her to use the combined strength of her triceps, biceps and shoulder muscles to hold the hand and knife in place.
The fact that the blade was stuck on the vest and Velcro pouches also meant that Malyana could not push her hand – holding the knife forwards – into the viper's face.
But what the viper was not prepared for was for Malyana to let go of the knife and push, especially for her to push her arm upwards.
Malyana's left hand shot up to the viper's throat.
Yomikawa watched the operative's hands closing in on her neck. Undoubtedly for a choke of some sort.
It was a serious mistake.
She should know that Yomikawa was already repositioning her arms in defense. Their bodies were at the wrong angle for a serious choke hold to work properly.
At best the operative will manage a straight choke on her neck for a couple seconds, depending on the strength of her grip. Then Yomikawa will counterattack and unbind it.
Five seconds, at best.
Yomikawa found it in her to be amused.
It was not an even a proper choke; the operative was basically reaching for neck with her bare hands. It was as if she was some murder reaching for the victim's throat with both hands.
It was not going to do anything against Yomikawa.
Then she saw the hint of flames licking its ways up her fingers.
Three seconds.
Malyana needed three seconds for the temperature on her hand to reach 70 degrees Celsius. And she knew that at 60 degrees Celsius it only took one second of contact against naked skin to cause third degree burns.
Malyana should be able to hold the choke for at least five seconds, depending on the viper reacted. But she should be able to – easily – manage five seconds.
Five seconds, at least.
That was more than enough time for Malyana to melt her throat.
Yomikawa caught it.
Just barely.
She immediately dropped everything – including control of the pistol – to address the choke.
She then moved the lower half of her body around, spinning around the dirt in a in a semi-circle The manuver brought her boots close the where the operative pistol was.
Now as the operative was twisting her wrist about from under Yomikawa's boots to get the free pistol into a firing position. The Anti-Skill lieutenant saw the writing on the wall.
Yomikawa disengaged from the bind.
The two sprang apart, each breaking off the grapple from each other in a roll, hugging the ground closely.
Now it was down the speed of how fast the other could bring their pistol to bear.
But Yomikawa had to reach for her pistol in her holster. The operative's Beretta was already out.
The viper was faster.
Malyana found herself staring down the barrel of a Glock 17. Her own Berretta was still on the dirt, its muzzle pointed upwards in preparation of bringing it to bear.
The old soldier could only chuckle.
Her pistol was already out while the viper needed to reach for hers. And yet she somehow managed to beat Malyana cleanly.
She wanted to shake her head and smile: to wonder at how old she had become.
The youth of today…
A viper indeed.
Malyana's fingers twitched.
The viper looked at her and when their eyes met they both understood what Malyana was about to do. The old soldier could see that the viper was not an amateur and certainly not wet behind her ears. Her experienced eyes told them that were they were of the same breed.
Malyana saw the viper glancing at her silver Beretta. There was no mistaking it. The viper knew who she was.
The night air was filled with the heavy thuds of subsonic rounds, punctuating the idyllic night like a symphony. And yet just a hedgewall away no one was the wiser; perhaps the lound music helped mask the battle.
But Malyana and the viper did hear these things. To them it was all so familiar that their minds did not register it. Instead what became deafening was the sound of the grass rustling and the sound of the night wind.
Most of all they heard subtle clack of their pistols metal frames shifting in their hands.
The Beretta weighed heavily in Malyana's hands.
"I'm not a snake, soldier."
The viper's voice was barely a whisper.
Malyana narrowed her eye.
"If I was, you'd be dead by now."
Malyana slowly looked over the viper, carefully observing her outfit and equipment. She was wearing an Anti-skill uniform. That was not surprising because snakes made extensive use of official covers to blend into Academy City.
However she noted the curious overcoat that the snake was wearing. It was decidedly not Anti-Skill in origin.
Malyana recognized it to be some sort of clothing designed to protect its wearer from night vision and infrared surveillance. It was similar to the Desert Night Camouflage jackets that the Americans had worn during the Gulf War.
What intrigued Malyana even more was her pistol and knife. To be exact, the manner in which she made use of them – or neglected to do so – that intrigued the old soldier.
Clearly she could have used it if she wanted to, but she chose not to when she tackled Malyana to the ground.
Why didn't the viper shoot her?
The soldier's thoughts were interrupted by her quiet words.
"Now, I don't mind staying here like this all night but soon the actual snakes will be here, and then we'll both be dead. So drop you pistol and let's talk, because I have questions for you."
Jim was playing with fire.
He could tell that they were a little bit confused as well, judging by how they were reacting to contact. At first they had been very clean and clinical.
First suppressive fire, then push up with a flanking element.
Attack. Attack. Attack.
Jim silently thanked the fact that they could not see him on night vision.
But after the initial push the operators seemed to be. The fact that Jim was simply lobbing knives at them probably threw them off a bit; they must have thought it was some sort of an esper power.
Or magic.
So instead they slowed their tempo down became more methodical.
Now they come forwards more slowly, always cautiously probing Jim's abilities and testing his reactions. They were testing him until they knew that there would no nasty surprises in store for them.
Then they would push him.
As Jim threw another knife again, he was at least thankful that they weren't grabbing the killer.
It was ironic just an hour ago Jim was trying to stop the serial killer from murdering his victim and now here he was, protecting him from the snakes.
He knew that if the snakes got hold of the killer it would only be a matter of time before they caught the girl. And if they caught the girl it would be impossible for him to get his locket back.
So if he couldn't have the killer, he needed to make sure that the snakes didn't either.
As if I don't have enough things to worry about.
Jim was not only fighting the snake; he was also struggling against his own body.
By now the shock had worn off and the burn in his side was beginning to flare up in full force. The dull numbness was now completely replaced by a fiery pain that ate away at his nerves.
His arm was also began moaning with spasms. It was not enough to trigger a full episode but Jim knew that it would continue throughout the night.
The mongrel's thoughts were interrupted by another burst of fire piercing the hedge walls.
Just great.
Jim turned and whipped out another knife just he heard the sound of something small and metallic landing on the grass. He knew what it was without even looking at it.
It bounced once on the grass –
Jim turned his closed eyes away and braced himself for the thunderous echo that would ring through every part of his body.
– and the flash bang exploded.
He stood over the hedgerow, letting wind whip across his face. His natural vision was slowly returning but it was not as good as it used to be. His hearing was better if a bit disturbed.
The place where the wolf had stabbed him was still bleeding, but it was nothing. His mail shirt had caught most of it.
The pain only fueled the fire of vengeance.
He swore on the honor of his clan that he would hunt down that cowardly wolf at any cost.
And yet something strange was afoot. His radio was not working. The last message he had received from Overwatch was very jumbled and incoherent. Now it seems like Overwatch would not even respond at all.
His eyes slowly shifted over the garden.
The maze was a very large place. From his vantage point he could see the merriments of the fools in the distance, dancing their merry way and celebrating, unaware of the desperate struggles for life and death that were being played out here.
For some reason it filled him with pride to know that only a single layer of hedgerow separated the two worlds.
He steadied his breathing and leapt again, jumping forwards into the night towards his next target.
He was headed in the direction of the gunfire.
It was always the same.
It was all the same: in a musty basement of the Lubyanka, or in a dingy apartment in Tallinn or even right here in Academy City's elegant offices.
The chaos of men in command, blind to the realities on the ground, desperately struggling to control the situation is universal.
It was the same wherever you went.
"When is the next drone coming online?!"
"Where did it crash?!"
"Sir, the supply van is launching the secondary drone, it will be on station in 20 mikes"
"Do we have radio contact with Alpha call signs?"
"Sir, we are now under effective radio jamming. Contact with the team is sporadic…"
"What? What do you mean radio jamming? First the datalink now radio? What is –"
She rolled her eyes.
Of course their radio would be jammed.
If they had enough muscle to even jam their data link – a narrow, directional beam – then of course they could jam their radios. Yes, their radios had intelligence-grade encryption but they didn't need to decipher it.
It just needed to drown out their signals with noise.
This was further compounded by the fact that the drone was an important source emission source for their frequencies. Now that they had one less antenna their coverage was weaker and their signal more susceptible to being drowned out by the nose of the barrage jamming.
"Well I don't care! Get me a way back online!"
The Ops officer finally snapped.
"Notify the outer perimeter, have them move in"
"No."
Her low but authoritative voice cut through the air like a sharp knife and silenced the entire room.
The Ops officer turned to her, meeting her eyes with the crazed, adrenaline-filled gaze of a filthy soldier on the ground staring up defiantly at his disconnected officer.
She scoffed at his naiveté.
He was the farthest thing from the ground.
She took another deep breath on her cigarette, enjoying the tension building up in the air with great amusement. The entire room was tense with silence; the staff was unsure about the confrontation between the Ops officer and the woman with the glass eye.
No one dared to speak.
Finally she broke her silence.
"The radio traffic will eventually clear up, do your best to send the following message: send half of the men to the center to secure the secondary package, if possible. Send the other half to the last known location of the girl, and scour the area for her. Do not notify the perimeter. It is tasteless and will only blow the cover. In any case a couple of extra men and ladies in fancy clothes won't mean much, not without Overwatch support."
She took another lazy puff before continuing.
"Notify the perimeter and tell them to watch the entrances of the maze."
She glanced at her watch.
"It's 11:00 PM right now. We are about an hour away from the maze opening. Once Overwatch comes online again, try to find her. But if you don't find her by 11:45 gather what intelligence you can and withdraw. Then we call Anti-skill for appearances before we take over the scene. Also, their short range radios should still work with each other. So until Overwatch is back online it is up to the commander on the ground to assess the situation."
She sighed silently.
"In this case it will be have to be Alpha One."
The Ops officer slowly chewed this over, following along with her words.
"Do I have your authorization on this?"
Of course, he had to cover himself. If the operation failed and there was an inquiry, then the important decisions at this moment would be questioned.
She smiled, serenely and kindly, as she walked up to the Ops officer. She took the last puff of her cigarette the tobacco was exhausted.
Then she languidly blew the smoke directly in his face. He kept his stoic calm and stared unflinchingly into her eyes. She realized that he seemed more interested in her glass eye than anything else.
The woman jabbed the burning hot cigarette on the sleeve of his suit, savoring the smell of burnt fabric and even a hint of hissing flesh. Once the entire the cigarette was completely put out, she pulled the butt up and placed the piece of trash in his chest pocket.
"There, you have my authorization."
He turned back immediately and the room went back kicked back into concentration, barking orders and regrouping the tactical team.
She picked her overcoat of fox fur up from the table and swirled the each chair with her hand as she walked past the table. The melody of the chairs creaking amidst the sound of desperate men on their radios was always a treat.
She opened the door of the operations rooms and bade her farewell.
"Good evening gentlemen, and good hunting!"
"Where is he?
"Who?"
"The killer."
Malyana's lips twitched.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Soldier, my patience is limited,. I know you almost caught him at the last victim's house."
Malyana had trouble trying believing what was happening. Was the viper…really asking about the serial killer? Of all the other things she could be asking about?
Shouldn't she be asking about the girl?
"Yes, almost. But I'm not hunting him."
The viper slowly studied her face in the moonlight, trying to determine if she was lying.
"Then who? If not him then why are you following him? Who are you hunting?"
"I need him to lead me to someone else."
"Who?"
Malyana was silent.
It suddenly dawned on the viper.
"The girl."
Malyana answered with silence.
"So you want his accomplice."
"He's not working with her. In fact he probably doesn't even know about her."
"But she helped him in the house…"
"Yes, because she wants him to succeed..."
"In what? The killings are ritualistic in nature, right? What is he trying to do?"
Malyana considered her options carefully. If Anti-Skill caught the man first…then would it be easier to catch the girl?
If he was stopped in his tracks then the girl will surely be left to wander alone.
But then Malyana will have trouble trying to catch her without a lead. Right now the five points in Anglo Saxon script written by her friend was the only real clue Malyana had to go on.
And Malyana had already paid him a visit. He did not give her anything substantive about the girl. It seemed like the Anglican was also in the dark about the girl's whereabouts.
Without any leads it would be impossible to track her down in such a big city.
But most importantly, she had heard the man's chanting. She recognized the dagger. She knew who he was trying to summon.
Malyana kept silent.
The viper slowly readjusted her grip on her Glock. The point was not lost on the old solider.
"Listen soldier, if you want to hunt the little girl down, feel free to do so. I just want the killer. If you want to keep silent and let the snakes suffocate you, be my guest. Or you can lay your cards out on the table and we can try to hammer something out."
Malyana slowly eyed her over again.
Viper or not, this she was good. It was also strange for her to be offering such a proposal instead of just shooting Malyana or threatening her, even though she had her at gunpoint.
Could it be?
Could she just be an Anti-Skill officer?
Could she just be a righteous policewoman trying to stop a serial killer?
Could she just be a…hero?
Malyana hedged her bets.
"The victims are sacrifices for a ritual."
"Sacrifices? To curry favor? To atone for a sin? To summon an entity? Give me the details."
"It's…"
Yomikawa heard them first.
It was the unmistakable sound of tactical boots crunching through grass. The sound of tactical vests – laden with ammunition and equipment – brushed past the hedgerows as they crept in.
The two of them eyed each other while the operative signaled at the Beretta pistol in her hand.
Yomikiawa looked at her before glancing quickly at the direction of the approaching operators.
She decided to hold her pistol.
If the snakes caught this woman, then they will surely learn about the serial killer's association with the girl. This would turn everything from an unimportant Anti-Skill case into a top counterintelligence priority.
She knew that even a small team assembled by the snakes was infinitely more efficient and capable than the entirety of Anti-Skill combined.
If the snakes got ahold of her then they would easily catch the serial killer.
Yomikawa kept her pistol trained on the operative.
Malyana smirked.
So you are a viper after all.
Just as they both saw the tip the submachine gun's suppressor poking over the corner of hedgerows, Malyana shifted her jacket slightly and something dropped out onto the grass:
A flash bang.
"Push! Push! Push!"
"Left! Left! He went left! To the right! Right!"
The flash bang had been thrown to the right spot. It must have been. But when Alpha Four turned the corner barely a second after it detonated they were only met with a knife flying towards the point man's vest.
And the contact was gone again.
They knew that the contact must be either an esper or a magician. They could not even see him properly on their night vision goggles: there only a mass of moving shadow.
The team swept the angle and peeked around another corner. This time another knife shot went into the side of his night vision goggles.
"Contact left!"
Another cascade of fire followed.
But it was a futile dance with shadows.
The operator grunted again as he snapped his night vision goggles up over his headset and reloaded his P90 submachinegun.
He also changed the brass catch on his submachinegun, already filled with empty casings. It was standard procedure; they had been trained to not leave any evidence of their operations whenever avoidable. The flashbang casing was also retrieved.
Then the radio came to life.
"We got moment near the pavilion! The target is moving!"
The operators could see that secondary target was awake. He was shifting slowly, carefully getting on his feet, while his hands clutched his head.
The point man from Alpha Four dropped the FN P90 to his side and pulled out his dart stun gun. Shooting him with the submachine gun was too risky. He brought it bear, lining up the sights and…
A knife flew into his hands. The stun gun fell uselessly onto the grass.
His colleagues did not hesitate.
The first rounds hit the pillar next to his legs, shooting up a big puff of dust. This startled the man and he took off in an unsteady wobble, half stumbling and half running. Several lines of IR lasers immediately found his torso.
"No! Don't kill him! The orders were to take him alive!"
The lasers quickly shifted down to find his legs, but by then he had already disappeared into the cover of the bushes.
The beams of lasers wavered for a moment in the green hue, scanning the area in vain, trying to find a target. But they all knew that the target was already out of sight and running for the exit.
Another knife cutting the through the bush reminded them to pay attention.
The team regrouped.
"Overwatch, this is Alpha Two –"
Only static answered them.
The remaining operators exchanged glances with each other, unsure of the situation. But Alpha Three took command.
"We must pursue the secondary package."
"And the contact?"
"Unimportant. Contact has just been trying to delay us."
"And Alpha Two?"
The wounded operator was clutching his neck where the knife had hit him. They had managed retrieve him from the open and to stop the bleeding temporarily.
Each call sign was a pair of two operators.
"Two's second man will extract him."
The other nodded in agreement.
"Alpha Three and Four will pursue the target. We'll push the contact a bit then feint."
The operators glanced at each other and nodded in agreement. They quickly reloaded the long stick magazines of their P90s, and reattached new, empty brass catches to their submachine guns.
They set off once more, moving through the hedge and the undergrowth in hot pursuit of their target.
The viper had turned in a flash, expecting the flashbang to detonate immediately.
But that was the trick.
She had expected Malyana to cook her flashbang, so by the time viper saw the body of the grenade it was already too late.
The soldier didn't do that.
This gave her four seconds.
As the viper turned Malyana immediately raised her pistol to get a shot off. But instead of a target she only found a blank grass wall.
The viper was already gone.
Having no target the soldier simply turned around and dodged as well, just as the flashbang exploded.
Ironically it was the approaching snakes that caught the worst of it.
The point man turned the corner just as the flashbang detonated. It blinded his delicate night vision settings. He stumbled back, intending to retreat back into cover.
Malyana shot him in the head.
Her 9x19 Parabellum rounds crashed through the tubes of his night vision goggles and knocked the man onto the ground.
The second man turned the corner firing in short, controlled bursts, with a good estimation of Malyana's position.
She began moving as well, squeezing off two shots at him before she disappeared into the concealment of the hedgerows again. Then she took aim with her pistol at a second corner – empty and silent – to her right, ignoring the fire was spewing out from the second man.
And just as she thought, another element soon came around the second corner to flank her.
Malyana doubled tapped the first man just as he turned the corner.
She send a round to his head and followed it up with two more his chest. Of course, the operator's plate carrier would catch her subsonic 9mm rounds quite easily.
But it would break the confidence of her pursuers to see both of their point men getting nailed the moment they turned the corner.
This would shake them.
It didn't.
Instead they pushed forwards, bounding from cover to cover, calmly and precisely gaining on her position. She knew that they were good, hard men who did break under fire.
And if she did not take them seriously enough they would easily oblige her with a clean burst into her chest.
So she too began to move on her feet, firing again and again as she retreated back into the safety of the maze.
And the dance was on.
But as Malyana bound through the undergrowth, dodging the angry little hornets chasing after her, her thoughts went back the Anti-Skill officer.
It seemed like she was indeed telling the truth.
She was not a snake.
She did not help the snakes attack her. Instead her priority seemed to have been evading them as well, something which she most likely succeeded in. Malyana was sure that none of operators saw her.
The team came pushing forwards, but she knew that they would eventually lose her. That is, given if they didn't have any air support.
The soldier suddenly remembered the Anti-Skill officer and her camouflage overcoat.
Was she trying to hide from…
Malyana looked up at the night sky, trying to see if there was a drone overhead. But all she found was a dark shape with a glowing sword sailing through the air.
It was headed directly towards her.
-x-
First uploaded: 7/4/2021
Last modified: 20/2/2021
Wordcount: 11,198
Changelog:
3/8/2021 – Prose edit. Shaved off ~800 words. 9x18mm - 9x19mm, FFS always gets that wrong. Removed level reference.
13/4/2021 – Typos and general edits. Explained Jim actions & situation better.