Hey everyone! I'm not dead! (Sorry to disappoint a couple of folks.)
Anyway, I have to give 7th Librarian most of the credit here, and a lot of it to Mei1105; I only did a few cutscenes.
I've intentionally refrained from adding a File this time, to avoid a distraction when, well, you'll see.
Anyway, onward!
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Strange things don't surprise a rilmani much, especially one who has been around as long as I have.
Even the worst genocidal tyrant on Earth can seem tame when one has seen the atrocities committed by Borys of Evon, known to most residents of Athas as The Butcher of Rah Sade.
Violent wars on your world can be considered little more than brief arguments when conflicts like that of the Fields of Nettles is compared. I have seen structures like the Kin-Oin of the Grey Waste, a tower in the shape of a twisted spinal column, twenty miles in height, and supposedly, though I haven't measured myself, with subterranean levels underneath just as deep. (Horrifically, legends state it was once an actual spine of a dark god slain by the yugoloths.) I've seen abominations that have caused mortals to die from fear, literally.
I knew from the days when I was young to expect anything in a universe where anything can happen.
Still, when the unexpected does happen, it can be puzzling even to one such as I.
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Chapter 41
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Paint it Black
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Sheeva hadn't been this angry in a very long time. She had been a jailer for Shao Kahn most of her life – which was several thousand years, like all Shokan – and with such seniority, was the one the other guards answered to. As such, ending up trapped in a cell in the same facility she was supposed to guard – especially after it was clearly obvious a foe had intended such – was humiliating.
She wasn't sure who she was more upset at, Francis or the stupid efreet who had told her this would be easy.
Speak of the devil, she thought, as Addams entered the cellblock, his suit stained and his tie undone.
"The entire security system was tripped!" he shouted, a clear sign of panic in his voice. "How did – "
"Let me out of this," she demanded.
"A minute," he said. "You weren't injured, were you?"
"I'm fine!" she bellowed, standing up. "Open the damn door!"
"I think I'll wait a while then," he answered.
Fortunately for him, he had positioned himself way out of the Shokan's reach before saying that. As he tried to increase that distance, Damned Magician Girl rushed in.
"What the hell is going on?" she yelled.
"We've had an… altercation," replied Addams.
Sheeva sat down on the cot again, crossing both sets of arms with a sulking look.
"Altercation?" shouted the Duel Spirit. She lowered her voice to hushed rage. "Do you have any idea what the boss is going to do to us when he finds out?"
"Assuming he hasn't already," added Addams.
Sheeva rolled her eyes. Humans, she thought.
"The fighting around Broken Reach is starting to subside," said Damned Magician Girl, "it won't be long before Thingol's beholders fly out to finish anyone left; when the all clear is given, we'd better have Eden back or –"
"You know," said Sheeva, "there was a policy for disciplining guards who lost prisoners in the Outworld. The guard who lets it happen finishes said prisoner's sentence."
"So why do you seem so thrilled?" asked Addams.
Sheeva leaned back, her upper arms behind her head.
"I remember fondly when I was young, and two other rookies and I were told to watch a rabble-rouser who had been sentenced to death. I was young, naive, and unskilled then, underestimated his own ability to fight, and overestimated my own. I regretted it all the first time I had to feed him.
"I was promoted the next day, seeing as I turned those other two Shokan in for helping him." She smiled, her small fangs clearly visible. "And Shao Kahn believed, to his moment of death, he had executed two incompetent guards who had fallen asleep on duty and unable to prevent a criminal's escape."
"You mean you -" started Damned Magician Girl.
"It wouldn't be the last time," added Sheeva. She stood up, and her voice changed to a hiss. "I don't intend to stop any time soon. Now kindly open this door."
Addams moved quickly to the control panel, now realizing that there was a downside to a servant who was more lucid than Bonnie.
He changed the subject quickly. "Beatrice, it's obvious she's at Shadowchaser HQ, and it's likely ten times more secure than even this place is now, and they're likely expecting infiltration. Simply busting in and grabbing her out of the question." The door slid open. Sheeva simply gave him a dirty look as she emerged. "We'll have to think of something else."
Damned Magician Girl felt her chest, which was still beating steadily, sixty beats per minute. She didn't have much time left. She swallowed hard.
"I know what to do," she said.
God forgive me…
TTTTT
Gunfire broke the still night air.
"Can't you drive faster!?"
"Italian streets aren't exactly meant for high-speed chases!"
Hooves hammered on the cobblestones, trampling over anything in their way with the painful noise of metal being forced into shapes it was not meant to be in.
A chilling wail echoed as machine gun shells burned though the black-clad rider and his horse, ripping and tearing through the cloak. No blood spilled, but both rider and mount dissolved away into a stream of dust that fanned out like a funeral shroud.
"Ha! Got one!"
"That still leaves eight!"
"Hey, I don't see you doing any better!"
"This isn't some movie, you guys are top marksman! Just shoot the horses out from under them!"
Fanciullo buried his face in his palm, slumping against the door even as Uomo and Drago jockeyed for position in their car's sunroof. Despite the seriousness of their situation, he couldn't believe that his men were still bickering like little children. It was like they couldn't do anything without him lording over them like an angry parent and making them place nice together.
There was an unsubtle creaking noise and the crime boss jerked his head away from the window as tendrils of an ugly black frost began to creep across it like grasping fingers. As it did, another chill that was completely unrelated to the temperature wormed its way down his spine. He felt inside his jacket pocket for his sidearm, taking what little comfort he could in the fact that he had it, despite knowing it really wasn't going to hurt their pursuers.
He wasn't sure what these things really were, but that was why he had people to do things for him. "Nitro, you're the nerd here, how are we supposed to stop these… what did you call them again?"
Sandwiched in the backseat and forces to twist around his comrade's legs as they kept firing while typing away at his cell phone, Nitro reflexively winced as gunfire and Drago roared practically in his ear. "Nazgul," he answered. "Or Ringwraiths. They're weakened by sunlight –"
"It's midnight."
"Uhm, running water –"
"All of which is covered by bridges."
"Fire."
"That's doable." Fanciullo immediately began patting himself down, looking for something. "They after the book?"
"Definitely. I'm betting their summoner rigged it up that the they perceive the book as they do the One Ring. They're never going to stop hunting us." Nitro gulped visibly as they car swerved as a sword slashed at the rear window and cracks scattered across it. "Bulletproof glass doesn't do much against swords, boss…"
Of course, he knew that everything he had surmised just opened more questions, not that he cared to analyze them right now.
"They got some poker face," said Tormento. He glanced into the rearview mirror to view the – hooded, faceless – pursuers, interrupted by a slap from his boss.
"Just keep your eye on the road, stupid!" he barked.
"Hey! You want some of this?" Uomo's weapon roared and there were twisted howls of a horse in pain. "Yeah, don't think you'll be getting so close after that!"
Fanciullo ignored them all and slammed a hand into the glove compartment. It popped open and he grabbed a wand as it spilled out amongst the maps, snacks and flashlights. "Tormento, when I say so, take a hard right."
"Sure, if you want us to slam into some buildings." Tormento gripped the steering wheel tighter as he guided the car through the curving Italian streets.
"Just take the first one you see!" Fanciullo snapped back and tried to lower the window. But it groaned in protest and didn't budge as the ice thickened on it. Swearing, he punched the glove compartment, causing it to open, then grabbed the emergency wrench from it. With his free hand, he slammed it into the window, twice. The glass cracked under the first two blows and then his elbow shattered it the rest of the way.
…unfortunately, being able to see out of it didn't make the view pleasant. The galloping figure was outside and in front of him, the tattered cloak shrouding the rider still even as it galloped at speeds well beyond any mortal horse's gallop. A dark rasp emerged from the hood, audible despite the gunfire, wind and high speed. "Give it to us….'
A gauntleted hand emerged from the cloak, reaching inside the car.
"Tormento-" Fanciullo never got the rest out as his drive slammed the car against the Ringwraith, horse and rider screeching in pain as they were ground against the wall like cheese on a grater.
But that still didn't stop the wraith as its sword flashed, severing Fanciullo seatbelt and spilling blood across his suit. His pistol boomed in the enclosed space, the Ringwraith shrieking unnaturally and bursting into dust. But the car wobbled back into the rode and the mafia don could see another rider already closing in the rear view mirror. "Tormento!"
"Hard right, coming up!" The driver slammed on the brakes and yanked on the wheel, the car tipping onto a single wheel as it cornered like ballerina pirouetting
Fanciullo tumbled out of his seat, slamming into Tormento and he saw Uomo and Drago crash back into the car out of the corner of his eye, Nitro yelping as he was crushed underneath them and his phone flying out of the sun roof.
He also saw the dark riders closing in them, still shrouded by thick fog and shrill screeches splitting the air even as they raised their swords. Hooves smashed into the car, sending it skidding into a wall.
"Choke on this, gruesome!" he goaded. He pointed out the wand out the broken window and spoke the command word.
Flames streamed from it like someone had turned a fire hose on. The heat licked at his skin and he reflexively shielded his face but didn't lower the wand because over the roar of the flame, he could hear the pained shrieking of the Ringwraiths and their horses.
For a long moment, it was nothing but fire and screaming until suddenly, both stopped. The wand was out of charges and the Ringwraiths hopefully gone.
Silence filled the air and then filled the car as the mobsters all untangled themselves from each other. Fanciullo hauled himself back into his seat, ignoring Tormento's yelp as he accidentally kicked the other man in the stomach. Behind him, Drago has shoved the door open - causing it to fall off the hinges - so he could topple out and crash into the street while Uomo was roughly kicked out by an irritated Nitro.
The cobblestones were blackened in a glossy coat of melted stone, a few embers still flickering and wavering weakly. Across the street, a wrought-iron fence had melted into something resembling modern art and if there had been flowers decorating the garden behind it, they were ash now.
"Damn, boss…" Drago stood, leaning on the car. "Why didn't you do that when they showed up?"
"Didn't have the wand and it would have burned our home down like tinder." Fanciullo pointed out gruffly and winced as he examined his wound. "I doubt it's in very good shape as it is right now. Call down to one of the safe houses. Tell them we're gonna need a doctor. Uomo, grab us another car."
"Why me?"
"Because I said so," Fanciullo shot at him and then gaped as he saw the remaining embers go out as ice crept over the ground and extinguished them like someone blowing out a candle. "Mannaggia…"
"No way…" Drago breathed as the thick fog began to billow in out of nowhere and filled the streets of the T-Intersection they were in like walls. Hooves chimed against the cobblestones and three Ringwraiths emerged from each possible exist. None of them looked worse for the wear.
"Fools… no man can slay us." The dark raspy voice was laden with authority and power as the Ringwraiths closed in almost casually, like they had all the time in the world. "Do you not know death when you see it?"
"I look death in the face so often I send him Christmas cards." The mobster snapped back and drew his sidearm. Still, the fear was creeping up his spine again and his wound throbbed. He had fought his share of ugly and horrific Shadows, many of them undead, but never, as he'd recount later, a "gang of freaks from a fantasy novel". His men were all readying themselves for a fight too, but judging by their expressions and how they all backed up slowly as the wraiths advanced, they knew they weren't going to win this one
And that was when the hippogriff slammed into their car.
TTTTTT
Damned Magician Girl was right, of course. It likely would have been easier to get into a Pentagon briefing uninvited than for even a mouse to get past security at the detention center of Shadowchasers HQ.
Each checkpoint had two additional golems, with numerous other constructs patrolling, weapons had been upgraded, and several spells to prevent teleportation and dimensional travel. Enchantment designed to foil invisible, or magically disguised enemies was now active, along with a rarely-used mechanism that would protect the entire compound with Guards and Wards, a powerful magical lockdown.
Now, the facility's computer records claimed Eden in a secure wing of the already secure sub-level, and if anyone did manage to make it to the marked cell on said record, they'd find a cell guarded by two golems, and what looked like Eden inside it; this was a ruse they used infrequently. It was actually a simulacrum created for just such an occasion; if anybody touched it, multiple Contingency dweomers would be activated to set off alarms and restrain the enemy. (It was a one use item, and wasn't cheap, the reason for the infrequent use, but it was necessary.)
The actual Eden's location was only recorded on hard file. She was in another wing, now with a clean change of clothes (her old ones had been incinerated, as they stunk), and Wells himself was watching her, personally. To pass time, they were playing the card game on a table in the cell (both of them using cheap Structure Decks, seeing as she had lost hers) as she related the "game" Damned Magician Girl had required of her.
"The rules were simple," she said. "I could leave, but I had a year to win a hundred duels." She leaned on her hand. "And every other duelist she made deals with only needed to win one. Like a pack of wolves hunting one sheep with a little 'incentive'."
"The journal," said Wells. "They wanted you to lead them to it, I suppose?"
Eden nodded. "I hid it using wards that would not only conceal it, but lead them to dozens of dead ends if they tried to use magic to find it. They knew that, and I knew they knew it. I waited six whole months before I even dared go back to the spot, and it wasn't until October that I actually thought it was safe enough to retrieve it." She flipped over her set card, which was Chewbone. "It wasn't. Once Alphonse appeared, I knew I had to get that journal away from me and into the hands of someone who would protect it." She flipped over her Trap, which was Just Desserts. "And Fanciullo was the best I could find. By the way, I think that's game."
"So it is," said Wells. "You take to new cards pretty quick."
"Well, not like I've had much else to do lately…"
"You know," he said. He lifted a briefcase on the table. "I've been working on something here, a little stronger than the old Kuriboh theme."
He set a new deck on the table and pushed it towards her. "Haven't tried this yet, and I've got nowhere to go either..."
Eden smiled as he slid it towards her.
TTTTTT
Fanciullo was drowning.
The river water was far colder than it should have been and part of him wondered if it was because it was some type of dark magic cast by the of the Ringwraiths; he wouldn't have thought it impossible, with what he had seen so far. The rest of him was struggling to kick back to the surface and find some air. But it wasn't going to happen- the water was too dark to see which way was up and the frigid water was sapping his strength even faster than the blood streaming from his fresh wounds.
Fanciullo surprised himself by finding he didn't really mind dying. It was quiet and kind of painless, mostly. The darkness was comforting and it really was like going to sleep. And there was just enough of him awake enough to appreciate the fact for everyone he'd sent to the big sleep, he was going to share the same riverbed as they did.
Sleep. Riverbed. That was too funny.
He laughed and choked on the water, then belatedly realized that he was choking on air because a hand had grabbed his leg and hauled him out like a bag of wet laundry.
"Oh good, you're still alive," a mocking voice said as the owner deposited the mafia don on the ground. "Now I can still get paid."
Fanciullo spat up some water and wiped at his eyes with the remains of his sleeve to gaze up at the dark figure in front of him. "The hell is a drow doing here?"
"Most people say 'thank you' when someone saves their asses," the drow in question folded her arms and rolled her eyes.
"I let my money speak for me on occasions like this." Fanciullo stood and grabbed his weapon from where it was resting on the cobblestones. "And my gun speaks even better when people piss me off."
"Sure, because shooting the unstoppable evil works out so well." The drow pointed down a little way, where Nitro and Uomo were huddled up and nursing some nasty-looking sword words.
There was a roar and Drago came flying out of a nearby shop window, the khimera groaning and rolling to a bloody amidst a shower of glass. Two of the Ringwraiths followed him menacingly as they raised their swords.
"Hang on a sec." The drow patted Fanciullo on the head mockingly. "Be a good boy and stay here while I show you how it's done."
With that, she shot forwards and flipped over Drago, a pair of knives piercing one of the Ringwraiths where its head would be. As she landed, she darted forwards and parried the slash aiming to cut off her head and a third knife was thrust viciously into its face as well. Both Ringwraiths gave off shrieks and scattered into dust.
"...you just stabbed them!" Drago protested as he hauled himself to his feet, blood streaming from his wounds. "Anyone can do that!"
"Yeah, then why were you still shooting them?"
"Because...because…" Drago stared at her and clenched his good fist. "Your face!"
"Wow. What a mature comeback." The drow folded her arms against. "You are the least intimidating Mafioso I have ever seen."
That was when the two Ringwraiths reappeared out of nothing behind her and their swords hissed through the air for her head.
Shadows rippled and a form yanked the drow out of the way at the last second, the wraiths' weapons colliding in the space where her neck had been with a resounding clang.
The newcomer deposited the drow back over alongside Fanciullo. "And you are the slowest drow I have ever known, Mora."
"I was in the process of ducking!" Mora snapped at him and then threw up her hands in frustration as the two Ringwraiths were joined by their comrades. The whole group formed a semicircle around the Mafia and their rescuers, still moving in eerie unison. "God dammit, why do I have to fight things that don't stay dead when I kill them?!"
"This from a species who just can't seem to get enough necromancers," mumbled Fanciullo.
"Just tend to our employer's wounds." The man lunged forwards into the Ringwraiths, a whip of fire from his weapon lashing and arcing to drive them back.
"But playing nursemaid is even worse!"
Fanciullo braced himself up against the wall alongside his men, watching as the man fought all of the Ringwraiths at once. A whip of fire in one hand and a key blade in the other drove them down the street. "About time he got here. What'd he do, walk?"
"Is he on our side?" Tormento wanted to know. Unlike the others, he had gotten away with few wounds and was busy trying to patch Nitro and Uomo up. "Cause I don't think I want to work with anyone crazy enough to fight all nine of those things at once."
"No, we're not 'on your side'." Mora snapped as she yanked Drago over to the little party and deposited him alongside the others. "You're paying us not to kill you."
"That's…. kind of unreasonable." Tormento pointed out slowly. "Who'd do that?"
Mora gave him such a disbelieving look that her eyebrow threatened to vanish into the rest of her hair.
"Oh. Right. Yeah. Cosa Nostra."
"Mugetsu," came the reply. Color leached from the surroundings, warmth and light vanished from the air and darkness billowed down the street.
"Stormcloud?" Nitro whistled as they watched the Ringwraiths get evaporated in the seething darkness of the attack. "He's the outsource guy?"
"Makes sense. Guy's kind of unkillable and stuff." Drago winced as Mora tightened the bandages on his arm and just doused them in antiseptic. "Christ, where's your bedside manner!?"
"In bed. With my husband," came the reply.
"Well, whatever you're using burns like hell!"
"That's because it's holy water. Ringwraiths use Morgul blades and if we don't purify the wounds, well, let me put it this way, know where young Ringwraiths come from?" Mora jerked her head where the nine demons were all reforming out of the fog yet again, this time in two distinct groups. "It'd improve your looks, but not much else."
"Don't your smart mouth me, you little-" Drago's protest was cut off as Mora splashed some holy water on his face and he howled. "Agh! Dammit!"
"You really don't learn, do you?"
"Drago, stop being an idiot. Nitro, stop filming it. Tormento, fix Nitro's arm so he doesn't bleed to death. Uomo… you just lay there and knit yourself back together." Fanciullo ignored the chorus of muttered, petulant agreements and gestured to for Mora to come over. "Please come earn your paycheck by helping the Don out, miss."
"Finally, some manners."
"Manners don't cost anything and buy a lot of respect." Fanciullo grit his teeth as Mora started treating his wounds with the holy water. "I'm no demon worshipper. Why's this stuff hurting us?"
"Because your wounds are evil and cursed and they're slowly warping you into one of the Ghost Patrol." Mora glanced over her shoulder with her thumb at Lyrius, who was busy weaving in and out among the Ringwraiths in an increasingly vain effort to keep them from surrounding him. "You want help?"
"No." Lyrius cut down three wraiths by teleporting behind them and then had to parry desperately as two more reformed on either side of him.
"Okay. Don't say I didn't offer."
"You do, uh, have a plan?" Fanciullo asked as he watched the fight continue. "Escaping sounds like a good one since we can't seem to kill these things in any meaningful fashion. They're like tax collectors."
"Won't work," sighed Nitro, shaking his head. "Those things have the tracking skills of the Predator and the patience of Job."
"Interesting comparison," said Mora with a shrug.
"You don't have a plan, right?" asked Fanciullo.
"Me? No, not personally. I came along because it was my turn. Lyrius? He probably has a plan. Not that he deigns to share with anyone." Mora rolled her eyes. "And it's probably 'be a badass and kill the unkillable again'."
"Kind of seems to be working so far." Nitro put in, carefully steadying his phone in his good arm to keep track of the fight.
"We can't do this all night." Fanciullo pointed out. "And that hippogriff is still around."
"Hippogriff?" Mora perked up at the mention. "Is it alive? Because I can kill it if it is."
"Yeah, right. It'll claw your face off and eat it. Maybe. You might give it indigestion." Drago snickered and then whimpered in pain as Mora swatted him on one of his wounds. "C'mon!"
"Next time, I'll sew the wound you call a mouth shut, brat."
"I'm fifty-two years old!"
"And I'm a hundred and twelve. So shut up and respect your elders."
The air shuddered and lost its color again as another Mugetsu tore down the street and washed away the Ringwraiths. Then Mora's shadow ripped and Lyrius stepped free from it, bleeding from a series of shallow cuts across his body. "Mora. First aid."
"Do I have to teach you manners, too!?"
"Please, now." Lyrius watched as the fog rolled in again, the Ringwraiths gliding forwards like he hadn't just destroyed them all. "Also, cover your eyes."
"Wait, what?" Mora's eyes widened in realization and she did so instantly.
There was the beat of wings, then white feathers rained down from the sky. A second later, a winged figure crashed to the ground right in front of the Ringwraiths.
The words that the figure spoke next had no coherent meaning to the listeners; it was doubtful even Lyrius truly understood half of the incantation. What mattered was the overall meaning of what he was saying, which could be summarized in a brief phrase:
"Holy Word."
White light flooded the area, illuminating the street like a football stadium. Everyone shielded their faces and the Ringwraiths surprised shrieking was lost what sounded like voice of rumbling thunder speaking something.
"Christ, that stings…" Drago lowered his arm and blinked the spots from his eyes. "What the hell –"
He froze in mid-sentence. "Hey! I can't hear anything!"
"That's cause you're deaf," Fanciullo groaned, trying hard to sound competent when merely talking hurt his chest. "It's a Holy Word. Divine magic. Anyone not on the side of the angels is weakened by it, and trust me, you guys lucked out. Demons like them are killed outright or kicked back to whatever hell they crawled from here for a full day."
He groaned and clutched at his head. "And if you're warded against that magic, you get a bad hangover without having any of the fun."
"WHAT!?" Drago demanded. "I can't understand you! I can't understand me!"
Mora laughed. "This is too good. It's like it banished all their common sense, too! No, wait...they didn't have that.'
"I don't know what you said, drow, but I know you're mocking me!" Drago pointed at her fiercely.
"Oh no." Mora waved it away. "You're doing this to yourself."
"Stop antagonizing me!"
"At least stop making him yell so much." Fanciullo put in sharply and groaned. "Why weren't you affected, anyway?"
"Oh, right. Assume all drow are naturally evil." Mora snorted and folded her arms. "I'm a bitch, but I'm nice about it."
"In other words, an impossibility." Lyrius put in mildly.
"If you are all done expositing on the situation, I would rather enjoy some help in resolving it." With a beat of wings, the newcomer flew backwards and landed in front of the group. Now that she was no longer covered in holy blinding light, it was possible to get a good look at her.
Blonde hair went nicely with her white wings and everything from her perfect posture to the icy, regal and hard-edged beauty she had to the thin, glowing sword in one hand just screamed 'I'm in charge and I know it. Now shut up and listen.' She cleared her throat. "There is still one left."
Indeed, there was. Looming out of the fog-filled street was the last wraith. It was somehow a head and shoulders taller than it had been before, the tattered cloak gone to reveal heavy plate armor. A spiked helm covered the space where its head was and it wielded equally massive flail and sword in its hands. "Fools. This is my hour."
"The Witch-King of Agmar…" The angelic woman folded her arms, readjusting her glasses with a frown. "According to the literature, a powerful sorcerer, master of fear, immune to sunlight and water and so powerful that he could fight Gandalf himself and win without breaking a sweat. He was pretty much Sauron's second in command, and the embodiment of terror."
"Yeah, but there was that thing about no man being able to kill him." Mora stepped up alongside her and grinned viciously as she produced a pair of knives. "Once again, proving that you shouldn't send a man to do a woman's job."
"You can't take him on alone." The other woman warned her and readied her sword, raising it into a fencer's stance. "Support me, please."
"Melissa, hun, I love, but you really gotta learn this lesson by now-" Mora burst forwards, hurling her knives. The Witch-King parried one out of the air, the other lodging in his face. She twisted around the fail as it tore up the ground and vaulted up off his body and using the opportunity to impale him several times, faster than the eye could follow. "If you're working with me, it's first come first serve!"
"Reckless as usual." Melissa scowled and then with a beat of her wings, shot forwards to slam her sword into the Witch-King's with a howling of holy metal grinding against unholy.
Fanciullo glanced at Lyrius, who was just watching the fight passively. "You aren't going to help them?"
"I am human and male. I will be unable to kill him permanently."
"I suppose…" Fanciullo agreed and shifted a bit, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't aggravate his wounds. "Where'd you get the angel?"
"Aasimar."
"Right, half-angel. Where'd you get one?"
"That is Melissa Stormcloud, my step-daughter."
"Step-kid?" Fanciullo lifted an eyebrow, but when no further answer was forthcoming, shrugged and gave up. "Thought you didn't have a good relationship with your extended family."
"It is a case-by-case basis." Lyrius raised his keyblade...and spun, driving the weapon squarely past Fanciullo head and into the Ringwraith that had materialized behind him. "As are these things."
"Say what?" The mafia don jumped away, swearing under his breath as the eight other Ringwraiths materialized around them. "The hell does it take to put these guys down for good?"
"Nothing you got, you little shrimp!"
Everyone's head lifted and then looked up at the shout from above. Circling the rooftops was the hippogriff from earlier and atop it, was a grinning Lee Harvey Oswald. "These ain't some cheap demons. We brought these out to hunt you and they ain't never going to stop till you're all dead!"
Lyrius bisected a Ringwraith, sword and all and watched as both blew away into dust. And then the same dust suddenly appeared around Oswald and sailed down to the ground to reform into fog that had filled the area before the Ringwraith stepped out of it. "You are controlling them."
"Damn straight I am!" Oswald tugged on his mount's reins and laughed as they buzzed the crowd below, forcing everyone to duck and allowing the Ringwraiths to land fresh blows on everyone as they scrambled to defend themselves. "They'll defend me just as long as they'll hunt you and that's forever! Ha!"
"Forever is about to end in the next five minutes," said Lyrius. "Mora?"
Lyrius had caught the drow's attention as a parry of the Witch-King's sword sent her falling back towards the group.
"What? Busy!"
Lyrius pointed at the hippogriff with his keyblade. "Go murder that mount and rider for me, please."
She gave him a withering look. "I'm not a puppy you can command to do tricks."
"...and yet you are already eyeing up its weak points."
"What can I say? You speak my language."
Lyrius held out his hand. "Would you like some assistance reaching it, fair lady?"
"No, I got this." Mora put action to words, sprinting for one of the buildings. With an impressive display of agility and flexibility, she vaulted and flipped her way up in just a few seconds. Darting across the rooftops, the drow produced a cable and clipped it around one of her daggers.
Fanciullo couldn't help but smirk a little. It was obvious what Lyrius was telling her to do.
Fighting these guys is pointless, he thought, but if they're just limbs for the brain up there controlling them…
With expert aim, Mora hurled her weapon the hippogriff's neck. It squawked in protest and banked away. "Hey! Chicken fingers!"
"The fuck you doing, lady!?" Oswald tossed over his shoulder angrily. "Don't make us come over there and maul your face off!"
"Oh, you're not coming here." Mora slammed the anchor point of the cable solidly in a rooftop and then, impossibly, ran along the cable's length like it was nothing. "I'm going there!"
"No way!" Oswald just stared as she landed atop his hippogriff. His reached for his shoulder, were a holster was, but Mora kicked the gun out of his grasp before he had even gotten halfway.
"Please, don't think you're worth my time to kill!" She seized him by the collar and hurled him off the hippogriff. "The fall will do that!"
Oswald's cry of terror was drowned out by the sound of her cable snapping and the hippogriff screeching in frustration, twisting and turning to dislodge its new occupant.
"As for you, chicken fingers…" Mora hung on tightly and grinned in expectation. A knife was suddenly in her and she drove it into the beast's wing joints. It roared and thrashed. "Let's see if I can't turn you into a pincushion before you fall out of the sky!"
Oswald crashed to a rooftop, groaning and staggering forwards on all fours before flopping over on his back. Blood poured from a wound on his head and pain flooded his body from the impact. "Not good...not good…"
Shadows rippled and he gulped as Lyrius was looming over him, grasping the sword in both hands. "Even worse…!"
"In the name of St. Cuthbert, in the name of Eilistraee and in the name of Erestrial…" Lyrius reversed his grip on the keyblade and drove it into Oswald's chest. It sank into the man's flesh without actually cutting anything. "I purge you of the connection to the darkness!"
Blue and white light surrounded the weapon and then vanished down into its target. Oswald gaped and thrashed in pain so great he couldn't vocalize it - it was like someone was pouring liquid metal onto his soul.
Fanciullo gave off a quiet sigh of relief as the Ringwraiths howled and crumpled in on themselves horrifically, vanishing into shadowy mist that evaporated into nothingness a moment later.
Yep. The limbs ain't no good without the brain." He chuckled a little, coughing as he did. Pretty stupid brain too.
Melissa's sword rang as it cleaved the chain for the flail in two and she opened cuts on the helm before the Witch-King suddenly froze. His sword dropped from his hand and then he began to dent and crumple, warping and twisting like a child playing with Play-Doh. There was a cry of something not from Earth, reverberating on everyone's souls and then he exploded in an ever-expanding dome of ash and darkness.
The aasimar went tumbling end over end, reflexively folding her wings around herself as she bounced and skidded across the ground while Fanciullo and his men howled in fresh pain and shielded themselves as best they could.
"How does that feel-" Mora drove another knife into the hippogriff's neck and it reeled, finally beginning to lose altitude as it trailed blood and feathers like streamers. Then she noticed they were falling right into what looked like exploding darkness. "...oh, fuck."
Her shadow rippled and Lyrius burst free, snaring her around the waist before vanishing again and reappearing on the ground. "Are you alright?"
"No! You just stole my kill!" Mora jabbed a finger at his chest angrily and then stopped as she saw the hippogriff's corpse hit the darkness and dissolve away like acid was eating it. A moment later, the dome faded away to reveal there wasn't even bones left. "...but you know, I can live with that."
"Good." Lyrius vanished into his shadow again and reappeared on the rooftop even as Melissa sailed over the rooftops edge. Oswald was hurriedly scrambling away as fast he could. "Do not let him escape!"
Oswald fumbled with a scroll desperately, nearly dropping it as he heard Melissa's flapping wings getting louder. "Come on, come on!"
Seizing the scroll, he broke it over his knee and sighed in relief as a glowing doorway opened in front of him. "Yes!"
As the odd green mists started to rise again, a hand seized his shirt collar. "No!"
He twisted and his short tore free, letting him tumble through the doorway just as it fully formed. "Later!"
"Blast." Melissa grit her teeth and watched as the doorway dissolve back into smoke. "He got away."
"That was Dimension Door. A short-range teleport spell. He could not have gotten far." The voice was Lyrius' who had appeared next to her.
"He could be in any of these buildings and we cannot search them all without attracting undue attention. Or getting trouble with the authorities." Melissa pointed out and scowled a little. "I know he is not our mission, but to let him get away is annoying."
"The Shadowchasers will deal with that man and whatever he is planning." Lyrius countered and started back towards the street. "For now, we should see what Fanciullo desires to use your services for."
"Mine? Are you not taking this assignment personally, Father?" Melissa raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"No. I have more pressing matters to attend to." With that, Lyrius vanished into his shadow.
TTTTTT
Several hours later, at a gym in Liverpool.
Oswald usually liked watching a woman in spandex work out as much as much as any male, and would have jumped at the chance to "escort" Sheeva here (although the job was starting to be more like that of a gofer). He would have normally loved seeing the shocked – and at times, horrified – reactions from other Shadows and Aware humans at the gym; while the veil seemed to do an adequate job making her look human, she was unusual even for a Shadow.
Still, having to watch her do chin-ups while alternating the compress he had between his black eye and fat lip wasn't all-too enjoyable.
Bizarre, too, given her odd style. The best way to explain it was like this; she held onto the bar with her two upper arms, chinned herself, then hoisted herself up, catching the bar with her lower arms, then lowering herself, then doing the opposite, alternating her sets of arms with each chin-up
"Honestly, lady, I'm getting worn out just watching you," he finally said. "Is this really necessary?"
"A sound body leads to a sound mind, human," she said. "Three-sixty-five… Something a man like you could benefit from… Three-sixty-six… And you never know when a fight may start…"
"Will you forget about what happened already?" he said. "Big deal, you lost a two-on-ne fight."
"I suppose that is less shamefully than losing one where you outnumber your enemy," she said. "Three-sixty-five."
"Give it a rest," said Oswald. "So they got lucky. Next time you see that computer geek you'll have him for lunch."
Sheeva landed on the floor, making Oswald give a startled flinch. She grabbed a towel and shook her head; he had missed the point of her last comment completely.
"Uh…" he said, nervously. "You folks don't… actually do that, do you?"
Sheeva looked at him, still keeping her cold expression.
Sheeva grabbed a towel and mopped her brow. "Can't speak for Shokan in general, but your species gives me terrible heartburn."
She turned her back to him and his look of horror… Then she turned around slightly, with a smarmy smile.
"Kidding!" she said, playfully. Then she turned and started walking towards the ladies'' showers.
"What do you mean, 'kidding'?" he shouted, leaping out of his seat. "Kidding as in you don't do it, or kidding as in it doesn't give you heartburn?"
That should rid me of him for twenty minutes, at least, she thought, as he headed for the sauna.
"A sound body leads to a sound mind, human," she replied. "Something you could benefit from."
As she entered, however, another young woman came out, and turned towards her, looking strangely. Sheeva looked back; this human was shorter than she was, but something about her made her hesitate…
She watched a while as Karen - for that's who it was - strolled away, casually looking back twice as she did.
Had she ever played Mortal Kombat, she might have been more suspicious. Unfortunately, video games were never her thing. Karen only saw another Shadow, but still one that made her nervous.
Brr, she thought, that must be what they mean by someone walking over your grave.
She sat down on a bench, placing her duffle beside her, and fumbled for her mobile. She hit the message command, and looked at the long string of notes:
London: No Change
Liverpool: +12%
Glasgow: No Change
Birmingham: -1%
Southampton: No Change
Newcastle: No Change
Nottingham: -3%
Sheffield: No Change
As she looked them over, it started to beep.
"Y'ello," she said. "What's the word, chief?"
"I'd prefer not to be called 'Chief'," said Jabels' voice. "Anything new?"
"Nada," said Karen, "in fact, Nottingham is almost at its lowest rating in a decade. If not for the high reading in Liverpool after all that's happening, I'd swear it's been a quiet night for a change."
"Just be on your guard," said Jabels. "The high spike in Liverpool is unusual even for Britain. Still, I think you should leave the rest for the morning shift, you've been working what, ten hours?"
"Fifteen," she corrected him, "but I think I'm done for now."
She snapped the phone shut, then tossed her duffle over her shoulder as she stood up, having pretty much forgotten about Sheeva now...
Well, almost. As she left the gym she stopped, having seen something out of the corner of her eye. But it was gone when she looked at full glance.
TTTTT
"Give me the bad news first," said Jalal, over the phone.
"Actually, chief, no good news to speak of now," replied Tony's voice. "Yolanda's system is starting to produce the mutated lymphocytes on her own, such that they now outnumber the nanos. She's talking more coherently and eating too.
"Don't get overconfident yet," warned Jalal. "Let's not create a cure even worse than the disease."
"Point taken," said Tony. "I've coming close to figuring out the specific enchantments behind these things, and I'm pretty sure anyone with actual skill in Axiomatic magic could create a vaccine quickly. I'm looking into options towards that solution."
"I might be able to add some," said Jalal. "I'll call back later."
TTTTT
Karen woke up. She sat up, then looked around.
"Dark Magician Girl?" she said out loud.
She looked around her room, one that had felt comfortable and safe for the past five years, one which now seemed… colder.
She lay down again slowly. Dark Magician Girl? she thought again.
She had been dreaming, but it was an odd dream for her. Usually her dreams involved females who were tougher and more martial, and far more males, such as Orlando Bloom and Zak Efron… Wearing bikini briefs…
She smiled as she fell asleep again.
Beatrice watched. From the shadows, blending into the shadows like she was part of them, she watched.
She swallowed hard as she restarted the spell she had been casting a moment ago, before she had almost been caught….
TTTTT
"You want us to rob a tomb?" Mora asked, staring at Fanciullo like she wasn't quite sure to make of him.
They were in one of the aforementioned safe houses, crowded around a coffee table. Fanciullo and his men on one side, she and Melissa on the other with a crackling fire in the fireplace. "Yes. We're pay your usual fees, plus all other expenses you guys incur while doing this. I'm nothing if not generous."
"All for a small bit of grave-robbing," replied Mora. She folded her arms. "Generous, and maybe a bit crazy. Egyptian tombs aren't exactly known to be safe and tend to leave curses and nasty guardians. What's in it?"
"Some kind of memory crystal thing from another world." Fanciullo waved her follow-up question away. "Look, I don't know what it is or what it really does but right now, all I know is, it's very, very powerful. Plus, getting that thing will get me in good with the Shadowchasers and help save the world."
The little mobster crossed his legs and gave Mora a satisfied look. "And your little group is all about helping other people do that."
"I'm just along to kill things. Lyrius is the one who has the hero complex." Mora shot back. "And we'll do it, if only because we already agreed to before showing up. And because we honor our deals."
"Then we have that in common." Fanciullo produced a flash drive and handed it to them. "There. That's all the information we have concerning the tomb, its location and more. Plus, whatever we have on the Memory Crystals. We don't want anything else from the tomb, just that crystal."
"I thought guys like you were all about the shiny jewels and gold."
"Elf, I make enough money to pay off France's national debt. I don't need to go stealing ancient history to make it." Fanciullo shook his head. "Your boss knows that and that's why he knows it's better to keep me as a friend than an enemy. I can't be bribed."
He glanced around curiously. "Where is Lyrius, anyway?"
"More pressing concerns elsewhere." Melissa said pointedly and shared a knowing glance with Mora before picking up the flash drive. "Where would you like this crystal delivered?"
"Get ahold of me after you have it and we'll arrange a drop-off. "You might just give it straight to the Shadowchasers." Fanciullo popped a cork on a wine bottle and poured himself a glass. "Thanks for your help tonight. We'll buy you dinner as payment."
"Thanks, but no. we need to get going." Mora stood and practically dragged Melissa out after her. As soon as the door was shut, she rounded on the other woman. "What the hell do you mean, pressing concerns elsewhere?!"
"Father said he'll meet us in Egypt and explain then." Melissa explained.
"Oh good, because I'd hate for him to be vague or anything…" Mora groused. "Would it kill him to give us a straight answer once in awhile? Or does he get off on being cryptic?"
"I prefer not to think about my parent's sexual preferences." Melissa pulled out her cell phone. "I will call Mai. Get ahold of Francesca. We're all going to Egypt."
"The land of unending desert sun, eternal sunshine and mummies." Mora muttered angrily, even while starting to dial her cell phone. "Just where any drow wants to vacation."
TTTTT
Karen woke up again, and her eyes flipped open.
Now she knew something was wrong. She held her forehead. It was hot all of a sudden.
Humid too, she thought
She got out of bed, hardly even noticing that her pajamas had somehow changed to the halter, jeans, and sandals she had changed out of before bed, her Duel Disk on her arm, and sidearm on her belt. She inched towards the door…
Opened it…
The hallway was different, with flickering red illumination, like…
Fire, she thought.
Right before she fell through the floor.
As she shuffled to her feet quickly, she looked around a very large basement, far larger than the manor could conceivably hold. Rusty pipes and chains, some of them with… hooks like the type used for sides of beef hung dangerously close.
And then the source of the heat, a giant furnace with the front open, smelling of brimstone.
That is NOT Shadowchaser issue! she thought. As she backed away, she slipped on grease - she hoped - and fell over.
From all around Karen came a shrill, earsplitting screech of metal scraping against metal, echoing and rebounding off the walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Looks like someone took a wrong turn..."
The boiler suddenly gave a violent belch, flames pouring out with such force the lid was ripped open, and as smoke rose up Karen saw that the boiler was full of bones, burnt charred human bones
Bones that were too small to belong to an adult.
"It's where they go to die!"
All at once the scraping sound seemed to coalesce from somewhere above her, and Karen looked up just in time to see her shadow raise its arm, and suddenly sprout five long jagged blades on its fingers and swing down.
Pure reflex was all that saved her, her sword springing to her hand as she blocked the blades of some kind of glove mere inches from her face, but was shoved back with inhuman strength until she felt the flames from the boiler lick hungrily at her
The shadow slowly rippled and stretched and from it emerged a figure only partially illuminated by the sparks of their clashing weapons, showing glimpses of a tattered brown hat, a gaudy red and brown sweater, and a face... a face inexplicably familiar…
With a horrible guffaw, the figure laughed, "Welcome to my world, BITCH!"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Jemorille: I won't bore you with some monologue here. To any readers anxious or worried, I suggest doing what I did when I learned of this development - pray.
The next chapter will come soon.