Sup Everybody. I'm back.
I know that I haven't been posting chapters for like...a year.
For those of you who've known me, and stuck with reading what I write, I thank you. I truly do appreciate it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sora no Otoshimono or any other works related to the original series other than this fic.
"But from time to time I have found that the senses deceive, and it is prudent never to trust completely those who have deceived us even once." - Rene Descartes
Chapter 5: Intrusions
Teleporting for the first time wasn't easy.
It felt a whirlpool of electrical particles suddenly tearing apart your body in all directions, swirling around you like a tornado. For Wallace who experienced this many times before, it wasn't very painful. But Greg felt like puking. And landing face-first on the ground didn't help at all.
Greg simultaneously gripped his stomach and mouth, and just rolled around in nausea and agony. "Ughhh. I feel, like throwing up. Urk!"
Wallace, with enough swag in his footsteps to fill an auditorium, walked over to the edge of the circular piece of floating land. "Hm. If is just me, or is it that we're a lot higher than the last time we were here. Oh wait,"
He looked back at Greg, who was helplessly trying to gain his composure, his red hair completely in scruffles as if it were an indicator of his discomfort.
"I'm the only veteran here. Jesus…" he finished his sentence, and walked over to help Greg up.
"You all right, newbie?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm just trying to hold my dinner in." Greg finally got up, and brushed his suit off. His face was a little red from landing on the chalk ground, but it wasn't too noticeable.
That was when Greg even began to remotely realize where he was. Or not exactly realize, but to be completely confused instead.
Greg has never seen such a landscape before. All above and below him was nothing but the clear blue sky, with the exception for a couple of clouds that floated by like herds of flying sheep. The ground at his feet was made of material that he's never seen before, having the color of bony chalk and with the appearance of airy bone, but with the consistency of iron. His shoes scraped against the hard ground, and he dwarfed the trees that grew out of circular streams that ran around the platform. But what stood in front of him was what invoked a cocktail of primal fear, with awe and a drop of the unknown.
It was a massive obelisk, both dark and light, and at least 40 meters high. It spanned wider than the thickest tree, and it was even more amazing that it didn't collapse under its own weight. There were words written in an unknown language, in a variety of writing styles. From each letter, it felt like it was written in pain, anguish, horror, terror, evil, love, compassion, mercy, happiness. The tower, even though it was dull, glowed in an odd manner. It felt like as if it were much more important than what it appeared to be.
"What is this place?" The words dashed from his lips like gas leaks from a canister, and Greg was simply in shock from this sudden introduction to an environment so alien to him. Beads of sweat running down his forehead gradually became streams, and it moistened his collar to the point where his blue undershirt became a much darker hue.
Wallace stepped forward, took a deep breath in, and sighed. "Newb, we're at Synapse." He casually looked around, and scratched his head.
"And wh-wh-where's that?" Greg tried to walk forward as well, but stumbled in the process.
"Approximately 10 kilometers above the country of Japan. No big deal." Wallace added the last bit with a hint of sarcasm.
Greg shook the sense of awe out of his mind, and he realized an even more disturbing truth. He rubbed his forehead, to get the sweat out of his eyes, and looked at his wristwatch.
10:30PM
Assuming that what Wallace said is true, and that we're still in the area of Japan…why is it daytime here?
"Hey Wallace, I've got a question." Greg nervously asked Wallace.
"Shoot."
"Why is…"
"Yeah I know. Siegel's probably been misteleported."
"Yeah. Wait, what." That wasn't what I was trying to ask….
But admittedly, Siegel was nowhere to be found. And considering that he was a lot more experienced at this compared to both Wallace and Greg, it was definitely a logistical issue.
"Should we find him?"
Wallace started walking away from the obelisk, and towards the edge of the circular floating land they were standing on.
"Siegel is fine on his own. C'mon, we should get going. We've gotta start walking to 'The Hall of the Lords'." He stopped right at the edge, the tips of his shoes already in midair. He impatiently turned around, and snarled at Greg
"'The hell are you waiting for? Let's get a move on."
"And how are we supposed to get down from this platform?" Greg retorted.
"Oh right, you're new at this. Here, this is what you do. Come over here." Wallace's face quickly transitioned from that of annoyance, to that of reassurance and understanding.
"Uh, okay." Greg walked over to where Wallace was, and leaned over the edge, just to have a good look at what was underneath.
He immediately wished that he hadn't done that.
He saw dozens of smaller platforms of land of varying sizes underneath him, some as large as football fields and others the size of entire islands. There were grey ones, green ones, even a dull brown one in the distance. And underneath all of that, were clouds.
"Careful now. Just do exactly as I say." Wallace kept a tight grip on Greg's shoulders.
Maybe Mr. Roget was just over exaggerating about this guy. He's not that bad…
"Sorry for not warning you, newbie." And Wallace pushed him off.
For a split second, Greg was shocked. The next, he was furious.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid….
He was free falling. And for a moment, he thought that he was going to die. His face pulled back as he was plummeting to the ground, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the eventless end.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING KID? OPEN YOUR EYES!"
Greg heard the voice, and looked to his left. Wallace was freefalling right next to him, and he was rummaging in his bowler hat. He was struggling to pull something out, and by the time he did, they had already traveled more than a hundred meters.
"PUT THIS ON!" Wallace handed a blue pack to Greg, while strapping on an identical one. The synthetic polymer that layered the pack glistened with the moisture in the surrounding air, and the droplets fell upwards as the two of them fell.
"WHAT IS THIS?" Greg shouted back, while struggling to pull the straps on and clip the clips together. The wet straps clumped together, and the clips were too determined to not move easily.
"IT'S A PARACHUTE!" Wallace did a flip in midair, and pulled a red tag sticking out the pack. A massive wine red parachute unfurled, and significantly slowed him down.
Why didn't this guy just….
As he pulled his own parachute tag, he was suddenly lifted into the air. Of course, this was just the general feeling. He knew that his descent was just slowed down, and it merely felt like being lifted up.
"FOLLOW ME!" Wallace shouted, and pointed toward a platform with trees growing out of it.
After many broken branches, the two landed on the platform. Greg shed his parachute, and promptly walked past Wallace. He struggled to push through the various shrubbery, and tree branches just waving in their way.
"How's that for a jump, newbie?" Wallace hacked away at the branches with a machete, and started jumping across from one branch to another as a much more efficient method of traveling.
"I hate you." Greg tripped on an overgrown root, and swore.
"Aw, hell. Jericho said that on his first try, too." Wallace chortled, and kept on hopping from one branch to another.
Wallace brushed leaves off of himself as he left the forest, while Greg literally rolled out the bushes, covered in dirt and pieces of branches.
"What? People live here?"
Greg found himself in the middle of a town. Houses that looked like they would be in real estate housing magazines were lined up, looking fairly confortable to live in but they looked uncomfortably crammed together. The streets, echoing only with Greg's heavy breathing and Wallace's footsteps, were panned with rectangular slating, running in a straight line. There were other structures lined next to the streets, such as small fruit shops with a plethora of various produce.
"Nothing lives here." Wallace plucked a green apple off of a fruit stand, and rubbed it on his chest. When he looked back, a new apple materialized on the stand like a digital display.
"Then what are these houses for?"
Wallace took a bite out of his apple, the spare juices trickling down his chin. He then turned around to face Greg. "Tell me newbie." Wallace dropped the apple and kicked it at a house next to him, breaking the windows. "Do I look like Wikipedia?"
"Sorry, I though you knew."
"I don't." He turned around to keep on walking, but stopped dead in his tracks. Not because he lost his way, but because of what was floating in front of him, only a couple of meters away.
Two figures were floating in front of Wallace, both of whom were beautiful, in a mean way. They both sneered at Wallace, looking down on him with amber eyes as if he were an insignificant insect. One had an arm-cannon aimed at him, while the other had her arms crossed. One had green hair barely reaching past her ears, while the other had hashed-brown hair in an identical hairstyle. Triangular mechanical objects stuck through their hair, with the appearance of cat-ears. Clothed in black and white techno-futuristic clothing over most of their body, they were poised and ready to fight, albeit in a taunting manner. They were the Harpy Angeloids, the Guardians of Synapse.
"You know sister, vandalism is a punishable crime in Synapse." The one with green hair chuckled, and fluttered her wings, which were relatively small compared to her body size.
"So is intrusion." The brown haired one tightened her grip on her arm-cannon, Prometheus. It whined and whirred as it charged up, and short beams of energy gathered at the tip of the cannon to form a small ball.
Greg was astounded. He felt like he was practically tromping all across heaven, especially since two angels just appeared in front of him.
"Ladies, please." Wallace held his palms towards the Harpies in a gesture of peace.
"We were sent here on your master's request. There's no need to fight. Just help us get to The Hall of the Lords, and we can be both on our merry ways. M'kay?"
His voice was completely different from his usual thick Chicago accent. It was smoother, every word flowing with the previous one, dripping with a seductive tone. Admittedly, this voice was very sexy.
This guy's a serious lady-killer.
The green haired Harpy sneered, and flew down to face Wallace, confident because her companion unit has a lock on Wallace. "Nice try, but we don't trust Downers."
Wallace gave a gentle grin, and tries to caress the Harpy's face, only to wave his hand back at the last second. "I see. Well, that's a shame. Since we don't want to waste each other time. But, why don't you be a dear and let us through then, hm?" By the time he finished his sentence, his lips were right next to the Harpy's head, and his voice was lowered to that of a whisper.
The green haired Harpy felt nothing other than a sense of tranquility and a mellow feeling rising in her chest, as if her chest constricted her heart. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't go away. She blushed, and she couldn't help but look away from Wallace out of embarrassment.
Everyone else noticed that something was definitely out of place. Wallace and the green Harpy was standing with each other as if they were long-lost lovers, when they were bearing fangs at each others' necks only moments ago.
The green Harpy stepped away from Wallace. While she fidgeted her clawed feet and fiddled around with her fingers in a display of shyness completely unlike her, she mumbled for a bit. After a few seconds, she looked back at Wallace.
"Well, I'll guide you…b-but not because I want to. J-Just because you asked." The green haired Harpy flew back to her sister. But in an unexpected move, as if she was forced out of some kind of a spell, she spun around and pointed her Prometheus arm-cannon at Wallace.
"You slimly little downer! How dare you try to seduce me!" The Harpy's face, still flushed with the momentary exhilaration from Wallace, showed that not all of his effects had worn off. Yet.
Wallace leaned over to Greg.
"Aw, hell. It was worth a shot." Wallace chuckled and slapped Greg on the back, not even remotely considering the situation that they were in.
Greg nervously laughed, while arcing his eyebrows with an oddly apologetic tension. "You've gotta teach me how to do that." His eyes leaned off away from Wallace, in self-musing.
As much as I think you're a date rapist.
"Trick of the trade, newbie. Trick of the trade." Wallace took his hat off, and rubbed his head for a bit. His spider-like hands ran across the tattoos on his scalp, and when he let his fingers dangle a bit…
CLICK
The unmistakable whirring sound of the Prometheus cannon penetrated Wallace's ears, and he simply just stared at it without a care in the world. The white metal encasing the barrel gleamed in the sunlight, glowing red with the building of energy. Better yet, it was pointed straight at his head.
"Just die!" The Harpy, getting revenge for her previous seduction, unleashed a burst of energy right into Wallace. The latter didn't even have time to dodge.
It shot Greg's heart with a bolt of terror, as he saw the cannon fire right into Wallace's head. Or specifically speaking, it just fired right into his face. Wallace was sent flying backward through several houses, destroying at least four of them in the process. Dust choked the air, and only the sounds of crumbling stone and blocks shocked through the clogged air. Blood stained the rubble, and as he was projected into the last house, it collapsed on top of him.
There's no way that any person could have survived that…not even Wallace.
Greg felt an unnatural chill down his spine, as if an ice-cold worm wriggled through his bones and crept out of his skin.. If he became the only person against the Harpies, who knew what they would…
"All right. You're next." The brown haired Harpy flew to Greg, and pushed one of her clawed fingers into his cheek. He winced as the Harpy's claw drew a line of ichor across his face, her talon slowly scratching his skin.
She grinned as she watched Greg suffer, and placed her other hand around his neck. His fists clenched, and right before the Harpy's claws were about to crush his throat, a voice shouted out from behind the two of them.
"Yeah. I'm gonna get a little pissed off if you kill my teammates, so you know, if you let go of him, I won't blow your sister's head off."
The brown haired Harpy's head turned to face a polka dotted alien in a suit holding a gun at the temple of her companion unit's head. The alien's grin was accompanied by nothing on his face; he had no eyes, no nose, and no ears. Just his lipless grin, eerily curved at its edges, like the crescent of the moon in a dimly lit night. Siegel pulled the hammer back on his Beretta, and snickered as it locked into place. He was casually leaning against the green haired Harpy with an arm around her shoulder, jamming the barrel of his against her head.
"Yup, there's a high explosive round loaded into this baby right here. I'm experienced enough to know that normal hollow-points won't do jack against your thick skulls. But if this goes off, it's going to cave your sister's head in."
The brown haired Harpy's lips curled. She unwillingly but wisely, let go of Greg. Greg stumbled onto the ground, all of this new knowledge simply overwhelming his inexperienced mind.
"You all right, Greg?"
Greg scratched his ear, and wiped his perspiring forehead with his sleeve. "Yeah, thanks. But I can't really say the same for…" He turned to where Wallace got buried under a house, and shook his head.
But then, the rubble shook. Pebbles hopped along the ground like jumping beans, large metal piping being flung away from the remnant of the destroyed house, narrowly missing Siegel's head. A large demolished wall on top of the small pile of broken rubble flew sideways and crashed into the surrounding greenery, with an accompanying symphony of shattered pottery following suit. The shadowy silhouette of a man was visible through the dusty air, followed by the popping and cracking of joints as the figure fixed his dislocated arms and shoulder. Lofting away like the curtains of an invisible stage, it revealed Wallace, who was still submerged in the rubble up to his waist.
He legged out of the broken wreckage of the house, with his three-piece suit's coat completely torn and ripped to pieces. There was no evidence that he was ever shot in the face, just some mild bruises scattered across his face where he collided against furniture inside the houses. But the snarl on his face sent waves upon waves of terror through Greg's outer body, and chilled him to his heart. He had never seen Wallace be so hateful and terrifying. He could only feel that no man or machine could get in the way of this unstoppable monstrosity without the fear of being obliterated.
Wallace dramatically threw his ruined pinstriped purple suit off, and stomped down the pile that used to be the house that he got buried under. He reached down with a swooping motion, and plucked his dirt-stained dark green bowler hat off the ground. After jamming it on his head with knuckled fingers, he glanced at the green haired Harpy with golden eyes filled with molten rage. The tattoos on his head seemed to riffle and dance like the shadows of a fire, the veins in his arms coruscating like bolts of lightning. Every pulse of blood that traveled through him made his body quiver in frequencies of bottled up brutality to come.
"Unleash, Tier 4."
His silent, but bellowing voice shook even Siegel down to his core. Wallace's voice resonated at the end of his sentence with a deep bass, as if his gut and chest suddenly became the ribs of a drum and his diaphragm the oscillating leather. The dust that once gathered at his feet spread away from him, slowly at first, but they slowly gained velocity and flew away, making a circumference of vacancy around his body. Trees swung backward from the force that was suddenly unleashed from Wallace, and they gradually leaned back into position. Bushes shook, windows cracked, and small pebbles rolled away from Wallace, ignoring all laws of gravity that were normally obeyed, even on Synapse.
The green Harpy's hair flitted back in response to the sudden shockwave released from her seducer. She attempted to observe Wallace's actions further, but she was gradually forced to cover her eyes, in order to avoid having dust in them. But she felt a pebble that was flying away from him strike her shin armor, and she knew that she had to act fast before…
CRUNCH
Like a blooming orchid of pain, she felt a force similar to a cannon go through her gut. But her senses merely deceived her, and it took all of her resistance and tolerance to even stay on her feet from the excruciating pain of having her abdominal organs be completely obliterated from one strike.
Astounded, Greg's jaw dropped. He could barely see Wallace dash like a mad bear, creating a billowing circle of dust being him. It was even harder for Greg witness how Wallace disengaged the Harpy's Prometheus cannon by using his left hand to slap it aside and immediately following with his right fist to deliver a right hook straight to the Harpy's stomach.
The Harpy only barely registered what even happened when Wallace pulled off his next move. Quickly taking advantage of her disoriented state, he spun around her left side, and grabbed the back of her head with his dirt-stained hands. He clenched her green hair in between his fingers, and he could feel her smooth scalp beneath her hair. With a force of a jackhammer, he pushed the Harpy's face into the ground, and relentlessly kept on bashing her head into the ground. After a while, he lost count on how many times he bashed her head and just kept on going, beyond the point where it made a small dent on the surface of the formerly polished white street, staining the tiles with streams and spatters of the Harpy's blood.
Saliva flew from his mouth as he seethed his teeth in an uncontrolled berserker's fury, and he didn't realize how much damage he caused to the Harpy until he released her head, and kicked her left breast as she tried to stand back up on her knees. With an unearthly roar, he clenched his hand into a fist, and he punched the Harpy in the face with an upper cut that was backed with enough force to elevate her for a couple of seconds.
For a moment she floated, but then crashed back to the ground like an angel falling from grace.
Wallace unleashed a blood-churning roar, and then glared at his fallen opponent. His mouth seethed with anger and spittle flew out as he screamed at the Harpy.
"C'mon bitch! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?"
Greg walked over to Siegel, the latter of whom was struggling to keep the brown haired Harpy under control.
"Why is Wallace suddenly so strong?"
"It's because- argh, stop squirming you little – it's because he's in Tier 4. I'll explain later, just help me hold this one down."
Greg nodded, and threw his weight on the brown Harpy's arm, when he noticed her eyes. Her golden eyes stared back into him, not with puppy eyes or with a menacing shot, but with quivering eyes of fear and desperation. All of their former hostility was lost in that moment, and Greg realized.
These things that I've been sent to kill…they're not heartless machines, they have emotions like us….
He looked away from her, and he looked at Wallace.
The scar-eyed mercenary was sitting on top of his prey, using his victim's breasts as cushions while pinning her arms down with his knees. His clenched fists swung rapidly downwards, one after another, raising and pummeling downwards again. He kept on beating the Harpy, even though it didn't take any form of common sense that she no longer had any will or intention to fight her adversary any more. Blood trickled out of nearly every orifice on her face; a seeping scar of blood out of her mouth, a trail of it trickling out of her ears, and droplets racing out of the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks were already bruised from the sheer brute force of Wallace's punches, and her hands were already lying on the ground, completely lax and motionless.
"Let me show you, what pain really is."
Wallace stood up, and rolled the Harpy over. He took her left arm, and while pressing his knee against her back, he yanked it upwards. His hands, encased around the Harpy's wrist like the gripping maws of an iron vice, proceeded to squeeze. It didn't take too long until her exoskeleton armor shattered, and he proceeded to crush her arm when Siegel put his hand on Wallace's shoulder.
"That's enough, Heckler. We don't want to kill their messengers." Siegel added a wink after that.
Wallace just grinned, and stood up.
"So, I hope you're going to come to your senses and just take us to where you master is."
Siegel eerily smiled.
The Hall of the Lords seemed like it stretched. Although it looked like the Parthenon from the outside, the inside seemed to extend backwards. But this was just an illusion. The one who made it a long time ago, forever forgotten but still known as the Architect, designed it so that the Masters would sit in the center, along a long table where their supported leader, a tall long haired blonde figure with the appearance of an angel, could sit in comfort. This was only for dining occasions though. In most cases, he sat in a private quarter, where the inside fo the Hall of the Lords reconstructed itself to his whim, shifting and morphing ot his needs, within reasonable parameters.
The inside rang like an unholy bell, sounding both angelic and terrifying at the same time, poisoned with the breath and encore of angels singing to delight a master who never shared the same feeling towards them. A mix of desperation and love blinded by obsession drove the voices.
The Master, still feeling a bit of anxiety from his previous encounter with Mixim, lay back in his comforts, surrounded by angeloid constructs whose beauty would have been considered to be that of divas by normal human standards. But for the Sky Master, these angeloids were nothing to him. Just toys, ready to be played with, always disposable, and ever replaceable.
His elbow sank into the armrest of his obnoxiously cushioned throne, covered by a layer of cloth that warded away sunlight from his face like a snake does to a dove. The toga that covered his body revealed the sternum of his chest, outlining his muscular yet slender build. His blonde bangs covered his eyes, making his face not completely visible and only his nose and his mouth could be truly seen.
"Where are the Gammas? They're late."
He impatiently tapped his finger on the armrest, gradually making a light indentation in the rifts of the cloth before it was straightened out by an angeloid sitting next to him.
"Should we go fetch them? Maybe they're just playing around."
"No. Let them be late. That'll give me some reason to punish them." He grinned in relish at the thoughts of what kinds of harm he could inflict upon the Harpies. Had he only known earlier of their encounter with…
"I'd apologize since we're late, but your escorts really hesitated from bringing us here. Tsk tsk. That's a really poor way to start a meeting."
The foreign voice that penetrated the eerie serene atmosphere of the Hall of the Lords laughed after completing his sentence. It was quickly followed by the Harpies being thrown to the feet of the Sky Master, their broken and stained armor skittering against the marble polished floor.
Siegel stepped into the Hall of the Lords dusted his hands off, clearly indicating that he threw the Harpies. The shifting polka dots on his face and hands were moving slowly, rearranging themselves into different sizes as they moved along like black critters on the paint of white metal.
"Sorry 'bout your gals, flapper boy. But they just don't take no for an answer." The second voice, rough with an accent of a tommy gun, stepped into the hall. He didn't even hesitate for a moment to pull out a fifty-caliber handgun out of his slacks pocket and pull the trigger, the resulting explosive gunshot indicating for all unnecessary individuals to leave. Needless to say, the entertainment purpose angeloids departed quickly, reducing the Sky Masters former entourage to nobody.
"This place…is huge." The comparatively inexperienced voice belonged to Greg.
"So, Mr. Sky Master. What's this time's pay? Because, you know, last time's pay was horrible. I mean, seriously." Siegel practically jogged up to the Sky Master and put his arm around the latter's shoulder, as if they were complete buddies.
"You thought that a meager pay for that last one in Ireland was worth only a couple hundred thousand credits? You know very well that I can't exchange that for very much."
The Sky Master shrugged Siegel away and glared at him with a smile, and completely waffled the latter's question.
"I must congratulate you on defeating my personal guard. I can assure you that they will be…punished for their incompetence." He looked down at the Harpies in relish, just imagining what he could do to them. They were still lying on the ground, the brown haired one supporting her companion unit, as the green haired one wasn't capable of even standing on her own with the degree of her injury. But Siegel interjected.
"Well, you can't really blame them. After all, they were only doing their duty as guardians. And I have to give you some credit too. They actually lasted longer than a quarter of a minute! That's a record compared to last time." Siegel mockingly laughed.
The Sky Master, for the first time in a long time, rose from his throne without the company of his servants, and with an oddly elevated sense of pride stood in front of Siegel.
"You're going to wish that you've kept your smart mouth shut, extraterrestrial. We'll pay you well, but that was already discussed with your leader. Now leave, before I…"
"Actually, we already know that you talked about our payment with Mixim. We're just here to collect the first half, just to be sure that you're not trying to screw us over like last time. Beside, what are you going to do about it? Send another one of your flying pieces of garbage at us?" Siegel spread his arms to the side in a false personal glory, making a T with his body. The air currents passing under his arms made his sleeves flap and flutter like a the shafts of an air conditioner, the hem of his suit rippling like the edges of a parted curtain.
The Sky Master stood silently for a moment. But then he laughed. "If you have not noticed yet, look behind you."
Siegel looked around, and gasped in mock surprise that the brown haired Harpy that was once lying down near the throne had her hands wrapped around Greg's neck. Even though Greg had a height advantage, she was still a very deadly adversary for him.
"Eh, Greg? You would probably want to deal with her before she kills you."
Greg responded, albeit with a great deal of difficulty due to being choked.
"Egh na em eing. (I know I'm trying.)" Greg reached into his pocket, and pulled out three ball bearings. After rolling them in the palm of his left hand for a moment, he plucked one out and pinched it between the curve of his bent index finger and the surface of his thumb's nail.
With a burst of speed, he fired all three balls in succession, watching all three as they left his hand at the speed of a bullet and race to the end of the Hall.
"Ha! You Downers think that you can even scratch my constructs with a ball? What a pathetic…" What happen later, made the Sky Master eat his own words.
The ball bearings suddenly began to curve in their movement trajectory, as if they were slowly traveling in a vertical parabola. They turned around and accelerated, moving even faster than before, and they approached Greg's assailant rapidly. The brown haired Harpy was so distracted by her master mocking her victim, that she didn't notice the ball bearings until they smashed into her ribs, indefinitely breaking them as the balls hit with the force of a shotgun blast.
The Harpy flew away from Greg, not with her wings, but with the sheer impact force of the ball bearings sending her sailing into a pillar. As she slid down and slumped against the ground, a spider web of cracks was left behind on the pillar.
"Ouch…that looked painful." Siegel smirked and rotated his head, just so that he can make a taunting chuckle at the Sky Master. "So. How about you give us the money now and we won't need to cut up the shots. Hm?"
The Sky Master reluctantly snapped his fingers, and a small cube appeared in front of him. It rotated in midair and with a light flash, the lid opened. Inside were six coins, each approximately an inch thick.
"There, 6 million credits. There is one million for each of your team members. Now LEAVE!"
The Sky Master angrily turned to the Harpies, and barked an order at them.
"Open a portal for these 'gentlemen.' Now!"
The green haired Harpy, who struggled to crawl to a large electronic panel next to master's throne. It whirred to life, detecting the Harpy's approach, completely oblivious to her health condition. The Harpy tried to push a button, but her hand slipped as soon at it touched the panel, and it fell clumsily to the hard floor. Tears rolled down her face, and she bit back her breath, not wanting to show such a shameful face towards her mas…
"Didn't I just tell you, to OPEN THE PORTAL?" The Sky Master, striding towards the helpless green Harpies with irritation and frustration itching from his intonation, uncharacteristically screamed at the Harpy. He stopped right next to her, and placed his foot on her head. His muscled flickered from embarrassment and anger, he ground the sole of his sandal into the Harpy's head, feeling her soft hair being smashed underneath it.
The Harpy closed her eyes, and she curled up, unable to do anything but try to meekly defend herself from her master's wrath. Just when the Sky Master was about to kick her head though, a voice pierced through the air like a cold blade, slicing through the chaos and shearing a path of silence.
"You kick 'r 'gain, you die."
The Sky Master's foot stopped, and he could only hold back his breath as a silver pistol was pressed tightly against the temple of his forehead. Simultaneously, a razor blade was resting like a tight wire in front of his throat. Wallace Heckler's arctic chilling tone only made the blade seem sharper than it was, and he continued.
"She's mine. If she dies, I'm the one to do her in. Not you." The gun was lifted, and the blade retreated. The Sky Master rubbed his throat, and took a few steps backward, away from Wallace. Wallace treads towards the green haired Harpy, and helped her to her feet.
"You 'right, miss?" Wallace parted the green Harpy's hair, and smiled. It was unclear whether the smile was genuine or not, but the Harpy felt…safe. She felt like there was something in the world that could truly protect her, not from any enemy, but from herself. She was so lost in her maelstrom of emotions, that she never felt Wallace's hand grip her head and smash her face against a pillar.
Wallace, who never batted an eye during the entire ordeal, and walked over to the panel. After he proceeded to push some buttons, the air right next to the panel crackled with massive amounts of electricity. It was, by no doubt, an enormous amount of energy being generated. But it felt ancient and modern, as if it transcended beyond time itself.
A purple portal shocked open where the air was crackling, and Siegel, while motioning to Greg to follow along, patted Wallace on the back.
"Next time, maybe you could show some self-restraint?" Siegel shot a look of slight disapproval at Wallace, the latter not even turning around.
"Fine." Wallace gritted his teeth, and hopped through the portal. He vanished as the velvet of dark energy swallowed his body, and his entire body passed through.
"Where is this going?" Greg asked Siegel.
"Just follow Wallace, Greg. Don't worry, it should be safe." Siegel grinned, and encouraged Greg. The latter, with little hesitation, jumped through the portal as well.
Now, Siegel was alone with the Sky Master. His entire body vibrated and outlined with a shimmer for a moment, and then he rotated his neck so that only a part of his face was visible to the Sky Master. He didn't fully turn around of course; he had enough dignity to show no respect to the Sky Master. He grinned, and the dark spots on his skin shifted positions yet again.
The Sky Master attempted to utter threatening words. "You are nothing but mercenaries to us. I am confident that you are aware of what will happen if you fail to eliminate..."
"Shut up." Siegel turned around, and calmly walked towards the Sky Master, never breaking eye-contact. Siegel then slowly extracted his Beretta from his coat pocket, and aimed it straight at the Sky Master. "I'll get the job done. But keep your feathery nose out of my business, you got me?"
The Harpies, both on the floor, simultaneously had the same thought.
Master is in danger!
But as the Harpies tried to move their bodies, they couldn't. It was as if all of their strings were just cut. None of their internal skeletal mechanisms moved, it just froze up on them.
Siegel laughed, and as he did, he swung his arm down wards, simultaneously revealing a sword that wasn't previously visible to the Harpies or the Sky master, as it was blocked by Siegel's back. It was a falchion with an iron black blade, a triangular guard made of silver and steel, with a jet grey crystal jutting out of the bottom of the guard. The tip of the blade had dug into the floor from the force of the initial downward swing, biting through the tiles and breaking them into several pieces.
"Really. And I expected your 'wings of glory' to help." Siegel drew his blade out of the floor, and sheathed it under his coat, where the blade disappeared. "You should really just break these pieces of trash. Just send them down incinerator alley, if you get what I mean."
Siegel laughed again, and partially stepped through the portal. But just when he was about to pass through, he shouted at the Sky Master in mock plea.
"Oh, and send Daedalus my regards, if you would so kindly."
And Siegel Crow stepped through the portal, where it thundered and twisted shut behind him.
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