Eyo! 3 parter

She felt it before she heard it, the violent bang of shotgun bullets flying from their chambers. They whistled through the horrid mists with a wicked noise before lodging into her back with mind numbing thuds. She could feel her muscles tearing. She could feel her ribs splintering. At that moment, she had not been mentally prepared to take fire, and - startled - dropped her net, shielded herself, and screamed into the choking haze.

Shit shit shit!

Up until this moment, she had been all nerves. Of course she was! She had been traversing a silent minefield coated in thick fog, accompanied only by the sound of her pounding heart and the click of her shoes. She moved slowly, painstakingly to find and disarm the nigh-invisible tripwires with nothing but her detection net and her bare hands. Every step she took was a risk. Every wire she cut caused her heart to rattle her ribcage. Had The Lab Director not informed her that The Dwarf Officer (the very same one she had chased here) was also an explosives expert, she might have been long dead - ground into meat paste by one of The Demolitionist's terrifyingly powerful bombs.

Damn Dwarf... I'll finish killing you.

She was going to give The Dwarf a painful death. The Guide had managed to incapacitate him to some degree, but clearly he hadn't managed to kill The Resistance Officer. The Party Girl couldn't fault him though. During their conversation, he had informed her that this was the first time he had attacked a person. He had also informed her of a great many other things.

tch!

It felt like she was back in class. It had taken about three hours for The Guide carefully explain every detail, every warning and every complication that might arise during her mission. Due to the nature of her job, she oftentimes found herself flying blind into dangerous territory. Suddenly having everything laid out before her was initially refreshing, but The Guide was quite a stickler for details and was proving incredibly long winded. Despite how she respected him, she couldn't deny that he seemed to take every tangent available, and never seemed to run out of information to dispense. She had tried her best to catch everything he said, but in the end only committed to memory what was most interesting to her.

One 'interesting' thing was that the immense crater in the center of The Compound was The Demolitionist's handiwork. The assumption being, if she got caught on the wrong tripwire, then she'd be easily blown into giblets without a moment's notice. It was a terrifying threat, but thus far - she had managed to disarm every trap laid before her. It was only thanks to The Guide's warning she was able to avoid such a calamity - but she dearly wished he hadn't recited several excerpts out of outdated military handbooks concerning how to deal with such threats for ten minutes thereafter.

I know what to do... I won't let you down, Director... I'll match your bravery!

But she was gracious in her criticism on him. She knew he was only trying to help her succeed. After all, The Guide had faced this very same threat, but he was untrained and unarmed! He had survived, he had even made headway! If a civilian could stand up to this rag-tag group of Resistance scum, than surely she would succeed in eradicating them - especially considering she had inside information. She was a Clandestine Corps Agent! The cream of the crop! Lord Yharim's secret service. She could do this. She had no excuse...

Tch.

She ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as she staggered to her feet, noting where the bullets had punched through her triple layered kevlar. Had she not been warned of a potential ambush, she likely wouldn't have armoured up as thoroughly as she had - but although the wounds weren't fatal, they still hurt very badly. Gasping, she raised her eyes to stare up at the blindingly white lights. They caused her eyes to water. She could still make out the door whose handle she was gripping so tightly, her knuckles stood out jaggedly from beneath her gloves. Ah, yes - she was about to breach the building. Circumstances dictated she had no choice but to go in... but once inside - would she find the shooter's location?

I can't see heat signatures through these walls... I need to find them now.

Against all sense of self preservation, The Party Girl gritted her teeth and twisted her head to peer into mist, desperately willing her vision to focus. She must find where The Resistance rats were hiding. She must exterminate them. She'd offer their heads to The Guide as Yharim's thanks for his loyalty... and the price for this information is going to be eating another round of bullets.

tch...

The mist was heavy; it seemed to echo with the gunshot's incredible noise. The mist was rippling, barely transparent, but transparent enough for her enhanced vision. She could see a heat signature seeping in through a gap in a window. She could see a hot metal barrel, she could see the hand holding it, and the face pressed against the gun's stock. twenty, no... thirty metres away - The Castle!

*ka-chik, BANG*

Another round of gunfire. More lead filled the air, tearing into her. She set her face like flint and pressed herself against The Clinic's smooth wooden door, leaving streaks of blood as she weathered the hail of bullets. Had The Lab Director not warned her of this potential ambush, perhaps she would have been killed right here. Even the toughest of CC personnel couldn't take this much gunfire un-armoured. She typically travelled light, so even encased in every piece of armour she owned (three layers of kevlar and a sheet of chain-mail) there was no way she could survive another blast. Even if she'd been morphologically equipped to shrug off some level of small-arms discharge (Draedon had managed to grow scales beneath her skin. They were useful, but shedding was an itchy, bloody nightmare) - being shot from relatively short range with a 20-gauge was nothing to sneeze at. Without the extra layers, she would be dead. Killed by Resistance Rats.

Never! Never!

What an offense! No, she would never let these scum take her life. She would get inside of the building. She would survive... then, she would unlatch the back door and come kill them all. She ground her teeth tightly; she staggered as she fought the pain with adrenaline. Bright lights burst from behind her eyes as the impacts wracked her bodily, and the shock blurred her eyesight to nothing. Still, she persisted. She pushed through. She wasn't going to die here, she would never be killed by rats!

Focus! Go!

With a violent yank, she pulled open the heavy wooden door and barreled inside. She knew that these buildings were made of magical material. Nothing could break or bend. Even bullets couldn't pierced the glass - she would be safe behind the locked door... safe to tend her wounds and plan her attack... but, what was that?!

The Clinic was a beautiful building, safe, well furnished, bright, full of all sorts of medication. The perfect place to stumble into to tend your wounds... but...

Fuck.

Time slowed to a standstill. It was the moment between heartbeats. She could see the air pulse and flex. She heard the breath in her lungs wheeze slowly like a balloon losing air. The heat signatures burst before her eyes in reds, yellows and greens. She looked down and saw a wire strung about her ankle. She followed its trail with dread in her heart. It hooked against the door hinge, then up across to the a menacing, blinking parcel taped to the doorframe.

Bombs!

The flashing red light winked at her almost cheerfully. The blinking accelerated, and as it did - several other packages began to blink as well, as if they were a hive of dangerous creatures that had been roused from a deep slumber.

There are bombs in the walls...

In the walls. Pasted to the ceiling. Beneath her feet. Surrounding her, closing in.

She saw them and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Her bones ached and trembled.

She dove, and behind her there was a *click*

And her ears were blown out by a earthshattering explosion.

His heart leapt with a vicious sort of joy as The Clinic burst like a firecracker. A great light lit up the smog with the colour of flames. The noise was incredible, ringing in his ears like the most beautiful music he had ever heard. A rumble issued from beneath the building as it crumbled in on itself, flaming beams collapsing on disintegrating bricks. Glass vials exploded in the heat, The Demolitionist could hear them popping like gunshots from within the inferno. He turned to his companion and grinned, his hands shaking in such excitement his knuckles rattled against the bars of Amidas' windows.

"Dealer!, It worked! It Worked! Ha! You, Sir. Yer a hero! Ya took down a CC Agent! I'll be recommending ya to join The Resistance's Elite Combat Squad as soon as possible!"

The Arms Dealer was breathless. He didn't respond to The Demolitionist's gracious offer of promotion, but returned a pained smile instead. The orange blaze reflected eerily off his face and his teeth. Perhaps he was just tired? Must be. They were all tired. But still, even in the depths of exhaustion - who in their right mind would feel somber after killing Imperial Loyalists and obtaining freedom? Strange. Well, now wasn't the time to dwell on things. With The Monster Knight still at large, it was in everyone's best interest to evacuate the premises as soon as possible. The Demolitionist held his stomach wound as he stood to his feet. He would go fetch the arm and confirm The Spy had died. Perhaps he'd steal her badge as well! The badges of CC agents merited some serious bragging rights.

He turned and patted The Arms Dealer on the shoulder.

"Good work. I'll go get The Arm. Y'all pack up and get ready to go."

"Need a gun, Dwarf?"

The Arms Dealer's voice was flat, battle weary.

"Naw."

The Demolitionist grinned and tapped the knife strapped to his hip. He wasn't going to let any of Yharim's dogs die a quick and painless death. In fact, once he got The Arm, he was going to go check on The Guide as well... just to make sure he was a corpse. If, by some miracle, he was still alive, then by the time The Demolitionist was through with him, that bastard would've wished The Spy had killed him. At least he had the energy for that.

"...Right."

The Arms Dealer sighed and nodded. He seemed much more... worried about this whole thing. Well, no matter. Their chief objective had been accomplished. The CC Agent had been taken down. If she wasn't dead, she'd soon be. It would be trivial to loot The Arm from her dead body, and once they obtained The Arm - they were free to leave. With a jovial bounce in his limp (his stomach wound had been treated, but still caused him a great deal of discomfort.) The Demolitionist stepped into the swirling mists, a determined grin painting his haggard features.

The Clinic exploded... shit!

He felt it shake his bones. The shockwave rattled his walls and shook the windowpanes so furiously, he spilled his tea all over the floor. He stared at the mess exhaustedly. Are you kidding me?! Hadn't he spent three hours warning The Spy about the bombs?! It had only been, perhaps, ten minutes since he let her out through his window, and already The Clinic had gone up in flames.

Is she really a CC agent? I doubt even The Slayer is this incompetent tch... dammit!

It... it was possible that The Demolitionist had just... blown himself up. Maybe The Nurse or The Arms Dealer flipped the wrong switch? Nonsense. All three of his opponents were both capable and competent. There was no way they had made such a stupid mistake. The Party Girl had gotten caught in a trap... and could very well be dying this very moment. Should he just cut his losses and run?

Even if I run, I'll get caught by The Barrier. They'll find me eventually...

The Guide stood to his feet and sighed. If he could escape, he might have gone running for the front gates - but since he was trapped, he might as well fight. Perhaps The Party Girl was injured. If he managed to retrieve her, then perhaps she would recover and they could survive this awful ordeal.

Phew... okay.

He reached across his dresser and plucked up the pistol that lay there. He had since removed the singular bullet from the chamber (for fear it would discharge accidentally) and now, with a fair bit of apprehension, retrieved it from his pocket and slipped it back in. The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. He knew how to use one - he'd read manuals and textbooks - but he had never once shot any sort of firearm. They were a scarcity in the rural village and only the mayor had enough to own one. He and his friends had always clamored about The Mayor's super rifle, and desperately begged The Mayor's snooty son to convince his father to...

Stop it...

The Guide grimaced and paused the train of thought. Thinking about the old times would only serve to depress him.

Now was not the time of reminiscing. There was little time to waste, for surely the enemy coalition would likewise be searching the area for The Party Girl's body and The Slayer's Arm. If he wanted to survive, he needed to be stealthy. He only had a single bullet, so he needed to be wise.

He kicked off his shoes,

descended the steps,

and walked into the stinking haze.

-Siblings Fight-

Slayer: My Arm. Return it.
Party Girl: *Raises arm*
S:*leans in*
PG: Go Fetch! *yeets the thrashing limb back into The Crimson* (Lmao Duke you're too cruel)
S: *gives chase*

Guide: smh he was supposed to get that stitched on!
Nurse: *plows through door, branishing scalpel* Come here bitch I heard you need surgery!

Notes: Honestly The Spy should have checked the building lmao. Hey, at least she killed The Merchant.