The White Bullet was slammed through a series of empty buildings– the residents having been long since culled.
The Purple Tear zipped after.
Longsword blunted against a rifle, a kick met her midsection and cinders followed suit; an explosion caused by the effects of his boots to both injure and create distance. The resulting boom blasted apart the apartment complex she'd thrown him into.
It had been seven years since their last encounter. Back when the White Bullet had 'died'.
She bit down to focus, conjuring and managing to reflect a very illegal bullet via portal, quickly jumping through a separate tear laid atop the gash she'd just created in an attempt to throw him off.
Two portals at his sides— Iori and his charge exited at the same time, yet he managed to weave both bullet and blade, all to line up a clean shot, dead-centre for her chest.
A purple fuzz flashed between them.
She managed to weave the shot directly into her elbow– the shot hardly passing fabric and just barely scratching skin. She made eye contact with the barrel of a shotgun before sliding to her knees, attempting to slice the back of his knee before he was blasted back by recoil. If only she could use the Cat's Eyes on him . Damn index.
She couldn't allow another bullet. Who knows how many they had stockpiled—? The fact that another was being made with such haste immediately after Roland's little fate distorting plague was a major concern for every party that knew of it. Hana association had put a sanction on White too; a colour was still a colour, even if they were widely believed to have died. Associations were forbidden to attack after the information got out; her only allies here were the fingers. Pinky was coming in from the East, and Middle from the West. Intentional or not, the proxies and proselytes would and could have turned this fight into her execution.
Watching as White scaled up a building, holding two smaller handguns that hailed a storm of bullets down upon her hasty ascension after him. She dove into the building and re-appeared in a window above him, drawing her greatsword from her back, Iori blew past the concrete wall and swatted his guard– and him– a good hundred feet away.
A hail of bullets quickly sprayed her location, but she was quick enough to escape through a portal– right behind him. She was met with a face-full of slug, the stopping power of the shotgun was enough to force her head upward before the round exploded directly against her throat and chin.
She felt her throat clench up for a moment, wherein White took the opportunity to reload as her ears rang. His mouth mumbled a series of words she couldn't perceive before raising the shotgun again,
Now up close, she parried the knife and brought his arm around, breaking it in one swift motion. She before drawing her rapier– not fast enough. His boots clicked and the explosion set some distance between them. She sliced and blocked the best she could– in terms of speed and strength she could overpower him– last they fought, his physical prowess was close to that of a Grade one. Her ears rang from the unending bangs his gun made.
Where the hell was The Head?
They've been duelling for an hour now. Small bruises and scrapes littered the both of them, Tim being unable to land a solid blow in part of her portals, and vice versa for The City whispering her location into his head. The gun that'd fire the ammunition of his namesake when the opportunity arose still went without use. Damn thing was unbreakable.
A hefty round blasted out a bite-sized portion of her ear off, her long, purple-tinted hair falling shortly after.
She could hardly use her portals to cross the gap or reliably avoid his attacks. Old he might have been, but he was far from washed up– he was predicting her location, it could have been experience, but her lack of overall intel on the index might suggest a variety of other reasons.
If he had stayed under the radar for the last sevenish years, he certainly hadn't slowed down to show it.
Opening her way through a building to his exposed flank, she unhooked and thrusted her rapier through an opening between his arsenal of weaponry, pricking into his ribs and drawing marrow along the point as she ripped it out, quickly seeking to skewer his heart. With a quick movement he whipped around, stock of the rifle crashing onto her skull and sending her vision into a daze.
Not that her own eyes mattered.
A sparks of violet shrieked between them, sawing into the barrel he'd attempted to redirect to her. She quickly kicked away the SMG in his left hand, she foresaw his rifle scattering to the floor as he would drop it, quickly taking advantage of the would be opportunity as she yanked his hand, twirling around him and cleaving a portion of his weaver uniform and shoulder off.
Iori quickly twirled around, her sword intercepted a bullet and—
A disgusted look washed her face as saliva shot from his lips, quickly stepping away from the distraction.
BANG
Her hip exploded in pain.
When her gaze raised again, she faced down the barrels of two shotguns that hovered below his blindfold. Chances are it wouldn't kill her– even armour piercing bullets wouldn't be able to bypass all her protection. However, Iori was unwilling to take the injury such shells may inflict over time, doing her best to hastily move her arm across the space between them and slice open a tear, and yet her arm failed to outpace the already speeding shells.
It was the intervention of the mutated weapon, a grotesque eye plastered upon flesh that fused to a sword that batted the slugs away. It exploded a good distance away, with all the force it had been hit with. The eye that peered into her soul for a moment almost refused to blink–lacking an eyelid– before the red greatsword of Mimicry was pulled from her sight and swung back over The Red Mist's shoulder.
"Kid in red…"
The Red Mist nodded back silently, her bushy red hair that fell past her shoulders. There was a cigarette in her mouth, one she let fall to the ground before speaking. "Something came up. Sorry."
Carmen, of course. Not that Iori would ever leak such information. What could that girl be doing? Iori took a quick peek into Kali's future. She'd live through the fight, and return to Carmen's little hold. Michelle would finally fall into place soon. Iori snapped herself from her foresight and stood, despite the slight pain clinging to her hip.
White had pulled some sort of medication from his cloak, pouring it on his wound, stubbing the bleeding immediately yet did little to regenerate his arm. Arteries snapped together and pulsated in open air.
"Not all sure you'll be needed~ gray hair over there is already struggling."
"You complaining, Gran? Sides, I think you got a few silver stands too."
"Well excuse you." There was about a 9 year difference between them; a difference that would be changed in due time. "Still, keep an eye on him. He hasn't fired the real thing yet, so don't let your guard down. Keep moving until his arms are cut off at minimum."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"Minor foresight. Maybe a second or two into the future– it'll affect you more than it will me." Not exactly true; but this small interaction should make Kali unpredictable enough to win. " Oh, and Hana will be on our asses if we kill him. He's got real, head-illegal bullets. Don't think he's got a piece of legal equipment on him, aside from his healing."
Four proxies came to his side, one humming a dainty tune to contrast the gore that had been dried into their pure white capes.
"Heeere we are~! 3482 steps north-north-east to receive further ordering from our superior." A cheery and relatively well built woman skipped up to his side, taking a good long look at her prescript before discarding it to the wind alongside her compass.
"That's the Red Mist." One man raised his eyebrow.
"It is. Keep the Purple Tear away whilst I deal with her."
"As the prescript demands~!"
Kali scoffed and flicked away a cigarette from between her fingers.
She was the first to move.
The Red Mist blew into action, Mimicry clashed against the White's revolver, the firearm managing to persist in the overwhelmingly one-sided connection as the footing below them crumbled with her pure strength into the sewer system, where a series of deafening bangs followed.
Four proxies? Iori approximated… Five minutes, give or take.
' Hardly. Kali will be finished in two minutes at maximum. Ha~ The index has made a vital mistake in revealing themselves in such a manner. They'll be wiped out completely sooner or later, I reckon. '
Disposing of this thorn in her side earlier than intended would certainly be useful.
One of the proxies took the initiative, cracking a metal whip that was subsequently diverted through a portal, driving the length to one with bio-augmented roots that grew from their nape, causing her to yelp in surprise. Iori quickly hopped through, finding herself on top of the woman who shared an equally fierce glare as they both closed the gap.
Iori ducked as metallic edges pierced her afterimage, taking an arm of the proxy off in one quick swing and meeting another with her blade, slicing part way through his weapon before he attempted to fell her with a sudden trip.
Something Iori had more than predicted. The index had very little hold on anything it wasn't directly infecting, such as White. Her victory was only a matter of time.
Iori chuckled at the attempted trip, digging her rapier through his leg and into the ground, drawing her greatest sword and batting him so roughly his body was crumpled in the impact and his leg severed from his body.
Iori neatly re-sheathed her blade, quickly chasing after him and managing to tug his cape mid-air, almost snapping his neck as she hurled his body towards the chasing proxies, a smug look on her features as she motioned tauntingly, daring them to come and try their damndest against the Viper that would strangle fate itself.
Three left.
Iori lept slashed and lunged through a portal, yet the proxy –with the neck augmentation– turned on her heel, she grinned and bound her weight forward, causing the two to crash in a flurry of blue petals mid-air, the branches spiralled out and toward Purple's neck before being wrangled in her hand, Iori quickly brought her knee to the girl's face to stun her but the proxy refused to release her from the incredibly close bind. The others closed in.
Iori kicked out to bat away an attack from the girl's last arm, throwing the woman close to her as a shield against an arrow that pierced through her gut but did little to affect her manic grin as she wriggled and bit down on Purple's hand, teeth digging in and machinery whirring to life before Iori knocked her down, ducking under a crack from the whip, which kissed her face and drew trace amounts of blood from it, before stepping back and inspecting the searing pain from the bite mark.
Down to the bone.
Iori scowled and quickly backpelled– okay, she'd leave that one for last—
A beaming hot pillar of light instantaneously blew the ground below her leg, a fountain of blood propelling it falling to the wayside as it flew out of view as fast as she could realise. Her leg was completely destroyed in one moment. Bone splintered out, but her augments were quick to stop the initial bleeding and burns and begin the healing process.
The White Bullet had fired? If he had hit Kali— could she survive?
Yes, she could. She was the Red Mist, after all. The unstoppable, unflappable force that trumped all with overwhelming power.
Iori stood shakily, her hand held her blunting sword as a walking cane– something she found rather embarrassing. She wasn't that old– and her sabre in the other. Dual wielding wasn't something she'd been too accustomed to, but she still retained some experience.
She dodged under a pair of knives, stabbing the Proxy through the hip and grabbing the other end of her blade to properly control them. Iori allowed herself to kneel, raising the proxy on top of her to avoid a sword that had been stabbed through the air, just stopping short of the proxy's chest. Iori withdrew the weapon from their hip, and gutted them for good measure, driving her weapon right through with both her hands, ensuring death even if she'd lost her balance.
The shark-toothed proxy jumped back at her, jaw unhinged from its usual human boundaries as Iori slammed it upward and hastily removed that smile plastered on her face, but her hand was pulled away before she could stab through her chest to finish her off. The proxy that now engaged her was attempting to pry her sword from her hand, his hand moved to the Purple's wrist when he had to catch her other hand, yet she drew his arms aside and delivered a kickup to his chin that resonated with a crack. Not even a half-second after, metallic teeth chomped into her shoulder, ripping through fabric and skin, needles stabbed into the Purple's neck, and the proxy seemed unwilling to let go even after being stabbed a handful of times.
Iori began to draw a portal inside of the woman's stomach when her concentration was shattered by a horrific screeching similar to the sound of tinnitus that caused the proxies to back off, either relieved or sighing, the one chomping on her shoulder quickly recoiled from the pain of having her guts spilled onto some random backstreet alleyway, before adopting her cheeky grin again with a glob of bile on her cheek.
"See ya missus Purple~!"
The two remaining Proxies vanished with a self encapsulating blue aura, which squashed inward. Running, eh? A call for help somewhere else, perhaps? Iori was surprised Kali had yet to end her fight with White and find her way back…
Hey eyes widened in realisation, the dimmed skies had seemed ever so darker. Perhaps it was just an unfortunate omen, but the white flare that ever sped upward in the horizon brought nothing but dread to the fixer's senses– more than the freakish screaming it bellowed as it shot across the sky. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
As she observed the thing, it suddenly emitted a flash of an all encompassing white almost blinded her. The minor warning from the Cat's Eyes had her close her eyes and tilt her head just enough so that the searing pain would not char her eyes.
An explosion? A flash maybe? But why? Iori found when she opened her eyes, they felt like they'd blistered and black dots swamped her vision. The Cat's Eyes had just stopped working— but her portals hadn't. Time to leave.
' Not without Kali. '
But where was she? Iori rushed through the streets, following destroyed buildings and shattered walls that seemed too far away from where she'd engaged the proxies. The last vision of the Cat's Eyes said somewhere closeby, it seemed to have been cut off only a few moments ago; something that would happen to individuals when carrying out prescripts, but never to entire areas like this.
Her eyes stung with tears, burned with every new sight and, upon turning around, saw the horrifically expanding explosion rapidly making its way across the opened and destroyed battlefields. It looked as if it was fired from the other side of the district, shining so brightly the distance had little effect on any sort of light; as long as something was exposed, it was blanketed in light.
Kali had been taking a drag on a small cigarette when she found her, possibly unaware or simply uncaring of the danger imposed by the oncoming explosion.
There was no time as it ripped through the sky, drawing ever closer at a frightening pace. Iori hadn't even landed when she sliced open and jumped through a portal, motioning for Kali to follow suit. The fixer picked up on the hand sign and quickly leapt through.
When they did, they crashed into furniture and electronics, skidding along the office floor of a corporate building of N-Corp, leaving a few bloody marks as the two slowly stood, much to the surprise of the workers.
"Lost the old man. Caused a huge explosion with those guns of his and managed to escape. Still, I managed to rough him up and thensome. Looked like he shit himself by the time he was running away."
"Oh well. Can't have it all, I suppose. Nothing lost, nothing gained." Iori let out a sigh. Looked like ninety percent of district 17 was invisible to the Cat's Eyes right now. Rather unfortunate, given she couldn't exactly place a portal without knowing where the other side ended.
She could only wonder; what had that explosion been?
[-]
A crater as far as his eyes could see, stretched beyond even the horizon of the falling sun, that had earlier been eclipsed by the source. Some divine wrath that had destroyed most of the backstreets owned by Q corp.
He'd been told that the fingers were having a war, and that the index had a color in their back pocket. Or leading them.
Kento couldn't decide which would be worse– but he knew what it meant regardless. This reveal massively tipped the power of the fingers into the index's favour. The Thumb has their sotto-capo's, the Middle their greater siblings, the Ring their maestro's and the Pinky their Vanguard. The addition of a color, however? Added onto the already high levelled proxies? Sounded like a Liu section 1 contract.
But for the problematic case of The White Bullet? A job for a Shi section 1 director.
Death came to all, equally. It didn't matter whom, from Claw to Rat to Color; death would eventually arrive. The world was fair in that way. Fair in that nobody would live forever. Everybody bled, and so, everybody died.
Colors included.
Shi Section 1 directors were a cut above the rest. Not just from the Shi association, but the twelve as a whole. It was their responsibility to ensure death could come to any person, at any time. Nest chairmen, section 1 fixers and the like. All carried out by a technique and enhancement required for the position.
But with this– the baggage he held in his hand– he might be able to replicate such a thing and kill the White Bullet in an instant. He had to. Not just for revenge, even if that was the only reason he trudged through the nonexistent remains of Q-corp's backstreets.
Death came to everybody, even those he cared for.
There was a reason Shi had the lowest employment rates. Nobody wanted to work as a Shi fixer— the crazies that did were often denied or pushed down to the lower sections. When your job was strictly death, killing, and running, morals and values that were promoted in Liu and Tres tend to fall to the wayside, and corruption and self preservation ramp up to an uncontrollable scale. Corruption he'd failed to stop.
And whilst he didn't enjoy pushing his failures onto the next generation, there wasn't much he could do. Other than, perhaps, restoring the balance of Life and Death to the underbelly of the City.
The walk was easy. There was no cover. No debris. No fighting. No bodies to wade and scour through. Just wastes. Wastes and a crater farther than the eye could see.
That's what brought Kento to the body of the White bullet. His face was burnt, closed, and his hands rested on the shattered remains of a magnum of his special origin. Eyes had been reduced to ashes, along with lips, hair, ears, and probably his tongue too. The explosion had been ferocious, coming as fast as it had disappeared from what he'd seen. Was it the residue from the explosion, or had day simply turned to night? Or perhaps the smog of the City had finally coated the sky in an impermeable haze, the sun never to be seen again.
He didn't want to do this.
Yet every part of his being called for this revenge, for those culled— for his wife, who'd been taken too. The proxies had been thorough in their kidnappings.
"You old jackass." He looked down to the half-beaten body. "What the hell… caused all this?"
In his right hand, Kento held a packet of Green Ash, a powerful and illegal– by zwei's laws– drug. He'd brought it, expecting more of a fight. The barley breathing body let it fall from his hands. Blood drew from his lip.
"It's all your fault. You Old asshole…! Get up..!"
' Don't make me a hypocrite. '
' Stand… You old bastard! '
'I can't kill so many people… just to go back to an empty home! I refuse to lose her like this– get up, give me my ending! Spit in my face– tell me you killed her! Murderer!'
Soft footsteps interrupted the silence, followed from the sound of glass shattering.
A woman in a black, fur lined coat, detailed with golden hexagons along the lower rims walked opposite him to the barely breathing body. A Claw stood at her side, a metallic mask covering all intention and purpose. The black robes signalled a comfort and power that was all too rare within the City– something one would only find the most experienced of fixers or the most foolish of syndicates.
"How bothersome."
He didn't dare speak. His head cleared itself of any feeling other than dread.
Arbiter.
The Head.
The Bullet.
Punishment.
Kento opened his mouth, but found the words caught up in his throat. The woman returned it with a cool look. With a wave of her hand, the colour of the White Bullet froze stiff. Kento would've believed it as rigor mortis, had he not known the colour still drew breath.
He so desperately wanted vengeance. To plunge his sword into his heart, slit his throat as he did hers – but…
The Arbiter made no move to stop him, she did, however, recognize the signs of life coming from the dilapidated weaver. More than that, she recognized the dark sparks within the Director's eyes.
"Your quivering heart finds itself in the cage, reserved for tormented souls it once left in its wake," The Arbiter spoke with interest, words undeniably clear as they pierced the air— and his soul.
Wounds on the color disjointed themselves from his body as if they were but plasters, leaving clear marks and little sign of any damage aside from the horrendous third degree burns that accompanied the bruises and cuts. "My thoughts linger on the rationality of your fixation, assassin. Though; I openly implore the followings of one's soul, know, simply, a faux determination derived from the greenest of ashes would find itself far outmatched against the wishes of An Arbiter. If you yearn for retaliation, I am merciful enough to grant you such a gift. Know now, you are but an ant to me, and your life –and this trivial matter– is little more than an amusement. This carcass shall be reprimanded however the head pleases, given you wrangle your heart in this moment. There are to be no exceptions, afterall."
Her hair, a mix of gold and char black, ignored the biting winds in the crater
The Claw simply was.
Kento's eyes managed to break away from the paralysis, his breathing heavy as the Arbiter's cryptic words washed over his body. His decision was impulsive, quick, and selfish– all things he fully accepted as his hands rested on the hilt of the sword.
The Arbiter seemed content with his choice, nodding her head, smiling gently, falsely.
Hypocrite.
[-]
" YAN!"
The door's hinges rattled and the wood bent against its frame.
" YAAAN! OPEN THIS DOOR!"
The thumping against the door Yan Vismock had just locked almost knocked him off his feet. Inside, his father pelted his hands against the door– the boy could swear he heard them break. The key dropped from the boy's hands. His legs felt weak, so he crouched over and bit his trembling lip, eyes glowering at the lock.
He couldn't. Whatever he did; he could not unlock this door. He can't. He can't. He wouldn't.
"Y-Yan! UNLOCK THIS DOOR! The keys—! DON'T LEAVE!"
"I'm sor-sorry!" Tears softly trailed his cheeks. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to know what came next. Yan crumpled up on the foot of the door, eyes shut tight and hands clasping his ears. Why was this so hard…?
"YAN! PLEASE! For the love of God–! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Yan trembled and did his best to ignore his father's words. His throat clenched, his eyes stung and his heart throbbed. Why was this happening…?
His father had been gone for a day or two– and Yan had assumed the worst. Fear and guilt had been eating him from the inside out— he should have just taken the prescript instead. He wasn't even sure if his father had finished it– he only knew they would be in danger, that the proxies would descend upon them any minute.
The father beat his hands against the door, scraping his nails in a regurgitating sound that forced another whimper out of the meager boy. "YAN! Run! DON'T LEAVE YOUR FATHER TO DIE!"
The bashing and desperation was animalistic. Why wouldn't it be, when the index was sure to arrive? How could anybody not shiver and quake, when death was sure to come to their doorstep? How could Yan, only eight, ever hope to turn away and flee from this? From locking away his father despite erratic and forlorn pleas, and leaving the one who'd raised him to the wolves?
Yan's breaths hinged as he took in a gulp of air. ' Be brave. Be brave. They'd want you to run. They'd want me to be safe. I just need to leave… I'll never see dad again– but—but I'll live! I…They'd want me to live…'
Yan fled with his raincoat wrapped tight around him, the night was dark, and the night of the backstreets had just ended, giving the boy ample time to cry his eyes out.
He could only imagine what they'd do to his father. The one who helped him through every trial and burden the index had placed on them, in promise of the protection— protection his father had cast aside upon his most recent prescript.
To burn a nearby residence to the ground. More details had been given, but his father stripped it away before Yan could further inquire. He only saw his father's maddened state of mind as he returned. He wasn't quite sure if he was still dreaming– being woken up to the ravings of his insane father in the midst of the night has been quite shocking.
Still, the frosty winds of the early morning weather could only make him feel so calm. His heart still broke when he thought of his father– the only family he had left– and his inevitable demise. Locking him in their apartment…? At least he hadn't been forced to kill him in his sleep, like he had to his mother.
All he could do was hope the prescript in his hands would be the last one he'd ever receive. Looking down at it again, he gulped. His father had pushed it into his hands.
' To - Zhou Vismok
Go to R-corp's north-east segment. Find and kill the Grade 8 fixer, Roland. Afterwards, kill any witnesses, including yourself. '
No time limit. No implication of a penalty. A simple command to the end of a man's life.
Yan was not quite sure of who this fixer was but… Knowing the prescripts had decided he would die, then surely he must know something about them?
Yan whispered solemnly to the rising sun, swabbing endless tears from his eyes. "I...I love you… Dad."
