Fated, Faithful, Fatal

[Aver Brand]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iebwn1L4lyM​

In a striking resemblance to a similar excursion, so many years ago, a woman sat on a ship.

There was no hot tub, admittedly – but at least there was a cigarra, and the plumes of blue smoke that coiled from its tip. A lazy veil that recalled the stink of burning meat, of durasteel skeletons setting fire to the sky. Worlds were born and struck down in those rolling clouds, armies marched through death, to victory, beyond.

Aver flicked off the ash and took another drag.

A cigarra here, a sten there – an extravagance had, perhaps, grown into a habit. Ice blue turned downwards from the ceiling lost in the haze, to fixate on the burning tip. There was a violent, roaring urge running just beneath the skin, always. She considered, quietly and rationally, how it would feel to press that flame into her flesh. How it would sizzle and burn, and indeed fill the room with memory made real.

Instead, she merely placed it upon the lip of the tray, wrapping fingers around the delicate glasswork on the table. She lifted the tumbler to the low red light, drawing simple joy from the play of amber against crimson hues.

“You came,” she murmured, reverent – a whiskey-stained smile.

Her doubts would once seem grounded in impossibility, but recent years had seen them pursue individuality with greater zeal. Torn between Nadir, Maena, and their duty to entropy, the Equalizers faced their own challenges. For all its pain and violence, theirs was still a relationship that required time and nourishment.

Though, perhaps, they viewed nurture quite unlike the rest of the galaxy.

Ygdris rose from her seat, and stained his lips with whiskey and blood.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He was one for the long stare, the sort of gaze that spoke to his intent. When he was in this armor, even without the helmet, he was a man of few words. With the sliver of his mind, nested deep in the base of her spine, he didn't need to speak for her to know how he felt. Between them, there was blood and chaos and honesty. There was no mental defense for him, not anymore.

He wouldn't miss the chance to travel with her, to see what exploits laid in their path. If he closed his eye, he could see the wake that waited for them - tides of red and shores of pulverized bone, trees of strewn sinew with shallow roots and faces hanging from them, expressions frozen in the moments that preceded the end. Moments of Terror.

She moved to him, her words speaking of surprise. Her actions seemed to endorse it, the way she tugged at skin and lips with a hard embrace. Copper. Pulling away, just for a moment, he savored the vintage of flavors. They were going to Maena and while the task was business related, he knew that extra curriculars would come of their own accord. There was no time to get drawn into those orbs of azurite, those lips of vermillion. Not yet.

Armored fingers gripped locks of red hair with a slight massage, ever threatening to yank. Of course.

The bleeding indent of her teeth on the inside of his lip had a sharpening affect as he placed another kiss on her lips before pulling again, coated with an air of finality. For now, he told himself. For now. He narrowed his gaze towards the view screen, grazing the side panel of armor on her thigh with his blackened hand, before approaching the dash. Sitting down, he looked across the incoming planet with a certain level of introspection.

Do you remember?

He looked over his shoulder before looking back towards the planet.

It looks like Selvaris from here.

The world they had nearly destroyed as they departed the various regimes and government, forsaking basic conquest for more suitable ventures. The sort that left more time for each other, more time for her, and more time for hobbies and the things they deemed important. As the smoke drifted into space behind them, he recalled the weight as it was lifted from his shoulders. The relief of being done with the entities of the Sith. Then, for him, there were only two that truly mattered.

Everything else was an artifact of spur of the moment decisions, enjoyment and pleasure derived from the split seconds that followed.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

“No,” she said into the quality of their silence.

While her lover was oft a creature of remembrance, Aver rarely dwelled. From her myriad lives, whole palaces of memory could be construed – if she were so inclined.

But she wasn’t.

“I do dream of Selvaris, of what we did…” she trailed off, resting a palm on his shoulder. “But I’ve moved on.”

If there was a weight to these actions at all, they each bore it differenty – quietly. Aver was a creature of molding. She left her shells behind, to peace or hell for company. Some, to rot; others, to be forever forged into history by the hatred they inspired.

This much, she knew. She wasn’t absent self-reflection – she simply didn’t understand its conclusions the same way other people did. Calling it in-born would be a poor excuse, and Aver refused to take the coward’s way out.

Her decisions were her own. And if they ruined worlds… so be it.

“There’s a touch of that red though, I agree. A bit of Nadir there, too.” A soft, unspoken: maybe we were meant to meet here.

The eye of their storm.

“A contact is waiting for us in the port. I put a feeler out for interested parties a couple weeks ago.” she spoke, standing. “A few of them answered… we’ll see. Could be that we’ll even have to find us blood somewhere else.”

Ha. Fat chance of that.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

"I think fondly of the flames..." He stated quietly, thinking back on the moments that led up to it. The way he had abandoned things, the way the extolled were abandoned and left for dead. The way the gramuteks consumed, just as he did, until there was nothing left - all on the whim of a man who carried no care for consequence. He was content to die that day, to burn in the flames he had started.

In some ways, he had. In others, he hadn't. For the entity that Aver had left behind, he seemed unable to reconcile total departure.

He didn't feel weight of the action as much as joy in the recollection. Accomplishment, looking back at the path they walked to get to where they were. Perhaps, in some ways, it was simply a matter of notches on the belt.

"Red and black and silver..." Worlds colliding, even more the case if they were to see her. But from afar, most metropolis based planets seemed to favor each other. Bright lights with barren surfaces and sprawling metallic structures. Point Nadir, Nar Shaddaa, Coruscant, Maena. He was sure there was individual charm but beyond measured forms of sentimental value, it was hard to not feel like one was just like all the others.

"Blood...elsewhere? Maybe I shouldn't have come after all..." He may have not turned to smirk at her, but he smirked all the same. He'd get blood either way. His, hers, someone else's. It would all come out in the wash.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver shook her head with a grin, red streaks of hair dancing with the motion. She’d have to cut them again, soon. Always getting in the way. Hands found the smooth surface of her helmet as the pilot began his descent. The vessel shook with the flames of re-entry and neither of them cared.

They had seen hungrier, fiercer flames aplenty.

Hissing, the faceplate settled into its rightful place, and the merc found hers at the airlock.

“It’s Maena,” she said by way of explanation. “There’s always someone to kill.”

In a smear of synthetic colors and the dull gleam of metal, the city rushed past the viewport. Other craft passed them by as they navigated the treacherous traffic, finally docking on a reserved pad.

Out and in motion within a second, Aver was already standing by the contact when the ramp fully opened. He was small thing, malnourished, sunken eyes beneath a sagging cowl. Couldn’t tell if he was human or something else – not that it mattered.

“You’re the Nadir representatives?” he asked, voice an octave lower than expected.
“Code?” she shot back, her hand poised to grab any of her many weapons if need be.
“NE 13.”
“Good. Let’s get on with it then.”

He nodded, shot a nervous glance over at Loray, and began to lead them deeper into the bowels of New City.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

In tandem, he slid his helmet on and all awash with the death that it carried, the former Wrath transitioned into the nearly silent form of Loray Tares.

The vessel rocked and clamored past the interior of Maena and the New City, the location where he knew a particular Atrisian to frequent. Buildings and monuments were separated by span bridges, the likes of which vessels had to navigate on a daily basis. The situation was a perilous journey for those without experience. Their pilot seemed to function just fine.

Loray stepped out behind Aver, the beam of his gaze strafing as he looked upon the New City with a mentality removed from his former ventures. The soul saber, engulfed in vong tissue, rocked with a certain anticipation. He could feel the malice boil to the top as he followed in her wake.

He moved with a certain encumbrance, as if burdened by the sheer weight of the mania. A tree branch, bent far too back, and just at the point of snapping. As they moved, he kept his gaze fixed on the representative, taking the moments in between to consume fractured hairlines of anxiety and nervousness. As they moved, those hairlines might become trenches and gully's, the likes of which could swallow someone. And occasionally, the short figure would gaze back at the man in the iron, fearful that their steps would draw them too close together.

Loray moved in silence, every slightly mocking the man and his fearfulness.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

The resemblance to Nadir faded the further they ventured. That particular stink of newness clung to every street, every stand and ditch and winking neon sign.

New City, indeed.

Aver drank it all in, saturated and excited and so full it was ready to overflow at any second. All she’d have to do was find the right artery, slice it with a blade, and…

freedom.

Her grin was a steady companion as they navigated the maze of the urban sprawl, always on the heels of their guide. The diverse populace ebbed around them, each rushing down the narrow track of their compressed little lives. So closed-off. So boxed-in. She worried a sharp tooth with her tongue and knew, in that moment, that she’d not change a single thing she’d ever done.

A glance sideways, to the blank faceplate of her partner. Their history was bloody, together and apart. It was long, too. How many years now? Going on two decades, almost – Aver didn’t feel old though. In her current state, she felt perhaps the most powerful she’d ever been.

Perhaps… but not yet.

She was missing a key piece to that puzzle. Well, not missing. It just needed… realignment.

“We’re here,” the guide announced.

Here being the gaping maw of something called ‘The Maena Midnight Monster’. Aver narrowed her eyes.

“A theme park.”
“Ah… yes. Mr. Aidrano is the owner. He does business here.”
“Does he.”
The guide let out a nervous chuckle.

“And the entrance is… this?”
A swift nod. His dreadlocks bobbed. “Please.”

She measured him for a moment more, then turned halfway towards Loray. “Shall we?”

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He cradled hand in hand as they moved. Transitioning that to knuckles nearly dragging the ground, his visor swiped from side to side. He knew this place, just as he knew every place of similar substance. Corruption, mixing of classes and the banding that occurs, and the way that smell of filth passes even the most robust of breathing filters. But he had to admit a certain allure...

The way the lights gleamed in the distance. The way obsidian rock stretched out from the earth, broken and decayed fingers reaching towards the sky. It had a certain appeal.

But his gaze was on the people, the way the droves moved around them. Small ants circumventing the moving mountains. And then, just like that, they were there. And the red visor was cast upwards, monoliths of commerce standing with glowing charm. Loray immediately felt at odds with it as his companion cast her glance once more towards him. His silent simmering, thoughtful and reticent, should have been enough to answer the question.

But instead, he looked towards the guide.

"This is the perfect setting for an ambush. Elevation, hidden spokes along the railings, and relatively mobile structures." His gaze remained fixed. "Should such come to fruition and your side garner a modicum of success..." He looked back towards the entrance. "You will surely not survive for the celebration."

A promise. A threat. One in the same. He looked over to Aver and tilted his head. We shall.

Stepping in to the realm of the theme park, he gave off an aura that invited hostility. Perhaps, he even begged for it.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2U7xjHlEGsU​

The wagon held four seats. Without ado, Aver took one in the back besides Loray – the guide was left to sit in the front. Any explosives would rip him apart first, block the blast and the shrapnel. Their own movements would be obscured by his frame, affording precious seconds.

For the two of them, it might as well be eternity.

But she had more than one partner. More than one thread – and in those bloody years, lessons and skills and knowledge had been imparted and shared and etched into flesh. Not so much learned as it was absorbed, a fraction of three returning to the whole.

Not blind like she’d been once, vision obscured, clarity dimmed by the unforgiving embrace of Skerr Ygdris. Spread and spilled and encompassing – her mind was a web woven from here to him to everyone.

They had never been alone. Shadows breathed here, pulsed with racing, fearful heart. They dripped sweat, nervous fingers gripping blades and blasters. Too tight, too slippery.

The scratching of metal wheels against the tracks was distant, like the lapping of a gray sea against a sawdust shore. Men who had thought themselves sharks of these waters were in for a surprise – but a fish never knows the shadow of its death, merely thinking the ocean dark by nature.

Lights pulsed above them in steady rhythm, and she could almost hear the music to go along with it. Blurred memories of many occasions, knit together as the backdrop to their impending dance. (bright neon pink and blue and green of Nadir gleaming in the pools of blood. the sudden black in the gut of Coruscant the dull red of a fortress felled under its own weight. ages ago under the flickering sun and leaves of a giant forest swarms of soldiers and splintering wood leagues above the distant ground)

Time diluted at her request, lazy and tame in the hands of a killer.

Shall we only ever meant one thing when it left her mouth. It needn’t be uttered to be understood.

With the first squeeze of a trigger, their melody began.

And the Equalizers danced.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

As she moved in response to the expected attack, he remained complacent as weapons opened fire upon them. Molten anger steamed from the sharp edges of his armor, filling the contours with a whimsical lacquer of red and black tones. Like a pot of water frothing over from the heat and pressure, his presence ruptured in a slow and methodical progression.

Stepping out from the wagon, the first bolt splashed energy across his chest plate. Halting his steps for a moment, his gaze shifted towards the figure from which it originated. A small man, hair greased to the side and a thin black mustache across the top of his lips. Then, as a bolt hit struck across his armored voxyn arm, he looked towards the Guide. Immutable to the kinetic damage, he watched as the man backed away from the wagon. Scurrying like a little sniveling dreadlocked rat, running from the coming flood.

Loray was that flood. A flood that was promised.

Slow gait turned into a flash of speed as the wake of his movement left doppelgangers lingering in the stale wind. Until he was upon the guide, one who tried to run.

Metal fingers leaped out, grabbing the scruff of his collars. It was a mash of hair and linen. With a yelp, Loray yank and caught the man by the back of his neck. Pulling him in, Loray turned and showed the dangling man for display for all those who were shooting. There was a brief lull in the firing as the Guide gasped for breath, crying tears of cowardice.

"You think we care about him, we wont let you live over a measly a guide!"
"A guide! I've been with Mr. Aidrano for years!" Words spewed from the orifice of the Guides face, as he struggled against Loray's grip.

"You mistake me." He stated coldly as he twisted his wrist, cracking the Guides neck and ending his wallowing. Releasing his fingers but arm remaining rigid, the body fell to the ground in a puff of debris. Outstretched hand turned into an accusatory finger, pointed towards the one with the mustache - atop the high railing that ran across the ledge of a funhouse. "I promised him death. Now I promise it to you." And in that moment, he was standing next to the attacker on the roof of the fun house.

Greasy mustache assailant leveled his blaster towards Loray and opened fire.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

For once, she was happy to leave the talking to Loray. With the fracture of Reverance, Aver had risen up to that role, and while she wasn’t quite as crap at it as she used to be, her natural preference was still to keep quiet and feth shet up.

He spoke. She killed.

The darkness posed no obstacle to the merc as she vaulted off the wagon and onto the maintenance walkway. Blasters and lightsabers were bright – might as well paint a target on your back while you were at it. Thus, her fingers wrapped around the leather hilt of Sa Sevai instead.

She yanked it out of the terentatek holster and sheathed it right back into warm meat of an unfortunate thug. His rifle clattered on the ground as she wrenched the blade free from his armpit. The spray of blood blinded the man rushing to his aid, and Aver ducked below his wild haymaker. Anchoring herself with a forearm flat to the walkway, she kicked out his knee – sent him straight into the grinding wheels of the rollercoaster.

Under cover of his screams, the merc ran low and hunched over to the other end, where a couple fethers were raining fire down on [member="Loray Tares"]. She hacked halfway through the neck of the first, meant to stab the next—

frakking vertebrae.

Her blade got stuck just a moment too long – a moment where the other guy swung around and brought his full-auto to bear on Aver instead.

She tugged the twitching body of his companion between them, sank the first few bolts into his flesh. This other fether – all slick in a suit with a lit cig between the lips – wasn’t so dumb, though. He kicked the dead guy aside, sent him tumbling onto the wagons below.

“Mr. Aidrano sends his regards,” he grinned, and jumped off the ledge.

Aver hovered a beat longer, blade poised – a rhythmic red light at the edge of her vision commanded her attention.

beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—

“Frak.”

BOOM​

 

[Loray Tares]

Aver was working her typical technique. A myriad of attacks inner mixed with avoidance. Therein lied the difference between the duo, stemming from a mania born of a thousand souls nested within a hilt. How it screamed to him, to test the edges of existence - to discern where his end lied and to flirt constantly with it. Discerning the undulations of its presence, he followed the call now as he was immersed in the destruction.

Stepping slowly towards the figure, the blaster fired in auto towards the plates of his armor - barrel turning red hot, the perforated metal began to tarnish from the corrosion. As Loray stuck out his left hand, the energy swelled into a void that formed from his palm. Consuming the energy, panic struck across his opponents face as the lumbering menace continued to trudge forward. Tossing the rifle away, Loray grabbed a hold of it with the force and pulled it to him. The inky blooded texture of his force imbue wrapped around the weapon, shrouding it in his presence. Within swinging distance, the man withdrew a slug pistol and unloaded a clip into Loray's chest and side. Loray swung back and smacked the man with the rifle, sending him sailing from the fun house roof into a jostling bucket within a nearby tilt-a-whirl. Loray stood in silence, amidst other blaster fire, as he watched the rag-doll tumbling to the ground.

His armor reflected an explosion that ignited from the distance. He turned in its direction, hopping down to the ground below. Still encumbered with the adsorption of the blaster rifle, he moved into a carousel as it spun slowly. Giving the illusion of looking for cover, the men moved their attention from Aver, who was admittedly somewhere if not entirely shrouded in smoke, to Loray. His left hand held out as he formed a fist, power concentrating into his palm. The vertical rods, hoisting small child ships and beasts of burden, whined and moaned beneath the weight of his urging. The lights began to flicker across the top of the carousel, the engines grinding against the resistance. Until he uncurled his fingers, dislodging the vertical beams altogether. In one swift movement, the beams rocketed out from the carousel, sending poles in all directions around the carousel.

The sound of blaster fire was replaced with screams and the gurgling sounds of people drowning - in their own blood. The lights flickered one last time before the carousel begin smoking and caught fire. Loray nowhere to be seen.

Did that explosion hit you?

Immersed in his own insanity, this was the closest thing to concern that she would get. Beyond him moving to her side to help. But years spent together was enough to teach him many things. One of which was that she could handle herself.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver was handling herself against the opposite wall. It wasn’t pretty.

With a grunt, she peeled herself off the cracked duracrete and landed, light of feet. A couple lower ribs were cracked, that was for sure. Her whole back was developing into a rich purple bruise as she moved, wresting her limbs into submission. What’s a few close-quarters explosions between future business partners? It was practically an invitation to tea back on Nadir.

You want it?

She offered the blossoming pain like a dripping steak, dangling it before the salivating mouth of the beast. Aver could enjoy it, under certain circumstances, under certain black-eyed necromancers. Craved it, even, when those metal claws dug into her flesh and the raven hair silked against her skin in delicious contrast.

In combat, the merc fought cold and focused – pain was a white-hot mess, a thousand needles prickling everywhere. It wasn’t her. Not anymore.

The alchemized blade in her grasp finished off the fallen bodies. She’d leave them to bleed out, slow and alone, if it didn’t run them the risk of getting shot in the back. Two long strides, and she rejoined him at the flickering ruins of the carousel.

A smile, her hand at the small of his back – “Let’s hammer out a deal with Aidrano, and it’s all yours.”

Aver suspected there’d be a lot more hammering than dealing.

Delightful.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He watched quietly as she moved forward, smoke and steam rising from the plate of his now singed armor. As she pressed a hand against the small of his back, he felt just the lightest offering, a gift that showed in his bolstered resolve, oozing from his pensive persona.

To her question of whether he wanted it or not, the answer was simple.

Always.

He moved away from the distraction of her pain, threatening to envelop him. A voxyn hand snagged one of the remaining vertical poles, shearing it free from the carousel and from its comically sized bantha apparatus. Stepping out of the carousel, the pole hung low at his side, held parallel to the ground. He could taste it in the air. Fear, nested deep in the hearts of men and women, who now stood on the wrong side of progress. That's what they were now. Forced progression.

Taking one step forward, he launched the pole through the quiet theme park. It whistled a soft and almost peaceful song, impacting out of sight. Where it landed, a band of assailants hid within a large courtyard that was used for food and consumption. And now they would be consumed by it as Loray disappeared from Aver's side, reappearing as first a shade, only to turn corporeal moments after. The planted rod, now feet deep in earth, was grasped by iron warrior as men turned to find the cause of their fear standing among them. Menace.

All of them, without thought towards the well being of each other, opened fire towards the center of their large circle. They would hit Loray. And they would hit each other. The theme park lights above would be overtaken by the flicker of blaster and slug rounds, lighting up the night.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

She smiled as he blurred away, and curled the fingers of the hand previously on his back. Her LeMat obediently jumped from its holster, its heft a steady reminder of the death it would sow. Aver checked the chamber as she marched towards the courtyard, and cocked the slugthrower with a smile.

Ten more steps – the square lit up with bolts and muzzle flash, Loray dancing at its centre. The merc calmly noted all the foes on her HUD. Twelve in total.

Nine, now. Friendly fire was a queen.

Five more steps, and she was in comfortable range to rip them apart. Close quarters, she’d had the chance to analyze their armor. It was plastoid crap, thin enough to hide beneath the baggy rags and tattered overcoats hanging off their hunched frames. Basically paper in the gentle hands of the LeMat.

Aver anchored her stance and began squeezing the trigger.

First bullet ripped through the side of a rifle-toting thug, shredding his lungs before it burst out on the other side.

Second bullet split a fether’s skull, spraying his buddy with brain matter and bone shrapnel.

Third bullet finished him off, bleeding, as it pierced his neck, straight through both carotids.

Six more to go – rude not to leave any for Loray, though. So she moved instead, flitting from cover to cover as she closed with the rest. Her heart was loud and steady and her grin was wide and she had missed this.

Missed you.


[member="Loray Tares"]

 

[Loray Tares]

The voxyn armed screamed a blood curdling wail as one of the slugs finally punched through and cut a hole right through the formed bicep. Not that it mattered, the beast couldn't be killed so easily. The scream could have been mistaken for pain but in fact, anger poured out from the countenance that formed in his palm. Around him, men died from friendly fire and the gun shots of his distant lover. Afar now, but always close.

Anger spewed out from his pores in black wisps, tendrils of night whipping about at the anger of penetration. He turned towards the first in his radar, dislodging the pole from the ground. Heat coursed through it as he poured his energy outward, turning the surface molten red and pocked with marks of char. Despite the blaster fire aimed at him, he brought the rod down and caved in the first fighters head. The figure gulped from lips and from the gaping chasm of his forehead, exposed brain trembling in the still night.

Turning, the next caught the backhand of the pole across his abdomen. It burned so hot and with so much force, that the bar split him almost in two. With the abdominal cavity blown out from the force, the spine remained, giving him the likeness of the spring horses that sat near by. Breathless gasps were the last of the figures actions before toppling. Loray pivoted and struck out with the rod, sending the pole through another's chest. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the dying pulse of the heart as it carried across the metal. Twisting the rod, he turned and treating the man like a greased kebab, flinging him towards one of the henchmen who was running. As he knocked over his friend, 10 feet away, Loray flung the pole and pinned them together against the ground.

They would die soon, sandwiched together.

There were two left. But Loray only needed one. Moving forward, cornering one against a wall, Loray punched out and caved the mans head into the durecrete wall. But the voxyn hand didn't retract, the body didn't fall. Instead, the tongue and teeth of the beast formed against the face of the dead figure. Consuming flesh and eyes and available tissue, the body began to spasm as the arm replenished its reserves.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

His pain spiked up her spine, but so did his curled pleasure – Aver ground her teeth into a smile and slithered up to the enemy. Two shadows in the night. He didn’t suppress his presence like she did. Loray flaunted it, spilling over and into and through their assailants.

The haphazard squad had been told to expect a pair of criminals, not two beasts that moved without pause at the wrong end of a barrel. Nobody was trained for this. They were junkies and lowlifes and bastards, the lot of them, but they lived and died by the logic of their world – ‘he who holds the blaster runs the show’.

Problem was, the Equalizers were breaking all those rules. Get shot? Move on. Close-quarters grenade? Move on.

If this were a holovid (one of those direct-to-viewscreen action flicks) a big, burly thug with an E-WEB in each hand would bust out of the ticket booth with perfect timing and shred them to pieces with the magnificence that is fully-automatic fire, and he would be screaming “DIE, YOU MOTHERKARKERS, DIE!” all the while.

But it wasn't a movie, and no miracle came to the their aid.

Instead, the arm of her lover was feasting on a dude’s face, and Aver had just emptied the shotgun of her LeMat into another’s gut.

After the staccato of gunfire, their screams filled the empty theme park. The voxyn was now down to the vocal cords, and the thug dissolved into pitiful gurgling. The merc kneeled next to her writhing victim as she holstered the revolver and replaced it with the blood-caked blade of the Queen.

“Tell me where Aidrano is, what security he’s got left, and you can die quick.” Her kukri glinted in the crimson light of Loray’s visor as she toyed with it. “Elsewise... buckshot like that, it’ll take hours ‘till you bleed out, boy.”

A pause, the touch of metal to his throat.

“What’ll it be?”

[member="Loray Tares"]

 

[Loray Tares]

With every gulp, the body shook beneath his grip. The swallowing and chewing and wheezing all rode waves of sound together, creating a subtle and gruesome cacophony in the backdrop of distant carnival music. Once it was filled, complete and healed once more, Loray dropped the nearly headless body as it rolled down the wall in a slump.

Lumbering over towards his companion, Loray crossed his arms as he made eye contact with the last of the gunmen. Well, as much eye contact as could be made when the air was so thick with fear and dread. The figure could barely lift his head, even less likely that he could stare down the red visor.

"My arm still hungers...perhaps I could start at his feet." It wasn't a question. It was a certainty when given no other option. Of course, the voxyn hand could likely eat no more for the time being. But the man didn't know it and with the way piss drained out of him, he likely bought the threat. A shaking hand lifted towards a tower, beyond Loray and Aver. The armored figure's head turned towards the indication and even with all the lights, the truth was apparent.

An office on high.

Loray stepped past Aver and grabbed the man by his feet. "But...but you said you would-"
"I don't recall making you a promise...Keep quiet and you'll stay off the menu...Assuming your word is good."

Holding on to the foot, he continued to drag the man, as he started walking towards tower not far from the courtyard. As the man acquiesced to either his fate or pain, he laid back, hands dragging across the ground.

The sooner he was done with this, the sooner he could have her. That was his only concern at the moment.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

The HUD of the Exodus zoomed in on the tower. Within a couple seconds’ of processing, all the discernible details of the structure were delivered to the merc upon a silver platter. Ferrocrete construction, a comprehensive camera system lining the walls and the tower proper, several blast doors betrayed by their dense metal composition – likely turadium – and a small army of heat signatures milling the corridors.

Aver glanced down at the pleading, bleeding thug. Her blade made nary a whisper as she slid it back into its terentatek sheath, depraving him of immediate salvation. “I never said when,” she said as she rose to her feet again, falling in step with Loray.

Abandoned rides creaked elegies into the night as the toxic wind pulled through. Their jagged silhouettes arced broken and gaping – the skeletal remains of ancient creatures, backlit by the violent hues of downtown neon signs. Overturned trash cans spewed forth empty crisp packets and plastic bags that danced around their feet like excited dogs. For a moment, they were simply a couple on an evening stroll.

Never mind the armor, the guns, or the knives. Never mind the wounds, the blood, or the scorch marks. And never mind the aching of a dying man they dragged behind them, leaving a dark trail through the forest of forgotten delights.

Their stride was long and their goal was close. The merc had cleaned Queen and reloaded LeMat by the time they arrived at the doorstep of their welcoming business partner. She yanked the criminal to his feet, shoved him in front of the camera, and rang the intercom.

After a beat of silence, the holofeed opened, displaying the fisheyed face of another thug. “Yorick! We heard them gunshots… we thought you was dead for sure.” The guard leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “Wait… that blood on yer face?”

“Ah—”

Standing just outside the screen, Aver pressed a helpful blade against his kidney.

“I mean, yeah, of course,” he chuckled, masking his pained grimace. “Fethers didn’t, ah, didn’t go down easy.”
“Oh, I see, I see. Don’t worry, your pal Gaddis gotcha. Mr. Aidrano said they was some kinda big shots from Nadir. Guess us New City bastards just pack bigger guns, innit?”
“Guess we do, yeah. Listen, I’m kind of, ah, bleedin’ here—”
“Say no more, my boy Yorick. I’ll letcha in, send Big an’ Small Rory to take you up. Mira should get you right fixed, amrite?”

A few chants crackled through the intercom right before the blast doors slid open and the camera feed went dark.

She relinquished her grip, and Yorick dropped like a man shot close-quarters by a shotgun and dragged half a click over stairs and concrete. Flipping the knife in her hand, Aver ducked down and finished the job with a precise jab through the eye.

The Equalizers stepped inside, and the gates slid shut.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He watched as the interaction occurred over the intercom. But his focus wasn't on success or failure of the tactic, as there wasn't a wall that could hold him - even a blast door. Instead, the sliver of throbbing red practically burned a hole in the small of Aver's back. On the wound, on the bruised ribs and the potential fractures, and all the pain that oozed out beneath her velvet voice. Standing as a man, held at arms length from his fix, his vision narrowed as he considered betraying the mission for more important priorities.

Such thoughts were overridden at the conclusion of the discussion, the hasty end for this particular bottom dweller. Before they could walk in, Loray knelt down, following the stab from Aver, and watched as the light faded from the mans remaining eye. With a black hand clutching a mound of greasy hair, he inspected the carcass as he watched the spirit flutter out. Satisfied with the end, a need to be sated was held at bay, as he stood up and walked in behind Aver.

Gaze drifted towards the interior of the building, to the hall of the lobby that led to the lift. It was steel and glass and duracrete, with additions of more steel. But more than that, it was sickly white. Floor panels were white, ceilings were white, columns were white, front desk was white. But no one was present. Loray titled his head as he looked up and behind him, a camera turning and landing focus on them. Then the lift chimed. The level indicator above the door stated level 35 and began decreasing rapidly.

His armor groaned as his force presence flexed, black smoke steaming from the plates. Right hand extended out as the countenance in his palm appeared. Eyes bulging, hawkish nose forming, and mouth opened to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Bile flowed out, spilling on to the floor, as the dragon hilt push out. Bit by bit, the Soul Saber revealed itself.

The level marked 15 and continued down.

The blade ignited as his power folded over, consuming itself. Obsidian blade formed and etched scorch marks in the white floor, flecks of blood and enamel suspended in the edges of the core.

The level marked 1.

The doors opened.

Loray stepped in front of Aver. In the large lift, a large man held a massive gatling blaster gun. As he pulled the trigger, Loray held the soul saber forward. From his essence, a shield of black and red leaked out and formed a dome around him. The blaster fire smacked across the shield, rippling against the surface and showing no signs of diminishing. Beneath the dome, Loray let out an angry growl as he began to struggle forward.

[member="Aver Brand"]​