Or perhaps they would enslave Scylla, too.
The myriad possibilities whirled in his mind while Scholomance leapt atop one of the many dilapidated rowhouses. Years of deferred maintenance left precarious patches where shingles no longer lay, and suspected rot urged Scholomance from stepping on these areas. Sometimes he found an entire swath of roof missing, with only a plastic tarp thrown to offer better shelter. He knew these places, the neighborhood, the people here. He never met them, but he knew them well enough. Vacant bodies each shared the same personality. Their skins often matched the roofs.
He dismounted the building and landed in the yard, a microcosm of abandoned children's toys, weeds, and a dirtied husk of a plastic swimming pool. After kicking aside the tricycle with an air of disgust, he started down the road with a quick beckon for Scylla to follow. The dead drop named the Circle K, which loomed across the street with its discolored, backlit sign. He used to buy cigarettes there in another life. Condoms, too.
Around the bend of dumpsters lay another spread of memories - an array swallowed down by the iniquitous auric energies that hovered like a thick, stubborn fog. He smothered what flecks of delight he felt in approach.
"Generals," he started uneasily. He wanted to steeple fingers that he no longer had. "It seems we're at an impasse."
Scylla had told Scholomance once, not very long ago, that he should take her, instead of the lamb that he had planned to lead to the slaughter. He hadn’t, and someone had died for it. Perhaps tonight, she would. There was the ever-present lurking danger in her mind that he could have decided to sell her to the highest bidder, as it were- save his own skin. It wasn’t too late to change his mind. “For what it’s worth, I’m not.” Scylla kept her voice light, pushing back the slight tremble of worry. There were so many things that could go wrong, but she had made her peace (such as it was) before coming tonight.
Her wards were asleep in their beds, safe and sound and as protected as she could have made them; her life was as orderly as it could have been. Her only regrets might be not getting to wear those fantastic stilettos she had bought in Milan. Worst case scenarios- Scylla was nothing if not the most optimistic of pessimists. Sometimes. Maybe.
Violet eyes drifted carefully over the rooftops, her senses stretching out as far as she could for auras; it mattered little, she supposed, when the enemy could teleport, but better to try and remain somewhat vigilant. Her Crystal gleamed, humming about her wrist, her ill-gotten necklace bouncing around her throat as she sucked in cold air. She’d been brave once, in another life. And she wasn’t alone. She could do this again, for a friend. Hopefully.
He slipped off the roof first and she watched from above until he gestured her to follow, and she dropped down with a clack of delicate heel, the soft jangle of chains. Circle K? Wasn’t that a ranch or something? Colorado, Arizona… somewhere in that general westerly ranch-part of the country. It was an interesting choice for- a dead drop or something else equally morbid that sounded like it came from a detective novel instead of something real life.
The signatures that spilled over her were like a too-warm bath, spilling up and down her spine unpleasantly before dumping her in the ice. She hated Generals. And yet here were two, on their two. “You’re always supposed to start with wishing them a pleasant evening,” she quipped with forced humor. “Not that good manners will get us much of anywhere.” her inhale was sharp in the cold, and under her skin the power shifted hungrily, awakening and pulsing under her skin with too-many arms. Too much mass for her skin to bear, and she wondered if they could see the monster lurking there, under her flesh. She had always wondered.
Maybe after tonight she’d never wonder again.
There was something to be said for the boldness of requesting them both. Scholomance had plans, big plans, of some sort. Had no doubt failed to accomplish his task, or refused some measure of it, and was moving on to plan B. The green general wondered, when dropping the location, of what sort and how large the posse the knight planned to bring. As far as calling cops? That would be quaint. But they don’t quickly answer calls to this neighborhood. And not without verified reason.
When walking into a meeting of false pretenses, it was only a matter of who brought the bigger and more efficient ‘bargaining’ party. A noose to tighten, and not let the knight and whoever he brought with him escape. With an hour to set up, there’d be no teleportation blocking. Weapons didn’t need reloading. The Negaverse always had the advantage. “It’s a beautiful night for bloodshed. It’s a beautiful night for pain.”
Schörl looked over at Cinnabar pleasantly, and clicked her dragon cane once on the ground for punctuation. “They’ll come with numbers, magic and tears, and all fall just the same. “
The figure beside the General shifted, predatory and eager, to pace back and forth with a click of heels and rattle of chains.
“Cattle to the slaughter.” She rumbled, something of the beast already in her tone. “Our forces are waiting, all we have to do is call. If he’s stupid enough to come here, then we’ll take his sacrificial offering and put it to good use. He’s been next to useless since our little… play session. Refusing to do as he’s told.”
Slinking up beside the other, she leaned into her space, head tilted near her ear. “I don’t doubt your skilled hands could make something useful of him, Lovely.”
Cinnabar smirked as she pulled away, filled with too much restless energy to stay still for long. It showed in the flick of her tail as they waited, and then the feel of approaching signatures caught her attention and she dropped back, letting Schörl take center stage and be their mouthpiece. She would keep an eye out on their surroundings, in case the cowardly one had brought strength to back him up. He would be an idiot not to.
One knight, broken, and one eternal she felt but didn’t recognize when the pair came into view. A rattling growl rolled from Cin’s throat and her hands dipped into her pockets, fingering the stones she kept there. One, she brought to her face, glowing gently between her clawed fingers and crunched between her teeth, the wild rush of power making her shudder with joy. From the other… an entirely mundane contraption. Gun-shaped, but short and squat, and a bright fluorescent orange. She lifted it skyward, her arm straight as an arrow, and pulled the trigger. A bright spot of light bloomed, rocketing upwards into the darkness.
"Please, Scylla." He shot her a quick glance. He trusted that she understood the intimations.
The generals themselves received his greeting as well as he expected. Perhaps the thought of his inevitable defection excited them. Perhaps the thought of killing him outright or corrupting him in front of his friend or even vice versa provided them with something to look forward to. No secret remained that the Negaverse knew power far beyond the rest of them; surely their time grew boring if they went unchallenged for too long.
To barter with lives was but a petty game, now.
"You're right, they'll come. So take the ones you can, because each and every star you capture tonight marks the end of our contract. You can have all the identities you want if you can beat it out of them." The lot of it sounded callous, cruel, uncalled for. But what did it matter to him? His choices became either a s**t chance at escaping their thrall, or a guaranteed end to his life as he knew it. Inevitabilities necessitated the change. He had to trust that this could work. They faced two generals - one tactically conniving, one a volatile powerhouse - but magic so often promised another way, another escape. Mjolnir spoke of impossibilities dissolving from new forays into magic. Cosmos delivered a deus ex machina with the brunt of her magical influence, back in the dark of Negaspace. What may come for Scholomance?
His focus deviated to the generals once more, and his bone whip formed coiled in his left hand. Carefully he edged his grip to the diaphysis, where the loops fell loose upon the ground. He found no interest in sticking around to face the pair head on, but the potential to escape winked out with each successive Negaverse signature. He had to hope that Scylla commanded powerful magic that might keep them around long enough to see allies.
"And Scylla, don't get caught." Because I'm not rescuing you. Not from them.
Please, Scylla, Ice said, and her red-stained mouth tilted upwards at the corner, lips pursing briefly as she took in the women- both monsters, she had been informed, in their own distinctly separate ways. Bright eyes drifted over the others- she and Scholomance were distinctly at a disadvantage against two generals. It would take luck to put them in place, even in a one-on-one fight, even with Scylla’s somewhat advantageous magic. Any youma they brought would be of little concern to her- it was what else they had in store that could be problematic.
One of them- she presumed this was the one called Cinnabar, just on a rough physical description- lifted something to her mouth, sliding it between her teeth. Starseeds. ********> Their enemies had so many advantages. She and Scholomance were a single Eternal and a half-lamed knight. Strange, then, how Scylla felt her limbs shaking with a desire to fight that she had thought long buried; dead and betrayed, along with the Blood Moon Court that she had so loved. Strange, then, that the power rushing through her veins became an ocean inside her, washing away fear. Prey, the Kraken whispered; not words, but feeling, and she let it breathe through her.
Please, Scylla, Ice had said, and she pressed the button on her cell phone, tucking it back away. Help, cried the beacon, spilling out to all senshi in the area- possibly, too, to the knights. She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that they got at least enough to even the combat that was apparently to ensue. A flare had been shot; Schörl and Cinnabar had been ready. That meant any jammers for teleportation would be useless, even if the two of them had been able to obtain and prepare the technology.
“Don’t worry about me, gorgeous.” Scylla chirped, her happy, perky voice at odds with her expression. “I don’t think you’ve ever seen me fight, have you, Scholomance? I know I’ve never had the pleasure of dancing with these two lovely ladies.” the power lurked under her skin, eager and as hard to control as a wild horse; it chomped at the bit, lurking along her tongue, spilling under her skin from finger to finger, head to toe, stomping along her spine, begging to be freed. But not yet.
ivynian
whimsical blue
infinities
