Makita (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
runmakitarun) wrote2007-08-06 05:32 am
runmakitarun) wrote2007-08-06 05:32 am
Entry tags:
Into the storm
As the last of the team files through the door Makita closes it firmly behind herself and leads the way over to the window. Down in the square below twelve people move purposefully through the snow.
The six women are mostly unremarkable. One stands out as being exceptionally tall, one is short enough to almost look like a child, and hair of various colors and lenghts and styles can be seen escaping from their warm hats. The six men, however, stand out. The smallest is six and a half feet tall and looks to weigh at least 270 pounds. All twelve of them move with the smooth grace of practiced killers.
Makita doesn't bother whispering as she points them out, "See how they move in pairs? Each sorceress has her Guardsman a few paces behind her. You can see that even in a group they're thinking in twos. When we hit them, I want us to concentrate on splitting as many pairs as we can. They operate much less efficiently when their teams are broken up."
"There's another square like this a few blocks down. If they're headed of our HQ, then they'll have to go through it. If we move fast we can get there first and set up." She shoulders her rifle and looks at her team again, "Let's keep it fast and quiet."
So saying, Makita leads the way out the door, heading toward the rear fire escape for the building.
The six women are mostly unremarkable. One stands out as being exceptionally tall, one is short enough to almost look like a child, and hair of various colors and lenghts and styles can be seen escaping from their warm hats. The six men, however, stand out. The smallest is six and a half feet tall and looks to weigh at least 270 pounds. All twelve of them move with the smooth grace of practiced killers.
Makita doesn't bother whispering as she points them out, "See how they move in pairs? Each sorceress has her Guardsman a few paces behind her. You can see that even in a group they're thinking in twos. When we hit them, I want us to concentrate on splitting as many pairs as we can. They operate much less efficiently when their teams are broken up."
"There's another square like this a few blocks down. If they're headed of our HQ, then they'll have to go through it. If we move fast we can get there first and set up." She shoulders her rifle and looks at her team again, "Let's keep it fast and quiet."
So saying, Makita leads the way out the door, heading toward the rear fire escape for the building.
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Then, she's back on her feet, firing at the sorceress as she rises; the shots might not break the shield, but maybe they'll distract her from the knife that's left Mary Anne's hand and is spinning for her throat.
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Whoever these people are, they killed her friends. The killed her partner. She can at least guarantee that one dies. Her smile turns vicious as she rips off another burst.
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Still, she's learned a thing or two in the brief exchange. She lets the rifle slide out of her grip, her right hand already moving up and over her shoulder--reaching for something that shouldn't be there but suddenly is--to draw her sword.
She feints to one side, then dashes to the other, hoping to close with the sorceress before the girl can full track her movements. She ignores the burn in her shoulder and the chatter of the gun, all her attention focused on the sorceress' face.
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It's the sudden appearance of a weapon that shouldn't be there more than it is the sudden shift of direction that causes that split second of hesitation. That oh-so-fatal split second.
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The sword catches her square through the chest, clipping lungs and heart on its path through the sorceress' body. The blade goes in up to the hilt and Mary Anne is standing nose to nose with the other woman in the end.
She watches the light in the sorceress' eyes flicker and begin to fade. This is war and she will not apologize.
Still.
"You did very well," she murmurs, and the light goes out.
She draws the sword free and the woman's body collapses in the snow. Mary Anne wipes the blade clean on her coat, then shoulders her rifle and heads back towards the plaza.
She keeps the sword out, just in case.
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