Into the storm

[runmakitarun]

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.

Comments

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

The hook spins in a circle with her, but without being able to see where Mary Anne is, the guardsman is just guessing about where to position it. And he guesses wrong. As he collapses silently, dead before he hits the ground, the hook goes spinning off, skipping across the snowy ground.

But while Mary Anne lines up her shot, the sorceress manages to get a good track on her. Her sidearm, identical to the weapons Makita carries, blazes with automatic fire, and lightning crackles near her fingers as she prepares to loose another arc of electicity.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne scrambles into motion again, but her momentum from earlier has petered out; bullets rake along her shoulder and her face twists in a snarl. She throws herself to the ground, rolling out of the line of fire and behind the guardsman's body.

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.

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

Now that the shock has begun to wear off, the sorceress doesn't even flinch at the incoming bullets. She knows the shield will hold. Which means she has enough attention to see the knife coming and duck to the side. She still catches the edge of the blade on her cheek and winces a bit, but her face is subsumed with rage.

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.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne knows that smile; she's seen it in the mirror a time or two. It's not good news.

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.

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

The sorceress has been at war for a long time. She had already taken in Mary Anne's equipment and knew that there was nothing there that was a serious threat to her. But that was when Mary Anne didn't have a sword. Because she didn't.

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.

[song_tra_bong]

It's all she needs.

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.

[runmakitarun.livejournal.com]

The comm-link crackles slightly as Makita's voice comes through, "Makita here, everybody check in (http://runmakitarun.livejournal.com/7766.html)."