amadhay: (Default)
 in which Christein deserved it



“What is going on?” Christein demanded, gripping the arm of a new, young member as a loud sound of an explosion came from the medical bay.

“Someone is destroying the med bay!” the red haired girl squeaked. She quivered, frightened out of her mind and he gave her arm a hard squeeze to get her attention.

“Is anyone down there?”

“Rea for sure, but I was the only one there with her when the woman started attacking.” She flinched, glancing back toward the medical wings as another loud boom came from that direction.

Christein’s eyes narrowed. “You abandoned her?”

“She told me to!” she squealed. “She told me to go find Red Robin. To tell her that her cyborg woke up.”

Christein nodded and let go of the girl. “Good. Go find her then. Get Ghost Sparrow too.”

The moment he was no longer holding her, she ran off like a frightened rabbit, which irritated him. She would be useless to them if she panicked at the first sign of danger. He mentally made note to look into her training.

But not this moment.

He continued to di Carlime’s medical wing, taking care to be as silent as possible so that he didn’t give away his position until he was ready. He could still hear the sounds that, now that he knew it was a cyborg, could associate with lasers. That was a good sign. If the cyborg had already killed di Carlime, there would be no reason for her to continue wasting energy shooting with no target. Reaching for his pistol holster, he became aware that he had come into a cyborg-dragon fight without his own weapons. That was incredibly stupid.

Cursing himself, he began to retreat, but didn’t make it far when the sound of a laser boomed right next to him and the wall crumbled. Luckily, he was able to dodge out of the way and wasn’t hurt. Unfortunately, he was now out in the open and the cyborg was standing right on the other side of the debris.

He stayed still as she moved through the hole of the wall, watching her as she strode forward. She almost passed right by him, but for some reason her attention jerked from her intended path down the hallway and to him.

“Hakinato,” she spat, focusing on him.

Weaponless, he couldn’t think of anything to do but kick at her, so he did. The moment his foot made contact with her body, pain blossomed. The metal grafts cyborgs used in place of skin were, without any doubt, superior to his fleshy foot, even when covered by his thick soled, metal-toed boots.

She scoffed, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him up from the ground. “I’m not supposed to kill anyone, but I’m sure Atlas will make an exception for one of the Hakinato’s,” she mused, a cruel smirk on her lips.

He listened as her lasers warmed up. A standard cyborg laser modification took four clicks to warm up. One click. Two clicks. Three clicks. Fo—the cyborg was hit from behind and dropped Christein, turning her laser at the last click to a new target. She missed. Instead, di Carlime came rushing at her, fire blowing from her mouth even as she ran forward.

Christein watched the cyborg move almost as fast as Amadhay could when using her Gift, but even that wasn’t fast enough to avoid the dragon’s fire when it was going as wide as it was. Christein thought he was lucky not to be hit by the fire, himself. While the cyborg was busy fighting di Carlime, Christein made it back to his feet and backed away from the fight. There was nothing he could do, pistol-less and taser-less. He had loaned Amadhay his taser earlier and now was regretting doing that without knowing when and where she was going to drop the Palnokian cyborg. All of this could have been avoided if Amadhay had followed proper procedure for capture of more powerful people, especially when said person was Atlas Palnoki’s own bodyguard.

Speaking of Amadhay, Christein thought, where on Resor is she? The scared girl had run off to find her nearly five clacks ago, definitely enough time for Amadhay to have heard that something was going on down here and come to check it out. This was her specialty, taking down more difficult creatures that were altered from natural in some way. She was good at taking them apart, most likely from all the time she spent with Ben and di Carlime. For that matter, where was Ben? He would have been just as good as Amadhay in this situation, having more knowledge from his extended life than most of the rest of the Phoegani put together (with the possible exception of Darach. Darach probably knew more than Ben).

Regardless, neither of them were there to back him up, so he needed to think up a game plan because di Carlime was running out of air. He could see it, and if he could see it, he was sure the cyborg could too. The moment di Carlime was out of breath, she’d stop spewing fire, and the moment that happened, she would be at the mercy of the cyborg. If the cyborg took out di Carlime, he could be sure that he was a dead man.

He looked around him for something to use against the cyborg, but only saw debris of the walls and medical supplies like bandages, gauze, and syringes. None of those would help him, he decided, though he did linger on the syringes. He assumed that somewhere on the cyborg, she had normal skin instead of metal grafts covered by fake flesh. All cyborgs did; he assumed it reminded them of a time when they weren’t more machine than Goddess-bodied creatures. It didn’t matter, though, because not only would it be a guessing game trying to determine where her skin was real flesh, but he had to find something to put into the syringe and he didn’t like his odds. Christein felt that he had no other choice. He ran at the cyborg, expecting that the surprise attack would work best.

He was right. He slammed into the cyborg just in time, because di Carlime finally had to take a breath, and the cyborg had been so focused on the dragon that she hadn’t been expecting him to knock her down. But he did. The force of his body slamming into hers made them fall into the debris of the wall.

There was one problem though: Christein was on fire. Even though he knew that he would regenerate, the fact the he was on fire was an all-consuming thought. He writhed on top of the cyborg, who was trying to push him off, but for every inch she gained from him, his struggles kept her down. The fire was burning his flesh, but it was only burning her clothes and hair until finally, she tossed him off of her and he was able to roll to extinguish the flames.

“Did you really think that would hurt me?” she taunted, getting to her feet.

“Not,” he panted, “Really.” His body was already growing new skin to replace the burned one.

“Then what did you really think that would accomplish?” the cyborg demanded.

“This,” the seemingly forgotten di Carlime stated before jamming a syringe into the cyborg’s exposed real flesh side, where there were slight burns. She emptied the liquid into her body. Almost immediately, the red-haired woman began to seize, falling back down to her knees and then to her face. She shook for a few clicks before all movement ceased.

Christein sat up slowly, wincing at the tightness of his new skin. “Is she down?” he asked.

“She should be. I just put enough tranquilizers in her to take down a Feral six times her size,” di Carlime responded blandly, her eyes already moving to discern the damage done to her wing. “Where is Amadhay?”

“I don’t know,” Christein immediately responded, which was his automatic response to that question. At the look the dragon gave him, a look that said she would rip him a new one if he didn’t answer her seriously, he held his hands up. “I honestly don’t know. Last I heard from her, she was going after her,” he jerked his thumb at the fallen woman. “That was zoots ago.”

“I don’t like this,” di Carlime muttered, eyeing the body thoughtfully.

Christein snickered disdainfully. “What is there to like? Your wing is trashed. We have a drugged, incredibly dangerous cyborg out for only Goddess knows how long. And who knows where Ben or Amadhay are. They should have been here if they were on base, but obviously they aren’t.”

“Well I don’t know how true all that is,” a male voice drawled from behind him. By the time Christein had turned full circle, di Carlime was being tasered. He watched her go down before looking to the man who had done it.

He was obviously a dead-vampire, if his iris-less, black eyes and the blood drying on the side of his mouth were anything to go by. The blonde hair and high-crowned hat fit the description Ben had given of the vampire Amadhay was supposed to be bringing in. For the moment they stared at each other, Christein couldn’t help but to wonder if any of the captives Amadhay had brought in today had been properly detained. He was going to guess not.

“How’s that reboot going, Scarlet?” the vampire asked, looking to the cyborg but not making a move toward Christein. Christein didn’t make any moves either. He knew when he was outclassed. He had no weapons on him and his body was already hurting from its last healing. Even at his peak and with his pistol, he doubted he would have been a match for a dead-vampire, especially one who had recently eaten.

“Slow,” the cyborg slurred.

“Are you going to need help getting up or is it going faster than that? Atlas just called us all in to the gate.”

“Di’n’t get whad I needed,” she muttered.

“Then what the Water were you doing? Playing peek-a-boo?” the vampire demanded in irritation. “I’ll have Tenshu grab it on his way out.”

Grab what? Christein thought. He started to back away, thinking that the attention was off of him enough that he might be able to get out.

“Tsk, tsk. Where do you think you’re going?” the vampire asked Christein, turning his unsettling, large-pupiled eyes back to him. He playfully squeezed the taser, making it light up menacingly. “I still have plans for you.”

Next Chapter

amadhay: (Default)
 in which rea trusts amadhay



Rea gave Amadhay a long look when the teenager dropped a woman on one of her empty tables.

A quick scan of the woman told her that there was a severely bleeding wound on the lower abdomen, a burn on her side, and if she wasn’t mistaken (and she never was) a majority of robotic, cybernetic parts to shield her from major harm. She was still bleeding out, but Rea couldn’t hear any breathing.

“You know I don’t deal with dead people,” she stated, which technically wasn’t true. She simply didn’t deal with Amadhay’s dead people. The state the younger girl tended to bring her targets in had proven to be too much for her stomach and so they went to her boss, Stasen. She gestured for Amadhay to deal with the body before turning back to the redhead sitting casually on another one of the five tables in her sickbay.

“She’s not dead,” Amadhay whined, moving as close to Rea as she ever dared without express permission. “She’s just a little stunned and bleeding a bit. I need you to fix her up so no one will ever know.”

That caught Rea’s attention from the redhead, who was much too focused on Amadhay and the cyborg. “You’re done here,” she told the woman before her.

“But my leg—”

“Is slightly burned. Put some salve on it. You can get that from Karmen at the front desk. Out.” The girl started to argue again, but her eyes shot to Amadhay, who Rea couldn’t see, but knew well enough to assume was making some sort of threatening gesture.

The redhead paled, looking from Amadhay to Rea and back. Rea raised one silver eyebrow and the girl hopped off of the table, wincing when she landed on the injured leg that was quite a bit more than a little burned. Rea mentally made note to call her back later to properly fix the burn. The salve would just give her a little time before the burn spread and infected the rest of her body. Eight zoots. She had eight zoots to fix her before that.

“Oh, and Daina,” Rea called before the girl could leave the room. “You shouldn’t tell anyone about this.”

The girl nodded enthusiastically, glancing at Amadhay. She physically flinched before rushing out.

Now that they were alone, Rea turned back to Amadhay. She noted that she could taste pain coming from the girl’s torso and didn’t say anything about it, instead, handing the girl her personalized salve. Amadhay gave her a thankful smile, lifting up her shirt to reveal a few bruises, a burn, and most importantly, a few of broken ribs that looked as though they had been stepped on. While Amadhay rubbed the salve on her, Rea allowed her magic to reach out and repair the damage the salve wouldn’t, namely the broken ribs and the fractures in the hand and wrist the girl was using the rub the salve on.

“Explain,” Rhea ordered, moving to closer examine the body on her table. She had been right. The body was covered in mech parts, except for right at the front, from her abdomen down to her belly button, and about the same spots on either side. The wound was bleeding less now that she was on the table, which was a definite plus to the technology upgrade the medical rooms had gained a month ago. The burn was bad, but obviously from a taser and while it would hurt, wouldn’t actually do lasting or spreading damage.

“I’m on a pretty big, kind of high-profile mission right now,” Amadhay began as she pulled her shirt back down, and moved to Rhea’s side. The irritated growl from the back of the dragon’s throat was to tell her that she was wasting time by blowing her own smoke, and the girl cleared her throat. “I have Lord Palnoki here. I have also rounded up his necromancer and this is his cyborg. They’re all supposed to be in good condition for some reason, but obviously, she isn't. So I’m begging you to fix her up and make her good as new so no one will know but us that I didn’t bring her in whole.”

Rea didn’t smile, but she did note that it was amusing how Amadhay avoided explaining so much as she gave more questions than answers. How had she rounded the Lord Palnoki up when agents of far more prestige, seniority, and ability had died trying? Why was she rounding up Palnoki members when they already had the Lord Palnoki? Surely he was enough. On whose orders was she doing all this and why was she doing it alone? After Madra, wasn’t she strictly on low-profile, partnered missions of little importance? Why, on Resor would they want the Palnokians in good health? The necromancer had been known to single-handedly kill an entire boat of top-tier slavers with only a single blade and no magic, all to save one little girl. The cyborg was practically the Lord Palnoki’s bodyguard. She had destroyed the last group sent to take him out before they had even been able to see him.

So why was Amadhay bringing them here? Why wasn’t she asking these questions? The girl was notoriously curious, so much so that Arne Riffle had regularly sent her here to be patched up when she was younger, before she learned to be silently and secretively curious. If nothing else, that was suspicious. Did she know more than she was telling? A long look at Amadhay, where the girl only shifted from side-to-side, looking nervous didn’t tell Rea anything other than she was nervous. Nervous about what?

Since Madra, there were a lot of accusations tossed at Amadhay. The one that Rea had always disbelieved the most was that the teenager was working for someone else to undermine the Phoegani. The people who said that hadn’t seen Amadhay’s body when she came back, hadn’t seen the way she had become less sure of herself or knew that she was in here more often in the recent weeks from attempting spells higher than her ability. No, Rea had been sure that Amadhay had been taken advantage of and bested by someone, or many someones, in Madra. But now, this strangeness was making her rethink that. She considered calling in Arne Riffle or Punishment to ask either man any number of those questions, but she didn’t.

She decided to trust Amadhay. After all, the girl was her friend.

Next Chapter


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