Assassin Queen and a World on Fire - Masquerade of the White Death
Anytime now, her retinal computer would output a message. The cybernetic device picked up neural patterns and turned them into commands; for this reason, Anastasia hoped that her anxieties did not cause any unwanted text messages.
She had to hope.
Fabio released her from his hold and his disgusting lips formed a grin, “I wonder what you shall be like when I take you to my bed…” His eagerness, naive excitement, reminded Anastasia of an overexcited power generator; always sparking, but never doing anything useful for long. “I’ve only met you tonight, and already I’ve waited too long for you…”
If it came to a point where she would need to sleep with Fabio to gain his information, then she was fine with telling the rebels to reschedule this whole attack for another night. Better yet, she would call Solares over to scare the lecher unconscious, abduct him, and then waterboard the Zudrian until she got what she needed. After all, she did not get the name “Assassin Queen” for subtlety.
Anastasia chuckled. “My you are hungry, you lecherous, old Zudrian boy.” Of course, she could land some barbs while flirting, and her target clearly lacked proper social skills. “I’ve always wanted to have a wealthy, strong knight to take care of me.”
To play the role of a lawfully free Nashiyegan in Zudra was to sign up for the life of a person not even deemed worthy of citizenship, or in fact the title “person.” Jobs were closed to them, land could not belong to them, and basic safety was always a question. The nobles had their way of circumventing these restrictions, for they were the state in flesh and blood, and could grant a higher level of comfort and wealth to members of the lower castes they deemed desirable concubines. In exchange, they fornicated with these women of “lower races” to an extent that would be as difficult as digging for gold with bare hands if attempted with higher-caste Zudrian women. Thus, indigenous Cruvelian prostitutes made their living by letting nobles bed them to their hearts’ content, and with luck, keep them as concubines. Anastasia’s words to Incardriss were common for members of her race.
Her words were a lie. Women like her refused the life of sexual submission, of pleasing so-called superiors, and of faux consent, and chose instead a life of resistance. It was a path of blood and destruction, and she knew many would think of her as a hateful woman, a vile thing to be destroyed. However, between it and sex slavery, she chose the life of murder. At least this way she could give as well as she got.
Feet acted on their own, stepping in a wistful tandem with the music’s measures. Golden eyes met red ones, locked without a trace of deceit. Hiding body language hadn’t been a difficult task, for seduction required one to be so skilled a liar that even their hips could lie.
She let Fabio take the lead, permitting him to drag her across the floor. It was then that the dress became useful, if only to remind her of a poem she once liked.
Fluttering dress, floating high,
absorbing the lights which adorn the sky,
You, as my partner, here and nigh
Are the only flower of my eye.
Back when she was a homeless girl, the poem made her feel less alone. Before the Quatopedipans, Solares, and the Royal Seven, Anastasia was just a starving urchin who ate the scraps. Crime came to her like moths to those bright, Zudrian billboards that would advertise jewelry or brothels or slave auctions, people desperately trying to survive Zudra’s reign. Her body felt warm, not because of Fabio’s heat, but because ever since falling in with her current family, her poetry addiction had subsided with her loneliness.
The Royal Seven filled those holes just fine.
Fabio grew daring with his moves, finessing with skillful technique around the masses. Envy, an emotion that so many held here, flickered on with the speed of the city spotlights outside.
The retinal screen lit up yet again. Instead of a selection queue, Anastasia saw a red spiral encased within orange fire and a black void. The Licentian Order had messaged her.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: ‘Stasia, the operation is happening right now.
For all the complaints she had, Anastasia had to give Solares some credit; he was quick.
She rolled her shoulders and bounced to emphasize her figure; even if Fabio was starting to tire or lose focus, he would regain his energy upon seeing his prize. The Zudrian libido was colorblind and easy to manipulate.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: That is excellent, Delilah.
Optimism was usually her forte; positivity kept Anastasia sane during the stunts and missions she entered. All those years of battles with enemies both material and supernatural taught her that hope could always reveal a way to win. But it was always easier said than done.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Any particular targets in mind? You’re the eyes here, Assassin Queen.
Targets. Did she have any targets? Looking over her shoulder, Anastasia once again faced the eagle’s nests that loomed over the coliseum ball. Their guns could be a threat to standard soldiers who lacked spirit energy. That threat had to be eradicated.
The diversionary attack could effortlessly remove these problems. However, moderation would need to be employed to avoid alerting the police too much.
The prey must be baited and controlled.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: When you get over here, make sure to have ruined the communications towers and a few power plants that the planet has. We can’t let them have too many spares to rely on.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: So you mean…
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Every defense force has an emergency stockpile for power. I want you to finish a few power plants and then come here and attack the eagle’s nests.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: And if they send a couple spirit manipulators to stop me?
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Do what the real Solares would do; kill them all.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Hail Holy Queen.
Well there’s a title she hadn’t heard before. But she appreciated it. Any time now, chaos would burst from the flames like a golem living in lava. Then, Anastasia would have to tame the monster and bend their mind to her will, and even that would be easier said than done.
As she spent some minutes entertaining Lord Incardriss, the Assassin Queen spared glances toward the armored police officers around. They didn’t move too many inches from their spots, having remained vigilant and calm in body posture.
Delilah probably began moving eons ago, and Anastasia could bet a million credits that a power plant was about to become victimized. In the meantime, she looked at Lord Incardriss, the Zudrian subject of abduction and contorted a flirty smile.
“Having a good time, my lord?” Anastasia purred and brought herself into the Zudrian’s arms.
“I am,” he growled into her ear, “but an even better time is coming for both of us. You must be mine… my concubine…”
I’ll do more than just that, Incardriss. Anastasia thought to herself as she tugged her partner close to her. Stepping back, she let her waist do the moving for her, drawing the Zudrian right into a hypnosis. I’ll do more than just conquer you. Bringing their faces close together, Anastasia rubbed her nose against that of her partner. I’ll make you mine.. Body, legs, arms… as the adrenaline overrode the nausea, her lips pressed a kiss onto the Zudrian lord.
And your unsheathed head.
She made the old Zudrian chuckle, and he muttered senseless noises. Her eyes locked onto his, seeing a longing and possessiveness that only existed in wild animals. The state of nature was what the scholars called it, one in which sentients were just savage creatures only civilized by the government.
The philosophy assumed this could be called “civilized.”
As Anastasia leaned her head back in a grand dance position, she caught a movement in the blur, and anticipation rose in her mind. The police were turned toward one another, glancing back and forth, their hands pressing their radio headsets to their ears. Officers manning the eagle’s nests tilted their heads and joined in the airwave conversation.
Her heart stopped, but then restarted.
Fabio’s eyebrow was raised, and his head tilted slightly to the left. He was confused. Confusion meant suspicion. Anastasia felt as if she wasn’t disguised anymore, as if the world existed for her to play. Maybe this was what the horrible gods felt when they brought about cataclysms in their furious fits.
If so, then heavens forbid she become a goddess.
Anastasia pulled away, sporting the best embarrassed smile she could muster. “My lord, I want you so much my lord…” She ran her hands down the hips for emphasis, hoping that the Zudrian aristocrat would understand.
Guns cocked above and a flirtatious gaze was kept on Lord Incardriss. Yet even he managed to look at the eagle’s nests above him.
The authorities were alarmed about something. Anastasia willed her computer’s display into activation, sweeping through her lengthy messaging queue and entering the folder dubbed “Matty’s Minions”.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Parazonum, I’m making my moves right now, be ready, stay safe, and out of the way.
Whoever trained Delilah and raised the force she was in deserved dessert in the tons. Anastasia blinked; this meant that she would have to bake muffins for Solares. Then she shrugged off all apprehension, for they were on a stressful mission, which meant that they had a divine right to fatten themselves afterwards.
It was okay for an Assassin Queen to have a sweet tooth because she said so.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: I want it to rain, Delilah. I want my dress soiled with enemy blood.
One step, two steps, Anastasia performed a Zudrian waltz with her target. Fabio was at least nice enough to guide her, and by guide, he was hauling her weight around like a sack of bricks that he owned.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Aww sugar, if you wanted me to kill this entire area you should’ve just said so, Miss Murder!
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Sorry. I’m getting too excited for the actual attack, just spill a few milliliters of blood, okay? We’re only after a couple eagle’s nests in the coliseum for now, but I look forward to seeing your work. Sic Semper Tyrannis, sister!
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Sic Semper Tyrannis!
Hands clasped the waist, and the Assassin Queen dared to sway within them. She hated every second of it, but Fabio remained close. That Zudrian animal loved her body far too much to see through her, to see that maybe this lovely Nashiyegan woman was stronger than she appeared.
As for the policemen, their postures were straightened and battle ready. They must have heard something, some chatter loosely hinting at Delilah’s approach.
Now came a new problem; Anastasia was such an attractive dancer that the other nobles left their partners so that they may watch her. More leering eyes, lustful bodies, and grabby hands focused on the succubus with unfettered desire. Her dancing partner shot them the most egomaniacal smile she had ever seen since the berserk Quatopedipan emperor in his first appearance.
“Incardriss, have you bought yourself a new greyback pet,” a horribly put together, slender noble threw a beer bottle at Anastasia, striking her back, “dance, bitch! More! I love it!”
Even more than before, they were treating her like an object, the gathering crowd swarmed Fabio and the Assassin Queen. Even with the promise that she would soon get to break all of their necks, she struggled against her own rising fury.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Hey, Delilah, a favor?
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Spill immediately!
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: There’s a drunk, out of shape dredge amongst the nobles.
She maneuvered her dance partner enough to get a better look at the bottle-thrower.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: He’s wearing a blue tunic, ripped all over the place. Not a fashion style; he probably tried to rip his clothes off and failed miserably. Anyways, I want him dead… can you do that for me?
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Of course, you make these wars so fun, ‘Stasia! No wonder Solares calls you his baby sis: you are a delight! Can I be your sister too?
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Oh, oh definitely. We love crazy energy like you, even if Solares doesn’t admit it. But his opinion doesn’t matter. If you need help moving, let me know, I’ll make sure we give you a warm welcome.
One of the drunkards marched to the center of the circle, grabbing Lord Incardriss, and throwing him aside. Anastasia would have laughed if not for the even more perverted individual who came to “join” her in dance. The grinding, thrusting and horrific touching once again; Zudrian nobles seemingly could not interact with anyone without being a degenerate.
An angry voice screamed amongst the fighting men. “Solomon!” Anastasia looked at the eagle’s nests, the structures built to protect the nobility from harm, and they were doing absolutely nothing. “Solomon, hands off my property!“
Fabio shoved swathes of men away from him with either raw muscle or sheer obesity. Solomon, the drunkard who tossed the bottle onto Anastasia’s back, removed his hands from her waist and glared angrily at Lord Incardriss.
Of all places for men to fight, it had to be on a dance floor. But who was she to expect more from people who dressed up fancy for a slave auction?
“Property? The fuck are you drinking tonight, Incardriss?” Solomon boomed with a slobbering voice, “she doesn’t even have your brand!”
“I am Lord Fabio of House Incardriss,” Fabio puffed his chest, more like his grandiose stomach, acting as if there was a hint of muscle, “and you are of an inferior house, Dentau!”
Like schoolchildren in a playground, the crowd drew closer, shouting at Fabio and Solomon to fight one another. Even the women, in unintentional defiance of their caste, joined in the jeering. Anastasia couldn’t see a care in the universe within those multicolored eyes. On some level, these Zudrians felt the spirit of combat.
As if they weren’t pathetic enough.
Her arm was yanked to the left, placing her right on Fabio’s side. “Brand or not, she is my concubine, inferior blood!” Anastasia watched his face turn red with hatred, and he took one step back with her along for the ride. “Know your place and leave us be!”
“You should learn to share, Incardriss,” the slobbering drunkard Solomon hadn’t lost any of his fight, but he turned away, “the spoils of whatever war won us the greyback are to be divided amongst all of us nobles!”
Good luck with that. Never in her near century of warfare did the Assassin Queen ever see the winner divide the spoils evenly. And while communitarian life was the way that she lived amongst the fleets, for a member of the Zudrian elite to advocate for redistribution of wealth like this, he was flirting with a death sentence. Even though she was the property in question at the moment, it was surprising to hear affluent Zudrian citizens risking their lives to seize the means of pleasure and distribute them amongst the lesser nobles.
Get a capitalist drunk enough… she mused.
The musicians amped up the pacing of the string instruments, which had the individual strings beating like their own drums. All around, the lords and ladies joined in dance, swaying their hips in rhythmic, quick motions.
So, the Zudrians could genuinely party as well, and never mind that Anastasia had to witness old men perform dance moves with disgusting innuendo. By the gods, she hated watching their hips joust like blades thrown in combat. Disgust flooded her mind as she sensually moved to the beat, thinking to herself: hips like blades in combat, the brain really needed that image tonight.
Her senses were assailed from several directions: her peripherals caught the Zudrian ladies nearby, who wanted her either dead or sold off, her ears caught the jeers of lords and even some policemen wanting the “greyback” to strip, and the retinal computer was bombarding her vision with notifications. Nonetheless, she was getting into the flow of multitasking, looking over Watcher’s messages and reports regarding the other soldiers. Troop movements had never stopped, and to her shock the revolution’s metaphysically enhanced assassin squadrons were currently using the sewers to navigate. Like mother, like offspring, I guess.
Anastasia spun about, her wardrobe sparkling like the many stars in a galaxy. Nobles and ladies either smiled, cheered, or greeted her with murderous glares. Upon a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree rotation, the entrance came into view, and the sight of the chained people greeted her with a morbidity equivalent to the destroyer deities that ravaged societies to please themselves.
The multitasking, and the sensory overload, were a small price to pay for their freedom. People were at risk. Anastasia had to see if anyone had been sold, but the problem at hand was that she was stuck as Fabio’s prostitute of the night.
Maybe she could give him the slip for a while when the “supernova” detonated. Speaking of which:
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: T-minus 60 seconds.
“Who desires to learn a dance from my people?” Anastasia hollered to her incredibly aroused and disgusting entourage.
Some cheers and jeers answered her question. And a few gazes burning with animosity, but that’s Zudrian women for you. Extending a hand to her partner, the Assassin Queen explained the first steps of an entirely fictional dance. Across the coliseum, she led them, making the steps up as she went along. All those behind and next to her were adequately lost in lust (and in an attempt to learn the moves of a dance that kept contradicting itself) to detect her focused stares at the chain gang. She pumped a hip to the side and winked at an eagle’s nest, but the police were too caught up in their recent scare to notice her sizing them up.
After some time of walking and sensual dancing, Anastasia finally led the troop of “suitors” to the edge of the coliseum, far from where the slaves were held on display. The nobles had been clustered close enough to reside in range of a single splash attack, and they didn’t even see through the masquerade of the white death. Back at the entrance, the Nashiyegan boy was sleeping against his mother’s chest, peacefully dozing off in ways that the others could not. The two reptiles, better known as Exoignans, looked at her with a posture that conveyed hope. Apparently word had spread from one slave to another. She smiled, leading her wealthy audience to think that she wanted them to touch her.
She was glad to see the hope reviving in them, replacing the gaze of dead souls that greeted her when she entered. Anastasia had seen such looks before, and recollections of when brought ruin to her heart. Both the Exoignans, only moments ago, looked like they had wanted to die. She knew the look, since her siblings had dealt with such feelings before, and the Assassin Queen had to step in to save them from themselves… in addition to something worse.
“Everybody get down!”
The sound shook her out of those memories, giving her several more reasons to thank Delilah later.
It all started with that one shout, possibly coming from a policeman. Rather than following the incredibly simple orders, the frolicking nobility ran about with the spirit of headless fowl. They collided with one another, which had fists flying directly after. The policemen manned their guns on the eagle’s nests, with the veterans stretching their trigger fingers and leaning forward, tensed, and the rookies freezing in place.
Someone shoved Anastasia, dragging her aside by her dress. “Get the hell out of the way, greyback!” The face was middle aged with wrinkled features and a glare filled with hatred. “Your life doesn’t matter now!”
They left her on the floor, giving her much time to scan the pandemonium, and throw herself toward Incardriss. Anastasia flipped her hair aside and closed her eyes.
“Alright,” she whispered, “Heat Resistant Camouflage Nanites, activate.”
Her skin tingled almost as if she were going numb. However, she had no need to worry, the nanobots of her suit that had long melted into her bloodstream were entering a new formation. An optimal body temperature grew within her; she neither felt sweat nor freeze. And her defenses were applied to the man she was shielding.
He could die when she was done with him.
A policeman ran across the floors with the speed of a young stallion. “Everybody get down! Get the hell down!” The poor idiot was trying to get the headless animals to behave, but they were already cattle to the slaughter. They were well within her “milliliters of blood” instruction.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: I am here…
“We can’t identify the target,” another officer ran to the front of the building, “our systems have been down for at least three hours!”
A projectile of superheated plasma burst from the outside with the vibrancy of a shooting star in the night. The top facade of the coliseum melted into a hot liquid, but the flames still moved, burning brightly like a main sequence star in its prime.
The projectile collided with the opposite wall and birthed an explosion with a mushroom cloud announcing its arrival. Everywhere it hit disintegrated, and everywhere it didn’t hit, there were slaves.
The officer who had run to the entrance seemed lucky at first: slaves were on either side of him, and he was spared with them. He breathed a relieved sigh, looking to the right. However, a thin beam entered from the outside world, striking him straight in the heart. He fell to his knees, shrieking painfully while his armor pulled apart.
Within seconds, the officer disintegrated from existence.
“Shields up! Shields up!”
A blue field erected across the coliseum entrance, curving around the windows. The silhouette outside, visible through the giant hole left in the aftermath of the first attack, stopped and turned their head toward the now-shielded entry point, light burning within the blurry outline of their left palm.
Delilah always played dirty.
A flurry of plasma balls collided with the shield, shaking, and shuddering the coliseum inside. The people around cried, and Anastasia shot them a blank glare, pitiful they were to sell others and then seek salvation when relatively insignificant terrors occurred to them.
“Fucking open fire,” an officer cried from one of the remaining eagle’s nests, “shoot that thing dead!”
The guns rotated to the right, nozzles glowing with an orange light. Anastasia heard several whimpers beside her, most of them being masculine. The once prideful Fabio Incardriss sat flat on the floor, muttering prayers to whichever benevolent spirits existed in the universe to spare his life.
Gunshots flared over the ruined coliseum facade. The rounds were landing, for the men whooped with pride and assertiveness in their voices.
“Stay within the shield! Don’t go outside! They have spirit energy that we estimate to be above class A!”
Far above. Delilah was a class SSS, the youngest Anastasia currently knew.
Rumbling, low and grinding, came from outside the coliseum. Ignoring the frantic crying around her, the Assassin Queen let her eyes settle on the smoke and fire around the shield. Projectiles from police weapons went straight for the dust cloud, canisters and grenades detonating near a target she knew was Delilah.
“Keep it up! Nothing can survive much longer through this barrage!”
Lord Incardriss broke down beside her. “Mama, mama please! Don’t let me go out like this… it’s too early for me to be with you!” Already he was sobbing, Anastasia couldn’t color herself surprised; behind every prideful creature was a fragile weakling.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Boom, boom, boom, bang, bang, bang…
Anastasia wanted to roll her eyes. This girl really was young. Childish jokes during a battle? Seriously?
“Men,” an officer bellowed from the tops of the eagle’s nests, “the target has ceased all movements!”
“What do we do,” a second policeman shouted, “waste our ammunition?”
Fifteen seconds must have felt like fifteen centuries to them. The once panicking nobility were so frozen that they may as well have been in a cryogenic chamber. Police held their guns close, eyes trained to the ruined entrance. Mist moved past the shields, for they only worked against energy assaults in Anastasia’s observation.
“They’re glowing,” someone pointed at the fog and then shrieked, “they’re fucking glowing!”
The commanding officer stomped his foot and swore to himself. “Fucking fire!”
Let them try, the Assassin Queen thought, show me why you belong with us, Delilah…
Weapons unloaded with the energy of contents spilling from a box. Rounds and cartridges expired within half a minute, as the firing officers desperately threw everything they had. They could not handle the pressure, and their madness spread through the nobles they protected. Once again the privileged struggled through the exits, fighting each other to the death.
Anastasia witnessed so much blood and crying that she thought that a god of destruction might have entered instead of a warrior she knew. Fabio Incardriss had been crawling and so she went along with him, moving on her hands and knees to dodge fists and feet while keeping up.
“Get me out of here,” a noble grabbed someone by the neck and squeezed, “if I have to kill you to live, I fucking will-“
A white flash shone so bright that all collapsed before its presence. Anastasia groaned, falling flat on her stomach, and clutching her head. The light came from Delilah’s direction, and bathed the coliseum in a flickering glow, the shield’s defense against it waning like a dying light bulb. An incomprehensibly high frequency cried for some seconds and the people’s mourning drowned within the noise.
Then, the shield gave in, having sparked itself out of existence.
You impress me too much, Delilah.
With a tearing, squeaking moan, the air grew hot. Steam hissed into the coliseum, and even the officers coughed within their helmets. They shouted about air being too hot for communications to pass through, but their frantic messaging faded into the cries of the maddened nobility.
“Damn it,” Fabio coughed onto the Assassin Queen’s dress, “this was how the scriptures described it… The end, the end!“
Oh stop your crying, drama queen, Anastasia chortled to herself.
The retinal screen buzzed in the Assassin Queen’s mind once again. This time she had more than enough openings to see a few messages. At the very thought Anastasia wanted to laugh, she was texting people while an attack took place.
A picture, not just any picture, appeared right before the messaging queue per Anastasia’s settings. In it, a blond-haired, green-eyed, human woman wore clothing drenched in blood. To make matters worse, she was smiling with the head Anastasia had last seen at the toll booth, though at the time it was attached to a monster. The woman in the photo was holding the bloody face high enough that it was splattering onto her exposed collarbone. As a final touch, the human was sticking her tongue out, drinking some of the toll worker’s blood, and making a devil’s horns sign with her left hand.
Anastasia relaxed her cheeks and mouth in order to stop herself from appearing surprised or excited.
CRITICAL-SUPERNOVA-0666: Solares and I agreed on doing this. I have his hands as a gift for him, and the head? Well, something for you or my numerous followers!
This human girl was just crazy enough to be fun. As if Anastasia couldn’t like her more, Delilah went around and did that for her. A single tear fell from the Assassin Queen’s face; this girl was too precious and had to be loved and protected.
Anastasia Velos Parazonum: Your followers sound like a lot of fun. Let them know your big sister said hello! XOXO
The main entrance was now entirely irrelevant. Nothing of importance lay on the vacant streets outside, but upon narrowing her eyes Anastasia could see the silhouette of a hooded, shrouded individual walking through a sea of fire and toward the coliseum.
The smoke darkened as if a charcoal ink burned within; the Assassin Queen smelled something salty and metallic. Blood. It had to be gallons of blood at the very least, several people had to have perished. Nobody said a word, for the nobles nearby only unhinged their chattering jaws. Even the veteran policemen, armored and most prepared for combat, froze along with the rookies.
Policing this world didn’t prepare you boys, Anastasia thought, it is truly pitiful.
Red spirals glowed within the light, a cloak billowing behind. They were encircled by a darkness too much like interstellar space. One would think they simply floated, but each of the whirlpools was encircled by a ring of blazing fire. And hatred, so much hatred. It was made to evoke a particular well-known “terrorist,” and its audience caught on marvelously.
“S-S-ol,” Fabio coughed and shakily pointed his finger at the cloaked figure, “I don’t believe it… I-I-I-I can’t!”
Anastasia let the noble cry against her lap, taking in the joy of having such a prideful, exploitative man humbled so much. She didn’t rub circles or even lay a hand on him, opting only to look down with the gaze of a predator. Only people she loved gained physical affection from her, not targets who deserved to die…
You’re doing good, Delilah, she chuckled but looked down at Fabio, pretending that she enjoyed his affection, Matty would be so fucking proud of you…
The spirals experienced a sudden uptick in luminosity, followed by the figure who owned them shrugging rubble off their body. They rumbled, a low and angry noise, and none bothered to scream. Claws extended from the dust and were swallowed up again, with the figure heaving their breast full of air, head tilting up.
Anastasia hummed, Show them what you’re made of, Delilah… show them all, my baby sister.
Someone finally had the nerve to cry it out to the world. “Solares! The fucking Solares is here!”
They would soon wish that Solares was here. Maybe they would have perished from seeing him, but at least he wouldn’t be in two places at once.
Little Miss Solares, the Assassin Queen fondly thought, the littlest warrior of the family.
The shadowed being let out an echoing battle cry that pierced the world with a reverb that captured a scaling low to high pitch.