//------------------------------// // Chapter 52: Unwanted Words // Story: A Long Way to Fall // by Cinders of War //------------------------------// “I didn’t ask to speak to you,” Mahogany Wood said sternly. He glared at the sweaty and blood-stained Wolfgang who had stormed into his office without so much of a ‘good evening’. “That witch!” Wolfgang cursed and stomped his foot on the carpeted floor. “It was mine! That kill was mine! It should have been me!” Spit flew from the killer’s mouth as he ranted. “She played me like a fiddle!” “What are you talking about?” Mahogany wiped a fleck of spit from his desk. “Calm yourself, Wolfgang, or I will have you removed.” Crescent Wing stepped past Mahogany and put a hand on the hilt of one of his sabers. “Gah.” Wolfgang turned around and headed out of the office. “That witch better start talking.” Wolfgang headed back down to his hideout and slammed the door open, startling Pressure Point, in the middle of a knife throw. She narrowly caught it as gravity returned it to her. “Wolfgang, do you mind?” she hissed at him as he stomped past. “I was doing something.” Wolfgang grunted and reached into the fridge for a beer. The hideout was dark and the walls were full of bullet and knife holes, but it was one of the few places where he and Pressure Point could kick back and relax, under a sort of unofficial truce. Two more bottles and a chicken sandwich later, Wolfgang was feeling a lot more relaxed. Pressure Point had also gone off to check something with Lumberjack, leaving Wolfgang alone for the time being. “Ahh,” he belched. “Sweet solitude.” “If you weren’t here, it might be.” Wolfgang quickly kicked both legs off the table and was on his feet in seconds. “You witch! Where are you?!” “Normally, I’d call you blind as a bat,” Mirror’s voice echoed from behind the TV and she walked out with her hands in the pockets of her dark robes. “But that would be offensive to bats.” “You stole my kills!” Wolfgang pointed a finger at the purple-skinned woman. “That was mine! I was going to kill him! I! Me! Mine!” “Uh huh,” Mirror said without interest. “Well I didn’t see your name on them, did I? How’d your talk with Mahogany go anyway?” “The chairman didn’t even want to see me!” he raised a fist. “I should’ve known it was all a ruse! I was following my orders!” Mirror pulled the fridge open and retrieved the last bottle of beer. “I think he just forgot about your meeting, Why don’t you go ask him again?” Wolfgang swung a fist drunkenly at Mirror Match, but she bent under it and dodged it. “Enough jokes! Face me like a real man!” Mirror and Wolfgang glared at each other, both of them coiled like springs, ready to snap at the smallest misstep. A line of sweat ran down Wolfgang’s cheek. He flexed his fingers, ready to draw his knife. Then Mirror Match broke eye contact and yawned. “If you want a fight, I’m afraid you’ll have to take a number. I’m booked for the rest of the week.” The black robed woman chuckled and made for the door of the hideout. Wolfgang lunged at her, fists raised, but before he could strike her, Mirror Match pivoted around and smashed the bottle of beer on his forehead. Blinded by the sudden spray of lager, Wolfgang stumbled backward and collapsed on his rear. Tossing the remaining neck onto the floor, Mirror regarded him coldly. “You drink too much.” The ex-Assassin turned around, flipping her cape behind her and headed out of the dark room. Wolfgang rubbed at his head, but made no move to get up. “That woman…” High Noon and Windy Sails sat in the canteen, finishing up their lunch. “So, how’s your… food there, Windy?” High Noon striked up a conversation. “Oh, it’s… well, it’s good,” she replied with a smile. High Noon just loved it when his apprentice smiled, but these days it was increasingly rare. Mirror Match and the Templars had put a damper on everyone’s moods, including theirs. “Perhaps we should go get some training done,” High Noon said as he stood up with his empty plate. Windy nodded and joined him, putting their plates away before heading to the dojo. “S-so, how are things between you and Frigid lately?” she softly asked, playing with her fingers. “He’s been getting a lot of trouble from a lot of the others lately.” “Nah, he’s fine. He’s starting to hold his ground. I’m more worried about the ones who try to pick on him.” Noon pushed open the door to the dojo and led Windy in. “So, what are we doing today?” “I think we should work on your combat. Just in case something were to happen.” “O-okay…” Windy meekly nodded. “But, no offense to you, Noon, but… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fight in a real fight.” High Noon walked up to Windy and took her hidden blade arm and showed her a few techniques. “It’ll be safer if you learn some. I don’t want you getting hurt in case the Templars attack us here.” Windy nodded vigorously, her face glowing like a lantern. She tried to copy him as he showed her how to use the hidden blade. She didn’t quite agree with the cowboy, but she loved being around him, so she did her best. “How are you able to fight, Noon?” she decided to ask as she watched him, almost a little too closely. “Isn’t it scary?” “A little,” High Noon admitted. “I prefer not to let my enemies get close, that’s why I use a gun. But it’s okay to be scared. If you’re not scared, you don’t think about protecting yourself.” “That’s nice and all but…” Windy put a hand on her elbow. “I-I was, umm, asking how you get yourself to, umm, fight.” Her cheeks continued to stay red. High Noon scratched the back of his head. That was a good question. “Well, uh, I guess I fight because if I don’t, the Templars will probably kill me, or take over the world. Or both.” “R-right. That is true, I suppose… I wish I could be more like you, Noon. You never think something’s too dangerous to handle.” “Well, I do, Windy. Everything we do is dangerous in our line of work, but we have a job to do and people to protect. Like you, Windy.” “Like me?” she flashed him an embarrassed smile. High Noon suddenly felt his face heat up. “Y-yeah, you know, ummm… we all... fight to protect... each other. You know…” “Oh! Yeah, I know. I know.” Windy and High Noon quickly turned from each other, both unsure what to say next. “Right, l-let’s continue with your training,” High Noon chuckled nervously and brought out his hidden blade again. “You go like this, and like this…” Frigid Night stood away from the others in the lobby, watching High Noon and Windy quickly file in with the others; the cowboy gave Frigid a friendly nod of acknowledgement as he passed him. The Assassins waited as the Mentor arrived on the balcony with her lieutenant following behind her, his arms folded. “Good evening, Assassins,” she began. “It has come to my attention that we are being targeted. Targeted by a woman we once called our friend. Mirror Match.” A few eyes immediately turned to Frigid, silently shunning him. Frigid frowned and pulled up his hood over his head. “Broadside and Glimpse were victims in Mirror Match’s attacks, but who she was really after was Broadside. Mirror intends on cleaning out all the names of those of you who took part in destroying the Templar machine.” Murmurs erupted within the mass of hooded figures as they began asking each other questions. “Quieten down!” Star Lance barked from above, waiting as the noise began dying down. “Pierce Network, Fire Frenzy and Sparkplug are targets,” the Mentor continued, panning her eyes through the crowd, looking for the three Assassins she mentioned. Frigid noticed the hacker standing close to the back, his head looking down at his phone. “We will take shifts in protecting them when they leave the bureau. From our reports, Mirror Match has a black dagger, capable of melting through weapons and armor, as well as some kind of paralytic toxin that she administers through a bite. More details will be in the papers Star Lance will be passing out after this meeting is over.” A blade that melts other blades. Frigid remembered seeing something like that. A dagger, black as night, coated in some kind of green substance. Mirror had almost killed him with it the night of the machine’s destruction. He couldn’t deny that was probably what she used to infect Broadside. He felt sorry for the large man. Frigid himself was spared from the deadly toxin, while the other Assassin was now lying in bed, dying from a mutating, living poison. Star Lance suddenly turned away, bringing a metallic object to his ear. A phone call. Mentor turned slightly to see what he was doing, but returned her attention downstairs. “Now I know it all sounds absolutely frightening, but I want you to know, we have nothing to fear. Mirror Match is only one person. If we stand together, we will succeed.” As the Assassins began to file out to get back to work, Star Lance caught Frigid’s eye, signalling him to join them up on the balcony. He and a smaller gaggle of his colleagues, including the ones whom Mirror had supposedly targeted for termination, were also there. None of them looked particularly happy to see him. “Mirror Match was just sighted in Fillydelphia,” Star Lance told them. “Assassins from the Fillydelphia bureau said she helped them. She saved two of their apprentices from Wolfgang.” “She… what?” Frigid thought he had heard the lieutenant wrong. He wasn’t sure who looked the most disturbed by this news. Each of the Assassins around him stared slack-jawed at Star Lance, some of them already raising their fingers in protest. “Now this raises a few more questions…” the Mentor said, putting a hand under her chin. “You’re sure they’re talking about Mirror Match, Star Lance?” Star Lance nodded, but kept his expression serious as always. “I’m certain. Their Assassins have started calling her the ‘Witch of Manehattan’. They reported that she healed the two Assassins.” “Healed?” Sparkplug asked for clarification. “What do you mean healed? As in she patched them up?” “As in she brought one of them back from the dead. The Assassin who reported this said that Wolfgang killer his partner but Mirror revived her somehow. Saved his eye too, after Wolfgang cut it out.” “Impossible,” Sparkplug muttered. Fire Frenzy was more interested in something else. “Manehattan? We have where she lives?” “Most Templars live in Manehattan,” Pierce Network said without looking up from his phone, busy tapping away at something. “Mirror’s already building herself quite a reputation as one of the city’s most… generous citizens.” Pierce sent Frigid’s heart fluttering. His phone displayed an image of a highly dolled up Mirror Match in a slinky dress, presenting a check for some kind of charity fundraiser. “All of it cash the Templars are paying her, my guess. None of it actually legitimate. They’re all corrupt, all those Templars, and Mirror’s just the newest one of them.” “Surely someone knows where she lives!” Fire Frenzy slammed a fist into his palm. “She’s so high profile! If we can find out, all it’ll take is a few guys to sneak in and catch her with her pants down-” “It’s not that simple.” Frigid watched as all eyes turned to him, some more annoyed than anything else. “The Fillydelphia bureau, whether we like it or not, they’re less sure about Mirror now. They’ll want answers.” “We didn’t ask for your input, Frigid!” Fire Frenzy glared. “Actually, why are you here? We can’t trust you anymore! You led her right here!” “How about gas?” Sparkplug mused. “Like we did back in Chicoltgo thirteen years back. Pumped that stuff right into that arms dealer’s bathroom and choked him while he was still on the can.” “Yeah, one problem,” Star Lance showed them the report. “Glimpse told us that she stabbed Mirror with her poison blade, but to no effect. She also said she drank down a bottle of poison like it was a drink. I doubt gas is going to work.” This caused a ripple of unease among the Assassins. Trueshot raised his hand. “What about doing it the old-fashioned way?” the Stalliongrad Assassin said. “All I need is a good view, and I can make the shot.” “Trueshot,” Rose Petal put a hand on his shoulder. “Remember the last time you had a gunfight with her? She almost killed you.” “But that time she knew he was there,” Star Lance said with a nod. “If we were to catch her unawares… not even she could survive a bullet to the head.” “One problem…” Pierce turned his phone for them all to see again. It was a picture of a tall Manehattan building, mostly wide windows and glass panels. “I just found where she lives. Big place, penthouse of three floors above at least thirty floors. Also got the zoning and interior design companies they called in, courtesy of the Board of Education. Look.” He held out his phone. “Windows are all made of military grade bulletproof glass. Nothing short of an anti-tank round is getting through those. Probably at Talon’s recommendation. Plus, it’s basically the tallest building in Manehattan for blocks around. You can’t get up to a higher spot to get a good shot at her. Templars… They really know how to get on your nerves. Just this other mission-” “Besides,” Rose added bitterly. “She’s famous now. Killing her like that would make the police come down on us like a load of bricks.” “Okay, okay,” Trueshot raised his hands in defeat. “Guess my way doesn’t work. So what do we do?” “It’s like we’re in one of the Eastern comics.” Rose Petal wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “When men fight against the demons from the underworld, except now that we’re on the receiving end, it doesn’t seem nearly so exciting.” “There must be a way,” Star Lance said resolutely. “Everyone’s counting on us, and she’s just going to keep picking us off unless we do something.” Everyone’s attention was momentarily distracted by the sight of an exhausted Dr. Patch joining their meeting. “Mentor, everyone,” the doctor said regretfully. “It’s Broadside. He’s dying.”