“Silly pony, you can’t even imagine what’s on the other side of those questions.” Of course, those had been the last words he would have ever spoken and the beginning of her deadly dance with a clock. All she had now, was the familiar bit of paper she had taken from him. A kill order, on the other end of that was her next clue. A name, a face, and a stalker. Okay, the last one wasn’t so much to do with the kill order.
She bit, and held her breath, counting carefully. 4, 5, 6. The blood washed into her mouth, the usual metallic taste gaining an acidic quality to it. 10, 11, 12. She continued trying to coax more of the horrid substance out. It was poorly mixed, and barely qualified as a paralytic. 17, 18, 19. No good, her tongue was starting to get numb from it. She had underestimated the amount of time it had had to spread. She wasn’t going to get it all. 22, 23... She was finally forced to remove her mouth, blood dripping down her hoof and spat out of her mouth. Any longer and she would have ended up ingesting it, with much the same undesired effect as having it inside her.
It wasn’t all of it, but it was enough to slow the spread considerably. She had time now, time enough to worry about her two other concerns. One rested on the piece of paper, the other was more immediate. So, with little time to read the full information on the kill order, she settled for a cursory glance at the pony that had become her next target. It was a mare, above average by many accounts, but nothing that Faith hadn’t killed before.
It wasn’t more than a few moments later that Faith was forced to deal with her other problem. She supposed it was too much to ask the pony who had been stalking her incompetent prey to simply go home. Then again, as she looked over her stalker, sometimes gifts do just fall out of the sky. The very target of the kill order was actually in front of her. Poisoned or no, it was cocky of her to assume she could stand toe to toe with an elite fighter, but it was also just what Faith had been hoping for. The sincere smile on her face completely masked by the shadows cast by the hood she could never let herself remove.
As the cocky mare in front of her drew, Faith’s breathing found a new synchronization. Exhale, dash, exhale, turn, exhale, revolve, it was a dance that critically sped up her clock, but her opponent wasn’t aiming to miss. By this time, instincts kicked in, she danced and wove with the aid of her wings, breathing effortlessly in time with her opponent's movements. Before she even took a moment to mentally blink she had already let the spring loaded blade attached to her hoof extend. Within feet, a few careful dance steps, she would have the blade dug into her partner’s supple throat.
Except, she did something completely unbecoming. She hesitated. Not a slight hesitation that might turn a killing blow into a scrape. A full hesitation that could cost her life. How many times had that very blade tasted blood without error? More times than she could even count anymore, but it wasn’t a blade to do anything but kill. Dead ponies didn’t answer questions. Dead ponies, did, however, hesitate.
Painstaking moments raced by, the blade held taught a mere dance’s breath away from its precious reward. Faith carefully searched the eyes, then features of her partner. There had to be something there, another method or path without the blade severing another thread of fate.
“Creed scum,” It was instant, and displayed the full force of a rage Faith didn’t have time to understand as the bullet unloaded point blank. The breath that had been held perilously long exhaled as she dashed. To most it would have been an unparalleled feat of agility to dodge the bullet, to Faith it was a twofold disaster. Killers didn’t let their prey fire a second time, and elites didn’t let a feather get grazed by a bullet.
She circled slightly, every nerve telling her to bring the blade down and every thought fighting that. A second look over, this time lingering. Good aim, a few nice tricks, but what made a mare like this worthy of a kill order? She had the first important question, fight or no, “What makes you so special, anyway?”
A quick flash, barely registering in her eyes, “Me? I’m the one who kills you!” It was only a heartbeat, but it was enough. The explosive launched towards her and instinct took over again. Adrenaline pushing the remaining toxin faster and faster, forcing her body to perfect action. She ducked the grenade and dashed forward wrapping her hooves delicately around her partner’s wings and bringing the blade back to its place of honor. Another hesitation, father would be ashamed of her refusal to end it.
“Dead ponies don’t get answers and I’ve got far too many questions,” That’s right, that’s the only reason you hesitate. Precious seconds ticked by, her hoof tingling, screaming for some kind of relief. She should have paid more attention to the explosive, a third mistake would just be foolish.
“What makes you think I’m the one to answer them?”
“You’re on the other side of an elite kill order. Best place to sta....” Stupid, stupid, stupid. The explosion wrung up, throwing both of them and completely knocking the wind out of Faith. Before she could fully recover the mare was already out of her grip and away. Worse yet, her vision felt as if it had been stabbed by three carrots and a halberd.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not turncoat.” The voice, focus on the voice, the sounds of breathing. Faith tried to imagine that she could still dodge effectively with only blurry sight, but her enemy was near perfect aim. Even paying close attention to the sounds, she would only have the sound of the trigger to warn her and by then it would be too late. But, the sound never came.
“You want answers, come and get them!” The voice wrung out, clear as day. Why would such unbridled hatred give her a second chance? Even like that, though, she lost every advantage she could have in the forty-five seconds before her vision stabilized. The deadly clock continuing to tick down from her hoof as she gave chase.
Trip wire, blasting cap, pressure sensor on the next wall. Gah! The hoof itched, this time twitching involuntarily and almost triggering yet another trap. She stopped, rubbing the small scrape and subsequent bite marks. The traps were rudimentary and obviously placed, a textbook to avoid, but Faith was on a clock now. Her last clue was running and she couldn’t afford to break back to deal with her little problem. A cold trail at this point might as well mean starting from square one all over again. Then again, another spasm like that and, obvious or no, she might be looking for her answers from the grave. No, death would have to wait just a little bit longer.
“Death answers to the Creed, Faith, remember that.” Father had taught that, Creed mastered death. They mastered every aspect and nuance, employing it like a second-rate carpenter. The movements of a Creed were what gave that death elegance. And, by the same movements, they made themselves immortal. And yet, she was alone now, completely alone. But, she was still everything she had been trained to be.
That left one option, one she desperately didn’t like, but it was the fastest route. No pony goes to this trouble to not check the efficiency of their work. Two blocks forward, and a few extra maneuvers later, the optimal point was located. A thermal charge attached to a more or less condemned building. It was far better concealed than the rest of the devices, likely the true target of the chase. The vantage points were perfect too, with a little repositioning, and a few additives she had found lying around on the trip, this would be a light show the entire city would see.
Finally, the trip wire was set next to the detonator. She pulled the wire to the front of the building, standing for only a few seconds to admire her handy work. Standing was becoming difficult now, her one hoof being almost unable to withstand any force put on it. No, she was not going to let some pathetically weak toxin developed by a useless dead pony be the end of her. She would finish this in time, she had to. Finally, she pulled.
Seconds later the entire building erupted in flames and ash signalling what would surely be an unrivalled victory. Large chunks of rubble cascaded downwards from three of the sides leaving only her side intact. The dust and smoke from the collapse helped to create her perfect playground. Visibility would be less than a pony length soon, enough to make up for her slowing movements.
Even as the flames danced in her eyes, the clock continued to tick down. 28, 29, 30. It was a simple trick, but sometimes they are the most effective. Slow the breath, slow the blood, slow the spread. She turned, watching amidst the panic and rubble, scanning for the figure she expected. More than that, she still had one thing left to do.
It hurt more than she imagined, not because of the toxin, but because she almost never removed her blade on a mission. As she tossed it into the rubble, just so that the fire would catch the reflective edge of the bangle, the message was clear. For her, I’ll do this without killing. For her prey, The pony is dead. For the both of them, I can take you without a weapon.