For the first time since she'd started speaking, Serena del Sed blinked.
"Mr. Dragan, would you help me kill a person?"
The answer was obvious.
"Sure," Dragan said truthfully. "Who? Cott?"
Serena nodded. "Bruno isn't safe as long as he's alive. We need to make him stop being alive."
Even though she was saying it in kind of a creepy way, Dragan couldn't deny that Serena was right. Bruno and Serena had been apart from their group for barely a quarter of an hour, and they'd come back minus one foot and their blood sprayed on the floor.
There was no way to tell where this Cott's next attack would come from -- only that it was definitely coming. In this situation, the best defense was offense.
Dragan rubbed his chin as he sat down in the doctor's chair. "What do you have in mind?"
Serena blinked again. "We kill him."
"Yeah," Dragan rolled his eyes. "But how do we kill him? What's our plan?"
With a wince as she aggravated her regenerating foot, Serena pulled herself up into a sitting position in the bed. She looked at Dragan seriously. "Me and Bruno know Cott better than anybody. We'll be able to track him down. Once we do, we just kill him. That's it."
Dragan frowned doubtfully. "That's not much of a plan. I'd say going after him directly is better for him than us -- if we wear ourselves down with an extended search, he can just keep sending those puppets after us to wear us down. Then, once we're on our last legs, he can finish us off."
Serena matched Dragan's expression -- only her frown was more of an angry scowl. "That wouldn't happen," she insisted. "I can beat Cott. His puppets are just wood. I can kill them over and over if I have to."
"But he knows that's how you'd think, right? He could be counting on that, betting you'd be too mad to think straight so he could make you move how he wants."
"I don't do what Cott wants. You said you'd help me kill him." There was a strange accusatory tone slivering into Serena's voice as her scowl became more and more of a glare.
Dragan had only seen her like this once before -- back in the casino on Taldan, when Atoy Muzazi had beaten Bruno to a pulp. She'd been like a killing machine back then, driving Muzazi into a corner with sheer ferocity. Against someone who knew that was coming, though, Dragan imagined that fury wouldn't be nearly as effective.
"I do want to help," Dragan replied forcefully. "I just think we need to be smart about it. How about this: I'll grab Ruth and Skipper, and we'll hash something out together, yeah?"
There was no reply from Serena, but she didn't say no. Dragan nodded, turned, and began walking out of the door.
He sniffed -- there was something of a strange scent in the hallway, but he supposed that was to be expected in a place like this. In fact, Dragan was so focused on the hallucinogen he'd just breathed in that he didn't even notice the person walk right past him and into Bruno and Serena's room.
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Scout Oliphant-Dawkins sat despondent outside Chloe's room, firmly parked in a wooden chair. His hands knitted together, he stared down at the floor, a sigh escaping his throat every few minutes.
Ever since Chloe had been told about her father's passing, she'd been inconsolable. Her screaming and crying had filled this entire floor of the Oliphant-Escoffier building for nearly half an hour, replaced soon after by a cold and unresponsive depression. Since then, she'd just locked herself in her room.
Aunt Carla had said, over the script call, that it would be best if the two of them stayed put for the time being. The streets were anything but safe, and the guards Jacques had posted to guard his daughter would serve as a firm deterrent for anyone looking to partake in this macabre Hunter Game.
A thought occurred, and Scout numbly negotiated his script out of his pocket, tapping away at the screen the moment it became visible.
A message to Rico: How are things over there? What's going on?
Long minutes stretched on without a reply. Just to test the script, Scout tried to send a message to his own ID -- and that didn't arrive either. Whoever was running this Hunter Game didn't want the weaker targets getting into easy contact, evidently.
Scout wasn't naive. He was more than aware that a family like theirs made enemies -- but to have that fact demonstrated, so clearly and gruesomely, was shocking all the same. It had always seemed such a distant, theoretical thing before.
In Scout's backpack, deposited on the floor in front of him, Sidekick stirred slightly -- a strange kind of whimpered clicking sounding out from within the front pocket, where the grey creature slept. Sidekick was a pretty incredible thing, genetically speaking, but for most of the day it did little but sleep and squeak.
If the life of an Oliphant wasn't so dangerous, it would be tempting to think that Sidekick was useless.
Footsteps clicked down the hallway -- and as Scout looked up from his script, he saw Alana strolling towards him.
Alana Pheasant.
He'd only met her today, but the woman Jacques had placed in charge of those guarding his daughter seemed competent enough. She wore a tan leather jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, the spurs on her boots rattling as she walked. Twin punchpoint revolvers were holstered at her hips.
"Just got word from head office," she said seriously, hands at her hips. "This location's been leaked -- it's not safe anymore. It's time to move."
Scout stood up, already slinging his backpack over his shoulders. "Shit," he said. "Already?!"
The situation was changing too fast for him to get his bearings. First it had been Uncle Jacques’ death, then it had been the whole Hunter Game thing, and now they themselves were in imminent danger. Scout could feel a migraine quickly building.
He took a deep breath.
Keep calm, his Pa would say. There's nothing manlier than keeping calm.
"Alright," Scout breathed, nodding. "What's the plan? We have a plan, right?"
Alana nodded, the tiny bells that hung from the brim of her hat tinkling as she did so. "We've got another location set up. Multiple cars will set out in different directions from this building to confuse any pursuers -- my men are setting up right now. You should do the same."
Scout nodded. "Right." Now that the future had a direction, at least, it didn't seem nearly so frightening.
Alana glanced at the closed doors to Chloe's room, the red light above indicating that they were firmly locked. "Think you can get her out of there? We're kind of on a timetable here."
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"I'll try my best, ma'am," Scout nodded. "But it might take some doing."
The gunslinger turned on her heel, marching back down the hallway. "Get it done, then," she declared. "I'll be back once we've got our end squared away."
Again, Scout nodded -- but this time to himself. This wouldn't be an easy one.
He knocked somberly at the door, his fist illuminated by the red light of the lock. The sound echoed down the hallway, it's only companion the ticking of a far-away clock.
"Hey, Chlo?" Scout called. "Can you come out for a minute? We kinda need to talk about some stuff."
No response.
There's nothing manlier than looking after your own! his Pa would say. Don't hesitate! Do what you gotta do!
Scout took in a deep breath. He understood Chloe's sadness -- her father had died mere hours ago, after all -- but in this situation, her safety came first. He'd do his best to convince her, but if it came down to it he was willing to drag her out of this room.
Still, though...
"Okay," he sighed. "How about I come in, then? You can kick me out if you want to."
No response.
For a moment, Scout seriously considered bashing the door in with an Aether-infused shoulder -- but then the glaring light above flicked from red to green as it unlocked. There was that, at least.
"Coming in," Scout called, turning the handle of the door and pushing it open.
Jacques Oliphant-Escoffier had been a very rich man, and so he'd spared no expense even for temporary accommodations like these. Chloe's room was bigger than most people's houses, with all kinds of amenities -- game consoles, gym equipment, cooking automatics -- stuffed into each corner.
If this location hadn't been leaked, they probably could have stayed in here for weeks without having to go out for supplies.
Chloe's bed was similarly oversized, several times bigger than she would ever need, and covered with an intricately embroidered quilt. The lump in the middle of the bed, under that sheet, could only be Chloe herself -- curled up into the comforting dark and warmth like some kind of mole. With a sad smile, Scout sat himself down on the side of the bed.
In a situation like this, the right words didn't come easy. "Come on. He wouldn't want to see you like this." Scout was fairly sure those weren't the right words.
When Chloe spoke, muffled, her voice was calm but hoarse -- her throat scraped away by crying. "He doesn't want anything," she mumbled numbly. "He's dead."
"Still…" Scout sighed. "He'd be -- he'd be sad to see that you're so sad." Of course she was sad. What a stupid thing to say.
There was a moment of silence, then: "What do you want?"
He was that obvious, huh?
"Alana just told me this building's location has been leaked," Scout said seriously. "We need to get out of here -- get somewhere safe. There's no telling how long we have until the Hunter Game players make a go for this place."
The bedsheets shifted, just slightly, as Chloe adjusted her position.
"You go," she muttered. "I'll stay here. It'll be fine."
Scout crossed his arms. "I'm not going without you."
"Then I guess you're not going."
Silence settled over the room, like a shroud had descended to drown out any noise. Scout just stared down at the lump on the bed, biting his lip in frustration. They didn't have time for this. Scout understood, but they didn't have time for this.
"You're right," he replied quietly. "I guess I'm not going."
The lump shifted. "What?"
Scout went on. "If it's safe enough for you, then it's safe enough for me. I'm not going anywhere."
Chloe's face, her eyes ringed red by tears, poked out from underneath the bedsheet. "You can't," she mumbled. "You'll…"
"Die?" Scout smiled humourlessly. "I guess so."
Chloe's brow knitted together in anger. "Get out, then!"
"No."
"I said get out!" Chloe's voice rose into a shrill scream -- one that took most of the effort she could muster, judging by the heavy breathing afterwards.
Scout slowly shook his head. "The only way I'm leaving is if you're coming with me. That's the only way you're gonna save me here, Chlo."
The look on Chloe's face was as if grief had collided head-on with rage. Her teeth ground together, tears ran from her eyes, and her lip trembled violently.
"You fucker," she hissed, wiping her eyes on the sheet beneath her. "You're a fucker."
"I guess I am." Scout extended a hand. "You coming, then?"
When Chloe took his hand, he could feel the warmth returning to her body, like life coming back to a corpse. It seemed he was pulling her out of far more than just a bed.
He stood up.
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"What happened here?" Chloe asked, looking around the ruined foyer. Her voice was still hoarse, but the horror in it was audible all the same.
Corpses were scattered throughout the entrance to the building, at least five of the bodyguards that had been assigned to this place. Glass sculptures had been shattered by countless impacts, and the front desk had been warped beyond recognition.
Alana turned to glance at them as they entered. Apart from the blood dripping down her face from a cut on her forehead, she seemed unharmed -- and she was accompanied by two more of her subordinates. A goateed man in a red-and-white striped sweater, and a burly woman with the barrel of a cannon protruding from her chest.
"You two okay?" Alana breathed, returning her revolvers to their holsters. "Good to see none of them made it past us."
Scout glanced down at the nearest corpse, a young woman with tattoos like cracks running along her skin. He'd seen her earlier today, when he'd first entered this building. She'd seemed nice enough.
"What happened?" he asked, repeating Chloe's unanswered question.
Alana sniffed. "Workplace dispute," she said regretfully. "When they received the rules for the Hunter Game, they decided just taking you two out would be an easier payday than the alternative. We ended up disagreeing."
Indeed, many of the corpses had smoking bullet holes in them. The idea that these people had been coming to kill them, though -- that sent shivers down Scout's spine more than anything.
Chloe hadn't let go of Scout's hand since they'd left her room. She squeezed it tight, looking down at those bodies.
"The cars are waiting outside," Alana said, cracking her neck. "We're a little short-staffed, but it's best we start moving."
Scout nodded, stepping forward.
Only one thing saved him. Only one tiny thing stopped him from dying right then and there. Only one passing thought.
Why had the bodies been shot in the back?
Bang.
Scout threw himself and Chloe down to the ground with Pugnant speed and strength, Alana's bullet sailing over their heads and slamming against the front doors. He transitioned into a roll, pink Aether flaring around him as he put himself between the treacherous bodyguards and his cousin.
Alana had her guns pointed right at him, one eyebrow raised. The man in the red-and-white had long, thin claws of bone protruding from his fingers. The cannon in the burly woman's chest whirred as it readied itself to fire.
Behind Alana, several bullseye targets -- like something from a shooting range -- were floating in the air, bobbing and weaving around her back.
"Sorry, kid," she smirked, a mocking sneer in her voice. "Like I said -- the Game pays better."
The targets hurled themselves at Scout like a swarm of rabid frisbees. At the same time, Scout plunged his hand into his backpack, pulled free the squirming creature --
-- and jabbed it's sharp mouth onto the base of his spine.
His Aether roared.
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The usual liquid whimsy of Serena del Sed's mind had solidified into a kind of cold clockwork, the objectives before her becoming the only things of consequence. She had to kill Cott. If she didn't kill Cott, Bruno would not be safe. If her friends wouldn't help her kill Cott as soon as possible, she'd do it herself.
Her foot was almost fully reformed. Once it did, the best thing to do would be to leave and track down Cott again. Then, she could kill him. Easy peasy.
Bruno had retreated far back into their mind. When it came to Cott, unconsciousness was as safe as he could get. Serena would protect him.
She went to sit up, to test her new foot, only to stop right in her tracks as she saw she was no longer alone in this place.
There was a woman by the door, staring back at her. A woman with a jet-black kimono and an eyepatch, the image of a red centipede curling around the fabric. The woman's inquisitive eye regarded Serena with great interest -- but behind it, she could tell, was a hate much like her own.
Something was coiled around the woman's waist, too: a grotesque centipede the size of a serpent. As Serena watched, it's head peeked out from over the woman's shoulder, red smoke drifting up from its mouthparts. The woman didn't so much as flinch as the grotesque creature rubbed it's ugly face against her bare cheek.
"Cottian del Sed," the woman said quietly, eye set square on Serena. "What exactly… does that name mean to you?"