10:12 PM - presence of known anti-Supremacy element noted.
10:13 PM - plainclothes agents alerted.
10:14 PM - plainclothes agents confirm readiness.
10:15 PM - kill order granted.
Recovered Timeline - “Greasy Bea’s Ribs and Meat”
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"These ribs," Ruth moaned. "Are so damned good."
There was cutlery on the plate before her, but Ruth Blaine had long since evolved past the need for such things. She tore at the dripping ribs with her bare hands, ignoring the quizzical glances from the other diners -- and the horrified look she knew Mila was surely giving her.
It was hard to tell for sure, though. Mila was wearing a mask that concealed her entire face, after all.
"Miss Blaine," the woman hissed, her voice muffled by the mask -- stylized to look like an abstract wolf. "This is a bad idea. This is a really, really, really bad idea."
Ruth paused, meat sticking out of her mouth like a second tongue. "How's that?" she asked, slurping it up.
"It should be obvious!" Mila somehow managed to whisper and shout at the same time. Very impressive anxiety.
To be honest, Ruth couldn't understand why Mila was so reluctant about this plan. She'd been the one to point out this establishment to Ruth, she'd been the one to tell her this was the GID's base of operations on the Menagerie, so what was the big problem? Had she expected Ruth to just run in guns blazing? That'd be stupid.
No, the thing to do first off was reconnaissance -- and ribs. Ruth mauled another barbecued victim as she thought things over.
"Miss Blaine, please," Mila continued. "They're definitely watching us right now. What if they come and start asking questions?"
Ruth shrugged. "Just tell them you're one of those masked guys from, uh… I forget the name of the planet, but just say it's a cultural thing. Call 'em faceless and stuff, no big deal. Hey, you think they do burgers here?"
Mila wrung her hands, but Ruth ignored it. Right now, her focus was on the room around her. Mila was right about one thing -- they were being watched.
The lovey-dovey couple in the corner, making eyes at each other and typing into a script concealed on their knees. The waiter, his rounds drifting by them more often than was normal. The family of five, wearing jackets one and all, just the perfect size to conceal weaponry.
And of course, the security camera, fixed right on Ruth's face.
This whole place was already a battlefield, and so Ruth Blaine could read it like a book. She took a sip of her drink, and caught the bitter tang of poison. Her Aether quickly neutralized it: they'd have to do better than that.
Music blared from the jukebox in the corner, covering up the footsteps of the waiter approaching her from behind. She could see his reflection in her glass -- he had a dagger concealed just under his wrist. Looked like they'd gotten tired of waiting.
"Well," she yawned, standing up from her chair. "Looks like we should get started."
Mila looked up at her. The waiter stopped in his tracks as naturally as he could, turning to wipe down a nearby table. Every eye on the place was still on her, though.
"Hey, uh," she said casually, addressing the restaurant. "Things are gonna get pretty violent in here in a second, so if you're not on board with that, then, uh… get out of here, I guess. Heh. I'll give you a second to make up your minds."
Long moments passed, and most of the people stood up from their seats and hurried out of the restaurant. Even the family of five left, surprisingly enough. Only a few stayed, glaring daggers at Ruth. The waiter abandoned the facade, turning to look at her too.
Mila stared up from her seat, hands shaking on the table. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Watch," Ruth grinned. She turned to face the waiter too, hands on her hips.
The waiter looked her up and down, his eyes cold. He had blonde hair slicked back, with only a single loose strand dangling between his eyes. From the look of his physique, he was used to fighting. Probably some kind of combat operative, then.
"Will you come quietly?" he asked, voice scratchy. His eyes suggested he already knew the answer.
Skeletal Set.
Ruth's armour appeared over her body, her vision turning red as the lenses of her mask materialized over her eyes. She felt the benefits of the armour instantly -- her body feeling so much lighter, so much more strength at her disposal…
…and of course, her claws, ready to cut through whatever she needed them to. She brought her body low to the ground, like a wild animal, and growled.
"Afraid no --"
An attack struck her in the side of the head, nearly smashing her mask, one of the lenses visibly cracking. Spiderwebs spread across her vision as she swung around to face the threat.
One member of the lovey-dovey couple, the woman with ribboned pink hair, had her hand extended towards Ruth -- and the look of that hand was grotesque. Flesh and bone had warped into a rough approximation of a pistol, red smoke drifting up from the 'barrel'. She'd transformed her hand and used it to fire a projectile while Ruth's attention was on the waiter.
The woman fired again -- a globule of red liquid, infused with Aether, blasting out of her mangled hand. Blood, enhanced so much that it hit like a brick.
Ruth leapt up with Aether-infused legs, avoiding the shot and clambering onto the rafters like an insect. The waiter's head snapped up to follow her -- and as she watched, he slammed his palm down flat onto the nearest table.
A ringing sound emanated from his hand, and a moment later, each drinking glass on the table shattered. The shards hung in the air for a moment, suspended by an invisible force, before flying towards each other and fusing into a spear of clear glass. The waiter seized it out of the air, spinning it to test the weight before pointing it at Ruth.
Two enemies so far.
The woman with the pink hair -- her ability seemed to let her warp parts of her body into weapons. Was it just the gun she could do, or did she have more tricks up her sleeve?
The waiter -- his ability seemed to let him control glass in some fashion. The way he'd used it to form a weapon reminded Ruth of Serena's ability, but there was no telling if that was where the similarities ended.
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And then… the man accompanying the pink-haired woman, with droopy white hair, stayed back as he carefully observed Ruth. No doubt he had an ability to watch out for too.
She let out a deep breath. This moment -- the rush of combat, the thrill of finding the path to victory against insurmountable odds -- this was what she lived for. Mila had hid under the table. There was nothing to get in the way.
Ruth dropped from the rafters as the gun-woman fired another shot, the bloodshot annihilating the wood she'd just been using as a perch. She landed in front of the waiter, sweeping her leg in an effort to trip him up -- but he quickly countered with a swipe from his spear.
Her leg met the glass weapon, the block negating her momentum. With the impact, though, the glass shattered again -- but the destruction lasted only for a moment. Before a single shard could touch the floor, they'd already reformed, now into the shape of a mighty, clear warhammer.
In one smooth motion, the waiter regained his grip on the new handle of his weapon and swung it down at Ruth's head. Too close to dodge, the angle too awkward to block.
No problem.
Noblesse Set.
It was only a partial transformation, swapping the cracked mask of the Skeletal Set for the sparkling white helmet of Noblesse, but it sufficed for her purposes. The moment the hammer made contact with the white marble, the force rebounded against it, once again shattering the weapon and sending the waiter sliding back across the floor.
The glass reforged itself into a longsword, still floating in place where the waiter had let go of it. Ruth seized it out of the air as she charged towards its owner, manifesting her Skeletal mask again as she did so.
Her hair stood on end, and she trusted her instincts -- deflecting another blast of blood with the sword as she ran.
The waiter smirked as she drew in close, his eyes fixed on his stolen sword. As if in response, the sword began to glow a bright white, steady vibrations emanating from its core. Cracks began to form across its surface.
Okay, so it was different from Serena's ability -- the waiter had the power to detonate the constructs he made. No doubt the glass that formed the sword would slice her to ribbons if she gave it the chance.
All she had to do, then, was not give it the chance.
Ruth hurled the sword like a harpoon -- and her aim was perfect, the weapon flying over the shoulder of the waiter and past him. As the man glanced at the weapon rushing by, Ruth took advantage of the distraction, grabbing him by the same shoulder and forcing him in front of her as a human shield.
Crack. Crack.
Bang.
The waiter's body twitched and shuddered as shard after shard thudded into his form. By the time Ruth let go of him and he fell to the floor, she already knew he wouldn't be coming after her anymore.
Which left…
The woman with the literal handgun fired at her again, and Ruth vaulted over the table between them, batting the bloodshot away with a swipe of her claws. The impact was heavy, though, and as she deflected the attack Ruth felt the end of her claws snap off.
Still, Ruth was approaching fast.
The woman's eyes widened as Ruth drew close, and she raised her other arm. There was a crunching sound as the limb morphed, becoming a weapon of flesh and bone significantly bulkier than the handgun. More like a rocket launcher than a pistol, all things considered.
Judging from the damage the handgun had done, the Skeletal Set definitely wouldn't be able to take an attack from this.
Ruth did not think fast: she simply knew what to do. Her boiling blood told her without her brain getting involved at all.
Noblesse Set.
Ruth did not manifest the armour over herself. No, she made it appear on the arm aiming at her, coating it entirely: even the barrel of the weapon.
Noblesse Set repelled everything. Even attacks from within.
Bang.
The woman's arm exploded into a mess of gore as her own blast rebounded upon itself. She stepped back, screaming in pain and horror as she clutched at the bloody stump -- only to be stopped by a combination of shock and the roundhouse kick Ruth introduced to her face.
That sent her down, too. Which left…
The remaining member of this couple had moved without Ruth realizing. He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes intently watching her from behind his glasses. He smirked as her attention finally fixed upon him. As he stepped away from the wall, he ran a hand through his white hair.
"Quite impressive," he chuckled. "Quite impressive indeed. Terrorists like yourself really are nothing to scoff at."
Ruth jerked her head at the body behind her. "Your pals here could have used your help. Not in the mood?"
"Oh, contraire," the man smirked, narrowing his eyes. "I've been helping this entire time. In fact, they were the ones helping me. My power isn't the blunt weapon of a simpleton, you see. No, no… my ability, Scion of the Roaming Shadow, is of a rarer breed. It allows me to… discern things."
"Oh yeah?" Ruth growled, gauging the distance between them. "And how's that gonna help you?"
"I'm fairly sure it will help me tremendously… Ruth Blaine."
Ruth's body stiffened. Had he known that already, or had his ability really somehow told him that? What else did he know?
The man's smirk widened into a sinister grin. "I see you're beginning to comprehend the kind of fate that awaits you, girl. Ruth Blaine, twenty-one years old… favourite food hamburgers? Your favourite videograph show is Demolished Destruction, and you can't abide the taste of ice cream… mm, yes, I can see it all… such exquisite knowledge!"
He thrust his finger out, pointing it towards Ruth.
"I was only able to observe you for a minute or so," he boasted. "But even so, your weaknesses now flood my neurons! I can see the path to victory before me, Ruth Blaine… whereas all that awaits you are myriad defeats… still, c'est la vie, I suppose. No more talk! Let us dance this waltz of death toge --"
Ruth threw a chair at him. He went down hard.
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There was fighting outside. There was always fighting outside.
Helga Malwarian sat quietly in the room she'd been given. She stared down at the floor. She counted the minutes, the seconds, the hours. She pretended not to notice the camera watching her all day, waiting to see if some enemy ability was going to activate on a time delay. She pretended not to realize that, if she showed signs of disloyalty after her return, she would be killed.
And worse…
"It really is a relief you decided to return to us," Lyons had said, smiling down at her after they'd returned. "Olga was beside herself fighting for your rescue."
That had confirmed it. Helga had hoped that blurred memory of the scarf-wielding girl had been a delusion, but no.
"Olga's here?" she murmured, already knowing the answer.
"Of course," Lyons had replied, white hands clasped behind his white back. His blue eyes had drilled down into her. "She's been excelling in her training. I recall you were against it, but she insisted. It's not the place of adults to deny youthful dreams."
Helga had nothing to say to that.
"She really was so happy to have you back," Lyons sighed. "I'm sure your other siblings will be pleased too -- once I let them know."
The threat had been clear. Lyons had her family in his custody. If she didn't do as he said, as she'd always done, they'd be the ones to pay the price.
There was always fighting outside.
The door to Helga's cell opened, ripped off its hinges, and she looked up with only mild interest. Two figures stood there, framed in the light, looking back at her. Her eyes flicked between their faces.
Ruth Blaine, the girl who followed Skipper around, clad in black Aetheral armour. Her face was covered with blood. She'd clearly fought her way here.
And the other…
Mila, looking terrified, yet brave all the same. She looked at Helga, hands clenched into fists at her side, and opened her mouth to speak.
"Helga," she said, voice trembling. "We've come to get you out of here.”
Helga's heart skipped a beat, but she ignored it.
If she listened to her heart, she'd be taken down to a path she shouldn't be allowed to walk. The decision she'd make would be one that hurt her family. They were the last thing she had -- the only people in the world she would not ever betray.
Why couldn't anyone just leave her to the hell she'd earned?
Her eyes flicked back to Ruth Blaine.
Helga sighed.
Helga stood up.
Helga went for the kill.