“What is this shit? Who hired you!?” Cloak was quickly becoming furious, rage revealing the valleys of veins in his forehead. His arm instinctively rose toward his back to fetch the rifle from its scabbard.

The self-introduced woman laughed lightly as if Cloak had said something funny. “I shall never reveal that information, for it is impertinent that this act remains a secret. Tien told me, ‘Now, Sato, remember never to tell anyone who you work for!’ Haha. I am no simpleton. My affiliation with Vroque Company and… Ah. Whoops.” She stared blankly past the rifleman as if to mentally escape the situation.

Cloak eyed her with a cocked eyebrow, his arm frozen in mid-air. “Vroque. Hmph. ‘Course. Well… Sato, was it? You really think you can take down twenty armed men all by yourself?”

The rest of the Gunblades checked and loaded their weapons. The small metallic clinking of silver ammunition being inserted into their respective revolving chambers echoed twenty-fold throughout the warehouse. Some of them who had been sitting on various wooden crates all this time launched to the ground and readied themselves for the coming altercation.

“With my eyes closed,” Sato replied.

The gruff man grinned, likely eager for some action after so long. In one swift motion, he pulled his rifle down from his back and aimed it straight at the umbrella-wielding woman.

And wield it she did, as a weapon, for the end of the umbrella after the open plume came to a sudden and deadly sharp point made for piercing and slashing. She could not cut a bullet in flight, however. What she could do, and did do, was swing the open umbrella in a circle around herself, almost in a dance. As she did, water formed. As though created through some bizarre alchemical nonsense, torrential clear water came into being through her circular motion. It spiraled around and around her until she came to a stop, then she closed the umbrella and pointed its end at the rifleman who was already pulling the trigger. The flood expanded all at once, rolling in vicious waves that consumed the other Gunblades in its wake and pulled at Cloak, ruining his precise aim.

“Wha- grglrgl…” Kalaya had opened her mouth to complain and exclaim, but water silenced her and threw her and her comrades against the outer wall and into the large wooden crates, breaking them apart into hundreds of jagged splinters. Stolen supplies such as food and medicine lined their revealed innards, as well as contraband consisting of purple flowers and other drug-related paraphernalia.

Sato stood triumphantly, slashing her umbrella blade to the side. Rainwater flung off of its onyx sheen and plopped into puddles that littered the now-desecrated warehouse.

“Clever, girly. That some kind of pre-war relic?” Cloak asked as if he were truly interested, when in reality he simply wanted to buy himself time to think and observe his surroundings. His steely eyes grew dark. “No. That’s true magic, ain’t it? You’re a witch.”

“I am no long-nosed hag, Gunblade. I’m simply a mage who has spent much of her time in these tight, stifling alleyways.” Though Sato threw him a small smile, a glimmer of sadness seemed to permeate her words. “No matter. I am a merciful mage, and a merciful woman. Leave this one to me and I shall spare you all. Vroque cares not for gun-toting gangs. The Inkorpt can deal with your lot.”

“Heh. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The rugged acting-underboss of the Gunblades glanced at his subordinates. They were slowly recovering, climbing back to their feet. The comatose man known as Luthe had nearly drowned in the Maiden’s deluge, yet he still clung to life.

“And what do the Gunblades want with this mercenary in particular, hm?” Sato walked in front of Ma’at, who was still tightly tied to the chair.

Looking up close, she spotted a black tattoo of a fluttering butterfly on Sato’s neck. Below that was the hood of her raincoat, and above it was her jet-black hair tied in a medium-length ponytail.

“Let’s just say it’s more of a… personal interest. Though, I don’t doubt I’d be handsomely rewarded if I brought her to the boss. Either way, she’s valuable. Why does Vroque want her, eh? I thought all you crazy bastards cared about were treasure maps and contracts.”

Sato stayed silent for a bit, almost like she was remembering something. She nodded along to a thought in her head that went unheard to the others in the room. “Yes, well… that’s classified. If I reveal any more than I already have, a certain someone will be very, very angry with me.”

Cloak, visibly confused, contemplated then deflated. “Oh, well. That just leaves one option, the ultimate deciding factor when two factions are left at an impasse.” Cloak quickly loaded his rifle. His hands moved with pure muscle memory, unhindered by any intrusive thought or hesitation. “To kill each other and see who’s left standing.”

Sensing the man’s malicious intent, Sato turned on her heel and slashed across Ma’at’s seated form. Then, she turned back around and opened her umbrella.

“Fire!” Cloak ordered. As he did, he himself pulled the trigger on his 30-C Girris rifle. A melting orb of white smoke exploded from its barrel, and a silver bullet cast from its firing mechanism launched at Sato with considerable speed. She couldn’t evade it in time.

But she didn’t have to. She swung the opened umbrella up to act as a shield against the oncoming projectile. As if the sleek, rain-wet weapon were made out of impenetrable metal, the bullet struck dead and bounced off, deflected.

The Gunblades who had recovered already had their sights trained on the mage. In a white haze created by a dozen pistols firing at once, an equal amount of bullets were sent Sato’s way. The same result. They all flung off, unable to pass through her umbrella shield and pierce her mortal body. Dented, dead bullets fell to the ground in front of her in a pale rain.

Though, she had realized a little too late something vitally important. After the initial shot, Cloak and Kalaya were nowhere to be seen amongst the chaos of smoke and gunpowder. At the corner of her eye, jutted horns crept from crate to crate in order to flank her two adversaries.

Ma’at realized the same, though she also perceived a strange shimmering image rushing through the warehouse on the other side of them, opposite to Kalaya’s vantage point.

Ma’at launched from the chair, kicking it backward into a dirty puddle. She turned around and ran toward the strange, illusory mass as if her life depended upon it. She heard a click.

Blam!

Out of thin air, another plume of white smoke let out. The invisible thing had shot.

Ma’at did not stop. She rushed the thing with all her strength and tackled it to the ground, fighting it. They wrestled, launching punches at one another until the thing seemed to kick Ma’at off. But she’d grabbed hold of something tactile. Cloth that reflected zero light. She fell to the right side, holding the strange, invisible item in her hand.

The shimmering image faltered, and there, climbing to his feet with rifle in tow, was Cloak. The cloth revealed itself in the Sirithisian’s hand to be his worn mantle.

“Saw me, huh? Knew I needed a better one. Without your blades, though, I’m afraid you’re outmatched Swordstress.” Cloak aimed his rifle steadily at Ma’at, cocking it.

There was nowhere to go. If she got up and ran, he could simply adjust his aim slightly and ram another one of his silver bullets into her leg. A sharp, streaking pain rattled her. She felt blood leaking out of her body. Seemed he had already met his mark with the previous one. She didn’t have a choice after all. There was little to no chance she could pull herself up without faltering for even a second. And a second would be far too late. A second would send a bullet straight through her other leg. Or worse, should the rifleman decide her life would come to an end this day and not one far into the future.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As if to wash away the fear seeping into her beating heart, another rolling wave toppled Cloak over before he had the chance to shoot.

Sato glanced back at Ma’at with a meaningful gaze, her eyes a gorgeous violet. Then, she turned and sent the torrential water over toward the various crates on the other side of the room. Gunblades were swept up in the water once again, and the larger crates in the back were sent flying into others.

Choking sounds came from Ma’at’s left. Cloak struggled to gather himself and gather air into his lungs, for they were full of liquid. “Son of a…” He stopped mid-insult and wheezed.

But with the rising tide, with the deluge Sato could continuously summon forth, the mercenary woman felt her phantom limbs grow lighter. The water had toppled the heavy boxes crushing her noctite blades, releasing them just as she was unbound by Sato’s sharpened umbrella.

“Not so fast.” Another crushing feeling assaulted Ma’at’s nerves. Cloak’s heel pressed firmly against her arm, grinding it down into the floor. “You’re my bounty. I ain’t gonna let this fancy bitch steal you from me.”

A black object carried itself out of the settling water and whizzed past the Maiden of the Rain’s head. It flew across the room in an arc and slashed at Cloak’s ankle, carving a shallow gash in it. He screamed in pain, grabbed his leg, and fell over.

Ma’at, freed and armed, called for her other blade as well. She caught it deftly as it careened toward her.

“Don’t let them escape!” Sato warned.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Sensing his imminent execution, Cloak swallowed the pain screaming from his wound and dredged up his rifle from a nearby puddle. Though, he didn’t have time to take aim. As a man who had been in a great deal of life-threatening situations and battles, he knew when to stand his ground and when to retreat. This was the latter, no question. And he knew his peons would have his back one way or another. At least, he hoped so. There was that little bit of fear that they would turn tail and desert their acting-underboss, but his confidence wouldn’t allow it to surface. He simply had to act, fear or not.

Ma’at spotted Cloak running past her toward the exit and readied herself to cast a blade into his torso, but as she extended her arm, it was stopped by a sudden clash.

Kalaya had met her weapon with her gunblade. The metal screeched as they fought against one another. Ma’at’s strength would prevail, but the demonite girl had succeeded in what she was trying to do. Her boss had successfully gotten away, rifle and all, without facing the consequences of his selfishness.

The rest of the Gunblades had given up on fighting a ranged fight. They charged forward through the clear-turned-murky water and slashed at Sato with the same mid-strike gunshot technique Kalaya had tried to use on Ma’at hours earlier.

Sato, ever graceful, was just as so in close combat. It was mesmerizing, so much so that it distracted Ma’at from her own fight for a moment. She would close the umbrella to use as a blade, then break their stance and go in for the kill. But how she would dispatch them was wholly unique. She’d impale them with the end of her umbrella, then open it forcefully, unleashing a wave of water from within her enemy, blowing apart their innards and rendering them lifeless.

The only surviving Gunblades had no recourse. They all ran and surrounded her, ready to pierce and blast her apart.

The Maiden danced in a small circle, creating a nebulous field of rainwater around her in a donut shape, then raised her weapon high above her head. With another forceful opening of the black plume, the water tightened into a blade of water that was sent outward from her at a truly horrific speed. It was like an ultra-sharp sawblade extending out from her form, and as it was, the remaining Gunblades that could stand could no longer. They were all separated at the waist, cut in half and left to sink into the knee-deep waters that had filled the warehouse.

“Damn you…! You killed Duco!” Kalaya swung mightily at Ma’at, who was on the defensive.

Normally she would be able to defeat the suited woman easily, but the hole bored through her thigh did not do wonders for her fighting spirit. Her body wavered, and she stumbled over herself more times than she’d like to admit. Blood drained from her body. She felt frail, but she could not allow herself to be beaten by some random Indigo gangster that cared for nothing but money and violence.

As Kalaya knocked her adversary down and slashed one blade from her hand, she saw her opening. The girl’s eyes widened, and she drew back her blade for a single attack. She was aiming for her heart. A quick, clean kill. Her only chance.

The ever-spinning blade, as the planet revolves around the sun. She’d fallen for the same trick again. Right as her piercing attack sent her gunblade straight at Ma’at’s chest, the noctite sword in her enemy’s other hand levitated and swung in fourteen circles like a desk fan. It easily deflected the weapon. Ma’at kicked the girl down and got back to her feet. Her limbs ached. Her body would not allow her to carry on much longer without fainting from anemia. She called back her other blade and put them to the young woman’s throat.

“Wait…! Please…!”

“Wait? Would you have waited for us?”

“I’m just… doing my-”

“Doing your job. Right. So am I…”

“Hold on.” A voice came from behind her. A hand fell on her left shoulder and the pleasant voice, belonging to the lady Sato, fell upon her fading mind. “She’s no threat now. All who could fight have fled or died. All that remains is the injured and their only healer.”

“Is… Luthe still alive?” Kalaya spoke carefully. Too much emphasis on one word would cause her throat to rise and be cut by Ma’at’s crossed blades.

“That’s the large one, yes? Mhm. He lives.” Sato turned to Ma’at, but being behind her, Ma’at could not see her face. She wore a pleading look this time. “A life taken for no reason is equally meaningless. Cutting her throat will only darken your heart further, Ma’at.”

“How… do you… know…”

Anemia took her, whisking her thoughts away to parts unknown. She withdrew her blades and slumped down onto the wet floor like a ragdoll, unconscious.

“Oh, dear. I was afraid this might happen.” Sato closed her umbrella’s canopy. It crumpled as if made of cloth.

The sheer sight of something that had taken so many of their bullets crumpling just like any cheap fabric struck an odd sense of fear inside Kalaya. Though this woman, this self-proclaimed Maiden of the Rain emanated a cheery disposition, she would not hesitate to kill either. As someone who had lived on the streets a good deal of her life, she felt within herself a strange understanding of Sato. Perhaps she had lived a life similar to her own.

“Don’t fear, girl. My only objective was to bring this mercenary to my workplace. Alright? I only did what I had to. Only…” Sato looked off into the dreary windows and past them, into the face of the full moon leering at them from the shadowy heavens. “Only… I would have liked to see the look on his face as I stomped his heart into a muddy puddle. Shame he got away. But… look on the bright side. Maybe this is your chance to do something better with your lives, hm?” Sato gave Kalaya a warm smile, despite the grim circumstances. Her dark bangs came down in two small stretches on either side of her face. Her eyes glowed violet in the dull moonlight, dredging up from within Kalaya memories of lonely, rainy days spent out in the cold. Without a place to be. Without a home. Without a family she could go back to.

“I… don’t have anywhere else to go, aight? You have your company… and I had them. But now… it’s all gone to shit.”

“No, no.” Sato reached out and patted the Gunblade’s head, then gently touched her demonite horns. “I thought the same, once. But there is always a place one can feel at home. And there are always people willing to help. My mother… My dear mother Shino believed in Deus Come Thus. And thus, we believed in the guiding star of pain and strife. Wise men would often say that experience is born from suffering. But sometimes, miracles are performed, be it through divine means or simple, unseen generosity. Be it a generous star or idle fate, we are destined to find those who can help us. Do you think the same?”

Kalaya sat dumbfounded. “I’m… not sure. But I want to.”

Sato grinned from ear to ear. “You think I’m strange. That’s all well and fine. How about this? Become a baker!”

“A baker…?”

“Yes! Become a baker! Imagine it. A cute demonite girl selling delicious pastries. It’s brilliant. What do you say? Beats being a bloody, dirty gangster, right? And better yet, I get a new place to eat snacks!” Sato giggled with joy. An odd, childish side of her had seemingly sprung out of nowhere. “Oh, Tien won’t believe this! I’m a genius!”

And so the battle with the Gunblades was over. Whether one could say it was a victory or a defeat was uncertain, but one thing was for sure: Sato was overjoyed and hopeful for the adventures yet to come. Ma’at, still unconscious and losing a large amount of blood, obviously had nothing yet to say on the matter. In time, however, she would wake to a familiar voice, a sweet smell, and a new future.