(Minutes earlier, prior to the blast.)
The instant the power was cut, #017 kept her eyes and weapon fixated on #32. “Who else is here?” #017 harshly asked.
#32 softly giggles, “I didn’t think you would notice until it was too late. From the sound of it, they’re about to begin their sacred mass.”
#017 scans her memory trying to identify a possible culprit by that single detail. After a moment, a picture begins to emerge in her mind. “You allied with the Vorpal’s, didn’t you?” #017 accusingly stated.
“You already know the answer, dearest,” #32 murmured back.
#017 furrows her brow and begins to piece the remaining pieces of the puzzle together. “So, that’s it. A faction had you released, which makes it impossible for it to be the Vorpal’s without their trademark jailbreaks nor the Espers, who wouldn’t dare work with you given the project’s entire purpose.
Your release requires a certain amount of power and high enough level clearance to be allowed. It could have been the agency, but they wouldn’t have taken the chance given your proven track record. And coincidentally that excludes the government or any other similar organization as their agendas are more government or power oriented. No, this was someone else,” #017 said, pausing only to add her thoughts together, “The Changeling’s.”
The sound of gunfire and the attack can be heard in the distance. #017 ignores the sound and continues, “A high-ranking member of a changeling pack with connections, no doubt. But what bothers me is the unlikely alliance to the Vorpal’s. The Changelings would have never managed to ally themselves on their own and even if they had, they aren’t that desperate.
No, the fanatics of the Vorpal’s are notorious for seeing all living non-Vorpal-members as food. And even then, there are particular factions that are infamous for cannibalism among their own party members. Those Vorpal factions are not the most trustworthy of allies. The only organization the Vorpal’s are actively wary of is the Esper’s, but no mere ordinary Espers. But, the Vorpal’s would never agree to work with low-level lackeys, they only respect one thing and one thing only, power. Which means there is a breach in the council,” #017 flatly stated. A lack of response from #32 was always the tail sign of his that she had guessed right.
Changing the subject, #32 retorts, “So, are we going to play? Al, need I remind you of the timer, there are less than three minutes left.”
“No more games, #32. Let him go and you and I can end this once and for all,” #017 replied.
#32 hurt by the response, sorrowfully says, “But this is what we’ve always done, it’s tradition.”
#017 without hesitation reaches into her boot and grabs a round object. Diving forward for George, #017 pulls the pin and tosses it straight at #32. #32 hears the clatter of the pin drop and with disbelief sees the grenade moving towards. Furious and feeling betrayed, #32 fires once as his hand reaches for the hurtling grenade.
With zero seconds to spare, #32 hurls the grenade out the open window and throws himself to the floor. Less than a second later, the window shatters under the explosion. #32 lets out a soft groan as he rolls to his feet and heads towards the door expecting to be chased. A steam of bullets follows #32 out the door as he cheerfully darts into the hallway for cover, but glances back to see if he was being chased.
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*
Mr. Wilkins stumbles forward from the blast but continues to carve his way through the aggressors with greater ease unlike his assailants as Mr. Wilkins wasn’t affected by smoke inhalation or any of the other bomb blasts after effects. Seeing the crimson-robed man within his grasp, Mr. Wilkins dives for sending a dozen shuriken’s in his direction.
The remaining Head Priest Luther’s guards and follower throw themselves in front of the rain of ninja stars. Head Priest Luther suddenly finds his back open with his guards and followers dead. Furious at their failure to destroy the heathen toy, Priest Luther determinately turns to face the teddy bear. “Face me, abomination,” Priest Luther declared as he stealthy reaches into his robe sleeve.
Mr. Wilkins halts a meter away and cowboy like returns his ninja stars to his pocket. With arms at his sides, Mr. Wilkins coolly answers, “All I see is a dead man a-walking.” His fuzzy ears twitch with pleasure at using such cool dialogue.
“How dare you insult the High Priest of the Moon Goddess! Sacrilege I say, worthy of death!” Priest Luther snarled as trickles of spit flew from the force. Removing his hand from his sleeve, Priest Luther holds a silver-like weapon, the first of its kind, a prototype military laser firearm.
Mr. Wilkins eyes flicker in recognition as he warily reaches into his front pocket suit and grabs a dozen thin needles coated in poison. Priest Luther manically laughs as he shoots at the teddy bear destroying everything in his path including his still living men, wounded on the floor. With every triumphant step, High Priest Luther took the closer he got to the ballroom. In lieu of his prize, High Priest Luther fires even more rapidly shredding everything into smithereens.
Mr. Wilkins adorable form tumbles between men and objects for cover, but it would be only a matter of time until he was out of cover and he couldn’t lead the lunatic back to his students. Seeing a haven up ahead, Mr. Wilkins rolls to a stop behind a decorative cabinet as chunks of the cabinet are suddenly vaporized.
One such shot grazes Mr. Wilkins sleeve causing Mr. Wilkins to click his tongue against his mouth in dismay. Yet despite the severity of the situation, Mr. Wilkins takes the time to smooth out the wrinkles in his collar, before straightening out his bow tie. Please at once more being presentable, Mr. Wilkins calmly waits under the nearing barrage of death and utter doom. One such moment finally appears as High Priest Luther rounds the cabinet’s corner and points his weapon directly at his prey, the heathen teddy bear.
Mr. Wilkins hands expertly throw a rain of a dozen poison darts forward at the same time, High Priest Luther pulls the trigger and shoots through the fuzzy teddy bear. Priest Luther unable to dodge at such close range is pierced by the needles, but as luck would have it his holy robes blocked all the needles except for one. A single needle is sticking out from his firing hand.
Priest Luther laughs with triumph at seeing the teddy bear flop onto the ground still. Striding forward, Priest Luther triumphantly slams the boot of his heel into the fuzzy body. Not satisfied, Priest Luther grabs the teddy bear by the stuffing and tears the stuffed animal in half. A loud rip is heard as the stuffing flies all over the place.
Satisfied, Priest Luther tosses the ragged cloth onto the floor and rubs his foot into his foe one last time. Priest Luther suddenly feels his heart begin to pound, loudly and rapidly as sweat trickles down his cheekbones. Puzzled, Priest Luther touches his hand to his face to find blood running down from his eyes. Priest Luther body begins to violently shake as blood gushes out from his upper extremities: his nose, eyes, mouth and even ears. Choking on his own blood, Priest Luther is unable to scream as he flops onto the floor, stone cold dead. A red pool swiftly gathers underneath the corpse of High Priest Luther in appropriate testimony to his bloody devotion and reign of terror.