Fay was in her garden, waiting for the inevitable to happen, the plan she and Silof set in motion, some dollies would get destroyed, but ultimately, everyone will be safe and Edgar will finally be done for. She went inside the house and made tea for her and Edgar, she expected him home any second now. Edgar stormed in and barricaded the door.
Fay looked at him as he ran inside, his face pale, as if he had seen ghosts, “Edgar, what is going on?”
“Your plan spiraled out of control!”
Fay frowned her eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
“Your plan to escape with Silof and my downfall, I let it happen and even helped along where needed,” he looked at the tea, he leaned on the counter and pulled it closer to him.
Fay walked closer, “What are you spouting?”
He put the ring on the counter, “I am sorry, for everything, for snapping, for destroying Silof, for forcing you to be with me, if I had known, I would have let you stop me.”
Fay looked worried, “What are you talking about?”
“The riots, outside, look through the window, they are destroying the dollies, my shops, my factories, they are killing the Voodoopunks, I don’t know where Byron went.” He took a sip from his tea. “I saw him run away through the riots.”
Fay grunted, “We need to find him.”
Edgar grunted, “You don’t understand, he was right.”
Fay was now seriously concerned, Edgar admitting his guilt, telling her that Byron was right, “What was he right about?”
“They are going to take away everyone’s rights, the military has been sent in,” he took another sip of his tea, he decided to drink it all in one go. “I need to tell you,” he coughed and started spitting blood. “I need, to tell you something,” he started to fall down.
Fay walked over to him and looked at him, “What do you need to tell me?”
“You, poisoned me.”
Fay scoffed, “Me? Maybe, what do you need to tell me?”
“Byron, has a child, Priscilla, Charlotte’s mansion.”
Fay kneeled beside him and took him in his arms, she saw the Edgar she had fallen in love with, the young man. “Where is Silof?”
“I don’t know, the last I heard, he was in the,” he coughed blood over her, “His hut. I’ve known, from the beginning, sorry, love, you.” He cried and shed tears, bloody tears.
Fay gulped, She had not expected his admission of guilt, “I was always better than you Edgar, you should have listened.”
He nodded, and took her hand, “Go, get Silof, escape, make sure, our son is sa-” The light in his eyes went out, and his head hung limp.
Fay shed a tear, “Oh my god, I need to find Charlotte and save Byron,” she went to her garden and left Edgar’s body behind. She climbed over the fence and gasped in horror, she set this in motion. She needed to get Byron and Silof and get the hell out of here.
Fay, the determined rebel with fire in her eyes, sprinted through the chaotic streets of New Albion, her footsteps echoing the urgency of the tumultuous events unfolding around her. The once familiar thoroughfares had transformed into a disarrayed battleground, where the military and rioters, strange bedfellows in chaos, joined forces to decimate dollies and crush the Voodoopunks.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and the distant echoes of destruction. Fay navigated through the narrow alleyways and bustling squares, her lithe form weaving through the frenzied crowd. The rioters, driven by a collective fury, brandished makeshift weapons and torches, their anger indiscriminately directed at both dolls and Voodoopunks.
As Fay approached Charlotte’s mansion, the heart of the resistance and an escape for the Voodoopunks, she witnessed the horrifying spectacle of dolls being destroyed and Voodoopunks falling under the combined onslaught of the military and the enraged mob. The mansion, once a symbol of hope and rebellion, now stood as a potential sanctuary in the midst of chaos.
The clash of metal, screams, and the crackling of flames created a cacophony that accompanied Fay’s desperate journey. The mansion’s silhouette beckoned in the distance, its grandeur now a stark contrast to the havoc consuming the city. Fay pressed on, driven by a fierce determination to reach Charlotte’s side and rally the remnants of the resistance, or force them to hide, whatever would be best. Then she needs to find Silof.
The chaotic convergence of military forces and rioters added an unpredictable element to Fay’s perilous journey. The alliance against the Voodoopunks and dolls created a relentless pursuit, forcing Fay to navigate the perilous streets with agility and cunning. Each step forward was a defiance against the oppressive forces that were closing in from all sides.
The mansion’s gates loomed ahead, and as Fay approached, she could see the silhouette of Charlotte on the steps screaming at something, a beacon of resilience in the face of adversity. The clash of conflicting forces intensified as Fay neared her destination, the chaos of the city reaching a crescendo. In this maelstrom, Fay’s unwavering resolve served as a flicker of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.
Fay reached the entrance of Charlotte’s mansion, breathless and battered but resolute. The alliance of military and rioters, fueled by fear and hatred, may have momentarily gained the upper hand, but within the walls of the resistance’s stronghold, the fight for freedom and the survival of the Voodoopunks would persist.
“Charlotte, where is Byron?”
“Fay, oh my god, everything has gone to hell.”
“Yes, I see that, did you manage to get the Voodoopunks to safety?”
“Not all of them, many of them perished, Jackie is wounded. They, they took Byron.”
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“What? When?”
“Just now, they dragged him off deeper into the streets.” she whispered, “Jasper is safe.”
“What about his daughter?”
“How do you know about our daughter?”
“Edgar just told me, before I killed him. Where is Byron?”
“I don’t know, he told me to stay at the mansion, to remove any affiliation with us, I am guiding the survivors to the secret hideout.”
Fay gulped, “Dammit, I will go save him.” She pulled a cloak over her head and ran into the riots.
Fay pressed forward through the chaotic streets as the twilight fog set upon New Albion, her heart pounding with a mix of determination and fear. Her goal was clear, to reach the location where Byron faced imminent danger from the military. As she navigated the labyrinthine alleys, the ominous alliance between the rioters and the military posed an additional threat to her mission.
In her pursuit, Fay became the target of the enraged mob. The rumor of her connection to Edgar, the mastermind behind the dolls, fueled the rioter’s anger. They saw her as the mother of the mechanical creations that had become the symbol of oppression. Fay, now in their eyes, embodied the very essence of the dolls they sought to destroy. Despite Fay being the one who set up this riot, she had never expected this to happen.
The narrow alleyways echoed with the cries of the mob as they closed in on Fay, brandishing their makeshift weapons with fervor. Fay, however, was not one to succumb easily. With a swift and calculated grace, she engaged in a desperate struggle for survival. Her movements were a dance of defiance against the mob that sought to tear her apart.
Fay fought fiercely, her fists and feet becoming instruments of resistance. In the chaos, she inflicted fatal injuries on some of her assailants, the clash of metal against flesh and bone drowning in the tumultuous sounds of the riot. The narrow confines of the alley provided both cover and challenge, but Fay’s determination to reach Byron and protect the Voodoopunks fueled her every strike.
Despite the odds, Fay managed to break free from the encircling mob, her body battered but her spirit unbroken. With a burst of agility, she darted into a nearby alleyway, the rioter’s shouts fading as she distanced herself from the immediate threat. Breathing heavily, Fay took a moment to assess her injuries and catch her breath.
“Goddammit, New Albion is going to burn, and it is all because of me, she had trouble seeing through the fog. Where is my angel, Byron?” Fay, bloodied but unyielding, steeled herself for the challenges that lay ahead as she continued her perilous journey through the city in turmoil. She came close to the wall and found Annabel in an alleyway, laying near a trash can. She picked her up, she had been heavily damaged, “Annabel?”
Annabel creaked and smiled at her, “Hey, how are you, doing? I’m not so good, where is Silof, I got separated from him nearby where you would escape. Where is Byron?”
“I am not doing too well, this all sparked out of control.” In the dimly lit alleyway, Fay’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she sought refuge from the chaos that engulfed New Albion, she really needed a moment. The echoes of distant riots and the ominous alliance between the military and the enraged mob lingered in the air. Fay’s eyes darted around, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger, her senses heightened by the urgency of her mission.
Suddenly, the narrow passage was flooded with harsh light as a group of military personnel closed in on Fay. Their faces obscured by stern expressions and the shadows of their uniforms, they aimed their weapons at her, a collective determination to eliminate anyone associated with the dolls evident in their gaze.
Fay, trapped in the alleyway, felt the walls closing in around her. Her eyes flickered toward Annabel, the mechanical doll cradled in her arms, and a surge of desperation washed over her. The military group tightened their formation, ready to execute their orders. Fay took a deep breath, and got ready for her end.
In that tense moment, Annabel stirred, “I am sorry Fay, you need to go on for me.” Fay’s gaze shifted to Annabel, a mix of confusion and hope crossing her face. Suddenly, Annabel emitted a burst of otherworldly power, an energy that rippled through the alleyway like a shockwave. The military personnel were caught off guard by this unexpected force, were thrown back with a combination of surprise and disbelief as they got launched away. Annabel seemed to have vanished into thin air.
As the soldiers recoiled from the burst of power, Fay seized the opportunity to escape. She darted into the streets, leaving the incapacitated military personnel behind. The chaos of New Albion’s unrest now mirrored the turmoil within Fay as she raced toward the location where Byron was probably dead.
The streets echoed with the distant sounds of rioting and destruction, but Fay’s singular focus remained on the mission ahead. The fleeting encounter in the alleyway, with Annabel’s sacrifice and the unleashing of her power in the back of her head, she moved on. With each step, Fay pushed forward, driven by a determination to alter the tragic course that awaited Byron and the Voodoopunks in the heart of the chaos.
When she found the spot, she saw blood everywhere, military personnel lay dead, some Voodoopunks, a bonfire made of dolls, but Byron was nowhere to be seen. “Byron? My angel?”
Byron called out from the rooftops, “Mom?”
She looked up, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, barely, how are you holding up?”
She climbed to the rooftops, “I am not doing so well, Silof will have secured an exit by now, we have to go, now!”
“But, Annabel, Jasper.”
“Annabel is dead, Jasper is safe, if we don’t go now, we will be dead soon. You can tell me later how you survived.”
“The dollies saved me, the fog made them attack the military.”
Fay was confused, she had no idea what he was talking about. “Not, now, let’s go!”
In the chaos ridden streets of New Albion, Fay and Byron pressed on through the turmoil, their movements fueled by a shared urgency to reach Silof. The distant echoes of rioting and destruction reverberated around them as they navigated the labyrinthine alleys, a city consumed by fear and rebellion.
As they hurried through the maze of narrow streets, the ominous silhouette of the protective wall loomed in the distance. However, their path was fraught with peril as the military, determined to eradicate any resistance, closed in on them. The rioters, driven by a frenzied alliance with the military, added to the relentless pursuit.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the surrounding, sending debris flying and trapping Fay and Byron in a makeshift barricade where people had been killed, Voodoopunks. The acrid scent of smoke hung in the air as they found themselves surrounded by both rioters and military personnel as they got up, their escape routes cut off.
With the odds stacked against them, Fay and Byron stood back to back, ready to face the converging threat. The rioters, driven by a mix of fear and hatred, raised makeshift weapons, while the military, resolute in their mission, aimed their firearms at the defiant duo.
The clash erupted in a chaotic symphony of violence. Byron, with his agility and combat prowess, engaged the rioters with calculated strikes, while Fay could feel something brewing inside here, a power that Annabel left her, just for this moment. She knew it was a one time thing, but it was now or never. She channeled Annabel’s powers and determination, incapacitating military personnel with bursts of energy. Together, they fought off the encroaching forces, the narrow alleyway becoming a battleground between opposing factions. Byron grunted, “Where did you learn that, mom?”
Fay did not answer, she and Byron, fueled by a shared resolve, managed to break free from the encirclement, leaving behind a mix of dead rioters and military personnel. Both Fay and Byron bleeding and injured, they slowly made their way to the wall. Fay stumbled and Byron kept her upright, “We are almost there!”
She smiled, “Thanks, Annabel granted me that as a farewell gift, let’s not get caught again, that was all the power she left me.”
Byron nodded, understanding that Annabel foresaw them getting trapped and did this to save them. As they got to the wall, Silof lay there, near the exit. Fay rushed over, “Silof?”
She kneeled beside him, “No, no, no,” she looked at the dead commander near him. “Oh my god, you did secure the exit, with your life.” She started to cry, “I love you, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, we were finally free.”
Byron saw the rioters pursuing them, they really wanted a piece of the family who made the dead live in New Albion. “Mom, I am sad too, we lost countless good friends, but we need to leave his body, now, or we will join him.” He dragged her through the secret hole to leave New Albion.