Writing Prompt: “He cackled maniacally but found himself plummeting into darkness”

Jeanne found Irene running maintenance scans on her battlesuit.

“Something wrong with Hellena?” Jeanne asked curiously, taking Irene’s dataslate and flicking through the various screens with a practiced finger.

“I always run a manual scan whenever Evelína is around her.” Irene mock-accused.

“I’m pretty sure that Evelína is just being friendly.” Jeanne remarked somewhat defensively.

“Cogitator viruses and logical paradoxes are hardly what I’d consider ‘friendly’.” Irene replied, shooting a sour gaze at Jeanne.

Jeanne sighed. Evelína had been through a lot in the past solar year. System degradation from radiation that had only been resolved by installing a second Seed, which in turn had triggered rapid and unchecked metastasis throughout Jeanne’s own body. That had been corrected somehow through their encounter with those that followed the Lunar Princess.

Evelína had taken a hard burst of electromagnetic rads from a plasma weapon that had been given to terrorists by Jeanne’s own Abbess, plus the resultant fight and civil war that immediately followed.

“Evelína’s been through a lot.” Jeanne offered tiredly. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her.”

Irene rolled her eyes at Jeanne. “I can forgive her for your sake. Try to keep her in line, for my sake.” She rebutted.

Jeanne examined the screens from the dataslate. The battlesuits were biomechanical in origin, a purely mechanical frame that was bonded to a symbiote that was derived from the original Plant technology that had been given to them by the Lunar Princess. The Seed was a combination of organic computer core and reactor, slotted into the mechanical shell and managed by the pilot.

Evelína was unique in that she had two Seeds because Jeanne couldn’t stand to witness Evelína’s death.

“Maybe this is her idea of courtship?” Jeanne asked.

Irene scoffed. “If that were the case, she’d be more interested in Abigail's Nike. That one seems to enjoy Evelína’s... pranks.”

Jeanne sighed again, and changed the subject. “What’s your mission?”

“Hive crawl today.” Irene muttered irritably. “I wanted to accompany you to Al-Cestus.”

Jeanne shrugged. “No rest for the wicked.” She replied simply.

“You really should have a second with you.” Irene insisted. “Al-Cestus is a wretched hive of scum and villainy.”

“So is Al-Omeg.” Jeanne pointed out. “Keep an eye out for Alicia and Clarice’s factions. I don’t need to remind you that they’re still at large.”

Irene nodded. “Beth is especially dangerous.” Irene agreed. “She has a plasma generator.”

“There is nobody more dangerous to a Terminatrix than another Terminatrix.” Jeanne agreed, switching to hive-slang for how the city referred to the Holy Knights of the Lunar Temple.

“That was true until the Cult of the Worm showed up.” Irene replied in dolorous tones.

Jeanne handed Irene the dataslate back and left with a wave, followed closely on her heels by Evelína.

Jeanne stepped into Abbess Abigail’s office, waving her own dataslate.

“I don’t think Irene should do a Hive Crawl alone.” She began simply enough, “given our current situation.”

Abigail, a scarred veteran recently pulled from retirement, grimaced at Jeanne, a mesh collar of metal and blinking electrodes wrapped around her throat.

“She won’t.” Abagail grated from her artificial throat, a gift from a battle long forgotten. “You’re to tail her.”

Jeanne frowned. “Tail her? I don’t understand.”

Abigail spread her hands. “I’m expected to trust anyone?” She grated. “I’ve locked out the suit codes of those I know shouldn’t be here, so at least they can’t gain access to the Cathedral and its resources, but do I really think we’re safe?” She asked drily.

“And me?” Jeanne asked.

Abigail held her thumb and forefinger a short distance apart. “This much.”

“Thanks. I think.” Jeanne replied.

“Your mission to Al-Cestus is, surprise, surprise, scheduled for tomorrow. But for today, you’re to surveil Irene. I don’t want to send you out into the Crud to Al-Cestus with a young Knight that I don’t know, that I can’t trust.” Abigail explained.

Jeanne nodded.

“Keep a lookout for former Knight Beth.” Abigail urged. “According to the records, she received a plasma generator and the codes for a plasma ordinance package from Cheryl herself just before everything went to shit.”

Jeanne nodded.

Abigail made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Go on, get out of here.” she urged.

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Jeanne nodded and moved towards Evelina, who opened up for her.

“Oh, Evelína: Nike is interested in- well, that thing you Smirtka do.” Jeanne gave Abigail a confused look, but climbed into her biomechanical powered armor.

“Welcome, Knight Jeanne.” Evelína murmured in Jeanne’s ear.

“‘That thing that Smirtka do’?” Jeanne asked.

Evelína laughed in Jeanne’s ear. “Nikke wants to try and make a Seed between us.”

“...huh.” Jeanne replied doubtfully.

The battlesuit walked the two of them through the massive Cathedral, reliefs of former Knights and Paladins etched into the concrete walls.

“We’re Plants, after all.” Evelína explained. “We can reproduce, though it’s not at all like what you humans do.” She paused. “Speaking of which, when will you reproduce?”

Jeanne sighed as she queued up Evelína’s stealth package.

“I don’t much like surveilling Irene.” Evelína murmured in Jeanne’s ear as they anchored themselves to a hab-wall. “She’s loyal to you.”

“Doesn’t matter to Abigail.” Jeanne replied. “Besides, I was loyal to Cheryl until she revealed herself a traitor. Make sure Irene doesn’t leave your scans.”

Evelína hummed in Jeanne’s ear as Irene appeared on her screen.

There was some chatter between Hellena and Irene as they scanned the countless throngs of people that moved through the Hive City, though Hellena lacked most of the personality that Evelína displayed.

“Seems like Hellena is more... mechanical.” Jeanne muttered to herself as she queued up a nutrient drink.

“She has all the capabilities that I do, and yet she’s so... limited.” Evelína agreed sulkily. “She doesn’t even seem to like music!”

“Is that why you’re always picking on her?” Jeanne mused, scanning Irene’s surroundings. Irene didn’t have the comprehensive stealth package that Jeanne had, so she was sticking to the shadows.

“Our Personality Helix evolves alongside our users.” Evelína replied. “Hellena should be so much more than what she is.”

“Let her do her thing.” Jeanne replied.

“Proximity alert.” Evelína chirped, pointing out an older man in simple clothes that carefully picked his way along the ledge nearby. If he kept moving along the ledge, he’d run into Evelína and potentially fall to his death.

“She should be here.” He muttered, Evelína’s mics picking up his confusion.

Jeanne checked her stealth systems; there should be no way he’d know she was here.

“Should we move?” Jeanne muttered, and then froze in panic as a Smirtka battlesuit revealed itself right next to her.

“Shit!” Jeanne managed to gasp.

“Markings indicate Smirtka Priscilla- pilot is Beth.” Evelína reported.

“Plasma-” Jeanne blurted, but Evelína cut her off.

“At this range, plasma would-”

“Shit!” Jeanne swore again. “How did she-”

“Sorry, Jeanne. I was focused on Irene. I wasn’t aware of her appearance.” Evelína bounced back at her.

“Strategy?” Jeanne begged.

Evelína deployed a thirty-six inch blade from one of her hands.

“We are being locked on by Irene.” Evelína immediately called in a high panic.

“She shouldn’t be able to see us!” Jeanne yelled.

“Don’t think I don’t know that!” Evelína shouted back.

Outside, the man in plain clothes was talking to Beth.

“I couldn’t get into the datavaults like you asked. They got the Cathedral locked down tighter’n a Knight’s thighs in nuclear winter.” He called, and cackled at his joke. Beth swatted him off the ledge with a bladed fist and he plummeted into darkness, his maniacal laugh cut short.

Jeanne moved then, blade seeking the vulnerable join between armor plates. As her blade punched home, Irene’s heavy penetrator round slammed into Beth’s suit.

“Moderate damage; nonlethal.” Evelína reported.

“Plasma lance!” Jeanne shouted as Beth fired Priscilla’s jets.

“At this range-”

“Let her get some distance!” Jeanne frantically shouted.

Irene’s followup shot slammed into Beth’s suit, slamming Beth into Jeanne.

“Cogitator virus!” Jeanne shouted as she drove her blade into Beth’s side again, probing for a weak point.

“Priscilla is not accepting network traffic.” Evelína complained.

“Use the emergency band!” Jeanne shouted as she stabbed the other battlesuit repeatedly.

“Cogitator virus upload in progress.” Evelína called as Irene’s third shot slammed into the wall between Jeanne and Beth.

“Fucking die!” Jeanne screamed as she stabbed at Beth again.

“Moderate damage.” Evelína reported again. “Priscilla is occupied with the cogitator virus.”

“Kill her, Evelína!” Jeanne shouted, her adrenaline high.

Irene fired again, and the round smashed into the armor plates on Beth’s battlesuit.

“Moderate damage.” Evelína reported again. “It is possible that Beth may be suffering trauma.”

Smirtka battlesuits were not designed for combat between each other. Jeanne’s weapon package included small arms weapons for soft targets, as well as Custodian-class weaponry for armored targets. However, those weapons, like her plasma ordinance, were designed to be fired at range, something she didn’t have with Beth.

“Transmitting telemetry and firing solution data to Hellena.” Evelína reported, even as Jeanne thrust with her knives again, seeking vulnerabilities in the armor plating.

“Incoming radio from Beth.” Evelína reported.

“Put her through.” Jeanne muttered grimly as she dug with her knives.

“Jeanne, right?” Beth came through on the speakers. “You’re... an idiot.”

“And you’re a traitor.” Jeanne replied.

Beth cursed as another round slammed into her battlesuit, courtesy of Irene.

“Severe damage to all systems.” Priscilla announced.

“Just let me go.” Beth urged.

“Oh, feel free to leave at any time.” Jeanne encouraged with a ragged laugh. “I have a plasma lance charged and ready. You’ll become a new sun for the people of Al-Omeg.” She punctuated this declaration with another punch of her bladed fist.

“You’re a real bitch.” Beth croaked.

“Warning, life signs critical. Deploying adrenaline.” Priscilla’s voice came across the comms.

Irene’s next shot caught Beth’s battlesuit in the midsection, which wasn’t nearly as armored as the chestplates.

“Former Knight Beth’s life signs have disappeared. Smirtka Priscilla, you are required by the Crowley Protocol to return to the Cathedral.” Evelína and Hellena commanded in chorus.

“I thought you were supposed to be going to Al-Cestus?” Irene asked Jeanne, who was trying to catch her breath.