Match 24
#24 Nimia “The Serpent” Altamirano (+ Crew)
Vs.
#23 Giselle “Diamondback” Summerton (+ Extras)
Inventory
Darling - A mystical saber imbued with the powers of fire and ice; Fire LV 2, Ice LV 1
Death & Debt - Two .44 Semi-Automatic Magnums, formerly named Sonya & Cleon; imbued with fiery bullets.
Lucky - A .357 Seven-Chambered Magnum Revolver with a ♣ symbol printed on the handle; [Passive Effect: Luck+; Active Effect: Bullets are more likely to hit targets, even by ricocheting
Nimia’s phone - For contacting people.
Paradise burned under a rainy sky.
The downpour landed hard and heavy, drenching the tropical land under a great storm, running rivers of red to mix into the sea.
“Huh. Four towers. That’s convenient,” Nimia noted as she swiped a torn off shirt across the blade of her darling. The rain made it a little trickier to deal with the ivories, regenerating assholes that they were, but carving them into tiny bits did seem to work just fine.
Mills nodded in agreement, staring up at the towers through the visor of his new helmet. “Yeah, really convenient...you don’t think–”
“They didn’t set up these towers right before we got here, they’ve definitely been up for a while,” Shelly replied, annoyance audible in her voice, “...these have to be dry inside, right?”
“I’d assume so,” Wright replied, dropping the brutalized guard he held in one hand, “I doubt these people are the type to let the rain in.”
“Is that some kind of problem for you?” Nimia asked, “You’re not going to melt if you get in too much water, right?”
“No, not at all. Water just makes my papers too wet, I can’t maintain the form properly. It’s less like it kills me, more like it makes me stick together.”
“Huh. Weird. So if you transformed out here, in the rain-”
“Ma’am,” Wright interrupted, “I think you have a slaver to kill.”
“Not quite. We’ve got a lot of slavers to kill.”
No one disagreed. All four of them–Nimia and the former agents–wore the same type of cybernetic armor, purchased at Nimia’s expense for the sake of protecting her new allies. While Nimia herself still had her green set, Wright had a yellow suit, Mills had gray, and Shelly wore white; better to differentiate them and fit the vague idea of style in Nimia’s head.
“Right, I get tallest tower,” Nimia stated, already walking towards her intended destination, “The rest of you can decide which ones you want, though don’t complain to me if you get a dud.”
The trio looked amongst each other, then, as one, promptly went for rock-paper-scissors to decide their next move. And soon enough, each member of Nimia’s team had a skyscraper they were walking inside, ready to face whatever may come.
Which, for Nimia, was an immediate hail of gunfire from mounted turrets and more white-masked mooks with assault rifles and even rocket launchers. Not that they managed to hit her with any of those before she was right in their midst, splitting arms at the elbows and heads from their necks. Out came Sonya and Cleon–she still preferred calling them that over the fancy names on the sides–and down went the turrets, burning and collapsing as the grinning killer walked for the elevator, just in time for the doors to blow to pieces.
“...huh.” She flicked the blood from her blade and glanced to the only other route up. “...guess I’m taking the stairs.”
And so she did. To an extent. Running up multiple flights of stairs was a pain in the ass even with robot legs, but Nimia was pretty damn sure she hadn’t actually reached the top of the skyscraper when she reached the top of the staircase.
Though the view definitely could’ve fooled her as she stepped through the door into a bright, sunny boardroom. Light streamed in through the windows, and a look outside showed an unmarred Paradise, gorgeous under the summer sun, even though Nimia could still see the rainwater dripping off her armor.
“Huh. Either I stepped into an alternate timeline, or you guys really want your view of the world to stay the same,” Nimia said as she turned to look at the eight men filling nine chairs all around a long table, “Y’know, I’m pretty sure the big chair is meant for the big boss. So unless you’re the asshole I’m here to kill, I don’t think that’s your seat, pal.”
The man sitting in the big, leather chair at the head of the table regarded her with cold eyes. Not that she could see them all that well, on account of the flat, white mask the man wore. Same as every other man at the table; they all wore white masks and blue, pinstripe suits, though each man had a different letter printed on his forehead.
Mr. A spoke up as he leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, “Madam Summerton will forgive me. I am her honored subordinate and supporter, after all.”
“See, I kinda doubt that. We’re talking about the same woman who decided to send her top guy to kill the top gals of an even higher ranked guy out of, what, a petty slight?”
“It was more than a mere slight,” Mr. B argued, “Thoughtless little girls should know to keep their mouths shut.”
“Oh yeah, sure, I’ll listen to the creep in a mask talking about little girls, that’s totally a great idea on my part. So are you her fanclub or something?”
“We are representatives,” Mr. C said, “Associates who speak for the shareholders of this great company.”
“We are the board,” Mr. D continued, “We handle the important matters our superior chooses to delegate to us.”
“Fantastic, you’re complicit,” Nimia replied. “Also, so if you’re the board, she’s the CEO, right? Doesn’t that make you guys technically her bosses or something? Shouldn’t you fire her for fucking up your big slaving operation?”
“You misunderstand our relationship,” Mr. E said. “Madam Summerton is our superior. We could no more remove her than we could the sun in the sky.”
“And if we tried, she would beat us to death on the spot,” Mr. F continued.
“Huh. Nice to know. I’m sure the perks you get for being slaveholders make up for the threats, yeah?” Nimia chuckled, loosening her shoulders as she looked over the faceless men, already positive that these eight weren’t the real stars of the show, even in this opening act, “Well, before we get going here, do you ‘gentlemen’ happen to know where a boat called the Augrin might be parked? It belongs to me, and I’d like it back.”
“It’s just beyond these towers, parked in the harbor,” Mr. G explained, “You can’t miss it.”
Nimia nodded, smiling at the building reek of ozone. Not the masked men could see through her helmet. “That’s very helpful. Thanks, you pieces of shit.”
Mr. H smiled. Not that the helmeted woman could see through his mask. “You’re welcome. It’s no trouble answering a dead woman’s questions.”
Nimia leapt just as the men started to rise, all of them drawing various guns while she sprinted across the long table, pulling her own Sonya & Cleon and raising them to fire when she had to jump back as a yellow bird-man slammed straight down onto the table in front of her and immediately went in to try to beat her down. He had some good moves too, real fast strikes that sent his fists crackling with electricity as she bobbed and weaved then bent back low as the board members fired. She twisted and slammed her foot into Birdy’s chest, sending him flying back as she rolled and started firing, blowing out Mr. H and Mr. G’s brains in a spray of charred gore before bringing her guns up and firing at Birdy, who jerked backward from the impacts of the shots on the bright yellow forceshield going over his body.
She spared a quick look over him as she kept up with firing, taking in his appearance as quick as she could: basically, Birdy was a lean man, his muscles showing tight and taut through a golden bodysuit he wore, lined with only a few pieces of ballistics armor at his chest, shoulders, elbows and knees. Good for protection and all that. A golden eagle mask–made of some type of gilded steel and engraved with lightning bolts–covered his head completely. On his right pec, he had a name written–“ZEUS”–but Birdy sounded better in her head so she was just going with that.
Seemed fitting, especially since his arms and legs abruptly burst with golden feathers–not literally exploded in the gory sense, but in the sense that they were covered in feathers like some sort of arm/leg-guards–and then he shot straight forward and she just barely managed to twist around him and his thrusting palm that boomed with thunder–fucker was fast, she’d give him that–right in time for the remaining board members to try shooting her again, which was awful rude of them. So she shot two more in the head–E and F–and kept on firing as she sprinted across the table and dropkicked Mr. A straight in the face.
The crunch of ceramic beneath her feet was damn satisfying, though only a brief electric charge in the air gave her enough warning to springboard off of him and flip over a bolt that blasted his head into paste while she fired–while still upside down for style–and popped another two domes.
Which, funny enough, actually left one over, which happened to be Mr. B with a shotgun, trying to aim for her own head as she rolled back into a crouch. Not that he managed to use it with the sudden rush of electricity that went straight through the whole room, cooking the poor bastard on the spot and sending sudden warning signs flashing in the visor of Nimia’s helmet.
Not enough to block her vision, but definitely enough to get across that she was in an area with a lethal amount of voltage in the air and even her insulated suit was starting to have issues with it–
Then Birdy moved in close and slammed a palm against her chest, sending a surge of electricity through it again as she rolled with the blow, landing back on her feet and hopping in place a few times to shake out the rush going through her. Not the electricity, that hadn’t managed to hit her yet, but she was starting to get into this, which was why she dismissed her guns–good thing the shock hadn’t busted them up at all–and settled back into a stance.
Beneath her flashing helmet, she had an utterly savage grin. “Careful, bird-boy. Shock a girl’s heart too much, and she might want to take you home with her.”
Birdy tilted his head, staring, then blurred into motion, twisting into a kick that she blocked with a forearm and he went down hard as she smashed her free fist straight into his face, before jumping back as the warning signs flashed again and he twisted up to his feet, his legs a blur as he spun.
“Cheeky~. Though I guess electrifying would be a better word?” She smirked and he moved again, the air thrumming with electric power as he rushed in close, moving faster and faster with a whole lot of flourishes and twirls, spinning for kicks and backhands and even some decent elbows while flooding the room with so much electricity that Nimia’s suit was actually starting to smoke.
Same went for the twitching bodies too, which were outright cooking by now, and since Nimia really didn’t feel like roasting alive, she caught his next kick under her arm, snapped it at the knee, and threw him straight across the table. He rolled too, though he didn’t get to his feet quite as well. Probably because his knee was bent the wrong way–She paused, staring as he snapped it back into place, standing with only the slightest twitch and no sign of pain.
“Hm. Alright, you’re good, I’ll give you that. And I’m a little curious if you’re actually working for the slavers here willingly.”
She honestly didn’t expect an immediate, affirmative nod.
“...Really? That...why though?”
He shrugged, then pointed at one of the smoking corpses.
“...Same reasons? Money, power, getting a nice pat on the head from an immortal murderer?”
Another nod.
“And this is all fine for you? You’re doing this completely willingly?”
His nod was almost cheerful.
“...See, I was going to ask if you wanted a change of work, but now I think I’ll just kill you too.”
He shook his head, then wagged a finger as though chiding her. Then he blurred straight into motion again, the electricity crackling off his body going a bright blue as the feathers on his arms and legs spiraled and the fingers of his hands sharpened like talons, tearing a good chunk of her suit off as he passed. The next pass smashed through more steel and circuitry and he kept on going, sparking all across the boardroom, bouncing off the walls and windows without breaking a thing but tearing off more and more metal with every pass, shredding the suit Nimia wore down further and further–
Then in one swift motion, she lifted her foot and slammed it straight down on his head, smashing him straight through the table, the floor below, and several floors below that, crashing down further and further until there was a distant crash.
Nimia, meanwhile, hopped off the wreckage as golden feathers rained down around her. She let out a huff and dismissed her fully broken suit entirely, leaving her in the regular clothes she wore under it. For the moment, that meant she had on a tank top, sports bra, cargo pants, gloves, and boots. Which did show off how the scales on her arm had spread past her elbow, still steadily progressing upward.
“Right, don’t play around just because they look neat,” she muttered to herself, heading to the opposite door and...finding another set of stairs on the other side. Because right, of course.
At least the next important floor she wound up on was nicer looking. Well, to a degree.
The pool was nice at least, taking up most of the room and shimmering with blue water under the bright lights up above. There was a diving board, a bunch of pool chairs, plenty of places to relax and unwind, which seemed to be what the next jackass in her way on the way up was up to.
“Y’know, you could afford to actually get ready for me,” Nimia complained to the man across the pool, letting her voice carry as she eyed him, “I feel like I’m breaking kayfabe here, blue boy.”
The man across the pool might’ve glanced at her. It was hard to tell through the tight blindfold wrapped tight around his eyes. The rest of his head was bare and bald, and she could see the surgical scars that bordered patches of mottled blue skin. She wondered what the hell was the point of the stitches at his cheeks as he took a deep sip through a curly straw in a fruity drink, then decided she had better things to focus on. The same could be said for him too, as he kept his free hand on the ass of a woman laying on his chest.
Blue boy had an entourage of bikini-clad ladies lounging around the pool and bringing him drinks, all identical aside from two or three who looked exotic in the sense of “blatantly not natural humans”. Even then, from what she could see of their general face and body structures, they seemed to be altered forms of the base gals, just with the additions of brighter colors, altered hair, and stripes.
All shown off with the aid of outfits made of triangles and strings, more like leaves over their privates than anything covering, while Blue wore the same type of suit as Birdy, yet somehow even tighter and showing off even more. His was a bluish color instead though–teal, probably?–and while she couldn’t see the name on his chest yet, she was pretty sure it was there.
And lo and behold, she was right, and she got to see it easily once Blue shoved the woman in his lap off and stood while she shook off the fall and stood before bowing in apology to the prick. He didn’t pay her any mind as he finished his drink and threw it at one of the waitresses, only to pause as a bullet shot it out of the air.
“Clear out.”
Blue stared at Nimia, same as all the girls. His covered eyes were on hers. Their eyes were on the smoking revolver in her hand.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“The stairs are still open. Clear out, now. Ask for Shelly, Mills, or Wright once you get out. Take any raincoats around, it’s pouring outside.”
One woman almost moved. She shifted forward, then her eyes flicked to Blue when another bullet went into the ceiling, drawing all eyes back to Nimia.
“Clear out.”
And the room cleared. The whole time, the blue man didn’t move, still staring. The name on his chest read “POSEIDON”, and Nimia didn’t give a shit. If he’d tried to move, if he tried to hurt any of the slaves as they left, she wouldn’t have played around. No chances, no practice, no fight, just a man shot to death at the poolside.
He shook his head, chiding her for missing her opportunity, for throwing away a shot in favor of a fight, and, most of all, for showing any compassion in her line of work. She was a fool, and he would show her that as he flicked a hand and donned his helm.
“...Is that a fucking horse??”
It was.
Horseman had formed a metal mask over his head, much like Birdy’s, but while Birdy’s was a golden bird, Horseman’s was a bluish horse head engraved with waves, with the muzzle lowered down over his chin. He didn’t answer her question though, instead stalking onto the water of the pool, standing atop it without the slightest hint of plunging in.
“Change back. That’s the worst thing I’ve seen today.”
He said nothing in reply, merely raising his hands out in front of him, as though drawing the strings of a puppet upwards as the water level rose and spread outside the pool, rising up to Nimia’s knees in seconds as he sunk beneath the water.
“...Well great, now my boots are soaked.”
It was quiet. The simple noise of settled water, the dim drone of lights overhead; these were the only sounds Nimia could hear in the flooded room, so the sudden eruption of water behind her had her moving and firing as a harpoon shot straight past her head, a boom of force echoing before the room settled into quiet again.
Her bullet left a dent in the wall, but it didn’t break through.
The next splash saw her turn and dodge again, moving and firing as Horseman moved quick through the water, leaping and descending faster than she could hit, and while bullet dodging wasn’t unexpected, it was still annoying. Or maybe she did hit him, and he just had a way around it…
Either way, she dismissed Lucky for her Darling, letting its burning tip rest just above the water. The next time he leapt, she moved, ducking under a harpoon and swinging, just missing as he went down before she turned as he charged, thrusting with his spear as she cut through its shaft, nearly catching his face as he bent back and fell into the water again. The next splash came further away and she let it fly past, eyes scanning for his next position as she walked slowly through the water.
A chair suddenly flew at her and she had to wonder if he ran out of harpoons as she ducked it, looking to the other pool chairs before spinning to cut through a second, though she still had to duck to avoid the two pieces, and nope, he definitely didn’t run out of harpoons judging by the one that nearly speared through her side, just narrowly missing and cutting a thin line through her skin as she moved–
Then her foot missed the floor and she remembered the damned pool in the center of the room as she plunged beneath the surface, the sting of chlorine in her eyes making them close on reflex when she felt a pair of hands grab her throat, eager to squeeze the life from her beneath the deep blue waters.
And then Horseman had just enough time to realize he’d made a drastic mistake in getting this close to Nimia Altamirano when her hands clamped down hard enough to snap his forearms, her eyes opening in a fierce glare before she gripped his head in a hand that looked like a dragon’s claw and crushed.
The third floor on Nimia’s trip was a lot less wet than the previous one. Less bloody too, though that last part wasn’t...well, it was her fault, but she wasn’t the idiot that decided to fight in a pool. And hey, she got out before any blood soaked into her clothes, so that was a plus.
She still decided to leave her boots behind though. She honestly didn’t need them to begin with, what with the robot legs and, as a result of that, robot feet, but people could be weird about that kind of thing, so whatever. Point was, she probably wasn’t dressed nearly fancily enough for the lounge she walked into.
Though the funny thing was, even barefoot and soaking wet, she was probably the most fully dressed person in the room.
The attendants/waiters/slaves were all dressed the same, so in barely anything. Leather masks to cover their faces, thongs to cover their crotches, and bowties and cufflinks to act as collars and manacles. They worked all around the room, cleaning tables and the bar, sweeping the floor, and probably bending over more than was actually necessary for those tasks. A gilded statue in the center caught her eye, one of a nude woman wrapped in a snake, her hand gracefully outstretched in a sign of submissive desire to the apple in the serpent’s teeth.
Lilting music drew her eyes over to the piano and the broad back of one more man in a bodysuit. His suit was a dark purple, leaning towards black, but still with the same covers and armor that the others had. He was big, but he played the piano with ease, his fingers drifting across the keys as his melody echoed through the room.
A sharp clap drew eyes over to Nimia, aside from the big man. He kept playing. “Clear out.”
The slaves stared, not moving, when the big man ended his piece, stood, and turned to face her. He was broader and fatter than the previous two, though he looked unmistakably solid. His metal mask was of a dog’s head, engraved with violet flames. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, drawing eyes to him, then flicked it in a shooing motion.
The slaves left without any further hesitation, heading out as Nimia met the eyes of Hades, as marked by the name on his chest.
They both kept their eyes on each other as they moved towards the center of the room, stopping a good distance apart, under the eyes of the gaudy statue. Hades stared down at her, a good half-foot taller, then crouched, his hands on his knees as he lifted one leg and planted it down on the floor, shaking the room as lightning bolts flashed up his left arm and the growling, metal head of a golden hound formed beside his own. He repeated the motion with his right leg as waves flashed up his right arm, a matching, teal hound head forming on his right side.
Nimia’s lips quirked in a smirk before she dismissed her Darling and copied his motions. His stomps shook the room; hers cracked the floor.
The two eyed one another, waiting for an unspoken signal.
A voice crackled over the speakers–“JUST KILL THE DAMN BITCH ALREADY!”–and Nimia’s grin went wide and savage as she confirmed Summerton was “enjoying” the show. Either way, the match started in a burst of motion from both sides as they fully abandoned their game in favor of solid punches that smashed against each other’s cheeks in a spray of water and breaking metal.
Then the blows came faster and harder and Nimia couldn’t help but laugh at herself for trying to get in a fistfight with an electrokinetic while soaking wet. And yet, Hades didn’t take advantage of that; the punches he threw were burning hot, searing with a violet flame that sent steam rising. She almost wanted to joke that he was drying her off, but that would mean talking and she was pretty sure she’d bite her tongue off if she opened her mouth under this onslaught.
The first electrified punch only came when she was nearly dry, and it was one she actively dodged instead of taking, moving in and delivering a heavy blow to the solid hound, the impact actually making her wince and grin all the wider for it, particularly when he lashed out with a heavy kick that sent her skidding into a table. She flipped onto it, then jumped as he smashed it with an overhead swing, getting behind him and punching into his lower back before ducking another swing and punching again into that solid body.
She continued the motions, the movements, punching again and again into a solid wall with the full intent to smash it down when he burst into flames, sending her flinching on reflex and letting his fist smash straight into her face, sending her crashing and skidding across the room, through lounge chairs and couches and the great statue itself until she righted herself, her teeth bared in a massive smile and her face entirely unmarred by the flames as she brushed gold dust from her shoulder.
As she stood, he was already on her, fist crackling with lightning as she punched straight into it. Blood burst from her knuckles, warm and hot, but he stumbled back first as she slipped straight in and crashed her fist under his chin, tearing metal from his mask before a heavy palm sent her skidding back again.
His face was an extended muzzle beneath the mask. Calling it canine wasn’t wrong, per se, but it seemed inaccurate to how hellish it looked. The torn skin, the monstrously sharp teeth, and the utterly vicious smile he had all solidified that she was dealing with a true beast.
And yet, as the blood dripped from her knuckles, warm and hot and burning, she found she almost liked this one. “If only. You picked a bad choice of employers.”
He shrugged, chuckling in a rough, mangled voice and spreading his hands, as though asking what else he was supposed to do.
“Anything. Were you made for this?”
No.
“Were you changed against your will?”
No.
“So you chose to serve a slaver?”
Yes.
“Then that’s all there is.”
He nodded, all three heads moving in unison, then rushed forward in a whirl of fire, water, and raging lightning. And she met him with fire, her bloodstained hands enveloped as she crashed her fists against his own. And then she started moving in, still hitting, still delivering blow after blow, and instead of fists, she struck his chest. She wanted to break down the wall called Hades, she wanted to bring him to his knees, and as she struck harder and harder she saw him begin to buckle.
Blows to the body shook him further and further and blows to his heads smashed them against each other until the yellow one tried to snap down on her hand and she grabbed it instead, hopping and slamming her feet against his chest as she dug her hands under the head and tore it clean off in a spray of golden ichor.
He stumbled, genuine shock in his eyes as she came in, grabbed the blue one, and flipped over his back, wrenching it straight off too in a burst of silver. His lightning, his water, both vanished in an instant, and she pressed against his back, reaching and grasping around his belly before she lifted him straight up and crashing straight back in a solid suplex that slammed him straight into the floor.
Still, credit to Hades, he did try to shake it off, quite literally shaking his head to clear the pounding in his ears as he looked up just in time to catch a foot straight in the face as Nimia punted the massive man straight off the floor and through the nearest window, the engines of her legs scorching the floor as she followed all the way through.
He smashed straight through it, crashing into the open sky in a boom of thunder as the rain outside fell heavy and hard, now showing through the sunny facade the snake’s tower had enforced.
Nimia watched the rain, then shook out her fist, wincing slightly at the sting of torn knuckles. “...Well, if this was meant to wear me down...good attempt, honestly. Not good enough though.”
She had one more set of stairs to climb up, and as she did, the screens along the staircase flicked on.
“Congratulations! You’ve won! Well, not quite, but you’re almost there!” came the peppy voice of Bianca, the ivory counterpart to Nero, who beamed on all the tv screens, “You’ve won the right to face the queen! And isn’t that way more than most people ever get? Winning a right sure is a tricky thing to do, especially since so many people just won’t let you go for it, but hey, once you’ve got it, you really have only one more move to make!
“Kill whoever wants to tear you down. Both of you know that, and both of you accept that. Well, Nimmy accepts it. Gigi, doll, you’ve never been good at accepting things, which is pretty hilarious considering you accepted the lowest position of your bunch. Ah, what people will do for their imagined safety. It’s almost comical, you know? Actually, no, it’s super comical, so go ahead and laugh! It’s entertainment, after all!
“And oh boy do we have a show for you tonight! Sure, Nero might not be hosting, but I can make it up just fine, right? Right! And here we go, the long-awaited showdown between the Rising Star and the Slaver Queen! Snake versus Snake, a little slithery serpent who oughta stick to the grass up against a big predatory Diamondback! Are diamondbacks big and predatory? Not actually sure on that one, but if the metaphor works, good for me!
“Now be good girls and kill each other nice, kay~?”
The instant Nimia stepped through the door, she was moving, ducking gunshots from the woman in a fancy dress behind a big desk. She had the same style magnum revolver as Lucky–though the bullets themselves were making some pretty nasty explosions wherever they landed–so Nimia brought out her own in turn, earning a snarl from Giselle as she kept on firing, unmoving and unflinching as Nimia fired back.
The reason why became apparent soon enough as a shield crackled to life around her, sending the bullets plinking off no matter where they hit her from, while still letting Giselle keep up her gun fire long past the point that she should’ve run out of bullets. Made sense her revolver would have extra properties too, but it was still a little annoying. The cylinder wasn’t even moving, so there was definitely something fancy–
Giselle flicked up her free hand–which had a remote in it so it wasn’t all that free–and clicked some buttons, which led to Nimia quickly realizing that she shouldn’t have wasted her lucky bullets on dominance displays and shooting a shielded lady because those were turrets. Laser turrets too, not just the regular bullet kind.
Sure, she still had Sonya & Cleon, so shooting back at them wasn’t too bad, especially since the fiery bullets could sear straight through metal, but Giselle was still trying to blow her up and then came out the laser grids which she seriously wasn’t expecting.
Pillars popping up from the floor and spinning around with big, sharp beams of burning light weren’t exactly what she expected in this big fancy office, but then again Giselle clearly wanted her dead so springing for many defenses was just smart. Then she noticed Giselle flick the chamber of her revolver twice, and the next shots that came were a lot less explody and a lot more icy, actually almost catching her leg as she leaped up on top of one of the laser pillars. Still wasn’t a great idea though, considering even more turrets were popping up, but Nimia dismissed her guns and clapped her hands together, grinning confidently nonetheless.
“Nice set-up! But you forgot one thing!”
“Shut the fuck up and die you half-breed fuck!” Giselle snarled back, apparently unwilling to play along as she kept shooting at Nimia, now with acidy bullets that were honestly far more appropriate than the murderous slaver could’ve realized.
“Aw, that’s hurtful. Anyways, it’s the fact that I was owed a helicopter,” Nimia explained as she jumped from pillar to pillar, keeping her balance easy as Giselle’s defences started destroying Giselle’s defences. And while Nimia herself brought her phone out of her inventory and sent a signal she’d been hoping she wouldn’t actually need. Mostly because she preferred to do things solo, but hey, needs must. “Also that I had three allies going around and smashing up your shit, but the attack helicopter part is the most immediately relevant.”
“Wha-”
The explosions of several missiles slamming straight into her skyscraper cut her off, sending showers of glass and burning metal into the room as the entire upper floor of her tower was absolutely annihilated by a certain Greenie kept on the sidelines for support. Though Nimia did pause for a second as a sudden concern that the other people she actually wanted to get out of this alive hadn’t managed to get out of the skyscraper in time, so she put her phone to her ear as things crumbled around her, waiting atop one pillar in the storm of debris.
“Hello, this is Luigi’s Flying Pizzeria, bringing deliveries to your doorstep,” Greenie’s voice came through the phone, albeit with a slight interference from the literal building falling down, “How can I help you?”
“Hey Greenie, do you see a bunch of people outside the skyscraper you just shot up?”
“Eh? Uh...hey Lou, do you see-Put on your headset, we’re in a damn helicopter, it’s loud as fuck!” There was some audible motion. “Good, now do you see a bunch of nobodies running around down at the bottom? Yeah, okay, Lou says he seems people over by the other buildings? Bunch of streakers or something, taking cover away from this shitshow. Want me to deal with them?”
“Nah, they’re not a problem to any of us. Civilians, if you know what that word means.”
“Hey, I know! I’ll have you know that I haven’t committed anything that might even be remotely considered a war crime against any civilian!”
“...Your reassurance doesn’t reassure me, and neither does your wording–” Nimia leaned to the side, moving her phone so it didn’t get caught by the bullet that went shooting past her head, then brought it back close. “I’ll call you back, gotta finish my fight.”
“You got it. Have fun, boss!”
Nimia nodded, then gave a wave to the helicopter drifting away from the building and hopped down from the sparking pedestal she’d waited on, smirking towards the slaver glaring with a pure hatred back at her. “Sup.”
“You fucking–You degenerate fucking FREAK!” Giselle snarled back, her hair soaked and clinging over her face as the rain poured down, “You insane bitch! Do you think–What the fuck were you thinking?!”
“I was thinking a fight on a roof in the rain would be rad, honestly,” Nimia explained, looking around the skyscraper’s new roof. Every trap and trick was cleared away, the walls torn down and the rain falling freely over both of them on a flat battlefield. Well, mostly flat. There were still sparking pillars standing, acting as a sort of break up to the surroundings, though they would be pretty shit for any kind of cover. “It’s sort of a classic, right? Course, I think dudes usually do this type of thing shirtless, so we’re kind of messing with the formula there? But hey, I prefer keeping my girls contained while cutting down people who think they’re better than me, and you can’t exactly do that without losing a whole lot more clothing there, so I think we can go for this set-up, right?”
“...I’m going to skin you. I’m going to rip the fucking skin off your shitty body and make FUCKING BOOTS FROM YOUR SCALES! YOU’RE DEAD, YOU FUCKING TOAD!”
“Damn, you’re a mean one.” Nimia flicked her hand out, bringing back her Darling, and grinned, the steel gleaming along with her teeth as thunder boomed in the distance. “But that’s fine. I’m a fan of mean ladies. I just can’t stand inhuman shits like you.”
She was in close to Giselle as the next shot went straight past her temple, cutting out and nearly taking off her hand as the slaver twisted around a pillar, firing again and moving with a speed that almost impressed Nimia. Almost. She was more annoyed because Giselle really was using the pillars for cover, moving between them and firing each chance she got with more exotic bullets, now electric and making Nimia’s hair stand on end even as they whizzed past, the shock drawing towards her steel.
So she started cutting through the pillars, splitting them in half as Giselle flinched back, snarling and shooting, and it was becoming very clear that for all her grand towers, expensive defences, and handy connections, Summerton had grown lazy in her den, and her fangs were dull.
While Nimia’s were very, very sharp.
In a flash of lightning, Giselle vanished, disappearing as Nimia chased her.
And in a flash of steel, Nimia stabbed straight through the pillar the slaver hid behind and pierced through her chest in a spray of blood and a scream of pain.
She still moved though, shoving away from the blade and turning, aiming and losing her hand in another swing of steel, her gun flipping up into the air and landing in an outstretched hand as Giselle was shot straight through the chest, sending her skidding back, hacking up more blood and glaring furiously at Nimia.
“D-D-D-Don’t-D-Don’t y-y-you f-f-fucking d-dare...l-l-look a-at m-me like that...y-y-you...Y-YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?!”
“Yeah. Because I’m not a slaver.” And Nimia shot her straight through the head.
24 -> 23
And that was that.
The skies didn’t clear. There was no shining sun to herald the end of horrors, no sunrise to call forth a new dawn. The rain still fell, heavy and hard and, in a way, cleaning.
The shot echoed, because of course it did. Even in the rain, the sound of a gunshot is loud, and people take notice.
Paradiso was finished. The Queen was dead, the slaves were freed, and the heroic agents gathered up all the evidence, contacts, and monetary information needed to rip apart the structure of the evil organization. So and so, the day was saved, and things were completely and utterly fine.
For today, at least.
Giselle’s body didn’t fall from the tower. It laid flat on the floor, staring sightlessly at the sky up above as her blood was washed clean from her ruined floors.
Nimia had no interest in it, though perhaps she should’ve. She just left it where it was, for anyone to find, and went about her business of trying to climb down an utterly ruined skyscraper. Perhaps a fight on the top floor hadn’t been the smartest idea, but she had been expecting something somewhat more climactic, and climaxes usually ended with an easy escape. Not a long walk down in the pouring rain.
Still, she did get what she wanted. Her number had changed, and, equally important, she had her boat back. And a brand new revolver! One that seemed very fancy indeed, its purple diamond almost gleaming in the flash of far off lightning.
Now onto the next one.