Match 17
#34 Nimia “The Shelled Tiger” Altamirano
Vs.
#33 Georgia “Scarlet” Bright
And #32 Virginia “Violet” Darke
Nimia had an arm.
That wasn’t new, she usually had at least one arm and she was even initially born with two, but after about...twelvish, if she remembered right, she tended to only have one, and she’d learned to live with that. It would kinda suck when she did things like reach for water with a nonexistent arm or have to climb a mountain for training with only one hand and the phantom pain was, as implied by the name, an absolute pain, but she lived with it!
Cybernetic prosthetics made it all easier, but they had their own issues. Some, she couldn’t get wet; others were heavy enough to fuck with her center of balance and slowed down her movements. Still, again, she learned to live with it. It was rough, but she still had it better than people with shittier prosthetics or no access to them at all. She lived with it.
So it was kinda fucking with her head that she had a new right arm that literally ripped straight through all those expensive cybernetics she had to sit through surgery after surgery to even get working right. Well, it didn’t quite rip through; she had to tear off most of the bits herself because it was pushing through them and hurting like hell because it was literally newly formed flesh and bone trying to go up against pointy, pokey alloys and electronics. Not a good combination.
End result: she had a new right arm that was weirdly pink and felt weirdly wet. Kind of like a newborn rat, though it seemed functional enough as she sprinted up the stands of Safrazo’s stadium. Worked well enough for vaulting over fences in the open area and seemed to be able to hold up a rifle well enough.
As for how she knew about that part, she’d grabbed an assault rifle from one of the Fangs that had tried to shoot her. Because those guys were trying to shoot/gut her at the moment, probably in revenge for her killing their boss. Not too new to her, though she usually tended to kill all the henches before their boss, so it was a bit of a change up.
Her current goal though was twofold. Threefold, if she counted “survive” as a goal, but aside from that, she wanted her sword back, which meant getting back to that lounge she was first brought to, and getting the collar around her neck off, because keeping something on while it actively pumped mutagens into her body seemed like a really bad idea.
Sure, she had a new arm, but she’d prefer to keep her physical changes to just that, so her first thought for handling that problem was finding Tusk, who was the highest ranked Maw-member that she knew about. Also the only one that she actually spoke to instead of killing–
Nimia paused, a bit of a dangerous thing to do in the current circumstances, and sprinted for one of the nearest Fangs as she tossed the empty rifle away. The stands had cleared out quick of any “civilians”–who fucked off the instant they realized they were about to be in the middle of a warzone–and anyone that stuck around to shoot at her was clearly fair game, so she grabbed one topless, masked weirdo and grappled her to the ground, keeping her arm around the Fang’s throat as she pressed low between rows of seats, aiming to stay out of view for a sec.
“So hey, how do I get this collar off?”
“Gh-FUCK YOU! SHE’S OVER-”
Nimia gripped the back of the Fang’s head, slammed her face first into the concrete, and pulled back again as a chunk of her bestial mask fell off. “I know I didn’t say I’d hurt you if you didn’t tell me, but I thought it was implied.” She tightened her grip around the Fang’s throat. “Add on, I can break your neck easy.”
“Fhh, f-fuck you, you ain’t gettin’-”
Nimia pressed Lucky to the back of the Fang’s head, cocking the revolver’s hammer. “Third pitch, you gonna strike out?”
“...” The Fang’s eyes searched, trying to see a way out, but she was too low and there was too much noise. The explosions were still going on and half the Fangs had to figure out what was going on there, so she was kinda fucked here, so she took a breath and growled as fur started to sprout across her skin–
And Nimia flipped her revolver around and slammed the butt hard into the Fang’s head, then stood and stomped again to make sure the jackass stayed down. “Right, fourth thing, find revolver ammo.”
She scratched at her neck, a little absently, then blinked as the screens around the stadium flashed again. No Nero this time though. Instead, it was–
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“Testing, testing, one forty-two,” Scarlet spoke into the mic she was holding in front of her helmet. It was unnecessary, since she had a perfect audio set-up inside said motorcycle helmet, but it was theatrics, and theatricals were important in the business, “Well howdy there everyone. You might not know me. If you do, odds are you’ve shot yourself on the spot to avoid me getting my hands on you. That’s a fair reaction, happens a lot, but let it be known that I will be defiling your corpse in some pretty shit ways as a result. If you have a problem with that, should’ve fucking thought of that afore you pussed out.
“If you don’t know me, then let me introduce myself. I’m Georgia Bright, but most folks call me Scarlet Red, on account of the red clothes I like to wear. Also the red motorcycle I tend to ride, and the red tattoos I got covering most of my body. Which, no, you probably won’t be seeing. Jumpsuit stays on during jobs, same for the helmet.”
She gestures to herself and the camera pans, taking care to show the bright crimson cruiser she was currently perched on, the professionally made red and black racing suit she had on, the crimson leather jacket she was wearing with the “Paradiso” logo on the back, her black boots and red gloves, and the scarlet motorcycle helmet she was wearing, its black visor hiding the sadistic grin she could barely keep off her face.
“So no, you don’t get to see my cute face either, but I can give a few details if you like. Lessee, I’m five foot nine, weight’s one sixty, hair’s red but I tend to keep it cropped close on account of my driving, I’m white so my skin tone’s light with a slight tan, I like bikes, cars, hiking, mutilation, trophies, skinning the worthless fucks that piss me off, and hunting!” she continued, all in a very cheerful voice, “So congrats to all you fine folks out there, here to enjoy the bloodsports of the Maw, because I’m here to show you how to hunt! In a sense. Really, I’m here to hunt you, but don’t worry, you get to participate in this too!”
The camera panned back, showing the “hunt” ongoing in what was once the Maw’s base of operations. Safrazo was once a zoo, so it had plenty of pits and pools that were intended as spacious living areas for the animals within them. The Maw had repurposed them to hold the chimeras they kept for auction, and now every last one of those chimeras had been let loose by the cheering horde of motorcyclists that were running down the various Fangs that were trying to put up a resistance.
The Fangs were losing badly, even as more and more of them tried turning into full beasts to fight back. The riders had guns and grenades that they were using with reckless abandon, blowing apart heads and dragging corpses behind their bikes with chains. Some of the black-clad Brutes–their own outfits consisting of black jumpsuits, motorcycle helmets, and black leather jackets or vests–even commandeered the Fang’s own vehicles, riding around in jeeps with mounted machine guns that made things even rougher for the gang on the backfoot.
“Now, my boys might be having their fun, but the Blasted Brutes ain’t the only participants in this game! That’s right, you, random asshole, might just make it outta this alive if you decide to join on in! Kill the person closest to you! Might be a friend, might be family! But if you wanna live, you gotta prove you’re at least worth keeping around! Oh, and if you’re thinking of getting out of here without us letting you go, my sis has a little something to take that off the table. HEY GIN!”
And on cue, another motorcycle roared into the plaza beside Scarlet’s, its body painted a vivid blue in sharp contrast to its crimson twin. Similarly, Virginia Darke, otherwise known as Violet Blue, was identical to her twin in every way besides color. Everywhere Scarlet was red, Violet was blue, and where her clothes were black, Violet’s were white. Though the blood dripping from the severed heads mounted on the spears jutting up from the back of her bike did threaten to taint her colors.
“It’s Violet while on the job, Georgie, you know that.”
“Sure, yeah, got your attention anyway. Everybody, here’s my sis. We call her Violet Blue, on account of everything going on with her. Now you might be wondering, huh? How’s this your twin? She has blue hair and dark skin! Well first off, dumbass, it’s called hair dye, and second off, when a white raider and a black raider get real high and decide to fuck, the kids turn out either color! It’s just fun for us that we contrast~ Now Violet, you wanna be bitchy in front of everybody, or you wanna be flashy?”
“Ha! What’s the worth of doing something if you can’t do it with style?” Violet’s own grin was wide and cruel as she raised a hand, her middle finger and thumb pressed together before she snapped, and Safrazo was rocked by even more explosions as the trains and helicopters out of Safrazo erupted in bright blue fireballs.
“KYAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCK YEAH!” Scarlet screamed, pumping her first in the air.
“Gyeheheh! Ah, love the smell of burnt metal in the afternoon. Smells like home.”
“GOT THAT RIGHT! And speaking of home, it’s time for an old past-time! So c’mon you sick fucks, GIVE IT YOUR ALL! YOU LOVE THE BLOOD, SO TIME TO DRINK!”
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Eliza scowled at the livefeed on her appropriated phone, growling irritably as she adjusted the far too loose clothes she had to settle for.
The former commander of the Corroders wasn’t having a good week. Losing the rest of her company sucked, getting captured sucked worse, and now she had fucking psychopaths looking to hunt her down.
She licked around her lips, getting a bit of the blood staining them. It tasted like copper and oil. A different kind of taste from the standard, familiar and unpleasant.
She fiddled with the helmet in her free hand for a moment, just checking to see if she should even bother with it, before throwing it at the naked fuck whose throat she’d torn open. When the 35th–now the 34th–had thrown that dart, there was some panic. Lots of Fangs running close, and some confusion. Altamirano had been half out of it, but she still decked one of the bitches hard enough to smash her against Eliza’s cage, and she took the opportunity to grab a knife.
After that, no one paid attention to her, which was fine. She knew how this sort of thing went: at most, she was gonna be a demonstration. The collar around her neck would pump her full of mutagens and she’d become a monster to show just how effective their tech was. Simple shit. She once shot a man in the head to demonstrate acid rounds, she knew how things went.
Didn’t mean she had to like it, and when the room went dark as they dragged Altamirano away, she felt around her collar, found a good spot, and stabbed her newly acquired knife straight into it. It was a small point, between the injector and the mutagens, and she got it exactly. Not surprising, she knew tech just fine, and these animalistic assholes were complacent with what they had.
Then the new assholes came in and started shooting the Fangs, which was also fine, in her personal opinion, since she didn’t really like the Fangs. And when the dumbass that came down into the animal pen saw a naked woman crouched and cowering in a cage, he just couldn’t help himself.
Idiots were easy; they would either play hero or sadist. If he’d tried hero, she would maybe feel bad, but as it was, there was no hesitation or pity on her part as she jammed her knife straight up into his throat. Moron even unzipped his jumpsuit for her, which made it real easy to get some actual, if loose, clothes on after she ripped open half his neck.
Hm. Maybe she could join up with the Brutes? She did just kill someone. Though it was more likely they’d put her on a pike for killing one of their own, and she really didn’t want to get impaled like that...Maybe she should cut his face off? It wouldn’t help, but it might calm her nerves…
Eliza shook her head and let out a breath. She was a veteran merc, she could handle some stress without resorting to mutilation. For now, she needed to weigh her options.
Option 1: Brutes - A murderous gang of mercs who worked under Paradiso’s umbrella. Pros: She might get a motorcycle. Cons: She already killed one, so trying to join would probably get her killed horrifically; they’re also a bunch of sadistic freaks lacking in professionalism.
Option 2: Fangs - Large gang of raiders who have a weird predator and tribal kink going on. Pros: Won’t get killed by Brutes. Cons: Already failing with their leader dead, might decide to mutate her into a chimera, uniform involves constantly baring her tits.
Option 3: Go it alone.
...Yeah fuck that. Eliza was not an independent woman, she wanted fucking back up. Becoming the leader of that band of assholes after Tinley bit the big bullet was the worst thing that could’ve happened to her, especially since those dumb fucks demanded she take vengeance on that bi-...
Option 4: Altamirano?
Eliza paused in thought as she made her way through the corridors of the stadium, both hands on the shotgun she appropriated from the dumbfuck. Altamirano was the source of her troubles, but also maybe the solution. Hitching herself to someone rising through the ranks might not be a bad idea. Everyone needed at least one hench to handle the dirty work, and the bitch already owed her for costing her so much.
“Gh, fuck, fucking bastards,” growled one furry Fang, stumbling into the hall in front of her, clutching the bullet wounds leaking into her thick fur, “Gonna rip their-”
Eliza’s shotgun barked once, blasting the Fang off her feet in a burst of flames, before another shot blew the twitching raider’s chest apart.
Yeah, Altamirano can work, Eliza thought to herself as she pulled the mask from the Fang’s face, slipping on the metallic visage of a snarling monster. I might not like her, but when have I ever liked my employers?
She licked her lips as she glanced at one of the tv screens hung up in the halls, its image now showing the 34th in question as she sprinted through the upper areas of the stadium, still wearing absolutely nothing but a loincloth. Besides, she’s at least cute…
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The tv screen switched from it’s view of Altamirano back to the twins. Neither of their faces could be seen, but the glee was obvious in Scarlet’s voice. “Good to see the bitch still lives! And is looking damn good while doing it~”
“Yup. Looking like she’s made to be sold there.”
“Now Violet, we can’t go getting ahead of ourselves here! She might be our grand prize, but we have no idea if the idiots out there can even kill her, much less catch her! But hey, if you do, congrats! Not only are you making it out of this alive, you’re getting an executive position in Paradise!”
“Really now…” Tusk muttered as she stocked some harddrives into her briefcase, which already had a case of vials taking up a good amount of space. The Maw lieutenant had slipped a dark red duster over her chest, taken from her former colleague, Molar. He’d had a similar idea to her, but, well, she was quicker on the draw. “Hm...is that worth the risk? It might be…”
“Oh, but let’s not forget the runner-up prizes!” Scarlet gestured to a space over her shoulder, where a box appeared, showing two rows of people. One picture showed the mask they wore, and the other their actual face, and Tusk grimaced as she saw her own on-screen, displaying the dark-gray line going vertically over her chin and the set of three curved stalactites she had tattooed under each eye. “Each lieutenant of the Maw is going to be worth a million, so long as you bring back their mask and head, and you’ll get an extra five hundred grand if you bring them alive! Hell, we might even let you keep one if you’re attached enough!”
“We do want the heads intact though, so don’t fuck around,” Violet added, “And mutilated prizes aren’t worth nearly as much, so don’t test my patience.”
“Violet’s already claimed a few, so get to it! Try your best and win big! Or else!”
“Y’know, she’s a lot peppier than I thought she’d be.”
Tusk went rigid at the voice behind her, then whirled-
Altamirano smiled softly as she held the naked blade of a saber to Tusk’s neck, calmly taking the handgun she’d tried to pull and dismissing it into her inventory without hesitation. “Heya, Tusk. Got my sword back.” She looked around slowly, taking in the corpse with a bullet in the back of its head lying face down on the floor of the lab. “Are you robbing your own workplace?”
“...I consider it more claiming my severance pay.”
“Interesting. Mutagens count as severance pay now?”
“In the right line of work, yes.” She didn’t smile. It wouldn’t help with the mask on. She did, however, take note of Altamirano’s arm. Her newly regrown arm, which, quite noticeably, now had green scales tracing up its fingers and spreading to the pink flesh of the hand.
“Ah, yeah, thanks for the arm, by the by. It saves me a good chunk of change trying to get a new one. Seems a little defective though.” Altamirano kept smiling. “Are the scales a natural thing here, or…?”
“...If you’re wondering if they were intentional, then yes, they were. You were given a mutagenic cocktail prepared to give you the traits Elias wanted for you. You were supposed to grow more than one arm.”
“Really? How many were I going to get?”
Tusk shrugged, careful not to move her neck too much. “I didn’t ask. The genetic design was up to Molar and his group.” She gestured with one hand to the corpse. “He is no longer with us.”
“So I see. Would he know how to fix me?”
“He would. I-”
“Would you know?”
“I was about to say I would, yes. I do know, and the anti-mutagen-”
“Quick question. Why would you carry an anti-mutagen? If you want to genetically fuck someone, why give them a way out?”
“It’s intended to be in case of accidents. Spilled material getting on the wrong person.”
“And you wouldn’t just chuck them in the pit? They fucked up, so why not leave them to their fate and get some entertainment out of it, huh?”
Tusk tried not to swallow. Her throat was dry. Altamirano had unfortunately good intuition. “There are still those we wouldn’t want mutated-”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Who? No, seriously, who did your boss give that much of a shit about? He mutated himself. Packed his body with all sorts of nasty shit to come back from anything. Why would he want anyone to have a way out of what he liked best? Watching people become monsters?”
“...” She could try grabbing a vial. Maybe if she reached fast enough-
“How did he stay sane?”
“Ah…?”
“Elias. I don’t care how fucked my body gets. How did he keep his mind through it? Up until I destroyed it.”
“...There’s...genetic therapies, mixtures to keep a person stable-”
“Can I find any of that right here and now?”
“I...yes, of course-”
“Would you know? Or would Molar know?”
“We would both-”
“But he would know better, and you shot him, so I might be fucked because of you. So give me a very good reason not to chuck your head at the twins to see if they’ll give me that money.”
“...His files are in the briefcase too, I downloaded them onto multiple back-up drives so I’ll have insurance in case anything goes wrong.”
“Or in case you have multiple bidders and want the best you can get.”
“...Do you want my help? I’m not a biomechanist or whatever you want to call this field, but I was born into this gang and I’ve lived its truth for ages. I know how things work here, I know a great deal about raider culture, and I can help you.”
“Is there anything in here, right now, that can keep me from going crazy?”
“You’re already not mutating as fast as you should be. Maybe whatever you did to stifle the mutation will be enough.”
“Nanomachines, bought them online.” Tusk blinked at that. “Hm...what’s this guy’s blood type?”
“...ah...O? Negative, I think.”
“Convenient. He’s worked with this stuff for ages, right? Good scientist?”
“...Ethically speaking, no. In terms of results we wanted, yes.”
“Nice. You live. Hand me a syringe.”
Tusk did so, taking one from the desk and giving it to her without hesitation. Altamirano smiled as she took it and moved her blade away from Tusk’s neck, then drove the syringe into the artery in Molar’s neck. She drew blood, studying it, and then...stabbed herself straight in the neck.
“...What in the world are you doing?”
“Stealing his nanomachines. Don’t worry, I already got vaccinated for bloodborne illnesses."
“I...what. You stabbed yourself in the neck.”
“Yeah. And?”
“Why??”
“To add his nanomachines to my own, keep up.”
“...that’s not how anything works though.”
“Sounds like someone doesn’t know anything about nanomachines.” Altamirano paused, then glanced to the door right as someone knocked on it. “Huh.” And without any hesitation, she stood, walked over, and opened it, completely uncaring of the fact that there was a woman in a bloody Fang mask and an equally bloody jumpsuit hanging loosely over her body. “Heya Greenie. You here for vengeance?”
“Nope. Are you hiring?”
“...” Altamirano blinked, then looked from Eliza Grantland, former commander of the Corroders Mercenary Company, to Tusk, who was feeling very confused. “...Guess I am. Alright, uh, first order of business, new gang members...ah, fuck, I’m already becoming the monster I sought to destroy...welp, too late to take that one back. Now, shit, what do I even want you two to do…”
“We’re taking her?” Grantland gestured to Tusk, who felt mildly offended that she, the one who was hired first, was somehow being relegated to handbag status.
“When we leave, sure. I don’t know if I want you two with me while I’m getting my murder on though...hey, Tusky. Does this place have a command center? I’d also take an armory, while I’m at it.”
“...Yes, and both of them are out in the chaos outside.”
“Ah, lame, that ruins plan A...Alright, let’s workshop this. Tusky, you’ve got knowledge about this whole place. Greenie, you’re decent enough to get clothes and come here while, I guess, killing everyone along the way. Maybe you two can coordinate stuff for me? Be my advisors.”
“Yeah, sure, put the trained mercenary on advisory duty, fine, here’s some: Don’t get shot by the shotguns, they're using flame rounds.”
Tusk frowned. “Hm. That would react badly with the typical transformed Fang’s fur…”
“Yeah, I noticed fire was good for killing them,” Altamirano added, before giving Grantland a thumbs up, “And thanks for the input, Greenie. You’re already earning your keep, unlike Tusky.”
“What? Ah...well, I can-”
“You can do something for me, yeah. Give me your clothes.”
Tusk blinked. “...Ah, what?”
“I’m getting sick of flashing my vag every time there’s loose wind. Give me your clothes. You can keep the mask. Oh, and answer a few questions, real quick. Where’s the armory, is there a good way of controlling chimeras around here, and what can I blow up to cause the most damage at once?”
“...” Tusk was starting to rethink her life choices.
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“Alright, we’ve got Carnassial and Canine confirmed dead,” Scarlet reported, grinning to herself from atop her perch. She was currently parked atop the roof of a two story guard station, giving her a decent enough view of the zoo around her, which was mostly on fire by this point. Her brutes were doing some good work, but there were still plenty of prey out there, and some, at least, were giving a good shot at fighting back, “No sign of Molar or Tusk yet, though Altamirano was last spotted on the upper floors of the stadium.”
“Roger,” Violet answered, and Scarlet’s grin widened as she heard a pleading voice silenced by the crunch of a boot through bone and brain, “Third hotel’s cleared. Not much worth taking, aside from a pair of magnums one Tooth had...ah, which one was the...fuck, what did I do with the mask…”
“No mask, no pay~” Scarlet teased.
“Yeah yeah, I know, but the pussy dropped it somewhere when it transformed. Whatever. Hm, black and gold, these might...holy shit, I recognize this one. This’s Cleon Joumari’s gun! The fuck!?” There was a rough noise–boot slamming against another skull, though one padded with fur over its skin from the sound–as Violet vented her frustrations. “How does a dirty fucking degenerate like you get ahold of a treasure like this, huh!?”
“Gin, c’mon, he was the forty-fifth. That ain’t exactly impressive.”
“I don’t give a shit about his rank, I give a shit about his driving! Gah, we should’ve hunted him down before Altamirano got to him, I told you we should’ve taken time for it! Fuck me, he would’ve made a fantastic pet, you can’t deny that!”
“Look, we can’t go dropping jobs just because you want a celebrity! That ain’t-”
Scarlet paused as her radio crackled. “BOSS! WE GOT ALTA-”
A gunshot cut the brute’s shouting off, earning a frown from Scarlet. “Huh. Hey, Violet, our boys found the thirty-fourth.”
“Really? Where?”
“Gimme a sec, I’ll ask-”
There’d been plenty of explosions since the Brutes arrived in Safrazo. That wasn’t anything new for the gang; hell, it was practically a calling card of theirs. But an explosion they didn’t cause was still attention-catching, and whatever building that stood in the east had gone up in a full on geyser of...actual liquid. What?
“Ah...hey Violet? It’s raining blood.”
“...What in Sam Hill…”
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Nimia’s smile was wide and manic as she gripped tight the reins of her mount with one hand, urging the chimera formerly known as Prizewinner forward as her legs gripped his flanks and her remaining hand–her new one–raised and fired, sending another grenade arching up and crashing down on a jeep that was speeding towards her.
It went up in a fireball, though that was quickly doused in the rain of chemicals bathing the plaza around what was once the Maw’s central processing plant. Mutagenic chemicals had to be refined, after all, and while the primary lab was up in the stadium for experimentation and quick use in mutating new fighters, they still needed an area to store chemicals and mix the larger batches for sale to whatever sadistic freaks or cruel governments wanted to make monsters. Which meant there were more than a few huge vats chock full of toxic materials.
And damn did they blow up nicely.
“ÁNDALE GORDITO! APLASTA TODO LOS PENDEJOS!” Nimia shouted, baring her teeth as her new pet roared in agreement, charging rapidly across the plaza and smashing everything in his way. She pulled one of the grenades from her bandolier, locked and loaded, and fired again up in the air, sending it arching high and landing in a loud BOOM atop a biker and his pal in a sidecar. Said pal was aiming a rocket launcher at her big buddy, so clearly he deserved it. Her new grenade launcher was a slight downgrade though, only a single chamber she had to load one at a time, but oh well, it worked.
Her outfit was a definite upgrade from the loincloth she had before though. Sure, Tusk’s pants were a little small on her, but she wasn’t too fussed about showing some ankle, especially since her new boots–appropriated from the dead doc on the floor–fit her fine. Hm, maybe she should’ve taken his pants? But then again, he was dead, so he probably shit in them, and she wasn’t about to take shit pants if she had other options. His coat was nice and cozy too, made for good insulation from all the chemicals still raining down.
As for the last parts of her ensemble, she picked up a nice cowboy hat to go along with her murder spree; really get into her farmgirl heritage and all. She grabbed it off a spectator’s corpse, and she was liking how the black hat felt under the rain. Oh, and she had a bandolier of grenades over her chest, but that was more for carrying ammo.
“What the fuck did you do here!?” Ah, and the stars of the show arrived!
Nimia pulled tight on the reins, bringing her mount to a halt, and hopped off the chimeric boar, patting his flank with her free hand. “Buen trabajo! Ahora márchate, tengo trabajo que hacer.”
Gordito snorted in reply, then ambled off to go much on one of the roasted corpses of the brutes lying around, leaving Nimia to spread her arms wide, grinning at the twins staring her down from their bikes. “Hey there! Thirty-third and thirty-second, coming at me all at once...I’m almost feeling honored!”
Scarlet snorted, chuckling as she revved her engine. “Don’t be. We’ve had our eye on this operation for a while now.”
“Though you just cost us a big setback here,” Violet added, sounding a lot less amused.
“That you did, but I’m sure you can work it off for us~. Assuming we leave enough of you to work.”
“Hmm, tempting, but nah,” Nimia replied, shaking her head as she summoned her darling, twirling it around as she got used to the balance again, “I’m not the type to whore for wealthy patrons. That seems more your thing, no?”
Scarlet chuckled darkly at that, then started driving, beginning to circle around Nimia. “You’ve got a big mouth for a newcomer. Don’t go thinking momentum’s gonna be on your side. It’s real damn easy to hit a point you can’t get past.”
“And you think that’ll be you two?”
“We know it.” Violet started driving too. Both twins were circling her now, on opposite sides of her.
“See, everyone before you thought the same. And here I am. Though, before I get started, just a few things.” She jerked her thumb towards Violet as she passed behind her. “Why’s your name Darke instead of Bright? You two are twins, right?”
“Yeah, but I married a guy about...what, a century ago?”
“Something like that, yeah,” Scarlet confirmed, “Isaac, I think.”
“Yeah, he had a name I liked, and was good in the sack. Burnt real nice.”
“...see, I don’t know if that last part is related to the first part, but whatever.” At that point, Violet was in front of her again, and she noticed the holsters at the biker’s waist. “You have my guns.”
“Mine now, cunt. Cleon’s old magnum is a collector’s item, and I’m collecting.”
“Hm, sure, but it’s still my gun. Same for Sonya there.”
“You named your guns?”
“Wait, Sonya? Sonya Lawton? Like the investment broker?” Scarlet asked, earning an annoyed look from her sister.
“Really? Why do you even know that?”
“She was literally one number down from Joumari! Don’t fucking start with this.”
Nimia nodded to herself, leaning the back of her saber against her shoulder as she dismissed her grenade launcher, bringing out her Lucky revolver. Her scaly fingers held it easy, still green even under the rain of dark red. By this point, the twins were looking even more identical, their clothes soaked and dyed with the chemical rain. “Alright. One last question. Why work for Summerton?”
“Lots of money and fun toys.”
“Plenty of sex and luxury.”
“Is this about the slaves?” one of them asked, chuckling.
“Because we don’t give a shit,” the other finished, “In fact, how’s this? You give up right now, and we won’t saw your legs off before giving you over.”
“Ooo, generous~ You oughta take that.”
Nimia sighed, closing her eyes. The revving of the engines sounded clear through the rain, and when she opened them, six more bikers had joined the circle around her. Under the rain, it was hard to tell which were the twins, but she had a good guess. One had a long javelin out at her side, held forward like a lance. Another held a curved axe, its blade steaming in the deluge, its hilt modified with what looked like a motorcycle grip. The rest had things like pipes, chains, a katana...but she was pretty sure she knew who she needed to kill.
There was a roar and one surged out of the circle, racing towards her from behind and she twisted, ducking a baseball bat swung for her head as two more came in, one flinging a chain and the other swung the pipe. She grabbed the chain, twirled to miss the pipe, and yanked the brute clear off his bike, swinging him hard into the ground in front of another biker, whose wheel smashed straight into him–sending a snap of bones echoing out–and sent the rider crashing to the ground to meet Nimia’s rising foot, kicking into him helmet like a soccer ball and smashing him up into the air, where he was speared through by a javelin.
Then another came and she bent back far as the biker drove past her, grimacing as it went over her face, then twisted up and fired shots at the rider who twirled her javelin, a bright blue glow cutting through the rain and making the bullets burst before they could reach her. Then the axe came and Nimia went low again, scowling at the whoop of delight sounding out.
She fired more shots, but the spark of red shields showed her it wouldn’t be that simple as bat-boy came for another pass along with the samurai, both on either side. She couldn’t dodge, so she jumped and kicked them both in the face, leaping off them as they crashed to the ground. Both were up in seconds though, rushing in as Scarlet revved her axe, sending it bursting with flames as she roared in next.
The katana was easy to cleave through with Nimia’s own burning blade, and she carved straight through the samurai before punching bat-boy in the face–hard enough to crack the visor of his helmet–then grabbed him and twisted to throw him straight at Scarlet, who whooped again as she gleefully split her own brute in half, his body burning as it smashed to the ground.
It gave Nimia a good opportunity to roll though, dismissing Lucky in favor of the grenade launcher. Not that the grenade did any good, bursting early as Scarlet cut it down. “YOU’LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!”
Nimia intended to, but there were still two extras in play. Piper rushed in, along with the last who–That was a shotgun–and Nimia decided to take a new option and grabbed one of the wrecked motorcycles that had fallen. Not to ride though, but to throw straight at the shotgun guy, who had the briefest moment to widen his eyes before he was crushed, again, by something Nimia launched at him. With him pulped under the bike–the wreck dramatically exploding about a second later–she had one extra and two main stars to deal with, and she ducked another swing from Piper before looking for those stars, only for another javelin to take her hat off.
“Ah dammit, I liked that hat,” she groused, before pausing at the revving of chainsaws. Which Violet apparently had on the sides of her bike. “CHEAP!”
Violet just laughed in reply, driving fast and getting a good cut along Nimia’s side as she just barely moved out of the way, before coming right back for another pass, twirling a javelin from the stock she had on her back. Which gave Nimia an idea.
Next pass, rather than dodge, she swung, slamming her blade against the chainsaw and actually winning the clash as it burst into metal fragments, earning a yelp from Violet. Nimia was already moving though, grabbing one of the javelins and throwing it, full force, at Scarlet as she came for another pass.
The javelin slammed into her chest, sending her off her bike in a scream of pain, echoed in a scream of rage from Violet, who turned her bike fast and roared straight for Nimia. No more fancy tricks, she was just going to run her down.
So Nimia waited, took a breath, then stepped to the side and swung.
There was a flash in the rain, almost like lightning, and Violet choked as a new spray of blood joined the deluge. Her torso flew from her waist, both crashing to the ground hard and smashing brutally into the pavement, twisting and tumbling with the sound of snapping bones.
But the number didn’t change. Huh.
“Gotta do better than that,” Scarlet rasped, stumbling forward with a low chuckle, the javelin piercing through her chest. She ripped it out easily though, ignoring the spray of blood as she revved her axe again, setting it alight with bright, crimson flames. “Don’t you know…? There’re monsters here, kid.”
She gripped her helmet, then tore it off and chucked it to the side. For a moment, she looked human. A woman, with white skin and red hair, branded and tattooed with burning flames. Then her red eyes burned bright, bleeding a full scarlet as her skin went a raw, meaty red and her body bulged with muscle. She bared her black teeth and laughed as blood leaked from her open chest. “You’re in the big leagues now! And there’s no going back. Not for you.”
“I know that.” Nimia cracked her neck, then took a slow breath, twirling her katana. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“Heh...Just telling you what I wished someone told me. You might know it, but you need to kill that part of you that doesn’t believe it. Kill your innocence, kill your past. Only then, you’ll find a good way. That’s my gift to you, YOU DAMNED BRAT!”
Nimia swung again as Scarlet charged, clashing her blade against the now massive axe head. Flames roared, burning too bright to die to steam as metal screamed its bloodlust. One yielded to the struggle, but not the fight, and flashed in the rain, cutting again and again as both women moved and swung over and over, their blades not meeting again but merely sneaking short cuts, the sword kissing the axe as it deflected instead of block, and cut into the flesh. An arm went off, but the axe traded hands easily, though a cut to the thigh did more to make her stumble, and the loss of footing let a hilt slam into a nose before the blade was twisted and thrust straight home up through her chin, spearing out her head in a spray of bright red blood.
Still, Scarlet laughed. Just one more time.
34 -> 33
Then she died.
“You filthy fucking cunt,” Violet snarled from her wreckage, propping herself up one arm and glaring viciously through the fractured remains of her visor, right beside her own lower half. Her pupils were pinpricks in seas of blue, dilated with vicious rage and leaking blue tears. “You think this is it!? That this is over?!”
Nimia shrugged and pulled her blade free, letting Scarlet drop. She summoned her revolver and shot Piper as the brute drove away, not looking as the fleeing fool wobbled and crashed to the ground. “Not just yet. I still need you dead.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. And it’s not about the ranks either, you stupid little brat! Let me give you one fucking clue, same as my sister offered! There’s two things guaranteed in this world! Death, and debt! And you, you stupid fuck, you’ve incurred a massive fucking debt!”
“I knew that.”
“No you didn’t, you believed it! Hell, you only believed a lie about it! You think it’s as simple as people wanting blood for blood!? People will take blood for anything! Blood for money, blood for sex, blood for offense! The world’s connected, and every connection you sever sends rocking waves right back your way!”
Nimia kept walking closer. “And you’re telling me this now because you want me to be afraid. This is your vengeance for me winning, because you’re a sore loser.”
Violet snarled. “You’re damn right I am! Who the fuck likes losing!?” She let out a slow, furious breath, still glaring at Nimia through her helmet, which abruptly cracked completely and fell off her, letting Nimia see an identical woman to the first, but with dark brown skin and azure hair, quickly soaking red in the rain, though all her features soon shifted into a pure blue, vicious and demonic as she snarled again. “But fine, bitch at me. Call me sore. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re pissing people off.”
“I’ve been doing that. I don’t care.”
“You will. When all their hate comes crashing down on you and guts everyone you’ve ever come close to, you’ll care. And I’ll be right there, mocking you.”
Abruptly, she grabbed at her own waist, yanking a magnum from its holster, and shoved it up under her own chin before firing, sending a spray of blood up into the air, identical to her sister.
33 -> 32
“...Yeah, alright.” Nimia shrugged, then walked over to pick up her guns, grabbing the one in Violet’s hand–Sonya–easily, though it was a bit harder to work the other one out of its holster, what with the dead ass it was attached to and all. Still, nice to have two of her guns back, even though she lost the others. And also all her money. And the armor she bought. Hm.
Then the twins’ corpses burst into flames and that was a thing.
Nimia stared, starting to wonder if she should get out of the chemical rain, when the fires began swirling over and settling into her guns, covering them in flame. About a second later, it all settled down, and her magnums looked a lot different. Cleon was the more different looking of the two, as most of its gilded metal had instead shifted into a solid crimson, bright and almost noble looking. Along its slide, the word “Debt” had been inscribed in what looked like rose-gold, matching the pale blue lettering spelling “Death” out on Sonya’s still black slide. Their handles had also changed to match the colors of their inscriptions, which was...nice?
“Hm.” She raised her magnums and fired at one of the discarded motorcycles, grinning as it immediately burst with red and blue flames. “Sweet.”
While she was at it, she should probably grab the axe and javelins the twins had–
“Holy shit-Gah!” Greenie jumped back, her little raincoat bouncing a little at the motion as Nimia lowered her guns. Which she’d just pointed at Greenie. She was still maybe a little wired from the fight. “Fuck, okay, no sneaking up on you…”
“Yeah, that’s not a smart thing to do. What’s up? Any more idiots need killing?”
“Ah, no, I think we’re good there. According to Tusk, the Fangs and their guests are scattering out into the jungles. Any remaining Brutes are hunting them. I don’t think they’ll come back when they find out their bosses are dead. They have a rep for leaving people that are inconvenient.”
“Huh. Guess ‘dead’ isn’t very convenient...right. Hey, ask Tusk where the nearest bed is.” She paused, then sniffed at herself. “...maybe a shower too.”
“Alright. Should I send Tusk over with you?”
“...why?”
“Well, so you can…” Greenie shrugged. “...you know.”
“...?”
“...You had her strip earlier, so I was sort of assuming…”
“I wanted her clothes.”
“...Sure. Ah…” She gave Nimia a rather obvious look over. “...Do you want me to come over with you?”
“I don’t want to fuck after killing someone, no.”
“Right. Sure, yeah, I get that, I don’t do that either. At all.” She glanced away, fingering a-...a necklace of severed fingers. Hm.
“...Yeah. Bed?”
“Oh, yeah, uh, one sec.” She turned away, pressing a hand to the side of her head as she started talking to Tusk, and Nimia just let out a slow sigh, letting her shoulders slump.
That had been a very long day.