Some Light-Hearted Wren Fun

[Verdana]

//Bree//

It took a moment for Bree to place the feeling which swept through her at Marcus Malberry's response to her answer. It was a mixture of emotions, all churned up into a solid ball which rolled heavily around her innards. There was a healthy dollop of self-loathing in there; plenty of disappointment, and a hearty measure of regret. Somewhere, in Bree's mind, she'd made the mistake of believing in fairy tales. Just for a moment, you understand, but that moment was enough. Somehow, she'd let herself believe that her knight in shining armour would know exactly what she needed, and fix everything for her by magic.

The real world didn't work that way, though. Malberry couldn't have known what she couldn't bring herself to ask, and so he did exactly what she'd told him to.

And, even though he'd done exactly as ordered, Bree was devastated.

She hid her face behind her usual, carefully-cultivated mask. Nothing more would slip through. She was relieved to be getting away from the Wren. An adventure would do her a world of good. It would distract her, and take her away from foolish notions about friendship and togetherness. She'd be reminded of what was really important, and where her priorities truly lay. Malberry had done everything right. He'd done the correct thing. Bree didn't have to like something for it to be right.

She'd learnt that very early on in her life. Even if she hadn't necessarily agreed with it.

Nonetheless, as thoroughly as she'd managed to convince herself, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She picked up her suitcase again, and gave a curt not.
"That's fair." A team posed no real problem for her. She'd been avoiding teams her entire life. It would be a simple matter to give them the slip if they got too cumbersome. And if it made Malberry feel more secure about things, then so much the better. Bree knew that she didn't really need a team, and in situations where she did, they wouldn't be much use anyway.
"I'll be in touch."

She didn't quite call it after Malberry. She wasn't even sure that he had heard. She waited a while, to be sure that he'd left, before she took off down the halls.

On her own.

//Ty//

"Knights?"

Ty had been staring after his mother, missing her already. Despite appearances, Ty was neither stupid nor a child. He acted innocently and impulsively, but he was not ignorant. His father had made a point of telling Ty, at length, about Ty's ancestral history. Ty had been very young at the time, and hadn't really paid much attention, but enough had sunk in. Enough that, almost without thinking, he muttered, running his fingers through his hair,
"They're the Knights of Fate. Fate's the god there. Or one of them. The main one. The one to do with the Family, at least. She's sent them to bring my mother back, to stand trial."

Ty wished that he didn't know what that meant.

Ty stopped speaking then. He didn't want to speak. His face, usually bright and sunny and boyish, was contemplative and very sad. When Jessica spoke, he'd not registered that she hadn't been listening.
"Good idea," he muttered in response.

Nothing was further from his mind than pear guns at that moment.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Bree burst into the room. She walked in talking, demanding, ordering, but Ty wasn't listening. He crossed the room in three massive strides and gathered his little sister into his arms. Bree was astonished, not to mention horrified, at the impromptu bear hug. She wriggled fiercely until she was released. However, Ty was holding her shoulders, and forced her to look at him.
"We're going to be okay. You know that, right? We've been without her before, and we can do it again. Just the two of us. Like old times. Right?"

Bree nearly wept in that moment, but held herself together long enough to tell her brother, in a strangled voice, what she intended to do.

Needless to say, Ty was entirely unimpressed.

A tremendous row followed. The siblings wheedled, threatened, yelled, stomped, hit, gesticulated and otherwise neared hysterics. The fight was remarkable, and the outcome was uncertain, but eventually, Bree won. She inevitably did. Sullenly, Ty handed his sister his most durable and advanced communication software, with three other types just in case. He looked mutinous.
"I cannot believe that you'd abandon me like this..." he rumbled, not playing at fury.
Bree, in a complete lapse of character, hugged her brother.
"I'm not leaving you," she promised.
"Not for very long. You'll talk to me every day, and I'll be back before you know it. Somebody needs to keep an eye on things around here."

Ty did not look convinced.

Bree smiled sadly, and touched his arm.
"I have to do it, Ty. Don't get into trouble, alright? I can't have your back for a little while. I'll miss you."

And, with that, she turned, grabbed a set of keys from the hook near the door, and left.

Ty watched her go with an expression bordering on despair.
"I'll miss you too," he muttered. Then, out loud, to Jessica, with a wry smile,
"Why do girls have to be so persuasive?"

//Bree//

And so, an hour later, Bree found herself on a road between the rolling fields and undulating hills of the Western Cape. She had a map beside her, and glanced at it frequently. Her first stop was infuriatingly close. She wondered, resentfully, just why her mother had never have time to make the two-hour drive to the vineyard just outside Stellenbosch. It wasn't far at all, and a very influential man held his head of operations there.

She looked up, and despite everything, a fierce little smile began to form on her lips.

Bree did so love an adventure.

[Derelict Draught]

Jessica had been right then. They were knights from whatever realm Shaygrin departed for, serving some god arrogant enough to claim the title of fate. Just as pretentious as those she'd once served so dearly. Just as vengeful.

"Perhaps she'll bring one back for my slab. I'm sure they are absolutely marvelous once you've walked a mile in them."

Any further comments were disrupted as the Sister burst through the doors, barking orders like some great pompadour. Quite rude to say the least. As such, Jessica did not budge. She did not scramble. She did not even acknowledge the barks. There may have been some animosity between the two but circumstance required an understanding. Establishing this early on, although unpleasant, was necessary.

Before she could snap a tart reply to the girl, she disappeared, enveloped by Ty's massive arms. A dozen words flew to her tongue but none came to life. Instead she watched. Just watched.

Within, however, her heart twisted at the scene before her.

Abandonment.

Two children left behind by the only parent they'd ever known. Of course the were grown adults and assassins but...but they were still children. Lost and alone.

No.

They had each other yet. Someone else to cling to. Someone to help guide them. Someone to help fill the void. An advantage that neither he nor she ever received. Forever alone. A punishment which drove gods into madness. Amplified by the memory of what they'd once cherished. They were close though, nearly within reach yet still intangible. Perhaps that was the most tormenting part. To be so close but still so far. Always reminded. Always. Until the gods die.

A voice acknowledged her.

She'd been so absorbed within her own miseries' that she'd missed the Sister's departure and the vampire's turn. She opened her mouth to reply but found her voice still absent. Her cheeks were damp, a thin trail of clear fluid traveling towards her chin. Realization brought a quick sneeze from the woman, concealing her face and allowing her to remove the evidence.

A broad smile crossed her face as her head rose and her eyes met his.

"A lifetime of practice."

She would have let out a laugh to further her play but a young man appeared in the doorway. Her eyes locked on the figure as he looked about nervously. He was fairly young to be within the Wren but she'd still seen him before, in files, as well as his handler. Sure enough a woman stepped in behind him pushing him along as she walked.

The woman did not make eye contact with the two occupants instead she addressed the boy in a soft buttery voice, assuring him that no one would hurt him. She promised him that they would leave soon that he just needed to wait a short while. No needles.

Jessica smiled kindly at the boy before her eyes drifted to Ty, a question on her face. She didn't have anyone due for medical so why would the boy be there then? The answer came swiftly.

Malberry strode through the doorway, an open file resting in the palm of his hand. His eyes didn't raise from the file as he spoke to them.

"I assume Bree's already been through here since she just left the premises. You may be aware that she's off to meet with the other factions. I insisted that I send a field team behind her. You four are that team."

A slight movement of Malberry's wrist closed the file in his hand and he turned his eyes on the couple before him. He'd been conflicted about the team, whether or not to make it a five man unit or not. In the end a four man team posed a greater success rate. Particularly with these four.

"Ty, you will be in charge of the group. Josef will be able to track Bree well beyond her attempts to lose you. Stay out of her way and if trouble arises, signal. Until then keep your heads down and your comms quiet. I'll move to meet with Bree after I finish things up here."

The file settled on the tabletop between them as Malberry continued.

"I anticipate trouble arising at these three locations. The first Bree can handle easily. The second can be sabotaged but the third."

Malberry paused searching for a satisfactory explanation. The situation appeared unique. A number of maneuvers could be played there. Each entirely different than the last. Each profoundly more dangerous. The last handful were nearly impossible to counter, even for him. He had a theory though, one that they needed to be entirely unaware for any hope of success.

"Bree will have roughly an hour's head start so the sooner you get out there the better."

Malberry's departure halted, a sudden thought striking him in a fashion similar to a precision missile. A dry smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to Ty.

"Kindly don't cause any lasting damage to the power grids, the weather is about to get much worse and we'd like to keep the body count low."

With his final request hanging in the air, Marcus Malberry disappeared from the room, off to finish preparations for the coming hours. No joy existed for what soon would follow.

[Verdana]

//The Trial//

There was a crowd.

Of course there was a crowd. Shaygrin was not so much being punished as she was being made a spectacle of. 'See,' said the Council, without words. 'See what happens when you betray the Incendian Empire. Nobody is immune; no matter how powerful or noble they may be."
Shaygrin appreciated this sentiment, and would not have hesitated to teach her assassins the same lesson. She did think that the Council was being slightly excessive.

But, then, she was more than slightly biased, since it was her head on the chopping block, so to speak.

The chopping block was not literal, but the result could easily be the same.

They called her name.

No words were spoken. The call was entirely sent through the minds, the psyche, if you would, of the crowd. This was to impress, yes, but it was also to ensure that everyone heard everything. The crowd quieted as she was named. This was protocol. Names were to be respected, in Sylvan culture; no matter what they held.
Shaygrin's naming took a good ten minutes to complete. She had earned many titles in her life. Some were formal and some weren't. Some were honourable. Most were not. She could feel the crowd shifting around her. She felt their interest gather. She was hated, yes; but not wholly.

There was hope.

The naming ended. The silence stretched. Shay resisted the urge to smirk. She hadn't heard her full name spoken in centuries. Titles had been added. It was rather impressive, and she was proud of it. All of it. It defined her, and she accepted who she was unhesitatingly.

The question came.

How do you plead?

This was a loose translation, but the meaning was the same.

Shaygrin raised her head, and played one of her hands.

"Guilty by ignorance."

Some part of her had hoped that this would cause enough of a stir for her trial to be delayed. True to form, though, the Council didn't even flinch.

Very well.

Shaygrin gave a scream as the trial began.

//At Base//

Ty had never been what one would call 'socially adept'. He picked up all of the fundamental cues, of course. He knew the obvious ones, and some of the less overt ones too. The subtlety of one-on-one communication tended to pass him by, though. Ty was aware of it, but had no time to fix the problem. He blamed his weakness on too much time spent in front of the computer, and his brain's focus being on more important things (usually connecting in some way to some sort of computer).

There was no doubt that technology was killing fundamental values. Ty didn't mind, though. He was more than happy to move into the age of technology.

So, when he saw Jessica's face (or, more precisely, the tears upon it) he related what he saw to his own situation, and thought no further. Ty was a very simple man. He saw what was in front of him, with the occasional exception to the rule. He simply accepted Jessica's unhappiness, and was relieved that she didn't say anything which he'd have to confront.
Ty hated pity. He suspected that it was genetic.

He readied himself to answer the woman. Make small talk, that sort of thing. Ty had never been good at people, and he'd never cared. But he so desperately wanted to impress Jessica. He was willing to jump through hoops for her. Both metaphorically and, unfortunately, literally.

Metaphor had never been Ty's strong point.

He would have said something truly inane, but then the boy arrived, and Ty turned to the interruption gratefully. He knew the boy, by face if not by name. He was a Sniffer. Sniffers found things, but not just with their noses. Ty wasn't sure what that particular Sniffer did. He was new. Bree would have known, the big man thought glumly. She always knew who everyone was, even if she pretended not to care.

Then there was a woman (she seemed to be attached to the little boy-thing) and then there was Malberry. Ty's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wasn't sure why, but he was almost certain that he disliked Malberry. He thought that it might have been something instinctive, but he couldn't place the feeling. All that he knew was that the human (kind of; Ty could always tell a part-breed apart from a full human. It came with being born and raised in the Wren) raised his hackles, for whatever reason, and that he disliked it immensely.

Ty's dislike solidified into hate as the man gave an order.

At first, Ty thought that there'd been some sort of mistake. He smiled leniently, like a parent to a confused child.
"No. See, that's not how it works. I don't leave. I never leave. I stay here. With the computers. That's what I do."

Then horror began to mount as he realised that, if Malberry told him to do something, he'd have to. To refuse Malberry would be to refuse the hierarchy, which would be to cast aside everything that Ty's mother had spent so much time building and cultivating. If he refused, he would single-handedly begin a revolution.

And it was dawning on the big man that there was no mistake.

He shook his head.

"No." But he sounded less certain and more petulant.

"You cant make me leave! These computers... They're my life! My family's willingly abandoned me. My computers are all I've got left. I have to run Torque Enterprises! That's your main source of funding! You'd cut off your funding for this? Surely there's someone else. Anyone else. Just not me!"

But he was gabbling, and he knew it. He clutched a computer to his chest, his eyes wide and despairing.

"Don't make me leave..." he begged.

"I'll be good! I promise!"

[Derelict Draught]

"Nella panetteria!"

"No, la chiesa!"

"Gli appartamenti! Il digiuno piccola donnola."

"La fretta, non possiamo lasciarlo prende lontano! Non dopo che che ha fatto al capo!"

A single bullet whistles into the lamp post beside the pursuants sending the men scrambling over each other in search of cover. Slowly, one by one, the men peered their heads back into the street. There could be no doubt, the sniper's silhouette was visible against the banister on the small balcony. Another round crashed into the pavement a short distance from the men, showering them with tiny stones as they dove back into their shelter.

"Schifoso cecchino!"

"L'attesa, ho sentito di quest'individuo. Usa su di quei vecchi fucili di azione di bullone, la destra? Se tutto tre lo corrono di noi subito poi non saprà chi per sparare a. Inoltre, è vigliacco. Ho sentito che ha spaventato anche effettivamente per sparare nessuno."

More stones and dust pelt the men as another round grazes the wall above them before settling in the store display beyond them.

"Now!"

Three men break from cover, sprinting as quickly as their anatomy allowed, praying to reach the church with all of their blood still inside. A shot falls short and crashes to earth ahead of the men. Their perception funnels about the sniper as he fumbles with his next shot. They had him now.

Nearly.

Five steps to the door. Only five more measly steps and they would have been upon the sniper. Instead though, the sniper, or suspected sniper, was upon them.

The trio was caught entirely off guard. One moment they were running for the door and the next there was a man. His movements were startlingly quick and devastatingly precise. Each blow dropped a man, each man fell clutching their now bruised vulnerabilities.

"Lei! Ma poi che-"

"Non sprecherei una pallottola sullo sproposito del suo capo."

Within a minute the man appeared upon the sniper's perch. A mixture of relief and irritation stirred within him as his eyes settled on the girl beside his missing weapon. She appeared unharmed, the blundering oafs fortunately feared shooting at a church, but an air of shame hung heavily upon her. He held no blame to her though, he failed to take precautions against such recklessness. She was far too young to have witnessed the darker nature of humanity. Only a few days had passed since she'd been targeted and she was smart enough to know what would have happened to her had he been any later. This wasn't the solution though, and he could she her finally understanding.

A gentle hand brushed against her cheek as he lifted her gaze to meet his own. Shame, fear and desperation swirled about behind within her eyes. She expected to be berated. She anticipated a beating. She had violated her father's will. She had stolen from a worker on the farm. She had attempted to kill four men! She deserved to be punished. She craved the equivalence of her actions.

So he gave her nothing.

As gently as he'd adjusted her head, his hand reclaimed the stolen rifle. His eyes never left hers as his hands inspected the weapon and made minute adjustments. Satisfied the weapon survived the ordeal, he flipped the safety into the locked position and rose to his feet. Finally he broke the stare as he turned from the girl.

Heavy sobs cried out from behind him as he approached the door. There he paused, securing the strap of the rifle across his body.

"Venire su. Abbiamo molto lavoro per raggiungere su prima della caduta di notte. Tratterò il capo stasera."

-----------------------------------------------

Hoy

Malberry passed silently through the halls. He listened carefully at each door, taking note of how many individuals remained on site and the activities they preoccupied themselves with. His feet carried him into the empty briefing room. Here he would make his stand. The room was open, offering plenty of room for a group to maneuver. There was little cover offered and a single mistake could leave him surrounded. His adversaries would love the setup. The opportunity would be far too magnificent to resist.

Taking a seat in the corner, Malberry reviewed the plan in his head. Bree and everyone who might disregard the curfew to help were away. Those who might be drawn into the fight by accident were secured. The path to him remained clear, an open invitation. The pieces were set, the knight lay open and it was their move.

------------

"He's gone."

A small and gentle hand gripped the gargantuan's shoulder, squeezing gently. Her voice remained soft and controlled. Similar to a tone one might use with a frightened child. Her smile was warm and welcoming.

"If he's sending you out then he knows the ramifications and he's willing to accept the blowback. He needs you out there which probably means that Bree needs your help."

As the two spoke, the other woman, her left hand ruffling the hair of the boy beside her, took the time to read through the file Malberry left resting on the counter. Her features tightened as her hand fell from the boy. Her jaw locked as she approached the pair. She remained in their peripheral as she pulled an image free from the package.

"This. This is probably why he wants you out there. If so, I think we need to leave now."

She extended an image of an unmanned aerial vehicle to the vampiric.

[Verdana]

//Incendiius//

She wasn't entirely sure who she was any more.

She'd known not long before, but bit by bit, inch by inch, she was being forced to push everything she had been away. She had to do it to survive; to keep her mind intact.

First, They had tortured everything she held dear. She had withstood that without flinching. She'd seen it all before. That had seemed to perturb Them, though They hid it well. They'd amped up their attack, though. Instead of images which could potentially have caused pain, they began to dig for memories which did.

The bus, filled with the corpses of children and one living boy, panting and sobbing and terrified as he held a lifeless classmate in his arms and begged him to live again, and as Shaygrin watched, she knew that it was her fault, it was her training to make her son into a bloodthirsty monster gone a step too far. It had worked far too well, and although she had taken him off of combat instantly, she could never undo that damage.

Velia was the obvious one, and one which never failed to freeze her. The call, the race, only to arrive three minutes too late to fix it, to say goodbye, to hold her most promising heir's hand as she stopped breathing.

The suicide attempts. Hers and Bree's.

The miscarriage.

Redwing.

Vlad.

She couldn't be herself any more, because she was weak and flawed and if she remained that way, They would destroy her. So she had shed her identity, focusing all of her energy on thwarting Them. It became more than self-preservation. It became a thing of revenge and superiority.

And almost without her noticing it, it stopped being a punishment and became a test.

//The Garage//

Ty was very proud of the Wren's storage space. It was a cavernous set of rooms fit for a science fiction movie. The walls were reflective. They slid up to reveal more space. The floors were equally reflective (which was, in hindsight, less functional. People tended to slide about a bit if they weren't careful) and also opened up.

Of course, Ty was also proud of the things he had stored in this space.

There were cars and weapons, of course, and there were even cars which became weapons, and weapons disguised as cars. Ty had quickly exhausted every possibility in that field.
He'd moved on to bigger and better things.
There were helicopters, and what would be the grandchildren of helicopters. There was a jet or two hidden somewhere (Ty could never find them without consulting the blueprints of the area). There were motorcycles and bicycles and a couple of tricycles. And that was just the start.

And of course, everything in the storage space, Ty had either designed, built and or rebuilt himself. He was almost constantly upgrading the technology in that space.

Whatever became outdated was sold under the name of Torque Industries.

Ty had first appeared on the internet as Torque before he was officially removed from combat duty. He was an avid gamer, rumoured to be several gamers working together due to an unrealistic time spent online. He began to win, and people began to notice. He was accused of hacking, though nobody could ever prove anything.
Then he began to distribute code to other members. His codes did various things, but they were all very effective. The creators of the game protested, until Torque started to sell them code, too.

Slowly but surely, Torque widened its influences. He started to sell his services to software developers, and then global companies, and then military organisations. It had its fingers in many pies so to speak, and when Torque Industries opened up, very few companies were in any position to inquire further into the company's origins.

For many years, Torque had only ever been associated with software. However, soon after the Industries started up, Torque released patented blueprints. Companies were skeptical and hesitant, until their prototypes began to work, and work well. Torque soon had a reputation for reliability, for integrity, and for being three steps ahead of anyone else in its industries. By the time Ty was twenty-two, Torque Industries was involved in so many powerful companies that Ty was earning billions, and while he was not famous, or even known, he was incredibly influential.

And he made sure that the Wren was always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

Ty strode purposefully towards a blank section of floor. He clutched the image of the machinetrackerstalkersisterkiller in his fist. The woman was right; Bree was in danger, and Ty needed to be out there to help her.

He had a vehicle primed and ready for just that eventuality, and while he waited for the floor panel to rise, he mentally ensured that he had done everything he needed to.

He had audio and visual feeds on Bree: Two for Malberry, one for him.
He had four computers. He'd considered taking five, but it had seemed excessive.
The car had weapons...

Or, actually, it didn't.

Because there was no car.

And as Ty cursed and fumed and barked orders and made new plans, he knew who'd taken it.

//The Karoo//

Bree was feeling pretty good about herself. She rarely allowed herself the luxury, but she thought she'd make an exception. Her first meeting had gone fantastically. There had been the usual song and dance routine, of course (in this case quite literally, for Hamilton, the leader of Fons Luminus, was quite deranged and thought he was funny to boot) but Bree had passed, and passed well. They had their first ally.

And with any luck, they were coming upon a second.

Bree turned the car off into a winding dirt road, marvelling at the car's handling ability, and feeling profoundly grateful that she was driving it. This was partially due to the car's superiority, but mostly because Bree hated when other people drove. She didn't trust them, and panicked.
Nonetheless, the car practically drove itself. Torque had outdone himself.

Bree found it easiest to think of Ty and Torque as two different entities. There was Ty, who was goofy and too tall, who hit his head on doorframes and couldn't hold a coherent conversation for more than five minutes, who liked sandwiches and games and acted like an overgrown child, and who you interacted with via spoken conversation.
And then there was Torque, who was ruthless and brilliant and efficient and cunning, who wasted no time on frivolities and never failed to get a job done faster and better than you needed it, and who you only ever met via typed conversations.
Bree knew both men very well, and if she could have chosen a brother, she probably would have picked Torque.
It was a pity that she'd been given Ty instead.

Still, Bree was not in the mood to brood. She lit up her beacons so as not to surprise her hosts. She was still an hour away from their official turf, but it always did to be prepared.

She turned on the radio while she still had access to it, and sang along to whatever catchy pop song played.

High above her, a camera on the nose of the AV which had been diligently tracking her movements ever since she left base swivelled to look through the window.

In a command tower far away, a young man with the beginnings of a paunch and an unruly head of red hair watched the anorexic-looking young woman sing aloud, and felt no remorse as he lifted a cover to reveal a very special button.

A hand, long-fingered and mottled with burns, descended over the button.

"Not yet."

"But, sir, everything's in place-"

"Not yet. We wait. We wait until they're all watching."

"Sir, reports say that she's still-"

"Not yet."

"... Yes sir."

[Derelict Draught]

A gentle breeze blew through the fields creating the illusion of a tan sea stretching out before him. The air here was rich and clean, unpolluted by the city the pair left behind them. The air remained eerily quiet despite the rustle of a thousand stalks. Nothing moved within the fields, the wildlife having forsaken the dangers which enveloped them.

All of these warnings passed unnoticed as the duo walked the empty road, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Words passed between the two though they only touched the most shallow thoughts racing about their minds. The discussion wavered and finally ceased as the farm house appeared in the distance.

They were home and he'd never been happier to return to a life of labor.

His cheer evaporated him, leaving him forsaken as the wrongness of the farm house breached the walls of his eagerness. The place appeared perfectly calm, not a thing out of place. The scent of a cooking meal calling out to his senses, welcoming the farm's absentees home to a delicious meal. A fire burned lively in the fireplace puffing plumes of hickory smoke skyward. Every sense reported a perfect family farm.

A beautiful lie.

The girl's mother bore great kindness but was a shoddy cook and such a dish as wafted towards him existed well beyond her skill. The burning hickory logs were reserved for the winter holidays, her father not having the funds to spend on such a commodity as a well scented fire.

Every muscle tensed as the world around him crept into perspective. The silent fields. The empty road. The pristine yard. A trap he'd been foolish enough to walk headlong into. His tension broke as a weaker scent reached him, carried across the gentle breeze. The metallic scent surrounded him, the source not just the farm house but the fields as well. Had he only listened to his own unease.

His hand closed heavily on the girl's shoulder stopping her cheerful advance. She spun around to face him, a question forming upon her lips and dying as she saw the rifle slide from his shoulder. He spared her not a single glance as his lips parted with instruction.

"Ritornare alla Novella di città e chiamata. Dirle che lei sa dove Marcus Malberry è. Ora andare. "

"Ma Emidio-"

He gave the girl a sharp push in the direction of the town, enforcing his instruction and giving her no chance to argue. She'd barely taken her first four steps before the first of the creatures erupted from the crop.

----

The air closed around him, constricting his soul in an invisible battle. Finally the oppressive silence broke. A single footstep ruining an otherwise perfectly silent approach. Malberry rose to his feet as his opponents filed into the room, the fur bristling as they followed their leader into the chamber.

The man, as the leader seemed to prefer the taller form, stood nearly a head higher than Malberry and boasted a short and wickedly curved blade stained red by countless conflicts. Hate filled eyes stabbed at Malberry's back as the pack circled around him, each taking a position where they'd best serve their siblings.

Malberry moved lazily before the man, a great lack of concern evident in his every motion as he took a seat before Marcelino Bossers. Subtle adjustments in position against the chair found him seated comfortably before his foe before he elected to speak.

"So is this the part where you roll over and swear the allegiance of your pack to the command of the Wren and I give you a belly rub to seal the agreement?"

The comment prompted a series of guttural growls from the surrounding beasts. Marcelino's curling lip mirrored their sentiment as he leaned forward to look Malberry in the eyes. Pure malice swirled within the confines of his pupil as he spat the words directly into the face of his foe.

"This is the part where the Wren gains a real Alpha."

In an instant the curved blade switched sheathes, abandoning the cold hard shell of metal for the soft warmth of Malberry's flesh. The tip cut through muscle and tissue without a whimper of protest as the blade skirted around the interior of his rib cage and towards his heart.

------------------------------

The blade shot forward, piercing his abdomen as though he were naught but butter. Time seemed to slow around him as the blade crept deeper and deeper into his flesh. Time promised nothing but death for him. How he longed to embrace the cold of eternity.

His story neared not the end, only a turn.

The tip of the damnable blade turned north, seeking his heart and singing a tale of peace through his nerves.

Ever closer the blade screamed until at last his ploy took hold.

The blade, crafted for a master who sought an easy victory over those he considered an enemy, captured the other man's cowardice perfectly. The handle wrapped around the murderer's hand masking the digits in shadow. The blade, thick at the base, narrowed in an inverted arch as the one neared the needle-like tip.

Normal armors would offer no protection from the customized weapon. Plates would only serve to lower the point of entry while failing to defeat the wicked curve. The fine tip would pierce any vest. A pair of meticulously placed rods spaced to catch the blade's girth just before the final puncture held the blade still for the briefest instant.

More time than he would ever need.

The chair shifted beneath his wait as the rear legs slipped free of their housing. Gravity seized him as his arms swung from the sides, the concealed blades shedding their sheaths with a hollow clang.

He watched as the blades pierced his would-be-slayer's skull on either side. Death failed to register on the man's face as his victory left him behind.

Then time caught up.

Malberry crashed to the ground hard, the remnants of the chair shattering beneath his body. The impact sent a jolt through his body, twisting the blade trapped within him.

Pain turned to nausea and he felt him slip between consciousness.

Victory never occurred to him as he struggled to sit upright.

The pack circled around him, each watching the wounded beast with starving eyes. Each planning a dozen attacks. Each challenging him to make a mistake.

Wrenching the blade free, Malberry stumbled to his feet. He turned his wavering gaze on the Alpha female. A weak smile tugged at his lips. "We work for the Wren."

His order given, Malberry left the pack with the fallen coward. By right of blood, the pack was his.