The girl reacted to Jason’s attack swiftly. Popping the cord off her headphones and gripping it tightly, she caught the strike, pushing him back and landing a high kick on his fist.
Jason stumbled back, flicking the numbness from his hand. “What’s that cord made of?” he asked in disbelief.
“I reinforced it so I can use it as a garrote,” she returned quickly, leaping out of his range. Before Jason could plan his next strike, she suddenly dashed towards him, garrote held tight as she aimed for his neck.
“Bad idea, girl,” Jason muttered, sidestepped and plunging a killer stroke into her neck.
Or he would have, but his attack failed to connect, and he found himself overbalancing from his swing and toppling through the player as if she were made of air.
Regaining his balance, Jason shot a suspicious glance at the player he had just fallen through. She was now bouncing readily on her feet, the headphone-wire garrote still tight in her fists, as if daring Jason to try her again.
“Nice try.” Jason scowled, noting the steep drop behind her to the courtyard below. Striding forward, he walked right through the illusion, as his hands strayed to his belt. In a flash, he whipped a dagger from its sheath, launching it in the direction he had come.
The blade never made it over the wall. With a spark and a sound of metal against metal, the dagger careened off on a somersaulting tangent part way, as the young girl materialized behind it.
“How’d you know where I was?” she asked, dispelling her illusory clone.
“Easy,” Jason responded, crouching down. “I would've heard if you’d dropped to the courtyard or snuck towards me. Back towards the corner was the only way you could go.”
“Watch that one, (M)Alice!” Ifrit’s voice called from the courtyard as he stood up, the dagger in his back not appearing to bother him any. “The kid’s an Assassin, and he already took down Deep6! Want me to lend a hand?”
“Thanks, but I got this!” (M)Alice turned to face Jason, an excited grin creeping across her face. Plunging her hands into her hoodie pocket, she drew three kunai in each. Leaping back, she launched them skywards with two consecutive throws.
"IRON RAIN," she intoned.
As Jason broke into a dash, hoping to close the distance between him and (M)Alice before the projectiles landed, he chanced a glance up. Having reached the peak of their momentum, the kunai had flipped around and were now streaking back towards the battlements.
Only now they had quadrupled in number.
As the cloud of kunai closed in on Jason, he dove to the side, soaring over the battlement wall and into the empty space beyond. At the last second, he tossed a grappling iron from under his cloak over the crenellations, jolting into a swing back up towards (M)Alice as the hook caught. Behind him, the kunai peppered the stones like hail.
Although something caught Jason’s attention.
Out of the two-dozen kunai that should have hit the stones, less than half of them made any sound as they fell.
More illusions, he assessed as he neared the apex of his swing. Releasing his grip on the rope, he flipped himself back onto the wall, landing like a cat on all fours.
However, the young Lurker was nowhere in sight.
Smirking knowingly to himself, Jason closed his eyes and waited.
Below him, he could hear the sounds of Walter’s gunshots splitting the night, as Rampardner clanked towards him. Beyond that, he could hear Ifrit walking further away from him, even as someone new approached from inside the barracks. Beyond that still, he could hear the sound of someone on the southeast wall top. And then…
Right there!
Jason’s eyes snapped open as he dropped to the ground, lashing out with his fist as he connected with an invisible object. With a cry of dismay, (M)Alice reappeared and toppled to the ground, a serrated dagger flying from her grasp.
Flipping lightly onto her hands she leapt back a safe distance across the battlements, instinctively reaching into her extradimensional hoodie pocket and drawing another set of kunai.
“How’d you know that time?” she asked, scowling. “It sure wasn’t process of elimination.”
“I just discovered something about your illusions.” Jason grinned cockily, flicking his wristblade in and out. “You can make me see whatever you want, but you can’t change what I hear in the slightest!”
(M)Alice’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Well then, try this, know-it-all,” she muttered, launching her six kunai. Several feet from Jason, they suddenly ground to a halt in front of him, blades first. Throwing her hands into her pocket again, she repeated the motion a second and third time, forming a wall of inexplicably immobile kunai between the two of them.
“C’mon, at least put in the effort if you’re gonna go and make an illusion,” Jason scoffed.
“I’m still waiting,” (M)Alice taunted, beckoning him from behind the wall of kunai.
Jason clicked his tongue, ignoring the jagged obstacle and dashing headlong towards the Lurker. “It’ll take more than tricks to…”
The end of his sentence cut off as he slammed arm-first into a wall of very real kunai. Only his sharpened reflexes saved him from being impaled, as he skidded to a stop, falling onto his back and sliding partway under the kunai, which still remained fixed in the air above him.
“Well, this is new,” he admitted, trying in vain to push against an immobile blade.
*******
“I got him! I got him!” Isaac exclaimed to Marie, lowering his revolver and slipping it into his newly equipped backpack as AWPerator’s limp body toppled behind the crenellations. “SNIPE’s accuracy is a force to be reckoned with!”
“Bully for you,” Marie returned, tongue out in concentration as she twirled her grappling iron experimentally. “Just keep it down, the guard at my corner’s still up there.”
“Right-o.” Isaac grinned, dropping his voice as he deftly equipped and threw his own grappling hook, locking it into place. “Good luck, Marie!” He slowly ascended the rope, a hand at a time.
“You’ll never make it up at that rate.” Marie eyed his progress critically. “Put a little effort into it, my guy!”
So saying, she launched her grappling hook, giving the rope a flick to secure it before breaking into a dash towards the wall, the rope grasped tightly in both hands. As her feet touched the stone foundations, she pulled mightily at the dangling cable, hauling herself up a yard at a time as her feet sought irregularities in the stone, propelling her upwards at a dizzying speed.
Reaching the top of the ramparts, Marie lunged forward, gripping the stones tightly and pulling herself over the wall’s lip. There, she came face to face with the surprised Frozen_Beef, who was standing over the grappling hook, hunting knife in hand, preparing to sever the rope.
“Oh,” was all he managed to get out before Marie flipped herself over, locked her legs around his neck and snapped back again, launching the screaming Survivalist past the edge of the plateau below her and out into the deep drop beyond.
“Scratch one bandit.” Marie grinned, exhilarated.
*******
Meanwhile, Isaac was still painstakingly hauling himself up one hand at a time. Not one for heights, he froze with fear at every errant breeze that swayed the rope, clinging onto the hempen coil for dear life. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Isaac prepared himself for the final stretch when a familiar head poked over the lip of the battlements.
“Not cool, broski. You totes borked up my gear!” AWPerator complained, his favourite helmet now sporting a large indentation.
“Now, let’s not make any rash decisions.” Isaac gulped, as the Cabalist pulled a large military knife from his belt and grasped the rope.
“Sorry broseph, but this’s hardly my first FPS.” He grinned smugly. “Glad I spent the extra $350 at the spawn point to grab the helmet with my kevlar.”
“WRONG GAME!” Isaac shot back, as the top flap of his backpack opened, revealing Twich, pistol at the ready.
“HawaWAAAA!” Twich exclaimed, driving the unfortunate Cabalist back with a hail of bullets. With a speed born of desperation, Isaac hauled himself the remainder of the way, flipping himself over the wall and rolling to the ground a couple inches from the edge of the battlements, amidst a squeal of protest from his minion.
“Man, you get minions?” AWPerator complained, holding his chest with one hand, his other hand drawing his gnarled metallic wand. “Totes OP, please nerf.”
He never got any further, because Marie connected a solid roundhouse kick into the side of his head, sending him careening over the edge of the wall towards the unforgiving ground below.
“Thanks.” Isaac grinned, setting Twitch back on her feet.
“Don’t mention it.” Marie grinned back. “C’mon, let's go rescue Tenshi.”
*******
Ifrit smiled in spite of himself as Sicklesoul strutted out of the barracks and made a beeline for him. A small, stocky lady of middle age with a chocolate complexion, she carried herself with the bearings of a lady twice her height. She wore a grey blazer over her white dress, and had a white, wide-brimmed hat worn on a heavy slant.
“Ohm’gaaaad,” she drawled, dragging the last syllable out as she surveyed the carnage. “There’s blood everywhere! I’d better guard ma back, ‘cause they’re knifin’ everybody in sight! Jeeezus!”
She half-squatted next to Deep6, pulling a mechanical-looking rectangular box from her belt.
“Can you patch everyone back up again?” Ifrit asked, looking down at the small Surgeon who was currently fiddling intently with her box.
“Got a snowball’s chance in hell a' that one,” Sicklesoul shot back without turning her head. “Ain't got enough TP, that is Technical Points, to revive ‘em all, and CPR don’t work in this world.”
“’Sides,” she continued, looking pointedly at the remnants of MC. “Some of ‘em ain't got enough lips left for that, even.”
“What’s the plan then?” Ifrit asked, opening his palm and summoning a small, prismatic light. “I can heal the living alright, but you’re the only one in the Cutpurses that can do anything with the dead.”
“Well, for starters, I’ll bring this one back,” Sicklesoul returned, rising and kicking the body of Deep6 in the ribs. “You c’n heal her from there. After that, I’ll use my Ability to keep the rest of th’ punks on ice and vivify 'em later.” So saying, she twisted a final dial on the box, causing it to spring open.
In a trice, what appeared to be a mound of grey sand flowed out from the container, scattering across the cobblestones at their feet, then condensing on the prone form of Deep6, entering her body through any and every orifice. As Ifrit watched in admiration, the Incarnate began to twitch and spasm, as the gaping wound in her chest knitted itself back together. With a finishing touch, the gap in her shirt where the knife had slipped vanished, after which the nanobot swarm poured back out of the girl, returning to Sicklesoul's box. After a brief pause, the girl stirred, coughing violently.
“Easy there girl, get some air back into yo’ lungs,” the Surgeon offered comfortingly, patting Deep6’s back as she struggled to a sitting position.
“Wow, that was horrible,” the girl muttered, coughing again. “I don’t know how you go through that so nonchalantly, Ifrit.”
“Dying’s like anything else, it gets better with practice,” he returned consolingly. “The first time’s always the hardest.”
“Didja see a bright light?” Sicklesoul asked, peering into her eyes curiously.
“Not unless it looked a lot like the BRYZ login screen.” Deep6 smiled weakly.
“Well, she’s fine.” Sicklesoul laughed, clapping her stiffly on the back and knocking her over. “Alrighty, time t’ see to the rest of the young’uns.”
“What exactly is your ability, Sickle?” Ifrit asked, launching his hovering palm-sized light into Deep6, revitalizing her. “I don’t rightly think I’ve seen it before.”
“It’s called LAST NIGHT’S LEFTOVERS,” she explained, tapping Gr3g’s body as she passed. Out of nowhere, a giant paper plate popped up beneath him, and a sheet of plastic wrap quickly unfurled out of thin air, completely encompassing both plate and corpse. “I c’n only do it on nonlivin’ things, it wraps ‘em up pretty, and keeps them stuck in whatever state they’re currently in. This means they won’t decay none, or despawn like normal.”
“That’s handy, if a little odd to look at.” Ifrit nodded sagely.
“Not only that, but they now count as items, so I c’n store 'em in ma inventory.”
“I’ll hold a couple of them in my inventory too,” Ifrit offered, tapping his menu. “You never know. If one of us dies, it’d be bad if we took all our friends with us.”
“I don’t plan on kickin’ no bucket today,” Sicklesoul spat, ducking absent-mindedly to evade a bullet ricocheting off Rampardner's armour. Skittering to the side, she placed the Holpomachus's body between herself and Walter as he emptied out the rest of his bullets.
As soon as he stopped to reload, she broke into a waddling run again, tapping the remnants of MC and Melvin as she went, encapsulating them. Pressing her back against the wall a few feet from the opening where Walter was entrenched, she looked across the gateway at the still form of Trance, cursing between her teeth.
“I can’t reach the last kid!” she yelled at Ifrit irately. “Ohm’gad, can’t somebody do somethin’ about that damned revolver boy?”
Suddenly her eyes caught something on the far end of the courtyard. Squinting, she saw what looked like a quarter-sized person stumbling about outside the entrance to the lower levels of the fort. With an awkward gait, it shuffled out of sight again, leaving the Surgeon perplexed as to what it was she saw.
“Hey Ifrit, I think we might have company,” she quickly messaged her friend. “Saw something unusual sneaking around by the basement entrance.
“Got it,” Ifrit texted back. “As soon as you get an opportunity, store Trance, then check it out. Also, bring Nightslayr with you, just in case.”
“Nightslayr?” Sicklesoul muttered with profound distaste. “Frankly, I’d sooner die.”
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