Chapter 10: The Reign of Terror

Part 1 of 2: Desolation

The Fuccio Crime Family owned Detroit. There was no question about. Anyone who dare thought otherwise was usually found dead the very next day. Sure, the police claimed to have the situation under control, or sometimes they said that rumors of the Fuccio's being a crime family were faulty, but these were all lies crafted by the cowardly and the weak. Every important person in Detroit had at least some connection. The Mayor, the police chief, and even the firemen were all held under an iron grip.

At the head of the Fuccio crime family was a man named Cameron Fuccio. This man of sixty-eight years was known for his wonderful ability to lie directly to people's faces, while giving off the impression that he was entirely sincere. Because of this, most of his own family did not believe him half of the time. Cameron was the father to three children: Mickey, Ruth, and Theodore. Mickey was a mathematical genius, his intellect unmatched by anyone in the city. Ruth was not much of a daughter. Most of her time was spent in foreign locales, enjoying the pleasurable company of sex-driven males (and the occasional female, for anyone was willing to do anything to get near the vast wealth of the Fuccio family). Still, she loved her father dearly, and whenever she was needed for a very important family gathering, she was the first to arrive. Theodore, the youngest, was not bright. In fact, dim would be to kind of a word to describe him. What he lacked in brains, however, he made up with strength and force, and he was cherished equally by his father.

These three were the heads of the main three branches of the Fuccio Crime Family, and they all took their orders from their father. Of course, there were many more branches in the family, such as Aunt Lisa's branch in Chicago, or Cousin Danny's branch in Los Angeles, but these would be far too numerous for the average person to keep track of.

Which is exactly why it was so amazing to see every single member of the family come together in one room. Cameron had scrounged up every one of his living relatives to join together in a crucial business decision. A man had contacted him personally, seeking for a large amount of criminal assistance. If this man was to be believed, then it was absolutely necessary to gather the family for a meeting on the second-to-top floor of the building which held Ron's Pizza Parlor.

However, to AJ, who was parched on the roof of the same building, the reason for the gathering did not matter. What did matter was the fact that this was the only chance she would ever get to prove herself.

"AJ, you're breathin' heavy," Mac stated over the earpiece. "Is somethin' wrong."

"Nothin'," AJ said. "Just a little nerves."

"Just remember what I taught ya," Mac said, his voice smooth. "Keep your aim steady, and always watch over your shoulder. As long as you take out the guards first, you should be all good."

"I know, I know," AJ said, frustrated. She checked over her weapons. Her two pistols were loaded, and a retractable blade was concealed in her wrist. An extra set of knives were stuck to her hips if she needed them.

"You'll be fine, AJ," Mac insisted. "If anyone can take down these bastards, it's you."

"And if I don't?" AJ asked. "If I fail?"

"Anna-Jean Balle, when have you ever failed anything?" Mac asked happily. "Failure just aint in yer style. Now… go kill those fuckers."

"On it," AJ said, her nerves washing away. Secretly, she was extremely glad to have someone as confident as Mac supporting her. She hoped that sometime in the future, she would be able to muster up half of the courage that her mentor possessed. However, she would dare not reveal these thoughts aloud, for her hubris was far too great.

AJ gave a tug on the cord that was clipped to her belt. She took a few steps towards the edge of the building, and cautiously peered over the edge. Cars ran by at an unrelenting pace ten stories beneath her. If she was to slip, or the cord was to break, she would fall to a gruesome and painful death. She took a deep breath, and then counted down aloud.

"Five, four, three, two…"

AJ never finished counting. With a burst of determination, she leapt off of the building, and started to plummet towards the earth. The cord suddenly caught tension, and snapped her back towards the building. She tucked her knees close to her chest, and held her elbows close to her body as she flung directly towards a closed window. From outside, she could see a lengthy oval table, where twenty people sat in a meaningful discussion. At the far end of the table was Cameron Fuccio, who was near the door, which was managed by two lone guards.

There was such a large amount of shock for the Fuccios when a thirteen year-old girl with a Stetson and high-grade pistols burst through the window, and landed perfectly upon the table. The surprise was so great that no one could even react properly to stop her from lodging a bullet in the forehead of Cameron Fuccio, and the chests of the two guards. By the time the criminals came to their senses, AJ had already opened fire upon the room, killing six. Most of the Fuccios hopped to the floor, but it did no good to save them. One man, Albert Fuccio, tried to attack AJ head-on. AJ flicked her wrist, sliding the concealed blade into her palm. She promptly stabbed Albert three times in the chest, a messy kill.

The massacre continued onwards. Any time someone ran to the door, they received AJ's brutal wrath. At a point, AJ forgot that she was actually killing people. While she thought about it, it never really bothered her that much. In fact, it was almost fun to end such miserable lives. It simply never seemed like she was committing murder, and appeared more like a game than anything else.

Everyone was gone. In a matter of seconds, the Fuccios had gone from the rulers of an empire to rotting corpses. AJ put down her weapons, and scanned the room. She wished she could continue. The bloodlust had grown considerably, and it felt sort of good to let it take control.

"Mac, it's done," AJ stated, hopping off of the table. "Is it supposed to feel this good?"

"It shouldn't really," Mac said, only mildly concerned. "You're just affected by the adrenaline. Ya should calm down once ya get back here."

"Is there anythin' else ya want me to do?" AJ asked, hopeful.

"Just get back here, kid," Mac groaned.

"What… what did they do to you?"

AJ whipped around, and pointed her gun at the voice. A man was hiding beneath the table. She didn't care what he looked like. To her, he was just another person to kill.

"You're just a kid," he said, horrified. "You shouldn't be doing this."

"Shut it!" AJ yelled at the man. "I'm gonna take pleasure in watching you bleed."

"Look, do you really want to kill me?" the man asked, desperately. "Realize what you're doing. You just killed twenty people. You're better than this."

"I told ya to shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!" AJ screamed. "Why am I even talking to you? I should just-"

"AJ, ya gotta get out of there!" Mac instructed. "Reports of gunfire have spread to the police. We can't let them find ya there."

AJ turned away from the man, and hushed herself.

"Alright," she said. "We meet back at the base. Hopefully, Celestia will be plenty proud. Just let me-"

AJ stopped. The man had slipped away when she wasn't paying attention; a rooky mistake. AJ sighed. She supposed that she still had plenty to learn. Why did she have to look away? Why couldn't she keep focus like Mac had told her to? Celestia would be disappointed in her, without a doubt.

Still, this was just the beginning. She had survived for tonight, and she had a lifetime to learn how to be the best soldier she could be.

And, better yet, she couldn't wait to get back in the action.

__________

March 14th, 2016

AJ only awoke to darkness. Her first instinct was to move, but she was rendered immobile, hanging against the wall. Her memories came back to her, which only made her struggle more. She looked around for her friends, but couldn't make anything out in the shadow. She patiently waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Before that came about, though, she heard a long groan.

"Hey, who's there?" AJ questioned. No response came. To her right, she could barely make out a figure strapped to the wall, rustling about. It took a few minutes more before she could identify the mysterious figure as Tara.

"Tara, are you alright?" said the southerner. Tara groaned again. "Tara, wake up. We got to get out of here, wherever here may be."

"Wha… who's do…" Tara murmured incoherently. The surroundings were becoming more visible. AJ could finally make out Tara among the darkness, but almost wished that she hadn't. Tara's hands had been stabbed through, causing them to profusely bleed. They were cuffed to the wall above her, as she hung like a portrait. Also, a small cuff had been attached to her right hand, which had a wire running down the wall.

"Tara, we're in a cell," AJ stated. "You need to get us out of here."

"Sam… he'll be coming home soon," Tara muttered. "He always comes home."

"Tara, focus!" AJ commanded. "It's me, AJ. You have to break us out."

"Why did… he leave?" Tara said in a dull voice. "I… I miss him."

All of a sudden, AJ realized what was attached to Tara's wrist. She was being drugged, kept in an isolated state of consciousness so she couldn't use her powers.

"Focus," AJ insisted. "Listen to my voice, and follow it. Understand your surroundings."

"I don't… want that, Sam," Tara said. "Let… me sleep, you… big jerk…"

She's gone, AJ thought, groaning in frustration. Clearly, her actions were having no effect. She doubted that she could break out of her bonds. Her arms and legs were tightly locked in place, and escape certainly seemed impossible. As AJ looked around further, she did have a small sense of hope. Tara was the only other member of her team nearby, which meant that at least someone had managed to get away. She could only hope that the others could get to her location fast, before Sombra took them down.

Sombra. He had tricked them, lied to them, deceived them. She could handle the fact that he was working with a terrorist, but lying? That was crossing the line. So, she made a secret promise to herself. AJ knew that she was going to break free. She knew that she would execute The Unknown.

And most importantly, she knew that she would have to make Sombra pay, and that she would enjoy every minute of it.

__________

Chirp Chirp Chirp

There was a brief gust of wind. The leaves fluttered.

Chirp Chirp

A lizard ran up the bark of a tree. It scurried up beyond the branches.

Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp

A body lay on the floor. It's pink hair was caked with mud and dirt, as was its arms and torso.

Chirp

Fiona groggily opened her eyes. She was lying face down in the dirt. Slowly, she pushed herself off of the ground, and then immediately collapsed back to her stomach.

"Ow," she moaned. She took a deep breath, and then forced herself to rise. "Ow ow ow ow ow."

Fiona leaned herself against a tree, one hand wrapped around her stomach. Upon self-examination, she found out why she was in so much pain. Her clothes were mostly torn, including the entire right sleeve and collarbone area of her T-shirt, which caused her to embarrassingly reveal much more of her chest than she would have liked. Several lacerations covered her legs, and her arms were decorated with deep cuts.

However, for just a moment, Fiona was able to see past the pain, and realize one very shocking truth: she was in the jungle. The most pristine location for exotic forms of life surrounded her. She was actually left alone with the beauties of nature that only survived in such a wonderful, lush environment.

She couldn't be more terrified.

There was a rustling in the trees. Fiona's head shot up in fear. What was that? Something skittered by several yards away. What could that be? Was it a predator? It wasn't like those didn't inhabit the land. Anything could be watching her. She could only guess what was hidden underneath the African sun.

"Dash?" Fiona whispered. She was too terrified to call out any louder. "Dash, are you there?"

Fiona sighed. She would have to shout. She hated shouting normally, and now she had to do it while potentially attracting predators.

"Dash, are you there?!" Fiona screamed, getting no answer. "Where are you?! Please, answer me!"

Fiona looked up. Through the leaves above, she could make out the Daltenoss Royal Estate. She need to get there. The last thing she remembered before leaping out of the window was seeing Tara lying unconscious on the floor. According to the sun, it was past midday, which meant that Tara could have been tortured for hours.

"Okay, Fiona, you have to move fast," she told herself. At a rate comparable to a sloth, Fiona marched to the cliff. She kept one blood-soaked hand leaning against a tree to stabilize herself. Her legs felt weak, and her head felt worse. All the while she marched, she kept her eyes and ears tuned to the jungle. It was a complex balancing procedure, having to watch for predators while making sure she didn't overexert herself.

Perhaps this was the reason she didn't notice the leopard stalking her. It stayed under the heavy cover of shadow, trailing just a few yards behind its new prey. It could see that its target was wounded, and all it had to do was wait for the girl to collapse before it could feed.

Fiona panted heavily. She wished she could bandage her wounds, but had nothing to do it with. Combined with the ever-present hunger and pain, she started to wonder if she could even stay alive till sundown.

Snap

Fiona froze. She carefully turned around, only to see a large mass of spotted fur. The animal watched her with hungry eyes.

Okay, Fiona, you know what to do, Fiona encouraged herself. She had read enough about jungle cats to understand how to handle herself. Taking a deep breath, sucking up the pain, Fiona tried to make herself seem as large as possible. She kept her eyes locked on the leopard's feet instead of its eyes, as she started to walk backwards.

Don't be a threat, don't be weak. Don't be a threat, don't be weak, Fiona repeated her mantra in her mind. It was the only thing that kept her feeling safe. Otherwise, she was quite certain she would be panicking. It wasn't like she wasn't panicking inside anyhow, but it made her feel as if she wasn't panicking (which made perfect sense to her).

Everything was going well. But, like most things in Fiona's life, something came along to mess it all up.

"Hey, you big, stupid cat!" Dash screamed from a dozen yards away. The leopard focused on the new prey, and started to walk toward her.

"Dash, get out of there!" Fiona called. However, even though Dash looked just as damaged as Fiona did, she still kept her smug attitude.

"Come one, kitty," Dash teased. "Look at me, nice and juicy. Don't you just want to eat me up?"

"Dash, stay quiet," Fiona insisted.

"I bet your hungry, you little bitch," Dash said. The leopard picked up its pace, and quickly lunged out.

Whoosh

Dash ran around to the back, and jumped on top of the wild animal. She wrapped an arm around its neck as it struggled to free itself, waving its paws pathetically in the air. The sheer amount of muscle proved to be a challenge, as it wriggled about in Dash's grip. Still, no amount of protection could shield it when Dash picked up a large branch, and proceeded to stab the leopard repeatedly in the face.

"Dash, let it go!" Fiona begged, hobbling over to her friend's position. The beast had bled to death before she arrived.

"I save your life, and that's how you thank me?" Dash said, jokingly offended.

"That was just a poor creature trying to survive," Fiona scolded. "You didn't need to kill it."

"Too bad, I did," Dash said, observing her kill. "Also, put your bra away. No one wants to see that."

"You're missing the point, Dash," said Fiona, angrily (although she did cross her arms over her chest). "That leopard is part of an endangered species. You can't kill whate—What are you doing?"

Dash had struck the sharp branch into the leopard's side, and had begun to skin the dead animal.

"We're in the fucking jungle," Dash said. "We're going to need food, and probably some clothing. And, honestly, I've always wanted to try some exotic cuisine."

"I'm not going to eat a leopard!" Fiona claimed, horribly appalled. "Stop mutilating its corpse. That's sickening."

"Hey, I'm fucking hungry," Dash growled. "I don't care about whatever pesky morals you have about eating something that just tried to eat you."

"Then you can waste your time eating," Fiona said, facing towards the castle. "Our friends need our help, and I won't waste my time while they're suffering up there."

"Fiona, eat the fucking leopard," Dash groaned, tearing off the skin from the paws. "Look, we don't have the energy to make it to that castle, let alone get everyone out. I'm asking you as a friend to stay with me, and at least rest for the night."

Fiona hated the fact that Dash was correct. She would never make it to the castle in her current condition. She would have to find another source of food, but making a camp would certainly be helpful. She took one final look at the castle in a pathetic mixture of despair and hope.

Please, just hold out a little longer, Tara, she thought. I'll be there soon.

__________

"He's just sitting there," commented 0071.

"Don't you think I can see that?" retorted 0193.

"Should we hit him, or something?"

"He's just luring you into a false sense of security."

"He's kind of creepy…"

"Don't worry. He's in the cell, and you're out here… with a gun. He is not going to cause any harm."

The Unknown sat on crossed legs, not moving in the slightest. 0071 regretted not taking off the mask before locking him within the cell. The faceless man could have been staring directly at him, or maybe he was sleeping quietly. No one would ever know, but the uncertainty only made guarding the cell even creepier.

"Hold up, I'm getting a call," 0193 stated. He pulled out his radio. "Yeah?"

"How's the prisoner?" came a voice from the radio.

"He's not a concern," 0193 said. "King Sombra has created his new set of conduct?"

"Yes, he has," said the voice. "Soon, he'll have to get us bigger paychecks."

"Sombra won't succeed," The Unknown spoke up, remaining perfectly still. "Those girls will take him down, and once they do, I will get what I deserve."

"Those little girls are nothing," 0071 claimed. "We got them all locked up."

"I have faith in their abilities," The Unknown said dryly. "And I'll have to be the first to remind you ingrates that four of them have escaped your capture. Honestly, you don't stand much of a chance."

"They won't be free for long," 0193 said. He spoke to the radio. "He's on the case, right?"

"How could he not be?" said the voice. "Once Devilman gets a whiff of the action, he won't rest until he becomes satisfied."

"Who's Devilman?" The Unknown asked, mildly curious.

"The best we got around," 0071 proudly said. "Those little girls are going to be cut into pieces by the end of the day."

The Unknown couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh, my sad friend," he said. "You have no idea what you're up against. I'd be wary. After all, what you don't know most certainly can hurt you."

__________

"It's official… we're screwed," Pinky sighed. "I mean, it would be bad enough that we're blocked off from the server, but I have no idea where I'm going. It's like we're running around blind… no offense."

"I think our current predicament is more of a concern than a Freudian slip, Pinky," Rachel groaned.

"Really? I was going to say that losing contact with everyone else was the biggest concern of all… but hey, apples and oranges, right?"

"Ugh…"

Rachel couldn't decide whether being trapped in the dark passageway with Pinky was calming or irritating. Thanks to some rather impressive interrogation of 0221 (which she only accomplished by shattering an extra three of his bones), Rachel had learned of a hidden passage used for maneuvering throughout the castle. While contact with Tara had been lost, she knew that she was intelligent enough to handle such a delicate operation.

Unfortunately, Pinky had nearly ruined the entire thing by executing the guard via gunshot, and then almost failed to make it into the secret gate before more soldiers had arrived. Perhaps it was the sheer difference in brain power that was creating such a sense of frustration, but Pinky, despite all of her uses, seemed more like extra baggage than anything else. And now, having been lead down a dead end for the fifth time, Rachel was starting to question most of her decisions she had made to reach this point.

"I wish I had a flashlight, or something," Pinky moaned. "This is super annoying… I can't see a thing."

"Pinky…"

"Seriously, I swear I'm not doing this on purpose!" Pinky raised her hands in defense. "You don't have a flashlight on you though, do you?"

"First of all, what the hell is a flashlight?" Rachel gave a quizzical look. "Second of all, I'm wearing tight sweatpants. Do I look like I can carry anything?"

"Not really," Pinky said with disinterest. She looked around, walking forward mindlessly in the dark caverns. "Man, this place looks like those caves the Russian guys had. Doesn't it? Oh…"

"Pinky… please stop talking."

"Sorry, I'll stop now," Pinky moaned. The two continued on their journey into shadows.

"But honestly, what's a flashlight?" Rachel asked.

"You know, that cylinder thing that shines out a big light," Pinky tried her best to explain the seemingly foreign concept. "There's a button, and it goes 'Click!', and then you can make shadow puppets from the light. Do you not have those in England?"

"Are you talking about a torch?" Rachel asked with slight confusion. "Is that what they call it here? That's a stupid name… if it doesn't flash, why is it called a flashlight?"

"I don't know," Pinky claimed. "What do I look like? A flashlight expert? And... I just did it again, didn't I?"

"It's like a never-ending train wreck," Rachel groaned. "Just keep an eye out for any hidden openings. That guard said there would be some form of indication of a door."

"We've been looking for hours," Pinky said. "This place can't be that big. I mean, if we haven't found it by now, we might have just been going in circles. What if we never find this thing? We could be stuck down here for days, or maybe months, or maybe—"

Smack

Pinky, in her babbling, had lost all sense of direction, and walked directly into a cold slab of granite. Rachel paused as the sound the almost crunchy sound hit her ears. She turned her head towards the noise, more curious than concerned.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked to the darkness. Pinky rose to her feet, holding her nose.

"Ow ow ow ow," said the hurt teen. "I think I broke my nose."

"Your voice would be more garbled if you broke your nose," Rachel stated factually. "Still, you might have bruised it somewhat. Are you bleeding, by any chance?"

Pinky rubbed her fingers together, feeling a thin layer of moisture. "Uh, yeah," she said. "Man, this hurts."

Pinky leaned back against the granite wall, unaware that she was slowly falling backwards.

"I'm not going to get my nose cut off, right? Cuz that would suuu—Whoa!"

The wall behind her gave way, swinging ajar with little warning. Rachel heard the sound of crumbling rock, metal grinding against metal, a dull thud, and Pinky screaming in fear and confusion.

"Um… did you find something?" Rachel asked. Pinky groaned. She lay flat on her back, her feet extended up in the air as if caught by invisible tethers to be strung up from the ceiling. Rolling her head back, she observed the empty hall in which she collapsed to. Unlike the rest of the pristine estate, this particular corridor seemed bland. The walls were charcoal in color, and there were no extravagant items lining the walls. All that was present, aside from the bleakness, was a gray door, tightly jutted into the stone.

"Hey, I thing we found it!" Pinky proudly pronounced, hopping to her feet. "See, I told you that we would find our way out, but you just kept doubting me. Well, who's doubting now, huh?"

"Pinky, open the damn door already," Rachel said dryly, steeping out into the corridor. "And get that pistol ready. Who knows how long it'll take for the guards to find us."

"Good point," Pinky quickly agreed, checking the ammunition on her newly acquired weapon. She moaned distastefully after realizing that she had smeared blood on the grip, but otherwise felt prepared to free her friends.

But then, Rachel thought of something strange.

"Wait a second… shouldn't the guards already be here?" she asked, keeping her ears open. There were no signs of human life on either side of them, which was more distressing than not.

"Who cares?" Pinky shrugged. "Our friends are right here."

"But the guards should know that," Rachel said, resting her finger on her temple. "It seems like they should have prepared for us to come this way, but they left it unguarded. This seems almost like a—"

CRACK

With tremendous force, something wrapped tightly around Rachel's calf, and then dragged her across the room. Pinky jumped back in shock as Rachel rolled around desperately trying to free herself. Upon calming herself, Pinky took notice that someone was standing at the end of the hall twenty-five feet away, dragging Rachel on the floor with a thick whip.

Although mostly concealed by shadow, Pinky could make out the outline of a monstrous figure. His body was covered with thick, red and black armor, which bulked him up to an unnatural degree. He wore almost a dome over his head, with two spikes protruding from the sides.

"Come here, little piggy!" the man taunted as Rachel drew ever closer. He tugged on the whip harder, moving one hand over the other until Rachel was less than a yard away. He scooped her by the ankle, and dangled her upside down.

"Let go of me, you piece of shit! Rachel flailed her limbs about helplessly.

"Aren't you a pretty one?" the large man laughed.

Bang Bang Bang

Bullets bounced off of the plating with no effect. Pinky could only groan in frustration.

"Rachel, stop moving! I don't want to hit you!' Pinky ordered.

"Stop firing and help me already!" Rachel screamed. The large man started to walk towards Pinky, keeping his grip on Rachel firm.

"Come on, come on, come on," he said. "I want to see you fight. Don't be shy, now."

Devilman, as he had come to be known, had perhaps been both one of the best and worst decisions ever made by King Klius Daltenoss. A proud native of Essex, he was arrested on account of kidnapping and torturing over twelve people for satanic rituals, including maim and rape. Perhaps it was the dedication that sparked the king's interest, or maybe it was the sheer power he possessed, but either way, he was released from prison later that year, and transformed into guard number, "0666", out of a sense of commitment and humor.

Upon stepping forth into the light, Pinky could come to grips with the exact limits of this deranged obsession. Not only was the man tall and strong, but his armor, which left no section uncovered, was decorated with messy drawings of satanic imagery and poems, including a scribbly "666" across the chest. The helmet, which covered Devilman's face, was painted with a demon's face, and the two spikes which stuck out of odd angles were his horns.

"Please don't kill me, monster man," Pinky said in a child-like squeak.

"I ain't gonna kill ya yet," Devilman said, marching ever closer. "I got some plans for ya."

"Pinky, do something!" Rachel said, still struggling to free herself.

"I'm not good at fighting," Pinky muttered, slowly backing away from the threat at hand. "There's a reason I use guns, you British nutcase."

"Damn it, Pinky, my heart is racing here," Rachel said. "At least fight him for a tad bit, just to make things exciting."

"Why are you emphasizing words?" Pinky angrily whispered. "This is not the time to—Oh, yeah. Gotcha."

Pinky lunged towards Devilman, trying her best to seem frightening. Unfortunately, as she had said herself, Pinky's hand-to-hand combat abilities were not by any means, "good". Using his free hand, Devilman took ahold of Pinky's fist, and tossed her across the hall. With little effort, he flung Rachel in the same direction, causing the girls to crash into each other.

"Can you fight yet?" Pinky asked, pushing her friend off of her stomach.

"Not as well as I'd like," Rachel moaned, pushing herself off of the floor. The dancing colors of red and violet started to take shape into actual people, but she did not have any more time to waste. Rachel, staying low to the ground, charged at her attacker, watching a dazzling display of lights play out before her. She heard the crack of a whip, and a wave of red spread out through the air, passing straight into her right arm. She slid to the left, and then dived into Devilman's legs. She moved like a snake, weaving around his limbs in a series of flexible twists and turns. Before anyone really knew what was happening, Rachel had climbed her way onto his back, and was now delivering a series of nerve strikes to the chinks in his armor.

"Woohoo! Kick his butt, Rachel!" Pinky cheered. She watched intently as her friend held on tightly, delivering brilliantly placed attacks to her foe. Despite him staying on his feet and persistently letting out growls, Pinky could tell that Devilman was going to fall soon. It was simply a matter of time.

And then, something unexpected happened. Devilman, using the last bit of his strength, ran backwards into the granite wall, and repeatedly banged into the hard surface. There was a sickening crack, and then Rachel sent out a terrifying scream. Her arms became lifeless, and she dropped pathetically to the ground. Rachel rolled about in agony, her face contorted into a mess of gritted teeth and moist eyes.

Pinky couldn't help but notice a painful similarity. Seeing Rachel suffer brought back the dreadful memories of her legs shattering under the pressure of a Russian boot, splintering apart at the seams. There was nothing she could do to prevent the feelings of suffering, guilt, shame, and horror of that night, and her rational thoughts morphed into a cacophony of fear and anguish.

Overcome by her emotions, Pinky did the only sensible thing she could think of: she ran. She sprinted as fast as her mechanic legs could take her.

CRACK

She barely got five feet. The whip lashed across her back, leaving a deep, bloody streak imprinted on her torso. With a bloodcurdling yell, she fell to her knees. Pain took hold, and she could no longer support herself.

CRACK

The whip struck again, striking the other wound at a perpendicular angle. Pinky would have heard a man laughing if not for the ringing.

CRACK

A third strike, this time at the base of spine. Pinky had no more energy left. She didn't even scream, for she was too weak to do so. Voiceless, she finally fell over onto her chest, and closed her eyes.

"Ah, you girls will be perfect," she heard Devilman say. "King Sombra can live without knowing what happened to you two. There are far more important things to take care of."

__________

Fiona was absolutely amazed to discover that she had a pleasant dream. She knew it was crazy, considering the circumstances, yet at some time during her slumber, she realized that things were going over smoothly. When she had forced herself to sleep on the cold, hard earth, looking away from Dash gnawing on the remains of a poor forest creature, she thought that she would be in for a rough night.

Alas, when she opened her eyes at the break of dusk, she found that she was quite warm, and surrounded by something surprisingly soft. Her wings (which she couldn't remember taking out) were wrapped over her form, protecting her from the damp soil beneath. They must have instinctively covered her during the night, she realized. She groggily raised herself off of the roots of a tree, examining the remains of a campsite that surrounded her. The two bright blue objects, as if reading her mind, dissolved into her skin, merging back into her flesh. Perhaps, she briefly thought, the wretched things were not as bad as she previously thought.

"Rise and shine, cocksucker," Dash said from behind, giving Fiona an unceremonious smack to the forehead. "We got a lot of work to do."

"We do?" Fiona asked, distracted by the sting on her now-red face. She could not, for the life of her, figure out why there was a sense of urgency. Sure, there was a leopard corpse lying not too far away (which made Fiona want to throw up), but that was nothing that Dash would be concerned over.

At this moment, she plucked out a particular memory of her friends being held captive. With a sudden burst of energy, Fiona sprung up to her feet, and fearfully looked about the environment. Aside from the all-identical trees, the magnificent cliff stuck up from the tips of the branches, a pillar of rock from the vastness of green.

"Come on, let's go!" Fiona ordered, taking up the need for hurrying. She moved as fast as she could toward the cliff, adrenaline blocking out all sensation of pain. Her wounds were covered with grime and mud, and she had not eaten fully in a very long while. This could not stop her, as she plowed to her goal.

"Whoa there, cowgirl," Dash said, suddenly appearing to block Fiona's path. "You gotta take a breather. You're zooming around like a fucking roadrunner."

"Dash, our friends are in there!" Fiona spoke with haste. "They've been in there for almost the whole day! We need to—"

"We need to strategize," Dash said. She reflected. "Wow, that sounded weird to say."

"We don't have time," Fiona said, trying (and failing) to weave around Dash.

"Look, you pink-haired piece of shit," Dash reasoned. "Tara's captured, and as far as we know, so is everyone else. That means one of has to take charge, and considering how you're too busy fingering yourself to shitty, French films, I'm taking charge."

"Then do what you're used to doing: move fast," Fiona said. "Tara's trapped in there, and we—"

"Shut the fuck up, will ya?" Dash groaned. "Look, I know you and Spark are like, 'best buds', but this is my one chance to lead, and I'm doing it right. So…"

Dash looked up at the estate through the trees.

"How are we going to get up there?"

Fiona never thought about that. She never thought about it at all.

"And how do we get past the guards?"

Fiona stammered about to say something, but her words came out mumbled.

"And how do we even know where they would be, if they're still alive?"

Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it.

"And, assuming they're still alive, and can still fight, and we can escape the castle, where the hell are we supposed to go? Or how do we deal with the mad king? Or how do we explain we kick started an international incident to Celestia? Or…"

Dash mentally slapped herself.

"Jesus Christ, I sound like a fucking asshole."

"No, you're right," Fiona said, unable to believe that Dash was making a perfectly logical argument. "I'm just freaking out, that's all."

"Fiona, everyone will be fine," Dash reassured. "Now, sit your ass down, and let's do something productive."

With a sigh, Fiona lowered herself to the floor, while Dash crossed her arms and rested against a tree. In what she considered to be the strangest moment of her life, Dash tried to come up with a plan. She had seen Tara strategize plenty of times, so it did not seem like it would be too difficult to replicate. Unfortunately, thinking ahead was not her strong suit, and despite knowing the problems she would have to face, she couldn't come up with much more than, "kill guards, save friends."

"First, we're going to need to get in the castle," Fiona stated. "Helping the others won't do any good if we're stuck out here."

"Hey, you still have those wings, right?" asked Dash. Fiona nodded. "Can you fly up and search for an entrance through the cliff?"

"Why would there be an entrance through the cliff?" Fiona asked.

"Okay, this is just my theory, but…" Dash said. "Don't old castles have a bunch of secret exits for emergency escapes? Like, isn't that the thing that castles are known for?"

"Well, I guess…"

"And wouldn't there also need to be a route for people to get down to the forest from the castle?" Dash suggested. "You know, like for mining of some shit? The biggest mines here are about ten miles away from the castle, and I didn't see any alternate routes."

"Yeah. Wait, how did you remember that fact about the mines?" Fiona asked, surprised.

"Believe it or not, I actually pay attention when Spark tries to teach us some geographical bullshit," Dash said with an air of smugness. "Unlike some other people who claim to be her friends."

"Hey…" Fiona groaned.

"So be a good friend now, and search for an entrance," Dash ordered.

"But you do realize it's getting dark," Fiona said. "It's going to be hard to— Hey, let go!"

Dash unceremoniously grabbed onto Fiona's hair, and pulled her to her feet. She contorted the girl backwards, tugging her head repeatedly.

"Don't fucking question me!" Dash shouted. "Do you want to be helpful or not?!"

"Yes…"

"Then are you going to stop acting like a little bitch?!"

"Yes! Just please let go. You're hurting me."

"Deal with the fucking pain!"

"Please let go of me. Ow!"

Dash, with absolutely no hint of kindness, through Fiona away, and angrily groaned. Fiona stumbled to her knees, rubbing her bruised scalp. Any previous inclination that her rebellious friend would have made a decent leader vanished, in such an embarrassing manner that Fiona almost felt ashamed for even allowing said thought to cross her mind. Still, her desperation to find Tara made her reluctantly sigh, and unfold the large pair of wings from her back.

Except this time, the resulting action hurt much more than she recalled. If she wasn't already on her knees, she most certainly would have collapsed onto them. The wings trembled with the humble girl, as, for the first time, Dash noticed a trail of blood running down Fiona's sides, emulating from her back.

"Oh, shit, you got hurt," Dash said, curiously walking around the wounded woman.

"Of course, I'm hurt," Fiona said, almost angrily. She whimpered in pain, sounding less like a girl and more like a wounded puppy. "I (groan) crashed on the way down here."

"Yeah, looks like you got a pretty nasty cut across your back," Dash commented, carefully lifting the back of Fiona's tattered shirt. A long, diagonal cut struck directly across her back, crossing over the bases of the wings. "How did you not notice them before?"

"I think I actually did," Fiona muttered. One feeling of pain gave way to another, and soon, it seemed like every little scratch n her body was crying out in agony. She had been so focused on the mission that she had failed to care for herself at all. Just a few minutes ago, she felt like she would have died to save the lives of her friends, just like she did back in Haddonfield, and yet again in the morgue. One of these days, instead of making a mental note to see a psychiatrist, she felt as if she should actually see one.

But she did not want to disappoint Dash, who technically was the leader at that point, and so she flew up to the sky and narrowly passed between the thick brush. The estate itself was lit up like a firecracker; most likely the third and final night of the ball. The light gleamed across the rocky cliff, scattering the rays down into the never-ending sea. Cloaked by darkness, she scanned the base of the cliff, searching for any indication of human development. Amazingly, she discovered another light source at the base of the cliff, which emitted its own equally bright glow. More than that, the light seemed to be coming from a tunnel of sorts, carved into the rock face.

Fiona fluttered to the ground in a humbled manner. It almost hurt to admit that Dash was in fact right about her theory, but she forced the words to leave her lips.

"There's a tunnel," Fiona said, never making eye contact. "Dead center in the cliff. It might lead up to the castle."

"I hate to say that I told you so," Dash grinned, starting her proud stride towards the castle. "Get a move on, butterfly. We're doing this thing tonight."

"You know, I'm still hurt," Fiona said, folding away her wings.

"Yeah, I know. Stop being a bitch about it," Dash said, never looking back. With a sigh, Fiona followed the person who had formally been considered a friend (which added to the list of things she was questioning).

Do it for P.O.N.Y, Fiona thought, trudging over dirt and roots. The two walked tirelessly through the forest, blistering their feet and draining their energy. The cool night wind, which normally would have brought relief, only hit their exposed skin harder, passing through to the bone. In the distance, they could hear people chatting away, blissfully unaware of their presence. The light in the distance grew closer, and after a few minutes of quietly stumbling, Fiona could finally make out the hsadows dancing around the rock face. Dash slipped behind some foliage, and peered over into a makeshift campsite. Fiona slid next to her, and carefully observed.

The tunnel was in fact there, large enough to easily fit a tank through. Five guards sat bored on crates scattered near the entrance, having nothing to do except look over a military jeep, which was parked inside.

"This is so boring," one guard said, leaning back on a box. "Why can't we have ball duty tonight?"

"Because we need to block this entrance into the building," another guard said. "Haven't you heard? The king is dead. Sombra's taken over now, and he doesn't want his prisoners getting out."

"Klius is gone?" said the first guard. "How have I not heard this?"

"Because you sleep too often," claimed yet another guard, earning various chuckles from the group.

"Seriously, who does he have holed up in there?" asked the guard.

"I saw them," said a guard close to the door. "Bunch of girls. Cute ones. I saw it all myself. Two of them leapt out of the window in the king's throne room."

"Man, I've really been missing out on things, haven't I?" said the guard. "First the king, and now suicidal kids. If I don't get rest, I'll—Grrk!"

Dash removed the knife from the man's throne, splattering blood on the soil beneath her. She adjusted her grip, and then drove the blade into the throat of the next guard, as she was fired upon from all angles. Swiping her kill's gun, she ducked behind the crate, waiting for the gunfire to cease. She could feel the wood splintering in her back as the bullets cracked through the rot, narrowly missing her. Finally, she heard the guards stop to reload, and she spun around, taking out two guards before she was forced to take cove once more. Fortunately, Fiona had come to the rescue, tackling the lone guard and breaking his arms. Her body still ached, begging her not to fight, but she ignored her will.

"Aaah!" the guard screamed as his elbow twisted backwards.

Fiona hated herself. Why did she have to cause someone so much pain? Why did it seem like all she did was cause pain to others? It seemed like every moment she spent over the last few months was in failing others. Whether it be direct or not, she could never remove the idea that she was hurting people around her, more so than anyone else. It felt so peculiar to her; here, snapping the arm of an innocent man, who was only doing what he was told, made her feel diseased. She felt something entirely unfamiliar whenever she was in these situations, and she didn't even know what it was, yet she hated it. Or, maybe she loved it? Every single ounce of self-hate and pain and pressure seemed to be building in her mind, and it was certainly concerning.

However, like most of her reflections into her psyche, something had to end it in a rather abrupt fashion. On this occasion, it was Dash grabbing her by the hair, and dragging her to the truck (which Dash herself found to be a very effective method for moving people).

"Stop standing around like a fucking retard and get in," Dash ordered, pushing Fiona towards the passenger seat of the vehicle.

"Why are we getting in here?" Fiona asked. "This is wont do us good for getting into the castle, especially since the door is right there."

"Shut up and hop in," Dash said with a grin. "I think I've finally come up with a plan. A plan that I can be proud of."

Oh no, Fiona thought with despair. This can't be good.

__________

Pinky hated the color red. She loved pink. She was growing to like black. But she could not stand the color red. So strange, considering that red was one of the colors that made up pink, and she had a specialty for planting bullets into others skulls, but she could not change what she was. Maybe it was something in her childhood that caused such distaste for that one particular color of the rainbow, but she wouldn't know what it was.

Why then, did she have to be in a hellish, steaming hot, red room, chained helplessly to the wall? Even if she closed her eyes, the red would seep through and imprint on her mind. It only added to her already-pounding level of stress. It was bad enough her back was in agony and bleeding heavily, not to mention that Rachel was struggling to free herself in the corner, and there was a rather large, shirtless man making some concoction of foreign materials to her right. But why red? Of all the people to be tortured by, what did he need to have an obsession with red?

"Rachel," Pinky whispered hoarsely. "We need to get out of here. Hey. Are you even listening to me?"

"I think my collarbone is broken," Rachel spat. She moaned, wishing silently that her bonds weren't kept above her head. She started to whisper to herself the name of every bone in the human body. She needed to take her mind off of the fact that she was being bound and was about to be tortured. She had to keep saying the names, otherwise reality would hit her. Rachel couldn't allow that to happen. She refused to believe that she was being held captive again. She refused to believe that she was about to suffer unimaginable pain again. No, it simply would not do. So she said the names of bones with shut eyes and fierce determination, ignoring everything else that was going on around her.

"Oh, you two are just going to be lovely," Devilman said, mixing around a thick liquid in a wooden bowl. "I haven't sacrificed in a while, and I'm sure He is none too pleased."

"Did he just say, 'sacrifice'?" Pinky asked herself.

"Oh, the time is almost right," Devilman said in anticipation. "The moon is rising high; the perfect time for the slaughter. Hehehe."

"This guy is craaaaaaazy," Pinky muttered under her breath. "He's talking to himself and laughing creepily."

"Ah, the mixture is done," Devilman said happily, hovering over his bowl. With steady hands, he turned around, and placed the bowl in the center of the room. Pinky noticed that she couldn't be in a space much larger than a closet, which unfortunately meant that she could smell the fluid before she could make out what it was.

"Is that blood?" Pinky asked, almost expecting an answer. The smell and the claustrophobic atmosphere and the red were all getting to her, and she was slowly becoming more hysterical as she spoke. "I mean, it kind of smells like blood, and its red and murky and, well, bloody, and what are you doing with blood, and… is that a pentagram on the floor? Why do you have a pentagram on the floor? Are you mad? What are you—"

"Shut up," Devilman said, never taking his eyes off of the floor. "Having you talk is not part of the process."

"Being sacrificed shouldn't be part of the process!" Pinky protested. However, Devilman paid no mind, picking up the blood-filled saucer, and dipping a brush inside of it, swirling it around and around.

"This is the combined blood of the lamb, the rodent, and the ape," Devilman said, lifting the brush. "You should feel honored that this is allowed to touch your skin."

"Wait, you're doing what with that!?" Pinky screamed, trying to move as far away from the brush as possible. Unfortunately, any movement put strain on her scarred back, and it wasn't as if she had room to move regardless.

Much to her joined horror and disgust, Devilman took the brush, and delicately started to rub it against her face. She cringed as the moist bristles made contact with her cheeks, feeling the putrid bloody mixture slide across her skin. Devilman stroked the brush across her nose, allowing it to tingle across every pore, every molecule of skin it could fine. He slowly crept it up to her eye, and then swiped it across her forehead. Pinky felt as if she were being molested. The sensation of the brush felt like a million tiny fingers pressing into her mind, trying to caress her mind. The blood trickled down her neck, and started to flow underneath her shirt, exposing even more of her body to the hideous mixture.

It seemed, finally, that Devilman's procedure had come to a close. He removed the brush, placing it back into the bowl, and walked back to the center of the room. He briefly looked at Rachel, who hadn't even noticed Pinky's whimpers and struggles. Lost in her mantra of bones, Devilman decided to leave her alone for the time being.

"Rachel, help me!" Pinky begged, rattling against her bonds. "I'm getting really scared here!"

"Please stop shouting," Devilman said, eerily calm. "No one is going to hear you. Now…"

Devilman returned with two silver objects; a pick, and a hook. He grabbed onto the base of Pinky's shirt, and raised it up, exposing her stomach. He placed an open palm to her belly, and then rested his head against it, almost as if he was listening to the contents within. At last, he smiled.

"Ah, you have healthy organs," he said happily.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Pinky wriggled around, desperately trying to get free. She was starting to lose her mind. What was going to happen to her? She had no idea what limit she as going to be pushed to. The blood smeared against her face was starting to stick, and she grew ever more afraid. Then, making things worse, Devilman started to laugh.

"First, I'll need to make a nice incision along the naval," he stated, dragging the silver pick up Pinky's stomach. "He will be very upset I haven't sent Him anything in a while, so most of your organs will have to be removed. Of course, it's very important that the stomach stays in place. Otherwise, how will you ever be able to digest?"

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Pinky thought, her eyes dashing around the room, searching for something, anything that could help her escape. She tried to free her hands, but it was no use; her handcuffs were attached to a spike, which was impaled deep in the wall. There was no way she could get free by herself.

But then again, she wasn't by herself.

"Rachel, stop panicking and help me!" Pinky begged. "I'm going to have to eat my own organs here! Snap out of it, and get me out!"

Rachel said nothing. It was if all of her smarts and confidence had never even existed. She retreated back inside of herself, cold, afraid, and unable to do anything except wait for the screaming to begin. It wasn't even like she could do anything if she wanted to. Her chains were just as tight as Pinky's were. No matter how much adrenaline was pumping through her veins, she couldn't do anything tied to a wall.

And at that moment, Pinky realized she was about to die. She didn't think it was possible. How, after all she had survived, could she end up being sacrificed to demons by one crazy guard in Africa? She had survived seeing her father's skull get blown apart. She had survived seeing over one hundred innocent students die around her, and being chased around by homicidal maniacs. She had survived fighting assassins and gangsters, and even psychotic swordsmen. Hell, she had even survived getting her legs nearly ripped in half by the Korbalovs. But this was how she was going to die? It was an insult. Why couldn't she die saving the world, or protecting her friends, or anything that wasn't as sad and pathetic as this?

Pinky sighed. There was nothing she could do. It was all over. She was going to be carved up like a Christmas turkey, and forced to commit self-cannibalism before being given the permission of ending her life. She couldn't hoe to be saved. She couldn't even hope that it would be painless.

She only hoped that she would die fast.

CRASH

The room rumbled. Outside, screams and gunfire could be heard. The bowl on the floor rattled until finally tipping over, spilling blood over the decorated floor. Devilman spun around, trying to find the source of the rumbling. However, he saw nothing except the deep red walls shaking, and his two prisoners acting equally surprised.

As if it was fate itself intervening, the excessive rumbling had loosened the spike from the wall, removing it by several inches. Pinky ceased the opportunity while Devilman was looking away. With some awkward bending of her fingers, she grabbed onto the spike, and yanked as hard as she could. It wobbled in place for a moment before sliding out of the wall, its sharp end exposed. With nothing to hold her, Pinky lunged down towards her captor, extending the spike downwards. Devilman only had time to glance up in confusion before the silver object was rammed into his eye, spurting more blood onto the floor. Pinky did not feel as revolted as she would have proffered, as Devilman squirmed around beneath her. Fortunately, his suffering was brief, and he died while lying flat across a bloody pentagram.

"I got him!" Pinky said, relieved. She stood upright, and wiped the blood on her pajama bottoms. She walked over to Rachel, and used the spike to break her friend's bonds. The Brit fell to the floor, shivering like mad, and stuttering an incomprehensible slew of words.

"Hey, you can open your eyes now," Pinky shook her friend to no avail. "He's dead. No one's going to hurt you."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…"

"Hey, Rachel! Snap out of it!" Pinky shouted, still getting no response.

"No more pain no more pain…"

"Ugh…" Pinky groaned, walking away in frustration. Stepping over the bloody corpse, Pinky opened the door.

BANGBANGBANGBANG

A guard dropped dead at her feet. Turning her head, she saw the extremely pleasant sight of Dash mowing down troops with an assault rifle, while Fiona waited behind cover, holding her hands over her ears. Most remaining guards were retreating down the hall, which eventually split off into a staircase.

"Yoohoo, over here!" the blonde called to her friends. With the threat diminished, Dash jogged to the hellish room, and looked inside. Fiona followed closely, keeping an eye out for any more guards.

"What have you two been up to?" Dash asked, noticing the body and devilish imagery.

"Oh, nothing really. Crazy guy, torture room, devil worship… the usual," Pinky said.

"Is Rachel alright?" Fiona asked. "She looks horrified."

"She's in shock," Pinky explained, moving out of Fiona's way. "Something about the room freaked her out."

"It's okay, Rachel," Fiona knelt by her fallen friend, and gave her a hug. "We're all here now. Let's get out of here, okay?"

Rachel said nothing.

"She just needs a few minutes," Fiona stated, rubbing her back, like a mother soothing her startled child. "I hate waiting around, but I think we might want to hold down for a few minutes. Can you two keep a lookout?"

"Can I have a gun?" Pinky asked, holding her hands out in wait. A pistol was dropped into her arms. "Yeah, I think we can handle this."

Footsteps raced down the corridor. In the distance, the faint sign of human life came into view. Dash and Pinky took aim.

"You ready?" Dash asked, almost challengingly. "I know you just got objectified in there, so if this is too much for you, you're allowed to take a break."

"Just get ready to fire, Dash," Pinky said snidely. "We have a lot more guards to face up ahead. You have plenty of time for sarcasm later."

"Whatever you say, you hyperactive dipshit. Whatever you say…"

__________

Chink chink chink

AJ sighed. It was hopeless. Tara mumbled beside her, only starting to regain some sense of where she was.

"Can't… can't fail… not yet…"

"Damn it, girl, focus," AJ said in an irritated drone. How long had it been since she was taken captive? It felt like an eternity. It was not like anything was going on that could have distracted her; just sheer darkness, and silence. How long would it be until she as free, if she ever would be free?

"Ashes… ashes… we all fall…"

"Tara, I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you're being drugged. Open your eyes, and focus."

"Down… all fall down… falling and falling and falling…"

AJ grunted. She tried as hard as she could to pull away from the wall. Even with her hands and feet bound tightly to the stone, she was able to raise her body half of a foot horizontally. But after a few minutes, she found that she didn't have the strength to keep fighting. Her arms were sore. Her legs were sore. She was sore. In the end, it all seemed hopeless. There really was no point in trying to break free. All she could do now was wake Tara up.

"It's so dark… why is it dark?"

"Tara, you're babbling again," she groaned. "Why am I even bothering? It's not like yer gonna understand me."

"AJ? What… is that you?"

Never before had Anna-Jean Balle smiled as brightly as she did in that moment.

"Tara, thank god yer finally awake," she said, her voice full of relief.

"So tired…" Tara moaned, slowly rotated her head in a circle. "I see them… my family…"

"Tara, don't pay attention to them!" AJ warned. "Look, yer being drugged. I need you to focus on my voice."

"It's so hard… can't think right… ugh."

Tara's eyes briefly fluttered open, but then quickly drew closed.

"Need to rest, AJ… a few minutes…"

"Tara, don't fall asleep! Yer mind is being fucked with. You need to fight off whatever urges are coming over you."

"Ugh… I… need to focus on something," Tara said, shaking her head as fast as she could manage. "I need some sort of… anchor, I think… keep my mind occupied."

"Anchor? Like what?"

"I don't know… I… ugh…"

Tara's head dropped, as everything around her was starting to become hazy once more. Nothing was clear; she knew what she needed to be doing, but couldn't fight all of the hallucinations forcing her to sleep.

"Talk to me," Tara suggested, her mind rapidly emptying. "Let me… focus on your… voice, I guess… oh, I miss my brother…"

"Stay with me, now," AJ said. "Don't stop listening to me. Okay, AJ, talk about something, anything, just think fast…"

Suddenly, AJ realized something she could talk about; something she knew in great detail, and could actually last for hours, if need be.

"Hey, Tara, want to hear the story of how I met Mac?" she asked. Tara verbally responded with a groan, but she barely managed to nod her head. "Okay, now let me think for a second."

Where to begin? There were so many things that she could have told? She had eight years of experience to work from, and sorting everything out would be a laborious mental process. So, she decided to start from the beginning. The very beginning.

"I first met Mac when I was five," AJ explained. "Well, 'met' really aint the right word, I suppose. I guess it should be something more dramatic, but it really aint important. Now, way back then, I lived in this little town in Illinois. At least, that's what they tell me. I really don't remember too much from back then. I know I had two parents who loved me and whatnot, 'cept my dad was always away for his work. He was nice when he was around though, and that's pretty good. I also remember being really excited about my new baby sister, Kaitlyn. She was cute, and, well, baby-ish, I suppose. I never had the chance to do any stuff with her. Maybe I did, but most of that time is just flashes to me, like old photographs, or something."

"Okay, okay," Tara said, listening intently. "Past, flashes, got it. Keep going."

"Well, there was this county fair," AJ said, thinking fondly. "And I liked going to it a lot. It's where I got this hat from. But one year, we spent a lot of time at the fair, and it was just great. Didn't leave till it was real late. So, we got home, and me and my dad went to play outside. I think I might have remembered something about my stove or something. Didn't think too much of it at the time, but that damn oven cost me so much. My father went in for one moment, just to check something strange. I was the only one out of that house at the time."

"I guess that's where fate took control of my life; the whole house just burst into flames. I saw my home burn to the ground, with my family somewhere inside. Of course, I was a stupid kid back then, and so I did what all stupid kids woulda done: I ran into the house. I don't recall much about that either, just that everythin' was hot and smoky, and I got really lost. I coulda been in that place for hours, searching aimlessly for people I would never find. But that didn't happen neither, cuz I got scooped up by this big, strong man, and he took me outa the house."

"Mac?" Tara asked, her words sounding gurgled.

"Yep, that was how I met him," AJ said. "Turns out fate was real kind to me that day. He was literally just driving by when he saw the smoke high in the air, if you can believe that bit of luck. Man risked everythin' tryin' to find survivors in that house, but all he found was me. It was really a risk for him, cuz he had this super-rare condition where his eyes were hyper-sensitive to light, an' the slightest amount of sunlight could cause a lot of damage to him. He wore these big shades all the time. You'd have to see it to understand."

AJ was starting to get lost in the story. Even though her goal was supposed to be helping Tara keep awake, she couldn't help but dwell longer in each individual memory than she should have. It actually took Tara to groan before AJ got back to her original task.

"So, anyway, he took me into his car, and drove me away from the place. I remember kicking and screaming at the time, but he was really just trying to help. Turns out that Mac was this big-time government agent, and he brought me down to this secret base in God-knows-where. That's where I happened to meet Celestia. She and Mac had a private conversation. I heard 'em talking about what they were gonna do with me. I didn't have a home anymore, and they couldn't kick me out on the street. Mac told me that he wanted me to stay with him, but Celestia had a lot of doubts. But I guess, in the end, he won, cuz next thing I knew, I was training nonstop under Mac's supervision. I learned everythin' I know from him. I called that base my home. I slept there, I ate there, and I don't think I really ever left there, either."

"That was basically my life back then. Celestia wanted me to start goin' on assignments, put my training to good use. But Mac was against the whole thing; he kept saying that I wasn't ready to face real-life threats just yet, even though I really wanted to. He left on missions of his own a lot, and Celestia tried to persuade me into following her orders. But I didn't want to disappoint Mac, cuz he was the only real family I got, and dying on my first mission wouldn't be very good now, would it?"

"Never went on missions…" Tara repeated in her dream-like state. "Don't disappoint. Understood."

"But when I did finally go on a mission," AJ said, recalling the event with grand fondness. "It was much less stressful than I thought. Mac protested at first, but I was thirteen by that point, an' he didn't hold a candle to me. I was perfectly capable of making my own decisions. So, I got put on this assignment on taking down a crime family. They were having some big meeting with this other guy, who everyone kept calling, 'expendable'. The action was everythin' I was hoping for: intense, adrenaline-pumping, high-skill takedowns. They didn't stand a chance against me, an' I don't think I've ever felt as proud as I have that night."

"Because you're talented," Tara spoke drearily.

"Thanks," AJ said proudly. "When I got back, everyone seemed so pleased. I'm pretty sure I was coated in blood and carrying my weapons around like an idiot, but no one cared. They were all just so happy that I was able to get the mission done without nothin' goin' wrong."

Suddenly, AJ bowed her head. Her smile vanished, and she talked more quietly.

"But Mac didn't look proud. He looked almost ashamed. I knew he would never be ashamed of me, but it looked that way. He stood in the corner of the room, and said nothin', not a single word. Now that I think about it, maybe he never wanted me to go into combat. Maybe he was regretting bringing me into this style of life, or maybe he just couldn't believe that this little girl, who he had raised like family, could become such a powerful killing machine. But I never thought of that back then; there was a party worth celebrating. I figured I would talk about it with him in the morning, after it had time to settle in. That next day ended up being one of the worst of my life…"

BANGBANGBANG

AJ stopped and listen. From somewhere around her, she could certainly hear the sounds of an intense struggle. Gunshots rang throughout the darkness, giving her a rough estimate of the size of her cell. All of a sudden, then everything became quiet, and then a bright light filled the room. AJ was temporarily blinded. It was the only light she had seen in hours, and sent a powerful shock through her system. The next thing she knew, someone was banging against her chains, and then she dropped to the ground.

"Get up, cowgirl," a familiar voice said.

"Took ya long enough to get here, Dash," AJ groaned, wobbly rising to her feet. She held onto what she figured to be Dash's shoulder, giving her much needed support. AJ blinked what must have been one hundred consecutive times before she could see what was around her. When her vision did return, she noticed that Fiona was desperately tearing at Tara's binds, unable to free her. Pinky walked over, Rachel leaning against her side, and with one expertly-placed bullet, broke the bonds from the wall.

"Tara, can you hear me?" Fiona asked, shaking her friend to no avail.

"They've been pumping her full of something since we got here," AJ explained.

"What do you mean? Is she alright?" Fiona asked, her eyes widening in fear.

"She's hallucinating or something. She was only barely able to hear me, and that was only ten minutes ago. Before that, she was just rambling nonsense."

"You mean like most of what Spark says?" Dash said with a grin. She received a harsh glare. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Is she going to be okay?" Fiona repeated, cradling a groaning Tara in her arms.

"Well, you could start helping by removing the needle from her arm," AJ said, stumbling over to her distressed friend. She knelt down, and slowly unhooked Tara's braces. Hidden inside, AJ could see a thin needle jabbed directly into Tara's veins, a clear fluid-filled tube connected to it. With a hard tug, AJ yanked the needle out of her leader, drawing plenty of blood from Tara's wrist.

"Is she going to be okay?" Fiona said, horribly frantic.

"Yes," AJ finally answered. "But we need to get her out of here. The drugs need to be flushed out of her system, and keeping her here aint gonna do any good."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa," Dash intervened. "Hate to break it to you, AJ, but we're not leaving the castle yet. There's a mad king on the throne, and we need to take him out."

"Dash, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard," AJ said. "We're taking care of the wounded, and that means getting them out of here."

"We don't need everyone active in order to take down Quincius," Dash argued.

"Well here's a question, for everyone," AJ said angrily. "How many of us can actually fight against an entire royal army? Last time I checked, we barely survived ten, and that was when we were all feeling well. Rachel, can you even walk straight."

"Walking's not a problem," Rachel claimed. "But I'm pretty sure my collarbone is cracked."

"I can still shoot," Pinky said weakly. "But my back is killing me, and if the guards are wearing armor, then I can't really do anything."

"Tara's far too weak to do anything," Fiona said. "I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone."

"You have me," Dash stated. "So what is that? Three or four, depending on who's doing what. That's plenty."

"Except that the king's hosting the ball tonight, surrounded by tons of witnesses and guards," said AJ. "Assuming that Quincius hasn't exposed us to the world yet, everyone's gonna freak out when they see teenagers assassinating the King of Vitrumia."

"Not my fault…" Tara muttered. "I didn't… not me…"

"Hush, Tara," Fiona whispered, brushing her friend's hair out of her face. "No one's blaming you for anything."

"She aint listening to you," AJ said once more.

"You know, I could probably snipe him," Pinky said nonchalantly. "The King is supposed to give a speech at the end of the ball. Everyone will be looking at him. All I have to do is line up the shot, and then BLAM!"

"But people will still have seen you do it," AJ said.

"Actually, they will probably all panic," Rachel stated. "They hear a gunshot go off, and they'll swarm out of here like a load of lunatics."

"But the guards will notice you," AJ said.

"We could cause a distraction somewhere else in the castle," Fiona said. "Like… making an escape into the forest in a stolen car."

"Where will ya get the—"

"Already taken care of," Dash said. "If you and Pinky go to assassinate Quincius, I can get everyone else out of here. Celestia had to of prepared some sort of emergency escape, right?"

"She could fly in a plane from South Africa," AJ thought aloud. "Listen, let's say that we somehow pulled this off, and we killed the King. We'd still get the blame for pullin' of the hit."

"Not my fault… not my fault," Tara moaned.

"Damn it, Tara," AJ muttered under her breath. "Stop talking to yourself and—"

Suddenly, AJ realized something, something that she should have realized long ago. The thought seemed so obvious, killing roughly five birds with one stone. If everything could somehow fall in place perfectly, then almost all of their problems could be solved.

"The Unknown," AJ stated. "We'll blame The Unknown for his death. We already have records of him and Quincius together. If we could destroy that footage of ourselves, and get access to evidence that the King was working with a terrorist, we could get away with the murders of both kings. And not only that, but if terrorist actions were reported here, not only could we halt whatever The Unknown was planning, but we could even get assistance in hunting him down."

"That could work," Rachel claimed. "But we'd need to destroy the servers here, and make sure Pinky doesn't get caught. Dash, can we bust the computer on the way out of here?"

"Sure, if we can move fast enough," Dash said with a shrug. "AJ, Pinky, don't fuck this up, will ya?"

"We'll handle everythin' fine," AJ said, flashing a confident grin. "That's our job."

"Okay, girls, let's get moving," Dash commanded, exiting the room. Fiona and Rachel hoisted Tara up, and supported her as they moved down the corridor. Pinky checked her guns, winced as she rolled her shoulders, and then ran down the opposite hall, with AJ following close behind.

AJ pleaded to God that the plan would work out okay. There were so many variables to account for. What if the others got captured? What if Sombra and The Unknown were waiting for them? What if P.O.N.Y. got discovered? What if the plan failed? What if she failed? She took a deep breath, and calmed her thoughts. She remembered what Mac said to her: Failure was not her style.

So she knew she wouldn't fail. Everything would work out fine. And suddenly, nothing worried her. The bloody lashes on Pinky's back didn't worry her. 0071 and 0193, two dead guards lying contorted and twisted on the floor, did not worry her. And neither did the empty cage to her right, which, where once stayed someone incredibly important, was now entirely empty, the captive long gone.

To Be Continued…