[RPG] The Big-Oh! RP — An Archive of Storytelling

Angel breathed heavily, surprised that she’d managed to land a hit on Vera. Agent 12 glared at her from the ground, wiping blood from her chin.

“So, you are really on their side, then, my dear. You would turn your back on those who have taken care of you for so long, in order to defend these--” she spat blood onto the ground “-- filthy lapdogs of Rosewater and his arrogant son?” She began to laugh. “Rosewater cast us aside! Abandoned us, threw us away!”

Angel could not think of anything to do or say. She wasn‘t even completely sure what Vera was talking about anymore. Had she been mistaken about the Union‘s goals this entire time? All these years?


”You will go to Paradigm City. You will live among them, make your true nature unknown to anyone who looks upon you. You will find memory fragments wherever you can.. and you will bring them back to me.” Vera paced back and forth as she spoke, her heels clicking ominously, coat swishing back and forth. She stopped suddenly, turned to face the small group with narrowed eyes. "Failure will not be tolerated under any circumstances."

The agents standing before her nodded in consent. This was their mission, what they had worked their whole lives for, and none of them intended to be less than stellar at their work. Angel felt her heart flutter nervously. Was she really ready for this? She was barely twenty one years old, only finished with her training the week before. She brushed a hand through her short hair anxiously, sighed and looked at the ground.

Alan laid a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, leaned in to whisper encouragement to her. She smiled half-heartedly in return. At least she would not be alone upon her arrival to the city of amnesia.


“We, the lost, the forsaken, will take our revenge!” Vera laughed as she pushed herself back into a standing position. “And you, my little Angel, will become nothing more than another lost memory in the wreckage of this pitiful place.” Her whip was back in her hand again, lashing out at Angel before Angel could move. She felt its sting against her bare ankle, fell to the ground again. Vera was in a frenzy, snapping the whip again and again, more and more red marks appearing on Angel’s skin wherever Vera could find a place to strike.

Angel sobbed, curled up as tightly as she could. “Stop it.. please, Vera..” she whimpered. But Vera had not heard her.

Without her gun, Angel was hopeless. She didn’t even know if Beck was still alive, or whether Emilia was still watching, spellbound, from the dark car. Likely she had been locked in by Vera and Alan, and had no way of helping Angel or Beck.

If only… if only, somehow, Roger…

“Roger…!” Angel cried in anguish.

The whip stopped. She could hear Vera walking toward her, shoes crunching on the rough gravel. She loomed over Angel again.

“Roger?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Angel felt a lump in her s tomach, and knew that she had only gotten herself into further trouble... for there was only one Roger worth knowing about in the city, and Angel was a fool to think that Vera wouldn't know exactly whose name she had just cried out.

Beck did not care what had caused that small moment’s indecision on Alan’s part, but he seized the opportunity quickly, not really thinking, just acting with every bit of strength he could muster to gain the upper hand. Alan was laughing maniacally beneath the tip of the rapier, his rapier, pressed into his neck. “The canary.. has teeth!”

Beck resisted the urge to spit in Alan’s face. “You.. freak. What the hell are you?” He wasn’t thinking beyond the animal like urge to murder Alan Gabriel on the spot, his breath coming in heaves as he pressed the rapier hard enough to draw blood as Alan had done to him. A drop of Beck’s blood fell onto Alan's paler than pale skin, slowly rolling to the side to mingle with that of the cut in Alan‘s skin. Alan howled with laughter.

“What are you laughing about?! Shut up! Shut the hell up!” Beck recoiled, swinging the rapier wildly. “I don’t understand you!”

Alan stood, brushing himself off as though nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just been pushed to the ground violently and been cut in the throat.

Beck lashed out feebly with the rapier. Alan seemed to be enjoying this! “Stay away from me!”

But Alan did no such thing. He advanced slowly, purposely, like a cat stalking a prey that knew it had no chance of escape. The fact that Alan was making no sound as he came toward Back was unnerving, and Beck felt himself shivering in the frigid morning air.

And then, at the very instant Alan chose to speed up his approach, Beck remembered that his gun was still in his other hand.

I’m such a buffoon!

A shot went off, wildly, hitting no one and nothing, but it was enough to make Alan dodge to the side as he ran, and Beck took the opportunity to rush at him, limbs flailing every which way as he ducked down low to knock Alan to the ground again with a sweep of his leg before springing back up in order to bring a black-clad foot down hard onto Alan’s gut.

And still there was a trace of a smile on what little of Alan’s face Beck could see. That eerie hat, all angles and points and shadows, obscured most of it. Even if he could have seen the pale man’s face, however, Beck was not sure he would have wanted to. He feared what might have been behind those shadows. Alan reminded him of something that went bump in the night, an unearthly creature that would talk soothingly to you, murmur in your ear quietly, while it slowly choked the life from you.

Alan sprang back to his feet effortlessly, and his metal hand became almost rapier-like itself, fingers clinging together to form a sharp point at the end, and he swung at Beck with it. He met the rapier in response, the sharp, high-pitched chime of metal on metal ringing in both their ears sharply. Beck was no experienced swordfighter, but he met every blow of Alan's with the thin rapier, wondering how it was that Alan hadn't yet snapped he blade in half. With his other hand, he struggled to aim the gun at Alan while still concentrating on the swordfight going on with his right hand.

Luckily for Beck, one of the great things about being a thief was that he had to learn to be ambidextrous over the years, just in case. His left hand flew up, the gun centered perfectly on Alan’s head, and he pulled the trigger.

The gun went off, but it did not hit Alan between the eyes as Beck had hoped. Instead, the bullet cut directly through Alan's hat, and it flew from his head, exposing a mass of bright blonde hair, neatly groomed, before gently rolling away across the ground, guided by the light morning breeze.


(OOC: Whew! o_o Aaaand take it away, Xel!)

(delete)

"Roger...?" Vera asked again, towering above the shaking woman beneath her.

"I don't suppose you would be speaking of Roger Jones?" she questioned with a clearly sarcastic tone. "Or maybe Roger Anderson?" As if to emphasize her contempt, she snapped the whip again, this time precisely enough to lay a pencil-tip thin line of red across Angel's cheek.

"Roger Smith. That is his name. The Negotiator, and, if I recall correctly your -- few -- reports, the pilot of the Big O, yes?" When Angel gave no response, Vera nodded in confirmation to her own question, pacing in a circle around her. Without even laying an eye on Angel, she resumed striking her, each blow eliciting a sharp tremble.

"You have forsaken your duties as a member of the Union,"

The whip snapped.

"that is to say, cut off all communications..."

The whip snapped.

"worked independantly of the other agents..."

The whip snapped.

"betrayed your 'best friend'..."

The whip snapped.

"and for what? A lapdog of the Rosewaters? A pathetic lapdog with no perception of right and wrong beyond what he himself believes?"

The whip snapped.

"You are a disgrace! A pitiful excuse for a human! You, one of those that Rosewater cast out from his Paradigm! You would defend the city whose founder was not even kind enough to allow the youngest of the inferior tomatos to stay!?"

The whip snapped once more, harder then any of them before, leaving a thick streak of raw flesh down the small of Angel's back.

Roger was panting hard as he ran to the other side of the area beneath the bridge, though not from the effort, hoping that the rumble of overhead traffic masked the sound of his shoes in the gravel and silt. He ran close to the run down shacks built from hastily assembled sheetmetal, hoping to remain unseen. One dark stranger with the obvious intent to rob him jumped in front of the Negotiator, but the glares he got from two very unusual individuals unnerved him, and he slunk back into the shadows.

Julia drew beside him, tapping him on the shoulder. She pointed toward the car, informing him effortlessly as she ran beside him, "That girl is in trouble."

Roger nodded in acknowledgement, seeing a brown haired young girl in the back seat staring out fearfully, but a sharp, startling crack made him plant his feet with a gasp, and what he heard filled him with horror... Angel was there, he could hear her crying while that woman intruder savaged her with a bullwhip, lashing out again and again, and he could almost see it leaving cruel welts in her skin with each merciless crack of its leather. As he began to run for her, his heart lurched in his chest when she cried out desperately, "Roger!"

He could hear the foreign woman tormenting Angel in that strange accent as she accused her of treason against her people, and he swallowed back a cry of alarm. That would make Angel an agent of foreigners too, but he couldn't worry about that right now. He ran with all his strength, desperate to save that poor girl... my God, what had that sadist done to her!

"...And for what? A lapdog of the Rosewaters? A pathetic lapdog with no perception of right and wrong beyond what he himself believes?" She lashed out again, smiling at yet another cry of agony from her victim, another trophy of subjugation. "You are a disgrace! A pitiful excuse for a human! You, one of those that Rosewater cast out from his Paradigm! You would defend the city whose founder was not even kind enough to allow the youngest of the inferior tomatoes to stay!?"

The whip cracked once more, hard, like a pistol shot, opening a slice down Angel's coat, revealling a thick streak of raw flesh down the small of her back.

Her attack and verbal abuse were cut short as something coiled around her throat hard, almost cutting into the flesh, strangling her. Roger pulled back on the thin metal cord running around her neck, feeling a grim satisfaction at the sound of her choking, and the awkward way she fell heavily on her back. His heart burned with fury towards the outsider, and he could barely contain himself as he tugged his grapple from her and it sang as it recoiled back into the watch. He snarled as he stood over her, savoring the fear in her eyes as she struggled to breathe, "It's not so pleasant, when the shoe is on the other foot, now is it!" He snatched up the whip where she had dropped it, gripping it in his fist angrily, with half a mind to see what it would do to her instead, but finally he pitched it as hard as he could into the river. It hadn't gone nearly far enough, only sinking into the waters a few feet from shore, but at least that vulgar thing was out of reach. He grumbled to Julia, "Watch her!"

He ran over to Angel, lying huddled in the gravel, aghast at how she was suffering, how her beauty had been tarnished by her wounds, pain and fear. He swallowed hard to keep his voice steady as he cradled her head in his arm, stroking her tender, soiled, tear stained cheek... those marks, all over her and her clothes, where that damned whip had cut her so viciously! "Angel, are you all right? What did she do to you!"

Her eyes flickered open and she drew a sharp breath of relief when she saw that it really was him, and not some vision. "Roger?? Oh Roger..." She began breathing deeply to calm herself also, fighting off the tremors of fear from her beating with an obvious effort, doing her best to appear brave before that familiar stranger in her life that kept returning to her, time and again. Her voice was a bit faint but stronger as she assured him, "I'll be all right now."

He lay her down gently and rose from her, glaring at the woman who would dare attack Angel so savagely as she struggled to her feet. "I don't know who the hell you are, or what your intentions are here. But there is no justification whatsoever for such brutality!"

The woman gave him a haughty, arrogant look, as if she had no fear of being at his mercy, not bothering to rub her throat as if that would reveal some vulnerability. "What business do you have here, Negotiator? This is a private disagreement, which we are perfectly capable of working out among ourselves." She looked past him obviously, adding with a smirk, "And besides, as you see, we are not alone."

Somehow in his fixation on Angel's torment, he had completely missed the other drama going on behind him, and turned to see Jason Beck, struggling to hold his own against a ghastly pin striped scarecrow of a man, with a perpetual, disturbing grin on his face, as if savoring notions of how to torture those around him. Alan Gabriel! He flinched as a shot rang out, and Alan's head jerked back, his hat flying off as a bullet must have gone right through his head, and Roger looked aside, not wanting to see the murderer's death throes. But... he didn't fall! He simply kept walking towards the hapless Beck as if he'd knocked his hat off with a stick! Oh my God... what WAS this being! No, it couldn't be! Maybe it hadn't penetrated Alan's skull, but clearly this mercenary wasn't afraid of bullets! He was unarmed himself... what could he do!

He decided to bluff, exclaiming, "Alan Gabriel, stand down! You're outnumbered!" But, to his dismay, the bizarre cyborg simply began to giggle, the demented sound of it raising the hackles on the back of his neck, and worse as it became wild, cruel laughter...

"Hmmmm. Did a fight start and I wasn't there?" Snake said as he pulled up behind the Griffion after searching for that car for about an hour. He got out of the car, but wasn't sure what he saw. He saw Roger and Julia, and he saw some woman weilding a whip. It was the woman he had seen fighting Datsun earlier.

"What the hell is going on here?" Snake said. He really didn't know what was going on, he hoped someone would tell him, and soon...

"Watch her," Roger grumbled to Julia.

She nodded and turned to the car, leaning towards it, her dark hair falling off her shoulders. She kicked the car door in hard, causing the girl inside to give off a panicked sort of look.

"Get down!" she shouted through the window, leaning back to give it another kick.

This time, the door almost went flying, if it weren't for the fact that Julia had caught it before it hit Emilia. She removed it and leaned in towards her.

"This one is here to help. Please, do not be alarmed," she said, reaching out a hand. "Come."

Emilia hesitated, then took her hand and allowed herself to be pulled out. Julia dragged the distressed woman over to where she spotted her husband pull up. "Snake. We must protect Roger, Angel, and yes, the buffoon with gold hair. You go help Roger, this one will protect Emilia. Go! Go! Do what you will!"

She took Snake's hand into her own. "Do not worry. All will be well."

She then turned to Emilia, and gestured toward Snake's own car. "Go inside. You will be safer."

<TBC>

"Her name is Julia. Now get in." Snake said to Emilia. Once she was inside, Snake locked his car and took off for Roger. "Roger," Snake said, "you look like you could use some help..."

Julia was a pleasant name. Emilia thought to herself. She wanted to know what sort of relationship existed between Julia and Snake but didn't want to marr the line between curiousity and actual interest.
Julia gazed lovingly at Snake as he lighted the ignition and the car started with a jerk. Angel and Roger were in clear sight, Snake drove hastily towards the two pushing on the brakes abruptly sending the car swinging to it's left before coming to a stop.

"Roger," Snake announced, "you look like you could use some help..."

Angel was wrapped in Roger's arms as he helped her to stand. Emilia wanted to help...she had a hard time watching Angel agonizing and it was killing her that she couldn't do anything about it. Defying both Snake and Julia, Emilia vacated the vehicle to help Angel. As Emilia neared she noted the gaping tears of flesh in her back and was struck with dread.

"Mommy what are those things on your back?"
A beautiful woman with pale blonde hair turned her back quickly to hide the harsh scars. Her face filled with shame and agony. " An accident." she explained to her little girl and gave her a tight hug. The young blonde child could still feel the scars through the thin silk of her mother's dress.

Emilia's eyes began to water seeing Angel's scars. "I'm so sorry..." She sobbed. Emilia's sobs heavy were noticed but ignored as the focus of the room shifted to Alan Gabriel. Emilia stood paralyzed as the mechanical demon chuckled frighteningly. Roger's cologne shifted towards her nose as she stood beside he and Angel. Vera lurking near them shot a baffled look at Emilia, her sizeable grey eyes penetrated Emilia's thoughts.

Roger watched in amazement as Julia kicked in the door to the dark sedan that the girl was locked inside of, and helped her out, ordering her to go to Snake's car. Although dishevelled, she hadn't been harmed as far as he could tell. She was obviously a nice young lady from a well to do family, someone who would own a gold crucifix and cellphone. Why had these foreigners taken her hostage? Simply for ransom, or was there something else involved?

Snake told her to stay in the back of his own Griffon, and then said as he approached this tense confrontation, "Roger, you look like you could use some help."

He gave the fighter a grateful smile. "That's putting it mildly, but your timing is perfect."

Angel was trying to get to her feet with some difficulty, wanting to be able to react to whatever happened. Roger said to her gently, "Here, Angel, I'll help you," taking her in his arms and helping her up, holding her protectively to himself as he kept watch on Alan, approaching them slowly but relentlessly, Beck taking cautious steps away to keep some small distance between himself and that sadistically giggling cyborg. His heart sank at the signs of the beating she had taken, her clothes marred, cut and soiled, her hair in a mess, her skin bearing cruel welts where that whip had landed viciously. If only I could have been here a minute earlier, just a minute, and I could have saved you from this! I'm so sorry... He asked in a voice tight with concern, "Angel, are you all right?"

For a while, she wasn’t even sure what was going on. She heard faint sounds of someone speaking firmly at the car, and a door being kicked in.. and realized that Snake had finally caught up to them, with an unfamiliar woman in tow. They had freed Emilia from the car, and had joined Roger, who was standing not too far from her.

Well, she couldn’t very well go on laying on the ground forever, no matter how excruciating the pain. She began to struggle to her feet, pushing off the ground with bruised and battered legs that no longer wanted to work no matter how much she willed them to. It was still chilly out, and she pulled the last shards of her torn jacket around her, trying in vain to warm herself. She realized the effort was not worth it, and discarded the tattered and bloody cloth.

She felt hands on both her arms suddenly, lifting gently, and then she heard Roger’s voice, offering to help her, and she found herself being held against him, concern darkening both his handsome face and his voice.

"Angel, are you all right?"

Was this really happening? Was Roger really speaking to her softly, as if she weren’t the woman who’d lied to him so many times already and gotten him into trouble? Were these really Roger’s arms protecting her, and not something she’d dreamed up to satisfy her own silly desire to see him? She grabbed gently at black cloth, now soiled with dirt and blood (my blood, she thought vaguely, suddenly aware again of the burning pain in her back and the warm blood spreading down it), and she clung to Roger, warming herself against him to stop her shivering, wishing everything around them would just go away and leave them there, so that Angel might finally be able to tell him…

But she couldn't. Not here.. certainly not now.“I will be. I’ll be allright.. now that you‘re here.” She took in Roger’s scent, which was slowly becoming lost in the smell of blood and sweat and dirt, but was there nonetheless. She turned her head toward his shoulder, drew in a shuddering breath, said quietly, “Thank you.” She did not know where this sudden concern for her well being had come from, but she was glad for it.

“Isn’t this sweet?” Vera growled from not far away. “Has your knight in shining armor come to your rescue, Little Angel?” She turned to look at Beck and Alan’s struggle, grinned maliciously. “But you cannot save everyone, can you, Negotiator?” Alan was still giggling over his prey, oblivious to any other living creature in the area as the group watched.

Angel felt a hand on her arm, turned to find herself facing Emilia. The girl looked fine, considering the circumstances, if slightly disheveled. Alan hadn’t hurt her, that Angel could tell.

“Angel! I’m so sorry…”

Angel shook her head, too tired to verbalize a response. Oh, how she wanted to sleep… “Not your fault,” she managed to say. Emilia nodded in understanding, turned to look fiercely at Vera. Angel had to admit, the girl had grown quite a backbone since she'd first encountered her in the Speakeasy. It seemed like that had happened an eternity ago, when it had just been the night before. She realized that she felt almost sisterly towards Emilia, and was proud that she was staring Vera down instead of squeaking and ducking behind someone.

Vera met Emilia's gaze, cold eyes locked on the mousy girl, and Angel remembered suddenly who Emilia's mother had been. Her chest tightened, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Snake should have left Emilia in the car after all.

Julia pulled back her dark hair into a ponytail, tying it with a black band. She watched as Emilia walked up to Angel, obviously saying sorry about something. She gracefully walked over to Roger.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Roger nodded in consent. Julia then turned toward Emilia, her ruby eyes soft and kind. "You should head back. Stay with Snake, it will be better if you do..." She glanced over at Angel. "Yes. This one will fight. Do not fear...for all will be well. This one promises."

"Snake, please, this one will fight in your place. You will do better as a body guard, rather than this one. Go, go!"

That was the second time she had said it, almost as if she was a commander. But she said it with a gentle tone, as if she was asking instead. She turned toward Vera, her black coat blowing slightly in the wind. She recalled something unfamiliar and had nothing to do with the moment.

"Roger Smith. This is his home, correct?"

"Ah, Miss Marcato! A pleasure to see you again. My master will be with you shortly," the old man replied, allowing her to step in.

Julia stared out the window, her outfit almost exactly like the current one she wore, except a navy color instead of the silver and black...

"Miss Maracato! How may I be of service to you?"

"Negotiate for me. It is your job right?"

Julia shook the thought out of her head and turned fully toward the older woman and beside Roger, ready to fight.
______________

OOC: Ha! I have revealed ever more about my character!

Later days:

JA

Vera started as Emilia's eyes locked with hers, but it quickly became apparent that she was not impressed, merely surprised at this sudden outburst of bravery.

"No, you can't save everyone..."

She became a blur of movement, a silver streak flying it's way toward Emilia, revealing itself to be a thin, almost needle-like dagger that embedded itself in her shoulder. Even though it was clearly too short to do any major damage, the young girl still dropped to her knees in pain, cluctching the wound.

Before anyone could react to this, Vera had whipped out a pistol from under her coat, aiming it straight at Angel's head. Not even thinking about Emilia's safety for the moment, as she had noticed before anyone else, even Vera, that the dagger had not caused any severe harm, Julia leapt in front of Roger and Angel, spreading her arms wide so that Vera couldn't possibly strike Angel with a deadly blow.

"What will you do if this one is in the way?"

Vera smirked, re-aiming so that the barrel was leveled directly at the center of Julia's chest.

"Well, now, it really doesn't matter who I kill, does it?" This comment elicited a gasp of rage from Snake, who moved towards Vera, hands clenched tightly into fists and trembling from fury. A click from her gun stopped him in his tracks.

"This is quite the predicament we're in." Vera sneered, "You can't move, Negotiator, as I'll merely shoot you or little Angel once you do. If the Mercenary of Hell over there tries anything, I'll murder his wife. And, of course, there's the matter of the young daughter of Agent 270, lying on the ground with a knive in her." This revelation had the most effect on Roger, as he realized, although not fully, just how deep the connections between all these people were.

The sound of giggling continued to echo through the air.

"But it seems I've forgotten one other thing; do you plan on helping that blonde buffoon as well, Negotiator?" Backing away a step towards Alan's car, Vera continued to hold her gun at Julia, who had moved as soon as she did, making sure that Vera didn't have a clear shot at the bloodied and beaten woman in Roger's arms.

"You people of this city, you are all fools!" Vera snarled, "We, the members of the Union, would sacrifice anything for our rightful opportunity to have our vengeance! You are merely the mindless soldiers of that moronic son of Gordon Rosewater!"

"We are, are we?" Julia cried, not moving, her eyes fearless. "We are not lapdogs or slaves! We are protectors, protecting those around us."

Snake began to move silently towards Vera. "Don't move Snake!"

"How sweet. Protecting those around you? Ha! Don't make me laugh," Vera sneered.

"You told Roger not move. And you told Snake not to move. But if this one moves...then what?" Julia asked, asked, rasing her eyes.

Something different had become of her eyes. Instead of a brilliant ruby, they were the color of rust. The color of dried blood.

<TBC>

It had been far too long since he'd held a woman in his arms, and he had dreamed idle fantasies of how it would feel to hold Angel to him, one of the loveliest women who ever lived, with hair of gold, jewel like eyes, soft, inviting lips, and a voice truly of an angel. He'd always considered it an idle fantasy, because of who she was. Some sort of freelance criminal from the other side of the tracks entirely from him. Certainly, she was one of the nicest lawbreakers he'd ever encountered, but she was always out for her own agenda, finding Memories for whatever reason, and using anyone to further those ends, whether Beck or Alex Rosewater. Or himself. She had said at one time deep in the bay, in order to sell them, but he was never sure of anything with her. The only thing he could be sure of is that... holding her had to be one of the sweetest delights a man could have.

Except now, it was terrible. He felt poignantly as he cradled her to him, how crushed this once strong, proud woman was, how terrible her wounds, how shaken as she trembled against him from cold and the shock of her attack. He wanted to embrace her tightly, caress away all the hurt and torment from her, but he was afraid to do more than hold her gently to him. He was determined to protect her from this mad couple threatening them, but even though Snake and Julia were there, he wasn't sure how many it would take to overcome this sadistic pair, the whip-wielding foreigner, and the malicious cyborg, Alan Gabriel.

“I will be. I’ll be allright.. now that you‘re here... thank you.” Her words were disheartening, as he could hear the weariness and torment in them all too painfully, that she was beaten to the point that she actually needed his help and support, something he never thought he would hear from her. As she laid her head on his shoulder, he thought anxiously, I have to get you out of here, and that girl. There's no telling what these two will do, now that their plans have been disrupted...

He turned to glare at that foreign woman with a snarl as she mocked them, hatred for her burning in his gut as he shielded Angel from her. “Isn’t this sweet?” she growled from behind him, uncomfortably close by. “Has your knight in shining armor come to your rescue, Little Angel?” She turned to look at Beck and Alan’s contest with a malicious grin. “But you cannot save everyone, can you, Negotiator?”

Beck sounded none too happy about being left to face Alan entirely alone, saying in a voice that was fighting to keep from whimpering, "Hey, Crow Boy, a little help here? You can cuddle afterwards... I mean... hey, I know we've had our differences in the past and all... but come on! This guy's worse than I've ever even dreamed of!"

Snake was sizing things up, which Roger couldn't blame him for one bit. If Alan had taken a bullet to the skull, just what would it take to bring him down! He spotted Alan's golden pistol a short distance off, lying in the gravel, which Beck must have disarmed from the gangly assassin, inspiring in Roger a grudging new respect for the primpy crook. He had sworn never to use guns on another human being again, but... should he reconsider, just this once, with all that was at stake? Should he make a grab for it, use it?

He gasped in alarm as the hostage appeared at his side, saying to Angel almost plaintively, “Angel! I’m so sorry…”

Angel shook her head as she looked to the young lady with a smile, managing to say, "Not your fault..." The girl nodded in somber understanding, and then turned to fix the foreign agent in a burning gaze, which she returned just as fiercely. The courage this girl showed was admirable, but this wasn't the time to be so foolhardy! And that look that the foreigner gave this girl, it was more than simple dislike. She knew her... it seemed that there was some vendetta involved, and that made the girl's bravado even more foolish. It even sent a shiver through Angel as she witnessed this... he had to talk some sense into her. "Miss, go over to Julia, or wait in the car, please. It's much too dangerous for you out here."

Julia came over to them with a graceful stride, so unlike that of a warrior, asking him, "Are you alright?"

Roger nodded in solemn reply. "Yes, I'm fine, but I'm worried about the others. We have to get them out of this."

Julia nodded and turned to Emilia, gazing at her with those haunting ruby eyes, saying to her softly, "You should head back. Stay with Snake, it will be better if you do." She glanced over at Angel, noting her injuries, and how weakened she was. "Yes. This one will fight. Do not fear...for all will be well. This one promises." She turned to her companion, telling him, "Snake, please, this one will fight in your place. You will do better as a body guard, rather than this one. Go, go."

He was utterly frustrated by all this. For once, he was powerless, as that despicable foreigner had noted. He glanced at his watch... it was 8:50. Had Dan Dastun received his message? Or would they be forced to deal with this themselves? He was about to find out...

He gasped in alarm as the foreigner attacked, flicking something at them with the practiced, ruthless precision of an assassin. Before he could cry out, it had found its target, the poor hostage, who gave a faint squeal and fell to her knees, a small thin dagger imbedded in her shoulder. She tried to reach for it, but her arms were like rubber from the agony of her wound. The woman said to him coldly as he struggled to find his voice, a pistol in her hand aimed squarely at Angel's head, "No, you can't save everyone, can you?"

As Roger gasped, "Damn you," Julia placed herself in front of them, spreading her arms to shield them all from this murderous foreigner. "What will you do if this one is in the way?"

Roger knew all too well what, gasping as the woman merely centered her aim on the cyborg's chest. "Well, now, it really doesn't matter who I kill, does it?" Snake choked back a cry of rage, and moved towards the woman, hands clenched tightly in angry, trembling fists. A click from her gun stopped him in his tracks.

"This is quite the predicament we're in." she sneered, obviously relishing her new drama. "You can't move, Negotiator, as I'll merely shoot you or little Angel once you do. If the Mercenary of Hell over there tries anything, I'll murder his wife. And, of course, there's the matter of the young daughter of Agent 270, lying on the ground with a knive in her."

Even though he was trembling in rage and frustration, he gasped at her revelation, realizing that there was a bizarre web connecting everyone here... just what was the nature of the drama taking place here?

Beck didn't have the luxury to be impressed by all this, still backing away from that madly giggling cyborg, edging ever closer, step by step. She noted her companion's antics with a grin. "But it seems I've forgotten one other thing; do you plan on helping that blonde buffoon as well, Negotiator?" Backing away a step towards Alan's car, she continued to hold her gun at Julia, who moved in lock step with her, making sure that the foreigner didn't have a clear shot at the bloodied and beaten woman in Roger's arms.

"You people of this city, you are all fools!" she snarled, "We, the members of the Union, would sacrifice anything for our rightful opportunity to have our vengeance! You are merely the mindless soldiers of that moronic son of Gordon Rosewater!"

The Union? So that's what they called themselves. He eyed Alan's pistol once more, but it seemed so far away, and merely a lure to being this woman's target.

"We are, are we?" Julia cried, not moving, her eyes fearless. "We are not lapdogs or slaves! We are protectors, protecting those around us." Snake began to move silently towards the woman. She warned him, "Don't move, Snake!"

"How sweet. Protecting those around you? Ha! Don't make me laugh," the foreign agent sneered.

"You told Roger not to move. And you told Snake not to move. But if this one moves...then what?" Julia asked, lifting her eyes to look at her.

The foreigner frowned at what she saw in them, as they were no longer brilliant rubies. Rather, they bore the color of rust... or of dried blood... what could this mean?

Roger had to see if he could forestall any further violence, and drag something more out of the foreign agent. "Vengeance? What kind of vengeance? Against Alex Rosewater? Just what are you talking about? You're responsible for the acts of terror against this city, aren't you? Haven't you shed enough blood to satisfy any thirst for revenge? What do you really want?"

Snake's eyes were glowing red. "Julia, what are you doing? I cannot stand by and watch." Snake began to accelerate his body, then stopped. He held his ring to his mouth, "Big Soh, give me your energy..."

Suddenly, Snake began to shake, eyes becoming more red. He positioned himself to wait for the perfect moment to accelerate...


<TBC>

The wound in Emilia’s shoulder cut deeply. So deeply it pierced her heart. She heard only the faint breath of voices surrounding her as she submitted to her agonizing pain and hit the rough pavement beneath her. “ Argh,” She moaned in pain and held her shoulder, soaking in blood. It all happened in the blink of an eye. She hadn’t had time to react to Vera’s deadly precision. She knew she wouldn’t die however the pain was so searing it was worse than death itself. She glanced fleetingly at Angel...all the while her hate growing for Vera.

Brilliant hues of scarlet red adorned the curtains in the Grand tier of the Paradigm City's only opera hall. That night Emilia, her father and mother enjoyed a joyful outing. Emilia was proud because both her parents were together. The young girl beamed with joy at her brand new white dress adorned with ruby colored ribbons. She grasped her mother's hands tightly, her father walking paces ahead of them. They were all seated, Emilia inbetween her parents. Her father was a handsome man, his face was finely chistled, his eyes were milky brown. Even with the scant grey hairs weaving through his coarse black hair he could have easily been the youngest looking gent in the room. Her mother elegantly adorned in her finest evening clothes. The dim lighting bouncing gracefully off her blonde mane. Emilia for the first time in a while had seen her mother smile.
Although the night was short-lived during the tenth act her mother heard a sound louder than music itself and dissapeared into the curtains of their private box as she ran with haste out of the theater.
" Where did mommy go?" Inquired the young Emilia.
Her father was too absorbed in the opera to note his daughters worry.
" Daddy! Daddy!" Emilia exclaimed with more ferver. " Mommy's gone! Mommy's gone!"
Her father finally paid mind to the excited child. " Don't worry about your mother Emilia, she probably went to the powder room." He lied trying to comfort his daughter. The truth bleed through his lie. That night she went home with her father, her mother nowhere in sight.


Emilia remembered the cross she had worn around her neck, the one her mother had given her before they had gone to the opera that night. Wishing she had it with her.