Aldruin, Chapter VII: Captain
Aldruin,
Chapter VII: Captain
By Kimono-Box-Fox
"I think we got it, Gil. I feel different." Yuriko said, standing in front of an open doorway that was spewing smoke and hot embers. Sparks scattered, and there were all manner of explosive sounds from the room, as the demon's incandescence torched any number of Dalnassir's valuable trinkets, scrolls, and artifacts--as well as any research notes he may have left from his cruel 'experiments'. The scrying pool that was at the center of the room, which the Councilor had used almost a day and a half ago, to contact the High Councilor, was boiling over in its font, and its hot liquid steamed across the floor.
"How can you know for sure, Yuriko? What if Dalnassir didn't keep the focus for the spell in his private office?" Gil asked. She was beginning to be fascinated by demons. She hoped Dalnassir wasn't rubbing off on her.
"It won't be hard to tell, Gil. Here, let me see if I can leave the dungeon. I won't go far away from you, so don't worry."
The fox did something Gil had not seen yet; she flew. Not like a bird with wings: Yuriko simply levitated very quickly through the dungeon ceiling. When she came back a minute later, her face was pale.
"Gil... the spell is broken... Though I have some news you're not going to like." She said, clenching the hood of the cloak she was wearing tightly. "All the soldiers in the palace hall upstairs are dead, and there are a lot of lycanthropes, and really strange cultists with some kind of roots growing out of their bodies coming this way. They're headed toward the dungeon, I think!"
"Shit, Yuriko. Do you know if Dalnassir had an armory in this dungeon?"
"No, Gil," the demon said, shaking her head. "Dalnassir keeps most of his men's equipment in the palace armory, or the armory in the barracks. He's had me creep around enough in the past fifty years for me to know that much. He doesn't want an armed revolt, if his prisoners--the fox blinked, making a realization with the thought of prisoners revolting.
"Gil, I just had an idea. But it might kill us if I'm wrong. I'm going to release one of the monsters here, and have it deal with the cultists while we sneak past."
"You're not thinking of releasing N-Knuckle-Eyes, are you, M-ms. Yuriko?!" Malcolm exclaimed, clearly terrified of whatever a 'Knuckle-Eyes' might be. "He'll destroy everything, and he'll probably turn us all to dust!"
"He'll probably wreak a ton of havoc across the city, Malcolm, you're right. But if we die at the hands of those cultists, there's not going to be much of a city left to save. It looks like the Cult is in a full scale assault with the Military, and I don't think we have much choice but to break free and join with the King's men--assuming there are even any left." Yuriko replied.
Gil nodded. "Yuri's right, Malcolm. I want to live as much as anyone, but this is our best chance of escape, I think. Yuri, can Knuckle-Eyes be trusted?"
"Well, he's nothing like Dalnassir, when it comes to using people, but he might just decide it would be more fun to kill us and try to escape himself. I guess we have to play on his desire to get revenge on Dalnassir for having him imprisoned, just like I did with you, Gil."
Gil blushed. She didn't consider their relationship like that, but she supposed a demon who could not love could only see it in that light.
"Alright, Yuri. Take us to Knuckle-Eyes." Gil said.
* * *
*clop*
"Captain! They're everywhere!" Lieutenant Fields whispered, having just dropped from a moonlit rooftop into the back alley the other three were hiding in. Her dark hair was cut short, and she was wearing her tan suit of studded leather armor, boots, and gloves, which she put on for particularly brutal field ops. She slipped away the spyglass she always carried, and awaited her new Captain's orders. She had always worked under the infamous Captain Jorid "Noisemaker" Baram before; whose mentality, and that of his other soldiers, had been one of breaking in doors and asking questions later. She looked forward to seeing Fourth Squad's illustrious Captain Baldwin in action, for a change.
"How many, Lieutenant?" the Captain asked.
"About fifteen at the front gates alone, Captain Van. Some of them human, some not. And it looks like they're keeping an eye out for any would-be rescuers."
"Alright, stick to the rooftops, Lieutenant. We'll do things your way for this encounter." The Captain replied.
"Sir." She whispered, firing a rope arrow into the wooden eve of the house they were hiding behind, and climbing back up to the "Thieves' Highway". She would find a way to get behind the formation--perhaps she would be able to scale the parapets around the palace gates with some well-thought parkour.
Of course, 'her way' was why Melissa Fields was acting Lieutenant of First Squad to begin with--the Captain would never have made a promotion without her cautious, careful method of slipping in behind and taking out the opposition while they looked in the direction of Baram's rowdy lot. They were decent fighters, you didn't want to get that wrong--she especially liked Deputy Lieutenant Addison--before he had turned to the enemy side, at least. He had possessed quite a brain. The others, however, including Baram himself, were muscled twits with some very big blades at their disposal. Once she had the dissention sown, they knew how to hack an ogre or a rogue wizard or ten to bits--but they were terrible idiots when it came to breaking formations, and she didn't like leaving men behind because of pointless slaughters. Fields was the figure in the dark, supporting the boisterous fools. She needed no accolades for what she did--it was her life. For now--at least.
"Hold it a second... what are they up to?" she said, stopping as she lept from a roof, landing on all fours, to stare down into the garden below.
She had noticed that the cultists were doing something... unusual, for a change. Their normal tactic for street wars, since their appearance a year and a half ago, was to send out their lycanthrope members first; willing or otherwise--and then to have their sane members cull the surviving victims from the throng of dead bodies they left behind, using those strange rods they carried. It was an especially efficient tactic for maintaining their forces, what with their method of mind and form control, and would certainly win them a battle of attrition like the one they had been fighting up until now. But it was also a very aimless strategy, and allowed for an even or even losing outcome between sides if the cultists lost too many members to guerilla tactics.
Fields had learned to exploit their attack pattern so, and could assassinate many of the 'Root Cultists', as she liked to call them--brown-cloaked, floating entities that had become demi-human, and grown large, flexible tree roots out of their entire bodies--before they could be backed up by their were-beast brethren. It only required a distraction like the kind Van and the other squads would be providing now: they had the busy streets--The rooftops were hers to own.
Now, however, it seemed the cultists' ranks were completely mixed together, and they appeared to be unconcerned with taking victims. Instead, they sent a few lycanthropes out at a time, drawing combat in the streets away, faking their former tactics--and in other locales, she found many root cultists gathered together, performing some kind of ritual, guarded by lycanthrope thralls who were watching vigorously for signs of soldiers to apprehend.
"I don't like the looks of this, time to contact the raid group." she whispered.
She pulled open a scroll from her backpack, and began chanting, concentrating on a woodpecker that was nested in an evespout.
"Speak with a wizened tongue, and reach the ear of the one I wish you to sway, creature of Nature. Fly for me on a guiding wind, and convey my words of balance to Selem Dalnassir!!"
There was a bright green flash, as the scroll's rune text vanished, and the bird flew to her, perching on a nearby chimney. She threw out the blank vellum.
"Your message, Lieutenant?" the bird chimed politely, in a high pitched and cheery voice.
"Tell Selem Dalnassir, who is currently directing troops in the merchant's square south of here, that the Cultists are planning some kind of new tactic. It looks like they're planting some kind of flora in preparation for a druidic ritual. I don't know what they intend yet, but let him know that if he can direct the other squads around the lycanthrope groups they're dispatching, they can strike at their more vulnerable numbers. I will continue my observations, and send further reports as they become available."
"Of course! Is that all?" the bird tilted its head and fluttered its wings, waiting in anticipation for the reward it would receive for its service.
"Yes." She said, running her fingers gently through the bird's feathers, and feeding it a scrap of suet she carried for these sorts of messages.
"Yes, Lieutenant, Sir!" the bird twittered cutely, lifting a wing in faux salute.
"Good... (Don't get caught...)" she whispered to herself.
"What are you planning, Thorn and Fang?" Fields wondered, looking down once more, as enormous, rafflesia-like flowers bloomed from vines that the hooded cultists were growing about the trellised garden--sprouting the things from their very bodies.
She turned away, and continued running from roof to roof, window to window, through buildings that were occupied, and vacant alike, searching for a safe way to the palace battlements. It was her way. It was how she survived, in the urban jungle.
* * *
As it turned out, Knuckle-Eyes was a very large and irascible mutant Elder Orb--a type of alien aberration--which was presently bound by chains and magical wards, over a large, fiery pit. He, or she, or it--whatever gender it may have been, Gil could not tell--looked like an enormous, fleshy brown sphere, with dozens of knotted eyestalks for which the creature had been given its nickname. It had what seemed to be hundreds of jagged teeth, and a massive orange central eye, which it turned to Yuriko. The girl sweltered, drenched in sweat, and looked feverish, as if standing under a hot desert sun; clearly uncomfortable to be in the entity's gaze, which seemed to have a deleterious effect on the magical fox creature.
"W-WWHAT DO YOU WANT, DAUGHTER OF MANY-TAILS? DID THE ELF SEND YOU? COME FOR ANOTHER GO AT OLD KNUCKLE-EYESSSS HAS HE?" the thing boomed, in a heavy, deep, and staggering growl that resounded through the chamber over the hissing sound of lava bubbling.
"No, Knuckle-Eyes, Dalnassir isn't my master anymore! We're here to set you free and escape this place so we can get revenge on that bastard!" Yuriko insisted.
"HOHOHOHAHA...THAT IS... HOW DO YOU LITTLE ONES SAY IT...? 'RICH'. "The eyeball-thing chortled, narrowing its eyelids, rustling its eye stalks in its chains, and waving its long, pointed, narrow tongue about salaciously in its open mouth. It then squinted its central eye, and stared the demoness down.
"DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL, CHILD OF SEDUCTION? YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU ARE NO LONGER HIS PET...'WHORRRE?' DO YOU REALLY MEAN TO SAY YOU HAVE A...BuuuuuRRRNING 'NEED' FOR KNUCKLE-EYES, HMMMMM????"
The elder orb shut its central eye, giving Yuriko a moment to breathe, at which point she fell to the floor on her hands, her palor drained, drenched in the foul thing's spittle. She caught her breath, and pleaded to the creature.
"Knuckle-Eyes, I know I've been made to do bad things to you in the past, but it wasn't because I liked tricking you! It's not like I want a Beholder holding a grudge against me, when I could just use humans instead!"
"MMMMmmmmmm..." it muttered, taking a moment to contemplate her words, its tendril-eyes looking up at the ceiling together with its central one. It touched one of these tendrils to its sinewy jowls for a moment in thought.
YOU SPEAK MIXED WISDOMS, SHE-FOX, AS ALL YOUR KIND. BUT KNUUUUCKLE-EYES IS FEELING... *slurp* MAGNANIMOUS."
"I somehow doubt that's all your feeling right now..." Yuriko muttered, her eyes shut, as sweat continued to trickle down her forehead.
SERVICE ME, CHILD OF SEDUCTION, WITHOUT YOUR TRICKS, AND PERHAPS THE GRREAAAaaaAAAT AND...'POTENT' KNUCKLE-EYES WILL RECONSIDER HIS VIEW OF YOUR ILK, AND MAKE...A SPECIAL--EXCEPTtttION...FOR 'YOU'.
It licked its lips, winking half its eyes at the demon, clearly an avid pervert, despite its self-styled 'greatness'.
"...eww." Was all Yuriko could say, as she panted, getting to her knees. It was getting plain-unbearable, standing under the gigantic voyeur's eye. "I don't... wanna' 'do you', Beholder! Think of something else--please?!" she held her hands together, begging, her fox ears held down over her head.
"MMMmmmm... PERHAPS THEN IF YOU AND YOUR MATE TAKE OFF 'ALLLL' YOUR CLOTHES FOR ME... I MIGHT RECONSIDER, CHILD. THAT IS ALLLLLlll I ASK OF YOU, LITTLE ONES...FOR ENTERtttTTTAINment."
"Cmon, something that doesn't have to do with sex, for a change, already!" Gil complained incredulously, pushing her glasses back onto her face with her middle finger, as they slid off for the third time. She wasn't sure if it was the pit of molten slag, or the Beholder's eye, but she was starting to feel pretty hot herself.
"IIIII AWAIT THE SIGHT OF YOUR SSUPPLE BODDDIES." The Beholder droned. It shut its eyes, clearly uninterested in further negotiation.
"Gil, take your robes off." Yuriko finally said, in the same tone she had asked her to bite Malcolm, more than two hours ago.
"Yuri, you can't be serious, you're going to fuck with me, here, in front of this perverted bastard? It doesn't even have a dick, Yuriko, how the hell does it--wait," she took a double take, "I don't even 'want' to know THAT!! Just tell me there's another way, damnit!!"
Yuriko simply shook her head, and sighed. "Gil, those cultists are coming. Unless you'd prefer to find out what a bunch of slobbering were-beasts and men with root appendages flailing from their bodies can do for your girlish figure, it's time to make love with me."
"Oh, damn, you have a point there." Gil conceded, her glasses sliding down off her nose again.
* * *
The two lay before the just-liberated Beholder, who had not, so far, disintegrated any one of the three other escapees, if not for the simple fact that it was drooling copiously, and too preoccupied with the sight before it to conjure the mental fortitude for the deed.
"Like this?" Gil asked, kneeling on her knees.
"No, you're doing it wrong, Gil," Yuriko explained, lying under her, her head beneath Gil's legs. "Gently. Start slow and use your tongue. You're eating me out."
"How am I supposed to enjoy this when that 'thing' is staring up my legs?" Gil muttered. She snapped her attention the other way for a second. "Hey, KID, stop looking at us! You're too young to be into this kind of stuff!"
Malcolm was grinning, doing something half-elves his age shouldn't. Gil didn't understand how such a sweet kid could be such a pervert. Sexual tensions from isolation--she supposed. The Councilor seemed to foster strange and deviant creations left and right.
The boy paused, his hands still in his lap, and he replied, "Oh, Oswald and I slept together all the time, Gil, when we could find a bed to share between us! I really don't know what you're talking about. I don't see what's wrong with having fun with someone you love!" he said innocently, as if he had no understanding of illicit behavior, since his time on the streets.
Gil turned red, finding this totally outrageous behavior, which was in and of itself ironic, for someone exhibiting themselves before a thing with two-dozen eyes. "You're a corrupt little elf, kid! Did Dalnassir teach you that kind of behavior?!"
"I-I am not a kid!" Malcolm protested again--although still palming his lap, "And the slavers tried to sell us to worse adults than Dalnassir! I've seen adults that do a-a l-lousy job of showing compassion! And I, I think I'm an o-okay... ohh..." he said, watching as Yuriko pushed Gil's head back between her legs. A bulge formed in the young boy's cloak--held beneath him as he sat, and the fabric ripped, as a soft white, musky tail pushed out of his backside. He started panting, and massaging his boyhood from under his robes, feeling familiar changes setting in.
"Be quiet, Gil, and lick around my lips." Yuri murmured.
Gil opened her mouth wide, and circled her tongue, as commanded, dabbing it gently against them, probing with the tip. She felt something hot and wet against her own hips, and spread them instinctively.
"Nnn... y-uri?" Gil looked back, trying to see what was going on. Yuri simply held her down with a hand, and began feeling her rump up.
"Shhh... Gil. I do love you, you know that? I just want you to be quiet now..."
"mm...mmkkay," she said, tasting Yuriko, as she began caressing her legs.
"Learn something for a change, you headstrong little animal." Yuri teased. "Oh, and move your tongue around a little more," she remarked, "or else you're going to make me sore."
"MMMMM..." the Beholder said, leaning in and squinting with a few eyes on each side, trying to get every angle he could with his myriad eyestalks. "RARELY DO I SEE SUCH A... sIGHT."
"Yeah, yeah, we know, you're enjoying this--AH! Gil, that's right, like that!"
*pant*
*gasp*
"Unh... that's pretty hot guys..." *shriiip*
"MMMM...."
"Um... guys? I-I'm... Oh. Never mind. I'll just transform...ungh!"
*squelch*
"WAOOOOOOOO!"
"Malcolm, stop pissing you pervert! Yuri, how did you get over--wait, if you're there--Who am I--?!"
*slurp*
"HEY! EYE CREEP! STOP LICKING ME! THAT WASN'T PART OF THE DEA--*gasp* YURI!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LETTING HIM DO?!"
"It sounds like you kind of like Beholders, Gil!"
"No, no, NO! I CAN'T SEE! GIVE ME MY GLASSES! MAKE HIM STOP! *pant*
"Sorry, Gil, I think I'm going to hang out with Malcolm, for a minute. Hey Mal, since you like being a fox now, want to try some 'heavy calisthenics with me, instead of playing peeping tom?'"
"W-what's that supposed to... uh, M-ms. Yuri-ko... don't use that...no, no, no, not the glamour-not the gla--ARGH! Ohhhhhhh! Yu--ri--ko w-hy...?!"
*pant* *pant* *pant*
"WAOOOOOOOOO!"
"'That's' more like it Malcolm, keep it steady! Hehe! It's time you earned your keep, kid!"
"MMMMMM!!!"
*nom*
"ALRIGHT! I THINK YOU'VE HAD MORE THAN YOUR FILL ALREADY, EYESTALKS! OFF ME OR DIE!!!!"
"YOU ARE A CREATURE OF GREAT PASSION, GGGGILLL...!"
"Don't try to 'butter' me up, 'Knuckles'--OFF!"
Gil got her breath, and dashed for her robes, an ecstatic look in the Beholder's eyes.
"GGGGGILLL, SWEETIE! COME BAAAACK! I WASN'T FINISHED YET!!!"
Gil threw her robe in the Beholder's eyes, grabbing her glasses, and putting them back on her face.
"'That', Yuriko--was a complete recipe for disaster. So tell me just one thing:" she shook the fox, spittle flying out of her mouth. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?!"
Yuriko crossed her arms around Gil's waist, fell rolling to the floor with her in front of the dizzy, transformed, and panting Malcolm--whose robes were half-torn and dripping with fox semen--and began laughing hysterically at the switch-up she had just played. There was a poof of smoke, and she became a small, brown, red-eyed fox that continued to titter implacably with her head between Gil's breasts.
"I'm just--feeding into the Beholder's 'needs', Gil-*snort*-hahaha! Don't-haha--tell me you didn't have fun--you looked like you were really ENJOYING it! Mmff...heheheHAHAHAHAHA!"
Gil turned beat red and held her head up to look the fox in her eyes. "Yuriko, this never leaves the dungeon!" she fumed.
"Gil, you're a pretty funny girl, but your lovemaking could use some work," Yuriko giggled, licking the blushing Lieutenant's nose.
* * *
The Captain stood, turned toward the shadows, lost in thoughts of the past. The sound of soldiers fighting and dying echoed on the cold wind that blew by the alleyway, but it was uninterrupted by the voices of his squadmates.
He remembered that time, as he stood over the body.
*(distant footsteps, voices through a door)*
"(Who disturbs my presence...?)"
_ "(Mistress, it is merely I, your loyal servant!)"_
_ "(Oh, Sergei. Why do you disturb my metamorphosis? What is it that you desire of your Dark Mother)?"_
_ "(It is a curious thing, Mistress. One of Altia's Military Officers has surrendered himself into our custody, without a fight. He says he wishes to seek your council!)"_
_ "(Oh 'does' he? I wonder how he found out about us so soon--This might be amusing, Sergei. Keep him bound tightly though. I am still 'vulnerable', in this fragile state. I cannot allow myself to be sundered again, as I was when I 'became' a deity. It is only luck that I was able to assume this form, and not be food for a lesser mortal; to fuel their crude rise to divinity.)"_
_ "(Yes, Mistress, it is as you command.) By the Glory of Thorn and Fang, bring the Officer in!"_
*(rustle, door being opened)*
*(footsteps)*
"So then, manfool--well! 'My my'. It is 'you'. I did not think 'you' would have the gal to come and face me directly."
"You!"
"Yes, yes--it 'has' been a long time, hasn't it, Prince? What are they calling you nowadays? 'Heretic'? 'Traitor', perhaps?"
"So what the Lieutenant said was true. It is you...no. It is not, I suppose... you are not her... merely a mutation of the dead god. I see you are still under Ptolemy's curse."
"Oh, that pitiful Priest, he thinks he can lay a death curse on a beautiful young flower. But he failed. He thought he'd kill my grove, you know. Or at very least, kill you in the process of trying. He really is a divine failure, you know."
"Why are you doing this to innocent people?! Killing the weak, and sullying the strong with this vile curse--you were never like this as a mortal! Tell me, why?!"
"*hisssss*"
*squit-squit*
"AHHHHHH!"
"You're WRONG, Vanalen!"
"NO MORE! IT HURTS! PLEASE KAYELLE!! IT HURTS!!!"
*RUMBLE* "Because I never was a 'mortal'! And you apparently never learned my feelings well enough to understand the SUFFERING 'your' Empire put me through! All the development, all the destruction, and sludge, and dark magics spewing forth into 'my air', into 'my waters' and 'my soil', killing my creatures--sullying my grove--And then your people tried to steal the divine spark I was tasked with protecting. I 'HATE' you, Prince! You are the symbol of the arrogance and duplicity your people call 'Progress'!
"No... Kayelle... it was not like that then! I never chose for what happened to my Empire to be that way! I loved you. It was..."
"The Dragon? Or perhaps the 'Priest' and his lifeless abominations? Or maybe it was your Father's fault for making you wish to search for love you could not have...Or tell me, Vanalen, who else is your scapegoat 'this' time? Are you still trying to escape the punishment of eternity I prepared for you, as a follower of Obad-Hai, for trespassing in his sacred garden? For bringing evil men into it to violate 'me'? Hmm? How many excuses must you 'make', Prince? How many lives must you 'sacrifice', before you realize what you must do to rectify your WRONGS?!"
*QUAKE*
"Mistress, please, calm down mistress! What is wrong?! Never have I seen you this angry!"
"SILENCE, SERGEI! YOU KNOW NOT OF THE MATTERS YOU TRESPASS IN!" *RUMBLE*
"No... Mistress, please, have merc--AGHHHHH!!!" *thud*
*RUMBLE*
"If..."
"...YES?"
"If you want me to... I will take responsibility now, for all those actions. I have changed."
*squit-squit-squit*
"ARGH!!!"
*thrash, thrash*
"No--Not 'yet' you haven't, 'Van'. But you 'will' change. That is what my rule is about: Giving corrupt humans like you the 'strength' to be pure again. Now... give me your 'body'... Sinner."
"Nicholas...Jonen--I'm sorry--oh... Ohhhhh!" *squelch*
"..."
"WAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
"..."
"*whimper*"
"It always...'hurts' to pay penitence, my wolf. Cry now, for what you have done."
"..."
That was years ago, and I still can't shake the memories, Kayelle. Never thought you'd be the one terrorizing this city, looking for me, he thought, his eyes yellowing as he kept reliving those dark memories of his youth; those nightmares of indelible old wounds--kicking aside Deputy Reys's dead, bloodied body--a single crossbow bolt lodged in both his throat and forehead.
As he stood over the poor soldier's corpse, tossing away a small, tattered vellum scroll he held in his black-gloved hands, Deputy Lieutenant Serradine stood in the shade next to him, her green eyes glazed, acting like a doll--and holding a crossbow she had fired into the ex-paladin's body, of the Captain's own accord.
She was under his complete control, just as he had chosen. She would not remember what had transpired, and it was just as well that she didn't. He didn't need any more casualties in his squad.
The Captain walked on, mentally ordering Serradine to remain with the body. He had to kill Fields now, and the elf girl would just get in his way, for that. She was too agile to chase with a partner in tow to slow him down, and he had different plans in mind for killing her, than for Rays.
Gil, I'm sorry... The Cult, the Goddess...your curse...? They are all my doing, he thought, slipping out of his uniform, preparing for the change.
But I promised someone, I would stop making excuses for my sins, long before I met you. You were a good Lieutenant, Gil. Never forget what we had. I hope that we do not ever meet again.
*squelch*
"WAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
* * *
Fields lept through an open window and grabbed for the hanging sign to the tavern in front of her, leaping to the balcony across from it. She stopped, catching glance of it suddenly. A thick-five-petaled, red flower with a broad yellow central cavity, hanging from the eves on viney growths.
There's another one... another... another! They seem to be everywhere now! Maybe I should pick one and send it off to the Councilor. She thought.
She reached for the knife she kept in her boot, stood on her tip toes, and reached for one of the smaller flowers. She began cutting into the vine, but when she touched the plant, it discharged a revolting-smelling powder over her body, covering her hair and uniform.
"YUCK!" It was worse than rotting corpses! "Ohhh... *mmf*" she stifled herself, trying not to alert the pair of root cultists that were patrolling beneath her. She froze for a minute, listening, making sure there had not been an obvious reaction from the two.
Oh man, that reeks. What is this stuff? She wondered, picking some yellow granules out of her hair.
Whoa...unh...
Suddenly, the Lieutenant felt very dizzy. She quickly picked the lock on the balcony door, and slipped inside a vacant upstairs bedroom, before she could be overheard.
"Unh... ahh! It... it burns on my skin! Damnit! Is it poison?!"
She threw her backpack over her chest onto a nearby bed, and quickly began rifling through the pouches, trying to find her kit of antitoxins.
"Topical poison... dispersed through pollen granules... or spores? No, wait... that doesn't seem right--ahh! What's... what's happening?!"
She looked at her hand, which was quivering, and pulsing. The bones were moving about, and her fingers suddenly became stiff. Suddenly, her hands swole to twice their original size, and her fingers had deformed.
"No... what is it doing to me?" she whispered.
Her body began contorting, and she felt a strange new, swelling sensation. She bent down on her knees, no longer in pain... but itchiness. That was not a good sign. She tore her armor off, trying to get as much of the stuff off her as possible.
*squelch*
"No..." she put her hand to her face, which felt different. Flatter. Her nose had shriveled, and was nothing but empty, hanging tissue. She felt it, and it was completely numb. Tugging on it, her face began to peel off, like dead skin. Beneath, she could feel her nose... what a relief... but there were also... whiskers?!
"No... no way! I'm turning into--UNGH!"
Feels like I'm stretching my way out of my skin! She thought, bucking her body back and forth. The most terrifying part of it all was that...there was a part of her that was enjoying this!
As the Lieutenant's body went into a full-on metamorphosis, she felt muscles ripple in her arms and legs, across her torso. She felt a tingle in her breasts, and fell to the floor naked, as a divide she could veritably 'feel' tore its way through the skin on her naked back. Her toes wiggled, and her large toes contracted, shrinking, sprouting sharp claws, and crawling up her legs as her feet quickly transformed into thick paws.
*SHRIIIIIIP!*
Something broke its way through the tight, stretching skin on her rump--something she could feel, and move--and finally, she felt the itching subside. She stood, and looked at herself in a nearby mirror.
Oh my god. She said, staring into her own new pair of cat eyes.
"Dalnassir has to know about this! If this spreads, there won't 'be' a city to protect much longer!!" she cried, her voice transformed to be raspy, almost a feline yowl.
But how can this really be me?
She put a finger to the loose skin that had fallen from her face. She could not believe what was underneath. She had grown out of her human form, and so she took a clawed finger, and began peeling the useless flesh off of her new fur. What had once been her hands were shifted into pawlike things, barely useful for delicate manipulation.
But it feels... 'good', somehow! Like... I want to tackle something...and...
*pant*
She yawned, watching with a squint as her tongue extended from her maw; thick, rough, and pink. She had transformed into some kind of panther woman, and had a ropey, sensitive new tail hanging from her butt. Her nose had changed, now flat and black--plainly feline, and the hair she had once been proud of had disappeared, replaced with the black pelt that covered the entirety of her body. Even her ears had grown, becoming large and round, on the top of her head. It had taken only two minutes--at best for her to shed her entire human self.
"This can't be me though...but... I'm still me? But why...?!"
She raised a pink-pawed hand in awe, and looked at the new, retractable, razor claws it bore. They were... hers. Her thumbs had diminished, much like her large toes, and were now practically useless, having risen up her forearms. She touched her new set of eight teats; six small, floppy, feline additions, plus her human breasts, which were now covered in the same fur as the rest of her body, up to the pink nubs. She was a wild animal now.
"Why would they do this, though, if I can control it?!" she wondered aloud.
Suddenly, she heard a crash from the balcony door behind her. She turned her feline head, reaching for her knife on the bed, and raising her new tail behind her. There stood the most enormous werewolf she had seen in her life; nearly ten feet tall, covered in thick grey and white fur, with horny protrusions jutting from its face, back, and tail. It had two, thick, black, antelope's horns protruding from its skull. It growled, baring its fangs, hackles raised, and approached her on two legs.
"Shit... they found me," she muttered.
* * *
Former Deputy Lieutenant Addison panted frantically, his new body giving its all to flee. Soldiers were starting to fill the streets, and not just the officers from Peacekeeping, either. The Artifact Battalion was organizing at headquarters, and the Military proper would be out in full force soon, at this rate. He had to hurry.
Nobody knows what I know... yet. I have to warn someone who will listen. The Captain 'isn't' trying to stop the raid at all. He wants them to walk into the grove, to go in fighting, trying to sunder the Goddess. Oh, they'll find cultists... plenty of them. Enough to make it a nice long fight, the way they want.
"There he is! I see him! Someone, contact Archmage Dalnassir! It's the traitor Addison!"
The werefox loped on, dodging down a side alley, leaping a wooden fence to escape pursuit. Damn...I have to find Gavin; tell him what I've discovered, he thought_._
The Goddess isn't doing what they think she is... She's not going to try and fight back and reinforce her true followers like Dalnassir thinks--she's going to--well, run I guess you can call it... and when she does... I just don't want to think about what's going to happen to all the people here.
He whipped into the shadows quickly, as three of the puppet-lipped, white-eyed cultivators floated through, their root legs and limbs whipping about_._ He knew what they were doing, and it wasn't looking for victims to claim as servants. It was too far into the Goddess's plan for that now.
Shit... cultists... cultists... cultists everywhere. And they're planting the blooms. Not good. I'm running out of time. He thought, nearly out of breath. He had to rest.
He hid behind some garbage containers sitting in front of a small fish market. He could smell the rank odor of rotting salmon with his newly improved nose, and it would have been fascinating to him under any other circumstances. He had enjoyed turning voluntarily, even though it had been a trap to do so. He had become a truly amazing creature. He would have been a fine follower of the Cult, under different circumstances.
I know why the Captain wanted us to become lycanthropes now, though, he thought. I know why he set up my disappearance too. It wasn't only because he needed a double agent spying on her. It's not the Goddess you're interested in at all, is it, Van? Not for what she is now, at least. You're going to try and take her with you. Yeah...to the people you really work for. She was your main squeeze once, Cap. I know about your whole thing with women... and I know you want her back the way she used to be, he smirked.
He continued running, some small sliver of hope returning, as the headquarters rolled into sight; an orange, three-story building, with tall, picketed iron fences surrounding its perimeter. He ran to the gates, and lept up on his hind legs, shifting, and assuming his anthro form. He pawed the latch, tried to break it with his handpaws, tried to bend the bars to squeeze through, but he was no strongman, as a werefox. He was locked out. So he ran around the perimeter of the building, looking for a good spot to dig under.
You wanted me silenced. Just like this, didn't you. It's too late now, isn't it, Van Baldwin... you've already let them make me out to be a traitor, and there's no proof to the contrary. Only Dalnassir might listen now, and he's in the middle of about twenty of our city's finest, no doubt--all out for beast blood... That's how you wanted it.
Addison heard the sound of a massive explosion in the distance, turning his attention across to the other side of the merchant's square, and an elven voice began shouting orders and preparing another spell. It was General Serradine, Lera's aunt, surrounded by an entourage of soldiers, fending off lycanthropes--wererats and werewolves, mostly. It seemed like the military was beginning to make headway against the mob. He kept running, wishing it had been the Councilor.
But then, even if I could make it to him to tell him, he wouldn't listen to what I have to say--because he's greedy for that Goddess's essence--wants to be a deity, before anyone can stop him. He'd kill me as a traitor, before he listened. Yeah, I can see I've already walked right into your trap, Van... I've realized why you let me in on this scheme now.
By trying to warn anyone about your plan, I reveal the Goddess, without it looking like you knew where to find her yourself. I'm a Watch Officer, and the Council can have me scryed on with divination spells the moment I'm outside her presence. They were just waiting to decide what to do when I reappeared... And when I fled... well, that's what you wanted me for, Van--I'm bait, so that the mice will walk into the trap. And if I 'had' realized that before, and hadn't left, I'd still be unable to warn them about you, and out of the way; you could have just bided your time, waiting as long as your real superiors liked for us to find the Cult hideout on our own, and I wouldn't have been able to tell on you when I stumbled upon your little secret.. You get all the information, with minimal risk--and you know when to stage whatever it is you're planning. Not a bad setback at all, is it, Van? But I'm not telling 'you' about her new plans. No.
The werefox assumed his feral form once more, shrinking to the size of a small dog, and began kicking up dirt with his tough little vulpine nails, digging his first and probably last foxhole beneath the fence. He realized he was more than likely walking straight into his grave... but death was on all sides, now, for Addison. He could still try to be the voice of reason.
It may not be a bad deal for 'you' at least, Captain, he thought, sarcastically, you're killing off all the tools that know too much. It's the same reason you're probably even now dragging the others who could put it together away... the smart eggs like Lera, and my Lieutenant, Melissa... You set up some kind of diversion for them, so you could take away the voices of reason from the flock of frenzied, bloodthirsty sheep. But even you don't know what she's planning behind your own back now... I won't tell, in case I fail. My only hope now is to convince Gavin that you're a traitor, he thought regretfully, as he squeezed through the dirt, beneath the sharp poles of the fence. Gavin knows all about that other 'lieutenant', and I won't have to explain Dalnassir's plan to him--he knows it already and hates the elf with a vengeance.
He perked his ears, and heard a rustling in the nearby bushes. He whipped around, baring his fangs, ready to attack whoever was hiding there...
_ _ "Squeee!"
He pounced on the rabbit, biting its throat. A fitting last meal, he thought. It wasn't a bad one, either: being a fox had its advantages for food tastes.
He ripped out the thing's liver with his fangs, and began chewing, sparing no time to sit and finish the rest. He kept looking for a way into the HQ.
I'm seeing and hearing traitorous Captains everywhere, now. You've got me spooked; I'll give you that much, Baldwin.
_ _ He made a sudden realization, that he was probably not as far away from an oncoming ambush as he had expected.
Shit, Gavin doesn't know about you and the Goddess. And he trusts you more than anything, Van.
He scowled mentally, taking a piss as he ran. Being an animal had its conveniences, even if they weren't the most refined ones.
You had that planned too, though, didn'tcha--you filthy weasel. It's why you hadn't made Gavin disappear yet in a faux operation, like you did both of 'us'. So you could make it look like an officer was left behind, just protecting himself from another blood-hungry lycanthrope, when I go to try and warn him. Isn't that right? You probably told him I'm a traitor for Dalnassir... I'm walking to my death, aren't I?
He broke into the compound through an open window on the first story. He quickly slunk down a hall, staying away from any torches or electric lights, warily looking for the one soldier in a haystack of people, who wouldn't be out to alert the entire Watch if they saw him. He cared little if he was in danger now--he had to serve as the voice of reason if he could do it.
But Gavin, seriously, though--open your eyes to what your Captain has been up to! Why else would he let Gil be taken to be treated for her curse, if it wasn't a bogus plan? She could just ask the Goddess for control; become like the rest of us so-called "covert agents". He'd never surrender her to Dalnassir if he had no other choice to keep her alive. He hates Dalnassir... it was because he didn't want her to know so much that she'd have to be killed, like I will be now.
If only she'd been bit before the night they faked my disappearance... he thought, mournfully. I didn't find out about your infection until I was already branded a traitor, Gil. Word doesn't travel fast from the Watch to its enemies--and I had to overhear about that from the Organizer when he finally left the Goddess's side for awhile. It was Van's lucky break, because if I'd heard about the procedure then, I would have gotten suspicious of his plan and reported it to General Serradine when it was still a possibility...Gavin's too thick for that, it seems. Well played, Captain.
The Lieutenant paused, perked his fox ears again, and listened. The air was still. Damnit, nobody's here... they've already organized everyone for the raid this fast?! I...I guess they thought they had enough information to strike us down for good. That means Dalnassir probably has the Goddess's weakness figured out already. She's still fragmented... she messed up her attempt to gather enough followers, and now she's going to try a different tactic. I wonder if he knows that, though.
Suddenly, he heard a tapping noise...
*tap tap tap!* *... ... ...* *tap tap tap!*
S.O.S, the werefox thought. Someone's trapped in here... it's coming from upstairs... he shivered. This was all too convenient.
Still... I have to try. Otherwise everyone in this city will become a lycanthrope, whether they want it or not.
Addison took off at a dash, knowing it was his only chance, that whoever it was might listen to reason.
* * *
Fields crashed through the door, and into the tavern proper, which was littered with dead, rotting bodies. The cult had made it to this place before the rest of them. Vines covered with those strange transforming flowers covered the wooden walls and railings of the building, and the corpses made fine compost for them.
Don't panic, just run... outrun it, you're more agile than it... she thought, leaping the railing and landing on a bar table below. Several unemptied bottles of booze clattered to the floor, shattering, and spilling the smell of alchohol everywhere. She could smell it so very easily now--it was almost as overwhelming as the odor of blood, or the vile pollen from before.
*CRASH!*
Without looking up, the Lieutenant lept out from under the shadow of the thing, as it smashed directly through the railing, swiping its claws at her, and decimating the bar she had sat on seconds ago. It landed in a crouch, turned, and stepped down, walking on two legs, ready to lunge at her in a run. She wouldn't have it, though. She lept over the banister, ran back up the stairs, and prayed it could not jump high enough to reach her without taking them itself. She slammed the door behind her, and locked it tight, blocking it with a heavy side table.
*thud thud thud*
"Damn... a werewolf lord?!" she gasped, collecting as much of her equipment as she could, slipping on her armor, which was uncomfortable overtop her fur. "I'd only heard of the things... never thought I'd be facing one toe-to-toe, let alone like this!"
*SMASH!* an enormous claw tore a jagged hole in the door.
"Shit!" She lept for the window.
Outside, make it back to the roof, she thought. She pulled a rope arrow from her quiver, trying to grip it with her new paws; finding it difficult to make a clenched fist with her thick new fingers. It made a *thock* noise, embedding itself in the eve above her. She climbed as fast as she could, not bothering to try and remove the thing once she had made it up.
* * *
*BLAM! *
"SQUEEE!"
"Must I kill you all myself?! Am I to babysit this insipid Battalion even as it falls to the ravages of this lot of mongrels?" Dalnassir complained, slipping back behind a flagstone wall he had shaped with magic to take cover from the bolts that were being fired by the human cultists. He had cast a particularly explosive fireball spell, and torched through the wall of vines and foliage the cult had erected to block their path through the street, taking a large number of swarming wererats with it.
"That's not especially productive talk, Selem! This is hardly the time to be reproaching our men for their shortcomings!" General Serradine shouted, stepping out to fire an arrow at a root cultist that was chanting a spell. Her shot cleaved the thing's round, featureless wooden head open, knocking its hood back, and revealing a ghastly mess of dripping yellow sap and tiny, undulating green veins that looked like worms. These people had literally become human plants, for some dark, obscene purpose. Along with some stronger lycanthropes and a horde of wererats, they had managed to pin down the two elves. They had decided to allow two of their squads to run ahead separately, intending to establish a foothold, while the first set up cover from the alley behind. They were proceeding through the market slowly, making their way to the Cult's true hideout, in the slums.
"I apologize, Daeinir, but this is not the time for light-handedness, either!" the Councilor shouted, dodging a long, thorny vine that lashed around the side of the wall, projected from the body of a root cultist trying to tear the skin off his face.
"Have there been any reports from the rescue squad?" Serradine yelled.
"One," Dalnassir muttered, preparing a scorching spell, which he cast from an open hand, stepping back into the open just long enough to fire the burning ray into the offending cultist. "It seems the Cult is making some effort to increase the spread of their influence; although in what way, I cannot say. Our good Lieutenant did make it clear that they are spreading some sort of flora through sectors of the city near the palace, and that it would be in our interest to attack those regions when possible. But I am afraid it is a luxury we cannot afford, at present. She has not seen what we have faced, during her luxurious rooftop vacation, and so cannot appreciate our impediment in the streets."
"My, Selem, you almost seem contemptuous of everything tonight," the General jibed. "What do you suggest we do then?" she asked rhetorically. She seemed immune to Dalnassir's snarky pessimism herself, which was an unusual quality even for an elf.
Dalnassir provided an answer to her question anyway, between hurling thunderous blasts of arcane energy at what stragglers were still trying to hold ground. "We must press forward and eradicate the source of this plague, Daeinir--before it consumes our city in its entirety. Beating at this sea of infected and twisted man-things is a futile endeavor, no matter how great the tradeoff our Lieutenant Fields perceives in it. They will bleed us dry of every human thing in our city while we dally, until it is only we few elves that stand against them."
"I take it then that we have no information on the whereabouts--of the King?" She asked, dropping her bow, and drawing her sword suddenly as a large jaguar lept the trader's stall she was hiding behind, and pounced at her. She sliced through its breast, the magic of the flayer blade taking its toll on the creature, as its human corpse evacuated itself cleanly from its beast pelt. Blood spattered on her face and shoulders, dirtying her long, untied silver-blonde hair--but she did not fear infection--pureblood elves were immune to the turning effects of lycanthropy; a rare trait among humanoids, to be sure.
"I left him in the care of my apprentice, Oswald, when I departed with the Captain. He is even now standing guard over the annex we escorted him to hide in."
"One lad, Dalnassir?" she asked, skeptically, wiping her sword blade clean against the skinned cat's coat.
"Oswald is an exceptionally fine mage hunter, Daeinir, and I have made... 'modifications', to his array, to allow him to channel some of our finest artifacts. He will have no trouble defending against any number of cultists in that place--unless they somehow possess magic to tear through entire castle walls. He is also not alone, but has the company of the King's personal guard. No, I find it unlikely that the rescue squad should have any great difficulty in extricating the King.
"That is a relief to know, Dalnassir. Your confidence is as good to me as the confidence of the King himself," the General sighed, kneeling to catch her breath.
Seeing that there were no more foes in sight, Dalnassir cautiously stepped over to the General's position, his crimson mantle flowing in the wind behind his armor.
"I am more concerned about the Captain becoming distracted, and meddling in my experiments, I must concede. In the rush to protect the King, I left my younger apprentice, Malcolm, in charge of the Captain's acting lieutenant, and I fear the Captain may prove foolish enough to try and 'rescue' what is left of her from the she-demon I gave her to. It will no doubt end--with his foolish body stripped naked and prostrated across her lap."
He sneered, envisioning the sight of Baldwin stripped naked and humiliated by Yuriko in his dungeon, and found it a comforting image. He would have to see about that when this was all said and done--if the Captain didn't manage it himself.
"A demon of seduction, eh, Dalnassir?" the General quipped, as if this was an inside joke they both shared. "Trying to coax words out of a tight-lipped girl with animal ravages again, I see?"
"Something to that extent, yes, Daeinir," Dalnassir smirked, offering a hand, and helping the General to her feet as they set out to reunite with their battalion.
* * *
I think I lost it finally, Fields thought, pausing to catch her breath, her feline chest pounding up and down.
"WAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Shit, guess it's not far away though... hope it can't find me up here...
"Ah god, can I get rid of this damn body already..." she muttered.
"Cmon, cmon... change... change!" She concentrated, trying to see if she could will her body to revert to itself.
I have the self-control for this. It's not that important to be a panther. I don't need to be this thing, and it's not better than my own body, right now. I don't like it enough to stay this way, either! So change! Now! Do it!
Surprisingly, her will was enough. She felt what had been done to her regress, at least, temporarily. Her tail slid back into her pants, and the pressure of her armor squeezing against it finally ceased. The cool night air on her bare skin was refreshing, if brisk, and she practically cried, to be able to run her fingers through her own hair once again. She knew she was tainted throughout now--doubted there was much chance of ever being a full human again--unless the Councilor's mission succeeded... but it was alright. She had her mind, and had not had to go through any risky experiment to maintain it.
Maybe I'll celebrate later, and ask for a promotion, for a change. I could go for that. I'll be Captain Melissa Fields, the first lycanthrope member of the Watch... well, other than you, Alastor. Gods, are you even alive right now?! Your partner seemed hell-bound to believe you were dead...poor guy. A shame he can't control his giant-kin temper, he really didn't shit around with the Councilor. Let's just hope there's no need for any experiments here. She smirked. She was no fan of the Councilor herself. She had shadowed him in his lab before, and the stuff he did gave her the creeps.
She checked herself over. No scratches.
Heh, my clothes look worse than me. This feels great!
She stared down for a second, in thought.
So this is what those cultists are trying to make everyone like. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if they weren't also brainwashing people into mindless murderers. Still, I have to keep my mind focused on the mission. She snapped her attention back to her surroundings.
It's time to make it back to Van and the others.
She crept around the side of the turret she was hiding behind--a vestige of the old nobility of Altia, which was slowly dying out, since the elven reform a decade or two ago. She peaked down around the merlon of the battlement she stood on, and saw the thing that had been chasing her hulk away, and disappear out of sight, down a side street.
Looks like I escaped. Good. Time to keep it that way.
She crept down a ladder, through the old keep, slinking down its hallways, trying not to disturb any remaining tenants of the building. Explaining what you were doing to private guards was always a mess when you were roof-running.
In truth, Fields had been a former cat burglar, who the Watch had apprehended during a big heist about twelve years ago. They took her name, her identity, her life away from her. She didn't use them anymore for her own sake as much as the military's--because they were dangerous things with some pretty nasty connections. But the real truth was, she didn't miss the streets much. It was more risk than reward, and as long as she got to live and do the things she did best; steal things and move about the city freely--she didn't care who she did it for--the Military payed her better than most of her previous employers, who would just as likely have tried to off her to keep her silence, anyway.
"I guess I'd better contact the Councilor again, let him know what that flora does. If he didn't take my advice before, I think he'll probably rethink things now..."
It's like the Cultists have changed their mind entirely about their approach. They've been pulling back from all the sectors where they have those things planted, she thought. Maybe they don't want a street war after all?
Shit... that's right, the Goddess needs more believers, in order to be stronger... that's what they said in the briefing yesterday morning... but if she doesn't force them, then... wait... that would mean--DAMN!
The would-be-thief's eyes dilated, suddenly, a deep epiphany striking her.
That's it; the Cult's not fighting us at all! This is a diversion!! She's going to go into hiding and wait for new believers to come find her on their own!!
"I have to tell the Councilor about this... it will change everything." Fields got to her feet, and began sprinting, as fast as she could, leaping roofs, dropping into alleys, finding whatever clear path she could to get back to the Palace.
There we go--hey... all the cultists are gone. What gives... this isn't right. She said, staring out from the belfry of a church across from the Palace. None of the myriad cultists she had reported on only an hour and a half ago were anywhere to be found.
They couldn't have just left! Or did they go all go inside, like careless fools?!
She eyed the inside of the belfry, looking for a small bird or bat she could cajole with a messenger spell. Spying a raven nesting in a small, broken cubby where some brick had fallen loose of its mortar, she reached for another scroll--
Her eyes dilated, for a second time. She felt for the scroll case she kept in her backpack... but...
It's not there. My scrolls...when?!
She closed her eyes, recalling the events of the last hour and a half.
!!!
That's right! Back then... she remembered when she had run from the bedroom at the tavern, to avoid the werewolf lord's sudden ambush. SHIT! It must have stolen some of my stuff when I lept into the bar... damnit! I guess it's a lord for a reason; strength and size must not be its only exceptional faculties... Damnit, Mel, what are you thinking tonight?!
She lept to a flagpole, grabbing hold, and hoisting herself up. From there, she lept to the machicolations of the palace battlements--those slits that archers use to fire arrows from behind cover. Clinging to them and using them as handholds, she found a good spot where she could heft herself over, and caught hold of the merlons on the wall. She pulled herself up, and ran to the drawbridge mechanism, lowering a path for her squad. Finally, she found a spot where she could land safely, tied another rope from her pack, and hoisted herself down onto the bridge, making sure there were no surprises in store for her.
"Whew... made it... alright, Captain... where 'are' you at--"
"Fields!" a familiar voice shouted from her left. She turned, looking across to the city side of the bridge.
"Captain, I made it back! There's something I have to tell you! The Cult's not trying to overrun us, they're--" she froze, suddenly, her reflexes stolen by surprise.
He was smiling as if glad to see her unharmed--holding her scroll case, in one hand. In the other, he held a revolver with six chambers, pointed at her. Before she could react, the Captain fired two rounds directly into her chest.
*BANG!* *BANG!*
"One shot, two shots to the chest. You're dying, Lieutenant." He said, in an observational tone, as if he himself had not been the one to fire the gun, but a helpless observer instead.
"Captain, you... traitorous bastard." She sneered, blood dripping from her mouth, knowing now that he had been her mystery pursuer from before--the werewolf lord.
It was obvious now, why it had been Baldwin who had fled with Dalnassir, before. He wasn't protecting the elf, and it wasn't a coincidence that the two just happened to be together at the Palace at the same time when the cult attacked. He was keeping an eye on the Councilor to control his actions tonight. Just like he'd been keeping an eye on the three of them all night since the meeting ended. Probably longer than that, for that matter.
The Captain walked over to her casually, looking down at her as she bled, her hand to her chest. He had missed hitting her in the heart, but the damage was apparent enough. As he stood over her, he spoke, one last time, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
"You were a good Lieutenant, Fields. Far better than your Captain. You would have made a fine ally to the Cult...to the Empire... to my squad."
*CLICK!*
"You just got too curious, Lieutenant."
*BANG!*
"Like all cats."
End of Chapter VII