Post by Arimus on May 1, 2006 22:07:20 GMT -5
The rain fell in a light mist outside the warehouse in the docks district. It was a night similar to most others, a night where the underbelly of the city would crawl out from those places where they'd hide during the day and go about their seedy business. It was also a night where others came out from hiding.
"I am Arianna Fennel. It's the name I was born with, and the name I carry throughout the day. At night, I'm known by another name though. They call me Aria..."
Eight men were in the otherwise, at least to their knowledge, deserted warehouse. Gathered around a number of crates which a few of them were attempting to open with pry-bars, they talked amongst themselves in low tones. Most of what could be made-out of their words involved percentages and cuts. High overhead, among the shadows shrouding the rafters, a figure crouched silently.
"Those who hear my song never forget it. At least, those fortunate enough to survive the encounter. Most dread it, as people long ago would dread the wail of the banshee, for like hers, my song also foretells death. When they hear it, I see the fear cross their eyes, and those who had long since abandoned any thoughts of religion often find themselves praying to those deities they had long ago turned their backs on..."
One of the lids finally came loose, a protesting shriek from the nails echoing through the dark warehouse. Inside lay a cocoon of plastic wrap which one of the men quickly cut into, revealing many large plastic bags filled with a white powdery substance. The volume of their conversations rose at the sight, but from somewhere above them, the strains of a voice in perfect pitch could be heard. There were no discernable words, simply a voice rising a falling through a series of notes. They all froze for a moment, a moment in which they all weighed the stories they'd heard against their greed and against any loyalty toward their "friends." The taboo was broken a moment later as they all went for some sort of weapon, fearfully scanning the darkness above them, a few casting cautious glances at the open crate.
"But their prayers come too late, at least in regard to their mortal selves. What passes between them and God in the hereafter is between them. But from now till then, they will know mortal fear. And they will pay for their crimes."
As the song ceased, the echoing tones were replaced with a sizzling, crackling sound and a flair of fire above them... a flair of fire that was already rapidly descending toward them, a dark shadowy figure with it. They tried to scatter, one of them taking a precious moment to snag one of the bags from the crate. But it was a moment that he didn't have to spend, for as he turned to run off, he was met with a long flaming blade just before it drove into his head, cleaving his skull in two. The bag fell to the floor and was soon christened with the man's blood.
She moved with smooth efficiency as four more closed-in on her, two of them wielding their pry bars, another brandishing the jack-knife he'd used to cut into the plastic just before, and the fourth leveling a gun at her. The flaming blade, attached on her right arm swung out, neatly decapitating two of them while her left hand drew a hand-gun from a holster on her left thigh, beating the shooter to firing and causing him to curl up, clutching his stomach which was now spilling blood. The remaining man had time to swing his pry-bar at her but she'd tucked into a short roll, swinging with her blade as she went and hamstringing the man who fell, screaming in agony. The slices being small, they were cauterized by the intense heat of the blade, but his lower legs still remained useless and it was all he could do to start dragging himself away from the scene. As she smoothly came to her feet she took off in pursuit of one of the remaining three. He had just made it to an exit when he felt a sharp burning pain through his chest. Looking down, he saw the tip of the blade protruding from where it shouldn't be, and even had time to notice the heat of it on his face before his world went dark and he slid from it to the floor in a lifeless heap.
"That leaves two." She whispered under her breath as she turned around again, following the sound of panicked running. As she neared the man, she heard a telltale click and ducked just in time as a shot was fired, blasting into a crate a ways back from her on level with her chest. But she'd watched for the flash, and her own shot didn't miss, bringing the hunt down to one more. She paused then, listening. Nothing. Nothing except the labored breathing from the one still trying to crawl across the floor... and the rain outside, and a slight creaking sound. Looking up, she spied the way she'd come in, a small hatch intended for roof access up at the top of a ladder built into the side of the cinder-block wall. She had closed the hatch carefully when she'd come in. Taking off again, she ran toward the ladder, singing a few notes which caused the flames emanating from her blade to vanish, and with a snap of her wrist the blade retracted. Holstering her gun, she leaped at the wall, catching the rungs and starting to scale upward quickly. When she reached the top she slowed, her voice singing softly as she called upon a different element to enchant her blade... Which began to crackle with a different sort of sound than before, and the edge of the blade began to glow a light blue as energy writhed along its length.
Pulling herself out onto the roof, she heard the sound of feet running frantically away... in the wrong direction. The escape ladder down was on the opposite side of the building from where he was running. He realized his mistake as he reached the edge of the roof and turning around, saw his doom calmly walking toward him.
"P-p-please! It was just a job! I-I wasn't gonna sell the stuff myself. Just a pick-up and delivery!" He tried to edge along the roof to the side but she simply changed her course to intercept, not dignifying his excuses with a response. "Just let me go... I'll quit! I'll even turn myself in to the cops. I'll tell ‘em who I was delivering for." That caused her to pause.
"Who?"
He seemed to hesitate a moment, but when she started walking toward him again, he blurted it all out in a rush. "Bernadelli! And Sanchez. And The Duke. That's all! I SWEAR! THAT'S ALL!"
Her left hand clenched around his throat and she lifted him up, taking another step so his feet dangled over the long drop, her crackling blade held just inches from his face, close enough that he could feel his hairs standing on end. And she held him there for several moments, while he clutched her wrist tightly, hanging on for dear life as he gasped for breath that wouldn't come.
"You go back to them. And you tell them to watch their backs. Because Aria will be there when they least expect it. And I'll bring their sad little empires crashing down around them. And then I'll kill them." Turning, she sent him tumbling five feet across the roof where he lay coughing and gasping for several moments before trying to get to his feet. "And take your friend down below with you. But if you take so much as a gram of the stuff, I'll follow you and kill you, and let him deliver the message."
Nodding and too afraid to speak for fear that she'll change her mind, he ran for the ladder, almost taking a bad fall in his haste to get down. After a few moments she sang a few notes softly and the electricity along her blade ceased. With another twist she retracted it into the metal sheath strapped to her forearm. Walking softly, she made her way to the roof hatch and knelt down, peering into the storeroom below. The man she'd released had just made it to the floor and she watched as he went over to the other guy and helped him up. He did take a moment to glance longingly at the crates filled with drugs, but after glancing upward toward the trap door, he shook his head and started making his way to the exit, having to mostly carry the other guy as he went.
Some while later, she walked quietly down the street, a long black trench-coat concealing her less-than-usual clothing, and a slightly floppy-brimmed black fedora shielding her from the rain. Her black boots thumped softly on the sidewalk. They laced up to her knees, ending there abruptly where a clinging, dark purple fabric continued, sheathing the rest of her body up to her neck. Breaking-up the purple, several black straps wrapped her legs, holding black holsters for her handguns. Just above her hips, a belt circled her with several pouches, and along the sides of her chest were even more black straps, holding eight throwing daggers at an angle, making them easy to draw and throw. Her slightly green-grey eyes contemplated the sidewalk, her face framed by her shoulder-length dark hair, dyed a shade that might look black or very dark purple, depending on the light. In this section of town, what people could see of her didn't look out of place.
"I am Arianna Fennel. It's the name I was born with, and the name I carry throughout the day. At night, I'm known by another name though. They call me Aria..."
Eight men were in the otherwise, at least to their knowledge, deserted warehouse. Gathered around a number of crates which a few of them were attempting to open with pry-bars, they talked amongst themselves in low tones. Most of what could be made-out of their words involved percentages and cuts. High overhead, among the shadows shrouding the rafters, a figure crouched silently.
"Those who hear my song never forget it. At least, those fortunate enough to survive the encounter. Most dread it, as people long ago would dread the wail of the banshee, for like hers, my song also foretells death. When they hear it, I see the fear cross their eyes, and those who had long since abandoned any thoughts of religion often find themselves praying to those deities they had long ago turned their backs on..."
One of the lids finally came loose, a protesting shriek from the nails echoing through the dark warehouse. Inside lay a cocoon of plastic wrap which one of the men quickly cut into, revealing many large plastic bags filled with a white powdery substance. The volume of their conversations rose at the sight, but from somewhere above them, the strains of a voice in perfect pitch could be heard. There were no discernable words, simply a voice rising a falling through a series of notes. They all froze for a moment, a moment in which they all weighed the stories they'd heard against their greed and against any loyalty toward their "friends." The taboo was broken a moment later as they all went for some sort of weapon, fearfully scanning the darkness above them, a few casting cautious glances at the open crate.
"But their prayers come too late, at least in regard to their mortal selves. What passes between them and God in the hereafter is between them. But from now till then, they will know mortal fear. And they will pay for their crimes."
As the song ceased, the echoing tones were replaced with a sizzling, crackling sound and a flair of fire above them... a flair of fire that was already rapidly descending toward them, a dark shadowy figure with it. They tried to scatter, one of them taking a precious moment to snag one of the bags from the crate. But it was a moment that he didn't have to spend, for as he turned to run off, he was met with a long flaming blade just before it drove into his head, cleaving his skull in two. The bag fell to the floor and was soon christened with the man's blood.
She moved with smooth efficiency as four more closed-in on her, two of them wielding their pry bars, another brandishing the jack-knife he'd used to cut into the plastic just before, and the fourth leveling a gun at her. The flaming blade, attached on her right arm swung out, neatly decapitating two of them while her left hand drew a hand-gun from a holster on her left thigh, beating the shooter to firing and causing him to curl up, clutching his stomach which was now spilling blood. The remaining man had time to swing his pry-bar at her but she'd tucked into a short roll, swinging with her blade as she went and hamstringing the man who fell, screaming in agony. The slices being small, they were cauterized by the intense heat of the blade, but his lower legs still remained useless and it was all he could do to start dragging himself away from the scene. As she smoothly came to her feet she took off in pursuit of one of the remaining three. He had just made it to an exit when he felt a sharp burning pain through his chest. Looking down, he saw the tip of the blade protruding from where it shouldn't be, and even had time to notice the heat of it on his face before his world went dark and he slid from it to the floor in a lifeless heap.
"That leaves two." She whispered under her breath as she turned around again, following the sound of panicked running. As she neared the man, she heard a telltale click and ducked just in time as a shot was fired, blasting into a crate a ways back from her on level with her chest. But she'd watched for the flash, and her own shot didn't miss, bringing the hunt down to one more. She paused then, listening. Nothing. Nothing except the labored breathing from the one still trying to crawl across the floor... and the rain outside, and a slight creaking sound. Looking up, she spied the way she'd come in, a small hatch intended for roof access up at the top of a ladder built into the side of the cinder-block wall. She had closed the hatch carefully when she'd come in. Taking off again, she ran toward the ladder, singing a few notes which caused the flames emanating from her blade to vanish, and with a snap of her wrist the blade retracted. Holstering her gun, she leaped at the wall, catching the rungs and starting to scale upward quickly. When she reached the top she slowed, her voice singing softly as she called upon a different element to enchant her blade... Which began to crackle with a different sort of sound than before, and the edge of the blade began to glow a light blue as energy writhed along its length.
Pulling herself out onto the roof, she heard the sound of feet running frantically away... in the wrong direction. The escape ladder down was on the opposite side of the building from where he was running. He realized his mistake as he reached the edge of the roof and turning around, saw his doom calmly walking toward him.
"P-p-please! It was just a job! I-I wasn't gonna sell the stuff myself. Just a pick-up and delivery!" He tried to edge along the roof to the side but she simply changed her course to intercept, not dignifying his excuses with a response. "Just let me go... I'll quit! I'll even turn myself in to the cops. I'll tell ‘em who I was delivering for." That caused her to pause.
"Who?"
He seemed to hesitate a moment, but when she started walking toward him again, he blurted it all out in a rush. "Bernadelli! And Sanchez. And The Duke. That's all! I SWEAR! THAT'S ALL!"
Her left hand clenched around his throat and she lifted him up, taking another step so his feet dangled over the long drop, her crackling blade held just inches from his face, close enough that he could feel his hairs standing on end. And she held him there for several moments, while he clutched her wrist tightly, hanging on for dear life as he gasped for breath that wouldn't come.
"You go back to them. And you tell them to watch their backs. Because Aria will be there when they least expect it. And I'll bring their sad little empires crashing down around them. And then I'll kill them." Turning, she sent him tumbling five feet across the roof where he lay coughing and gasping for several moments before trying to get to his feet. "And take your friend down below with you. But if you take so much as a gram of the stuff, I'll follow you and kill you, and let him deliver the message."
Nodding and too afraid to speak for fear that she'll change her mind, he ran for the ladder, almost taking a bad fall in his haste to get down. After a few moments she sang a few notes softly and the electricity along her blade ceased. With another twist she retracted it into the metal sheath strapped to her forearm. Walking softly, she made her way to the roof hatch and knelt down, peering into the storeroom below. The man she'd released had just made it to the floor and she watched as he went over to the other guy and helped him up. He did take a moment to glance longingly at the crates filled with drugs, but after glancing upward toward the trap door, he shook his head and started making his way to the exit, having to mostly carry the other guy as he went.
Some while later, she walked quietly down the street, a long black trench-coat concealing her less-than-usual clothing, and a slightly floppy-brimmed black fedora shielding her from the rain. Her black boots thumped softly on the sidewalk. They laced up to her knees, ending there abruptly where a clinging, dark purple fabric continued, sheathing the rest of her body up to her neck. Breaking-up the purple, several black straps wrapped her legs, holding black holsters for her handguns. Just above her hips, a belt circled her with several pouches, and along the sides of her chest were even more black straps, holding eight throwing daggers at an angle, making them easy to draw and throw. Her slightly green-grey eyes contemplated the sidewalk, her face framed by her shoulder-length dark hair, dyed a shade that might look black or very dark purple, depending on the light. In this section of town, what people could see of her didn't look out of place.