Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-26571677-20190213064855

Hazel waited.

She watched.

She listened.

Alyxia had discounted her entirely. Fitting, for one of younger experience to disregard one who spoke the way that she did; words vapid and without meaning, it made it easier for her to pass unseen, to be less of a perceived threat.

All aspects and things that were getting increasingly rare for her, unfortunately.

Then, yet another factor showed, grabbing onto ‘Maris’ and leading her away with but a single look back.

A single look at the heiress.

How interesting, it seemed their involvement was much deeper than mere business acquaintance. The dragons had a reputation for secrecy and stiff formality. Very strange to see any of their underlings consort so salaciously with anybody, much less one of Brunhilde’s stature.

Then, she felt someone’s gaze, and turned to meet Diaboli, her eyes unimpressed as his mouth formed a scathing remark; the venom tangible, but ineffective against one like her. She’d been beaten from clay; formed into a shape out of the primordial goo from her younger self through hardship, pain, and constantly increasing hatred.

A few words would not bring her down, for though she was David facing against Goliath, this was one who had not yet known she held the sling.

“I disagree, ‘Decade’. Soldiers are hired to win. If that is what you think of your men, you must be a very poor commander. I would be careful of thinking like that, the people you hire may very well turn their backs on you.”

She turned to him, the holes of her mask staring at his eyes; voice impassive and betraying no emotion; a perfect counter to his acidic spite.

“Betrayed at the most crucial times. A fitting fate for one so crass; as our history has very well shown.”

With that, she turned back to Brunhilde; having heard her recommendation and shook her head slowly; unfolding her arms and making ready to move off.

“Gracious as your offer, this interlude has eaten enough time. I have places to be, so please, excuse me.”

And she turned to leave; finding an exit from the situation in the throngs of people that bustled around; equal parts in awe of the heiress; mask and the hurried nature by which her henchmen packed up the boxes of jewelry. One of them, however, would find a rack of rings empty, but as he turned to notify his master, The Stalker stopped him with a word:

“A word of advice, heiress. Take better care of your stock.”

A golden glint flew, and as everyone’s attention was focused on its movement; twisting and turning in the air, The Stalker disappeared. All that was left was a memory and whispers as the figure faded away into the crowds as a drop of water did the ocean; leaving behind a small clink of metal as a singular golden ring rolled to a stop on the floor.

She flew through the crowds; taking the first opportunity to disappear down one of the numerous dank alleyways smelling of alcohol and piss, even as the cries of ‘Thief!’ from further behind her began to rise like odorous apparitions in the annals of the underground city.

She had her eyes on something; an item of no small value to her that would extend her powers to heights almost catastrophic in nature.

An Atlesian military grade magnetic flux conductor.

Complicated as ‘Fission’ was, her weapon still followed some very basic laws of physics; an electromagnetic force was generated, and a sliding armature pushed the tungsten steel armament along the conductive rails; generating massive amounts of heat and kinetic energy along the way; energy that would launch the object at speeds fast enough to penetrate steel as if it were paper.

The upgrade she sought was incredibly rare; especially considering the secrecy and tight lipped nature of Atlesian armaments. It sought more than a simple monetary amount, as most things valued were in these auctions. It sought a ''sacrifice. It sought a service'' rarely offered.

She’d provide a kill.

Or she would have, but the current events worked tightly in her favour; there would be pandemonium as the police attacked, for no force had ever actually embarked on such a suicidal idea as raiding this auction; and that was the weakness from which the SWAT team would prey on this night, should they have any common sense at all.

Arrogance. Always a slow killer.

Always the most dangerous.

Hazel reached one of the back entrances into the auction hall just as her communications network flickered. An electromagnetic pulse had weakened its ability to transmit her recordings to the long-distance server she kept in secrecy. Owing to the aluminium lining, however; the electronics were still functioning, and the CATSAI remained unaffected; monotone AI voice notifying her of the interference.

An annoying conundrum, that the raiding force had such capabilities, but not entirely unexpected; they could hardly allow reinforcements to overwhelm them, could they? As it stood, they already had a relatively dismal chance of success, but should they be overrun…it would be a slaughter. No holds would be barred.

It favoured her either way. Dust could handle herself, and so could she. Plan A was to get her item, check on Dust, then leave. She’d hidden a special gadget within the outskirts of the area for such an exact situation.

But she supposed there was a reason why ‘Plan B’ always sounded better.

--

Dust frowned; his scroll had stopped working.

Was it part of the sting? Nobody had told him about any EMP Blasts.

The whole situation was worrying; especially as Jett hadn’t informed him of the status of the agent he’d been under. Could he already be dead? Were they already found out?

Ah rack it, doesn’t matter, I’ll do me best anyway.

He slid his Scroll back into its protective pocket and eyed the four exits; finding one where a patrol had just passed and walked up to it, radiating confidence; fully embodying his persona as a wealthy, uppity spy.

“Sir, this is a restricted area, please move back into the main crowd.”

“Don’t bother me with your talk, guard. I need to use the restroom, you had better be fast before I notify your superiors of your insolence.”

They looked to each other; one raising a hand to contact what must no doubt be his leader before frowning in confusion at the static that received him. They would have investigated further had Dust not coughed in annoyance; eyeing them with an arrogant glare. Without a further word, they swung the door open and pointed down the hall.

“Down there, take a left and it’s the first door on the right.”

With a huff, Dust walked through; not giving the guards a second look as he ejected his weapon into his hands; aiming the rifle down the corridor as he looked for a clue as to his direction.

Where the bloody hell is the control room?”