The Princess and the Dragon (Azik)

[Isabela Holstein]

The building was condemned. Its occupants just didn't know yet.

The orders had been given, the paperwork lined up to all come flooding in today, key personnel rendered absent by various minor inconveniences. If anyone noticed the occasional scurrying rat; if anyone thought they were scurrying frequently and not occasionally, no concerns were raised. The factory workers had long since had their opinions beaten out of them.

Isabela sat in the diner across the street, sipped her fifth cup of tepid coffee and watched the menagerie shuffle homeward. Rows upon rows of dead eyes and tired faces passed the window. Furred faces, feathered faces, scaled faces, equal in their exhaustion and misery and the knowledge that they were being worked thrice as hard for a sliver of a human's earnings. She waved the dour waitress over, ordered a sixth steaming cup, and nursed it to lukewarmth while the daylight dimmed and the throng became a trickle.

She sighed, pushed her chair back and gave an undignified stretch. She tossed her payment at the counter and stalked out into the evening heat.

She approached the factory. She crouched behind the furthest wall, opening her briefcase and connecting the wires to set up her radio jammer. She reached inward, calling to senses that went beyond human. She reached beyond as she studied the building like a hawk.

Maksim. Report.

Milady. The rat was skulking somewhere far beyond sight, but she still felt him snap to attention and give a sharp salute. Scouts detect multiple patrols. Three guards stationed outside the target's headquarters.

She saw the faint red wisps through the layers of concrete and steel, indicating each life form in the building.

Any non-living hostiles?

She felt Maksim shiver. Rats were very frank in their opinions of the undead.

No Unnaturals detected. Have petitioned for access to strobe lights and phosphorus grenades in event that retreat is necessary. No response yet.

I shall discuss this with Papa. She allowed herself a smirk at the thought of how such a discussion would sound to bystanders. And the target?

Immobilized. Highly vocal. Uttering epithets unfit for formal transcription and biologically impossible. Papa would cackle at the thought. Paperwork could reduce any man to a sniveling ruin, even an uppity factory owner who believed his new government-commissioned security force absolved him of all prior agreements with Grigoriy Holstein.

Milady. Maksim's "voice" echoed through their link, a fraction more impatient. All forces are in position. One defender is growing suspicious. It attempts to inform its comrades of our movements. Permission to commence assault?

We will send a message. Isabela steadied her gaze on one set of clustered red wisps, then another, relaying her vision to Maksim. Attack in this order. No survivors.

Milady. Another mental salute.

The first distant scream pierced the evening.

[Azik Farenfir]

On paper, it sounded like the perfect contender for the phrase “Open and close”. One Aleksandr Klimov who is known for being a drug trafficker. It is also believed he has a particular taste for driving his adolescent elven “Workers” into the ground for less than minimal pay.

Honestly, what is the world coming to? Paying slaves? Peh. Azik mulled over amusingly. Though it would have probably had gotten him chastised if he had said that anywhere near the Resistance despite it being more then laced with sarcasm. Having slipped in so far undetected, he noted the men who would be best assumed to be the muscle. He also saw that there was a bizarre abundance of smaller heat signatures dotting the factory. Dismissing it for some kind of pest, Azik continued making his way to the office he was told.

He couldn’t dismiss the unusual heavy feeling of anticipation that was settling in though. Anticipating what, was something the Demi-Human couldn’t answer. Call it latent instinct, maybe just paranoia. But being paranoid should be made a necessity for someone in Azik’s line of career.

Nearing the office of Klimov, the assassin pressed up against the wall, listening intently to any approaching footsteps. He needed to be in, stab and out. There was a man inside, that much was for certain. Though if it was the scum he was after, he couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, Azik drew out a dagger, then started twisting his fingers from one pose to another.

The little activity that was going on inside the office slowed to a grinding halt. Not wasting one frozen moment, Azik snuck into the room, finding a man who matched the description of his hit. Klimov. He looked to be just smoking a cigar, obviously enjoying the fruits of his labour. Scoffing, the assassin moved to the man, standing behind his chair.

“Hmm… What to do with you…?” Azik tilted his head a little. Despite being on a timer, he couldn’t help but try to think of what way to off the Slave driver. C’mon, lemme have some fun with the dirty work, huh? Blinking, he then smiled.

“Ah… Pardon me Sir” the assassin chirped politely as he pushed the man forward so he was sprawled on the table, before plunging the blade hilt deep into his back. Feeling the ebb of time catching up, it soon resumed its turning as the now stabbed man convulsed aggressively, then calmed as the air left his lungs and he went limp.

“Can’t beat the classi-“ Azik started, but was cut off as the familiar sound of screams filled the air. He grabbed around the handle of a blade and looked at the door.
“What the hell...?”

[Isabela Holstein]

(I'm assuming Azik Shifted into the office, to have avoided being spotted by the rats, and that he stayed in the office while the guards were being zerg rushed.)

A small portion of the red tide - the swarming life force of her rats - seeped free from the main body, slipping into the space between the floors and walls, where the electrical wiring was hidden.

The lights went out. The screams only got louder.

The red wisp of the factory owner's life force remained steadfastly in place, perhaps stunned by the sudden clamor. Possibly realizing. Hopefully cowering.

In the dark, she saw the tiny dots, all in bright green, winking up and down from the corners of the hallway - each division of her soldiers with their electric bulbs signalling mission accomplished. Sure enough, the screams were already beginning to fade. Some lasted longer - who would have imagined? Someone apparently thought this factory an asset worthy of investing mages in - but terror and surprise and vast numbers overcame the faint spark of resistance within minutes. Not very powerful mages, then.

Isabela followed the nearest stairwell up to the office levels, a small escort of rats flanking her all the way. She passed the occasional security camera, torn from its hiding place and left shattered and smoking; faintly registered Maksim's report that an office had been found in the basement, full of television screens that showed nothing but white noise, and was currently being rendered beyond salvage.

The locked office door stood before her.

The last long red fire of someone taller than the average rat burned on the other side, waiting to be snuffed out.

She brought her gloved fist to the solid metal and pounded out three steady beats. "Klimov. It's the collectors. Your rent is overdue."

[Azik Farenfir]

Three consecutive metallic raps rung through the room. Followed by a feminine voice demanding to speak to the carcase bleeding out on the desk, asking for money. Really? A loan shark?

A pulse shot through Azik’s eyes as the scenery darkened to a dark faded navy blue, leaving only shapes of warm oranges and yellows. One large pile of fading orange was behind him, though the more pressing concern was the one standing on the other side of the door, which seemed to have small blobs surrounding it. Looking about through the walls, there were a mass of orange shapes, some starting to fade into the blue. Not a loan shark…

Colour returned to the world as he blinked to readjust. He was going to have to try and make a break for it. Moving towards the door, knives held aloft in his hands, ready to soar towards the nearest eye as he reached for the lock. Just open the door and…

The lock snaps, the door barges open and the Assassin Lunges out, poised to hurl the blades towards the figure before him, a girl clad in a full body suit, dark glasses, hair tied back into a ponytail, aiming her rifle towards him, surrounded by a plethora of rats watching Azik, all equally as ready to strike.

“If it’s alright by you, I rather not get messy and just go lass.”

[Isabela Holstein]

Klimov was moving - pacing, it would seem. Stopping near the door.

Milady. Maksim's thoughts came urgent now. My soldiers detect two different odors. There are two bodies in that den.[/b]

And only one alive. Isabela acknowledged, taking a step away from the door, and another, and another. The patter of countless paws washed a rifle to her across a tide of black fur. It still had half a clip of ammo left.

Metal rattled as the lock opened. She took a final step, putting herself a good two feet beyond the door's swing.

She raised the still-smoking gun, finger on the trigger.

"If it's alright by you, I'd rather not get messy and just go, lass." Said the life form who wasn't Klimov.

Behind the lean, bespectacled youth with a small barrage of knives in his hands, ripe for the throwing, a hefty figure lay slumped over his desk.

Maksim's internal voice echoed once more. I am on my way, Milady.

She kept the gun raised, but carefully shifted her finger clear of the trigger. Psychic energy lay within reach of her thoughts, ready to coalesce around her like a second bladeproof skin if the boy were to make a single false move.

"You killed him." She said. "You circumvented his guards and killed him."

You got past my scouts and killed him, she didn't say out loud. The factory was surrounded, every floor and wall saturated, and you made it to this locked room without detection, and you killed him.

"Who sent you, boy?" She fired the words like an accusation. "Who are you working for? What are they paying you?"

[Azik Farenfir]

The finger released the trigger, so the arm lowers somewhat, but not completely rendering Azik no threat. Weight shifted to a leg stepping back, eager to sprint and bolt.

"Who are you boy? Who are you working for? What are they paying for?" Questions as sharp as the blades ready to fly. The assassin saw no other way to back away.

"It matters not who I work for or what I'm paid," Azik returned fire, eyes locked with the girl's, unblinking behind his spectacles. "Mr Klimov needed to be erased. My work is done lass."

A body of what he assumed was a guard from the bloody tattered remains of the uniform was marinating in it's various bodily fluids besides the Demi-human. He stole a quick glance at it, whistling before looking back at the gun-wielding girl.

"Messy work on the lackeys lass," he chuckled. "Messy, but also looks like you're trying to make an example."

[Isabela Holstein]

"So you won't betray your employees." Isabela didn't budge. "Fine. I can respect that." More rats gathered around the door, moving like water, crowding thick enough to block the floor from sight.

"Name a price. We will pay you double." The gun lowered. Her fingers nudged the safety back into position.

Milady. Maksim was one wall away, her own power reverberating off the focal point his presence made.

Stay, she projected the thought back to him.

"We are always looking to hire. My boss is a powerful man. There are things beyond the reach of our esteemed leaders that he can deliver to you on a silver platter. Wealth without strings attached. Power." Surely everyone liked power. But bronze eyes gleamed opaque at her, unyielding, unmoving, uninterested.

What turns a boy into a killer? She ignored the scraping, squelching noises as the unfortunate lackey's body was buried deeper beneath the hungry tide. "Do you have a family, boy? Friends in need? Anyone you care for? We can protect them. Hide them away so surely that the Harbinger's crows would never find them." It was a tall promise, to be certain, but if Papa were to pit his resources against one solitary national hero, she had no doubt who would emerge picking the other's feathers from their teeth.

"Name your price." She said again. "We will be here all night if you don't."

[Azik Farenfir]

You would have to be either completely devoid of curiosity or one hell of a boring ass if you didn't let your eyes wander down the recently deceased guard being devoured by dozens of rats beside the girl. Hopefully they’re much more concerned in stuffing their little faces then one mouse slipping past…

The job offer only flew over Azik’s head, him not giving it more attention or thought then it needed. None.

He didn’t let up on his weight on his leg, ready to dash away when he gets the chance. "Do you have a family, boy?” she asked, the question making something in Azik twinge. “Friends in need? Anyone you care for?” what was it? Remorse? Funny. That should have been done away with by now.

“We can protect them. Hide them away so surely that the Harbinger's crows would never find them." Azik didn’t stop himself from smirking upon that last addition of her eagerness to wait in the building filled with the sounds of feasting and festering corpses.

“I highly doubt you can give me anything I want, lass” he chuckled. “Unless your family is more acquainted with time or death then I am, then I sadly must turn down your offering” Azik said with the most “sincere” smile he can give.

“Now unlike you, I rather spend my time with gentlemen that are not quite as stiff and talkative as these. I’ll be on my way” and he takes another step back, still not looking away from that rifles sitting comfortably in those hands.