Blood Money

[Kismet]

Iskra hunkered low in the wet underbrush, exhausted. The night was pitch black, punctuated by brief flashes of lightning amidst the pouring rain. About twenty feet ahead, barely visible through the downpour and tangled foliage, lay an old country road. Twisting through the densely forested hills, the road was worn and severely weathered. With the rain, it had devolved into a sloshing river of mud, barely traversable. Plodding along with painful slowness, a small caravan slogged forward, pitifully illuminated by the torchlight of their beleaguered escorts. Five carts, slowed to a near standstill. Iskra had waited days for this moment, silently tracking the caravan and waiting for the heavens to unleash their deluge. As planned, the merchants had become mired in the mud, surrounded by miles of woods on all sides and a day’s journey to the next way point. They were not having a good night.

It was about to get much worse.

Somewhere, inside one of those five wagons, was the man Iskra had been hired to kill.

[Rorschach]

Sour flew through the air. The rain soaked his hair and dripped into his eyes. Sour chose the worst time to be recon. Sour continued Scouting the skies above the trees for a cave or nearby town that the group can take refuge for a couple of hours, or at least until the rain stopped. He realized a little while back that when he pushed the wind a certain direction, all the rain within the same area was pushed in the same direction, like a laser of water. This attack could be used to easily distract or sidetrack an opponent and cause a quick escape.

"Nowhere to take refuge for now," Sour thought to himself. "I supposed we may as well take cover under some trees."

Sour flew down, moving his arms upward to push himself downward with the wind and stopped before landing on the mud, keeping himself barely airborne. Sour flew into the wagon to see his source on income. The man he was being paid to escort to the next town over. Sour noticed that the man was safe and went back into the air but stayed under the trees trying to cover himself.

[Kismet]

Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be flying in this weather either. Iskra thought as she watched the scout return. As if on cue, lightning flashed directly overhead, cracking the air and shaking the leaves merely with its sound. There was no delay between flash and thunder, crack and boom rolling together in one horrendous noise as the various convoy escorts began moving into the trees for cover.

Perfect.

Sliding her pistol out of her holster, she took aim at the one of the rear guardsmen, farthest away from the wagons. And waited. Slowly, the guards began to fan out into the woods, seeking shelter under the trees and forming a defensive line.

The lightning flashed.

As the rolling boom of thunder split the air, Iskra fired, the crack of the pistol retort blurring together with the roar of the storm. The guard crumpled into the dense underbrush, his body instantly lost to the night. His companions continued to spread out, unaware that one of their comrades had suddenly gone missing.

Iskra took aim at the next most remote escort. He died with the next boom of thunder. And the next one. And the next one. And the next one after that. Iskra leveled her pistol at the last member of the rear guard, and waited.

[Rorschach]

Another recon check for Sour. He flew down to see that there was no wagon under him. Sour looked turned back, looking around to see a wagon rested in the middle of the muddy trail. Sour dropped down and sprinted into the wagon, seeing a very frightened target. Sour grabbed him and held him, as he moved into the air. Using his strongest force to push him as fast as possible, Sour flew threw the air scouting places for the scout to hide until he saw a nearby cave.He checked the cave and hid the target in a darkest corner, hoping he wont be discovered by the unknown attacker. then hid in the cave, waiting for its attacker to arrive.

[Kismet]

Wait. What?

The scout, who had been buzzing around through the extremely dense, packed trees, in the dark, in the pouring rain, with thunder crashing all around, had somehow noticed the rear guard being silently picked off, and, without a word of explanation to the others, had charged in and carried the man off. All in the span of about five seconds.

The rest of the escorts (and Iskra) stood dumbstruck, staring off in the direction they’d flown off in. The guards turned and looked at each other, just…blinking. What were they supposed to do now, they were wondering. Had the scout betrayed them? They couldn’t leave the wagons to go after them, but they couldn’t just let their employer disappear off into the night either.

Iskra took note of a rising plume of rage within her. She couldn’t track her target in this weather, any more than her target’s escorts could. Not weakened as she was. Not now. Days of waiting, crawling through the mud, slithering through leaves, watching, stalking. All wasted. All for nothing.

There are two kinds of anger. Two kinds of rage, of hatred. Most people felt rage as a burning sensation, a hot, emotional, impetuous force of raw unfocused power and hatred. Iskra felt it as cold. Cold, hard, and sharp. Her target had escaped her grasp, and now had to be hunted down like a dog on the run. There could be no chance of rescue, no interference from these poor fools. With unnaturally calm fury, she raised her pistol and aimed at the remaining escorts. And killed them all.

[Rorschach]

[Sour]
[Exiting cave]

Sour stepped out of the dark cave, hoping to find the imposter that had disrupted his escort. He flew back to the crime scene, where he then noticed many more men killed alongside the already rotting bodies. The whole squad was dead except for him. Sour dropped to his knees, surprised to think that such a beat could be so powerful. Some people were close friends while others were minor acquaintances. Sour's mind was in circles, he couldn't grasp the fact that everybody was dead. He was starting to fall to the pressure! Suddenly, he closed his eyes and stood up.

"WHO ARE YOU?!!!!!" He screamed into the air! "AT LEAST SHOW ME THE FACE OF THE MASS MURDERER!!!!"

Sour's eyes were bloodshot red, his clothes muddy and wet, as he stood, arms and head bowed down, doing nothing. He was mentally defeated.

[Fate]
[In the forest]
Soul was walking, taking his time in this rain. He was hungry, his body lusted for a nice human soul to eat. His brain quivered at the thought of such a tasty soul and all the energy that could be harvested.

"I crave a soul, I crave energy, I crave power!" Fate thought to himself, becoming more hungry for power as the minutes went by.

Suddenly, he heard a loud scream. The scream of a human. The scream of a human with a soul? Soul started sprinting towards the direction that he heard the sound come from. He continued running and running, excitedly hoping that the body was still alive and the soul was preserved.

[Kismet]

Oh. There you are.

Not the brightest thing to do, just standing around waiting to get shot. Iskra thought, taking aim. But if you’ve got a death wish, that’s what I’m here for. Iskra pulled the trigger, her target’s head saddled squarely between her sights. She didn’t bother waiting to time the shot to the thunder overhead. He was the last, after all.

Making dreams come true.

[Rorschach]

Fate heard a loud bang. What was that sound? Why was it so loud? It wasn't lightning! It wasn't thunder either. Fate sprinted and turned on his Soul vision(also acts has heat vision). Fate hid behind a tree and poked his head out, looking around to finally see a bright red object. Sour turned off his heat vision to see that it was a wagon, and a bunch of dead bodies surrounded by it. One body stood out the most. Blood was still pouring out of his head. Fate figured out that this was the soul that he found. Fate looked around, wondering where the killer had gone off. Soon, he detected a small glimpse of red, hidden in a tree. He began walking to the dot, hoping that he would be able to eat the soul of this one since he lost the soul of the other man.

[Kismet]

I missed one? Iskra wondered, noticing yet another person emerge, and disconcertingly enough, begin moving towards her. Not really surprising, she’d fired off at least twenty times from the same general area. Not too conducive to keeping one’s position concealed. Still, this newcomer seemed to move with purpose, as if he knew exactly where she was.

No matter. This one wasn’t seeking cover either, and he was still a good fifteen meters away. Calmly, Iskra took aim, her Oculus Lenses amplifying and highlighting her target’s body in the dark, as if he were only a few feet away on bright sunny day. Lining up her sights directly with his center of mass, she steadied herself, and fired.

[Rorschach]

"hmm, it would seem that I have been shot."

Fate looked down to see a hole in his chest.

"No vital organs were hit, but I would say its painful, if it were truly me being shot."

Fate smiled, and began rushing towards his oppenent. Using trees as cover, he quickly rushed from tree to tree, hoping that he wouldn't be shot again. This body can only take a few more bullets before being destroyed. Fate rushed until he could clearly see the enemy in sight. Then he pulled out his sword and held it in a defensive stance, hoping to either defend of block bullets with his sword. He then began slowly moving up. His goal was to get in range of his opponent.

[Kismet]

Well that’s not normal. Iskra had definitely seen her bullet land squarely in the man’s chest-to no ill effect. There was a physical wound as well, his body had actually suffered damage, it just hadn’t slowed him down at all. If anything it had had the opposite effecting, cuing him to dart behind trees for cover and to close the distance quickly.

Was this man some variant of a Cadaver Knight? Iskra reflected back upon the ascending tiers of the Imperial Revenants. Iskra’s life was indeed over, but her body continued to function normally. It retained a semblance of biologic life, growing, healing, powered by the spiritual energy of the Emperor. Cadaver Knights on the other hand, were fully deceased. They were more akin to animated corpses which refused to yield the soul to Death. Their spirits remained to command their flesh, locked in place by the Emperor’s Covenant. Such warriors could be hacked apart limb by limb and fight on. There were stories of Cadaver Knights continuing to battle after their heads had been removed, still receiving orders from their decapitated brains. Was this such warrior?

Either way, it didn’t matter. He was in the way, and so he had to die. If a bullet to the chest wouldn’t do it, then Iskra just had to try harder.

But the bullet was wound was doubly dangerous. Each bullet Iskra carried was tipped in a powerful neurotoxin, painstakingly cultured and applied to each round. A wound from such a poisoned weapon would extend a circle of paralysis ten centimeters in diameter from the injury, which would spread another five centimeters each post. And if it reached the heart or brain, it would shut them down within three.

Even if the bullet itself had been shrugged off, poison was now coursing through the man’s heart and surrounding organs. Tough luck, that.

Still, the man had approached under cover and had drawn his blade, and it was time to get serious. Leaping backwards and away from the man, Iskra simultaneously drew her short sword with her left hand and began firing with her right, activating the tracking seals on her rounds. Each bullet she fired would now home in on the point of her last bullet’s impact. Unfortunately for the man before her, that happened to be his chest.

[Kismet]

thud thud thud thud thud THUD.

That was the sound of five bullets slamming into the target's chest, and Fate falling face first into the ground, dead.

Shrugging, Iskra spent the next several hours searching the woods, looking for the man she had been sent to kill. Eventually, she found the cave, went inside, did unpleasant things to the merchant within, and left.

The end.