Author: TheIronyOfTheHolyAtheist PM
Blackmailed into working for the syndicate, they do what they're told. Kill. Lie. Torture. But what if their reason for staying goes away? What happens when they are set free?Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Words: 2,202 - Published: 02-03-12 - id: 2994300
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"You can do this, Cyril," states the teenager, holding onto the child's shoulders with an encouraging glint to her eyes. "Just try focusing. Someone with all your power shouldn't have ADHD, I swear."
"I can't bring it back to life," says the small boy, confused.
"It's not dead, remember? And you can't change it directly. You can only change little things. Make the bird stronger so it doesn't die, okay?"
"I'll try, Avil, but I don't think I can."
"But I know you can."
Avil walks through the door, looking around as she slings her rifle over her shoulder. Her storm-gray hair, spiked to give her a bit of a tough, but still good look, is a bit short so as to not give her any trouble during a fight. Sighing, she whips her bangs away from her odd eyes. Her eyes, which are a medium gray at the moment. Neutral. She looks at the hospital bed, situated in one of the corners of the room, and walks over to it.
"Hey, Lidia," she greets her oldest friend with a smile. The only times she smiles are here. "How're the tests?"
"Horrible," deadpans the younger girl, almost white blond hair held in a loose ponytail. Her skin is more pale than it was last time, and that makes Avil frown. Her friend- her blind friend, with no eyes- had undergone too much for the company. She sits down on her bed, calm on the outside but tainting the air around her with anger.
Lidia frowns. Avil always gets like that whenever she heard about the way they treated her. "If they're going to keep you in here, they should at least have the decency to treat you well," growls the fighter, eyes seeming to grow darker. Lidia searches around for Avil's hand, sensing her bad mood. Avil, knowing what she's doing, takes her pale hand. She smiles, a small smile, just for a second. "Remember when you used to have a tan?"
"I don't even remember when I used to have eyes," Lidia reminds her.
"That's right," Avil agrees, eyes looking almost black now. Lidia had lost her eyes (they were so blue, like precious gems) in one of the damn "tests" she'd gone through. She hated that, especially since the last memory Lidia had of her was one where Avil was in one of her most upset states because of the fact that she was actually witnessing them hurting her most cherished friend.
An angry Avil was a terrifying Avil, after all.
"Have you ever noticed how she looks when she's alone?"
The mentor looks at Cyril, confused. "Who?"
"Avil," explains Cyril. "Have you noticed how she looks when she's alone? Like, waiting for the target on a mission?" he repeats the question, adding another one. "She looks like someone waiting for death."
"Oh, trust me, kid, if anyone's dying it won't be her," he jokes.
"I know that, Deus," whines the teen. "I mean she looks empty, like she's not there."
"I probably shouldn't be telling you this," admits Deus, "but you should see her around Lidia."
"What's she like then?"
"She smiles. Like, really actually smiles."
"... Who's Lidia?"
A knife flies right in front of Cyril's face, another one pinning Deus' arm to the wall by it's sleeve. They both whirl around to see Avil standing there, perfectly still, the only evidence that she threw the knives being that she has more ready to throw. Her eyes are dark, meaning she's in a bad mood. She makes no comment on the topic of their conversation.
"The boss wants to talk to you two," she says in an extra cold voice. (Her voice is cold by default, but this is just frigid). "I suggest you go."
As they walk out, Avil throws a knife near their feet, just for good measure.
"You look exhausted," comments Avil, eyes returned to their (relatively) normal color. She hands Cyril a glass of water, ordering him to drink as she leans back, relaxing (not really) into the cool leather of the chair. "You probably are."
Cyril nods, eying the mark of the syndicate that Avil has tattooed on her face. An extremely detailed black thunderbolt stretching from her right eye to her jawline. "I am. But only mentally."
"You'll get used to it eventually," says the woman. "The over-exertion, I mean."
Cyril nods again, remembering how tired she used to be when he first came to the organization. And, rather vividly, how angry she was. She would sit there, glowering at everything from her spot next to Lidia, who wasn't hospitalized at first. That was when he was about four years old.
"Ave," calls a voice. That nickname is familiar, and the person who uses it drops down from the ceiling. It's Drea, Avil's second oldest friend and practically Lidia's sister from the orphanage the two lived in. The word she uses to call Avil is, as Cyril now understands, the Spanish word for bird. It wasn't hard to see that she spoke Spanish since she had a not too bad but rather noticeable accent. Her long dark hair falls perfectly around her tanned form, gently waving. Cyril smiles at her; Drea is friendly.
"What is it, Drea?" asks Avil, rolling the r because Drea hates it when people don't do that.
"Don't kill the messenger," begins Drea, "but you have a mission."
Avil sighs. "Hand me the papers," she orders, holding out a hand.
Drea throws it at her, odd colored eyes glinting in excitement. She wants something to do, having been in the mechanic shed for the past few days. It's not uncommon for her to be sent on a mission, but she knows that sometimes it's something that only Avil could handle.
Thankfully, that's not the case.
"Everyone has to go." Avil throws the folder down. "Big mission. Drea," she looks at the girl. "Get your things. Cyril, get Deus." She gets up. "I'm going to get ready."
Drea nods, deciding to go with Cyril to get Deus. He's a good kid, only about three years younger than her. He acts a lot younger,just like Avil acts a lot older. His eyes were a strange, ultraviolet color. His chestnut brown hair was fun to mess with. She would know, seeing as she plays with it on a daily basis. She smiles warmly at him, a bit teasingly, as she does so now.
Deus is sleeping, spiky black bangs falling over his hazel eyes. The facial hair he does have is kept in a semi-neat soul-patch that actually manages to look good. Drea leans over him, raising a finger to flick him in between the eyes. He blinks rapidly for a bit before recognizing her with a smirk.
"Couldn't keep your hands off me, huh, Drea?" he teases, throwing a pale arm around her shoulder. She rolls her mismatched eyes, half-trying to shake him off. Deus is a good guy, even though his spider-bite piercings on his bottom lip make people think he's weird. He's only four years older than Cyril, but is exceptionally skilled when it comes to controlling his abilities. Therefor, he mentors the guy.
"No, lazy-ass," she snaps playfully, getting his arm off her. "Mission. Gotta get ready."
"Okay." He's all business now. Satisfied with his change in demeanor, Drea walks away from the two of them, metal boots making clicking noises against the obsidian tiles of their base. She runs a gloved hand along the intricate patterns that decorate the steel wall. She gets to one spot, an individual tile on the otherwise smooth wall. Instead of the other pattern,it is a detailed sketch of a snake eating it's own tail. She runs her hand over it as the drawing glows red for a moment. The tile pulls back, and then slides away.
She's in the mechanic shed now, and she walks over to her mission stuff. As she stands on a glowing tile, the equipment floats to her. She watches metal parts attach themselves to her gloves, crimson triangles on the back of her hands. Her dark vest shines in the faint light, revealing that it's made out of a rare, flexible but hard material. A bag of the same material attaches itself to her back, and her boots are instantly plated. She puts on her scouter, smirking.
She walks out, immediately finding Avil. The fighter turns on her earpiece, calling for Cyril and Deus. As the former approaches, Drea throws something at him.
Cyril catches it, confused. He then jumps a bit, looking at her. "What the hell? A bomb?" he yells, shocked. Drea takes it, throwing it to the floor. Everyone (except Avil) looks at it, shocked, before turning to Drea.
Drea bursts out laughing at the looks on their faces, catching the bomb/ball midair. "It only activates if I press this button", she says, pointing to it. "So yeah, calm down. And catch." She bounces it on the floor, the bomb landing in Cyril's hand. He smirks.
"This will be easy."
Everyone has to agree with Drea. It's only one building, after all. One building that's full of soldiers, ammunition, and technology, but nothing that could surpass what Drea and the other people back at the syndicate made. And if anything could surpass it, they were to bring it back for Drea to examine.
First, of course, they have to get in position. Avil scales a nearby building, not even flinching as the strong wind that weaves throughout the city threatens to throw her off. As always, she will be their main fighter, though all of them could fight rather well. She'll have to get rid of any snipers, before the others can get ready. If there are snipers, that is.
She reaches the top, readying her guns. She doesn't even have to look to shoot down the five men stationed at the top of the building, having much confidence in her abilities as a marksman. They all fall, one even dropping off the roof and hitting the pavement below. She gives the signal, and they start to move.
Cyril and Deus join her on top of the building, Drea moving towards the main target. She quickly and quietly takes care of the security guards, moving into where she already knows the technology is. She'll get rid of the security system, making it safe for them to get in.
While Drea does what she does, Cyril hands Avil a small earpiece for communication. She knows that they already have theirs, and Drea definitely has one. She braces herself, knees bending, standing on the edge of the building as she waits for the younger girl to finish.
"Ya, Ave," calls Drea through the communicator, showing off her Spanish. "Vuela."
Avil nods, jumping off one building to the window of another. Cyril runs to the edge, eyes and glowing as he holds out a hand, and during the split second that Avil would have crashed through the window, she instead goes through a thin layer of liquid. Within seconds it is glass again, the window looking perfectly fine.
"Well done," she can hear Deus say to Cyril, clearly proud of his student. But she can't focus on that now, since she can see the guards coming. She walks through them in a deadly whirl, punching, kicking, making them turn on eachother, shooting them with their own weapons. It's all easy to her, second nature. She runs to the last guard, throwing her fist to his face with such force that she makes a hole in his head.
She rips her hand out, examining the blood on her gloves before continuing. Her hair covers one of her eyes, and her scarf is pretty much used as a mask, the dark fabric covering any part of her face below her eyes. Any facial expression she would've possibly made is hidden, but she still remains stoic.
With Avil's inhumanly good, terrifying ability to maim and kill, paired with Cyril and Deus' unique powers and Drea's own mechanic expertise and combat abilities, the mission is finished within hours. The smell of death follows them, as it does everywhere they go.
They don't want to be part of the syndicate. Avil and Drea are both there for Lidia. Deus is there because he doesn't know anywhere else that will accept his past reputation. And Cyril is there simply because he doesn't know of any other place, having been raised there.
They are mercenaries, but reluctantly so.
A/N: Vuela means fly, for anyone who's wondering. Looks like Document manager is messing with me. First it doesn't work, not it's fine! This story is up 30 days late because of that!