InsaneJournal

Current mood:	desperate
Entry tags:	denarians, father white, hellcat, in my time of dying, lynn, mantis-girl, max, nano, obsidian statue, risko, stewart, tessa, una musica brutal

Section 5
Word count: 2 509

Warning: Character deaths.


The trained fighter that Maximilian Parker was didn't waste any time, in the breather that the box on the road had given them from the unexpected attack, to firstly stick defenses as best as possible, and secondly, try to get an as good an actual estimation of the situation as he possibly could.

The adrenaline was rushing through each of them, he could practically smell it, but right now this was good, they'd need every single bit of it if they were to get out of this alive. Or... if any of them were to get out of this alive.

Even if they were facing ordinary decent magic users, two against three would not have been nice odds, the kind of odds he preferred (tipping the odds, that's what he jokingly always said about himself. These time...), he thought as his shield was interlacing with Stewart's, backs neatly against the side of the Father's car. On top of fourteen more enemies against four, if they could count on Father White to fight any at all... Damn.

They weren't even at his car where he could grab his sword from the trunk easily. Considering that the large black figure had a large weapon of that kind, of all things, looking rather mighty in his hands, and a few of those who closed in with him were similarly armed. The rest had guns, knives, and brawn.

And numbers.

The wooden box, which had not opened during its fall, was picked up by the cat-like woman, the unnatural color no less irritating when it was spread over her body and the weird shape-change looking more or less repulsive. The motions were, however, graceful in their way. And her magic abilities were, alas, undoubted, the smell of sulfur from the Hellfire killing of their sniper still possible to taste in the air.

In fact, all three of the figures with physique out of the ordinary were still vaguely humanoid. The feline-like creature, two sets of eyes working independently, brought the box to the shortest figure and handed it over carefully, and Max's assessment of her - for the voice had definitely been, well, not feminine, but higher-pitched than masculine at any rate. She was giant-sized for an insect, which she resembled too, but for a person, she was small, not much larger than a child, maybe very young, petite woman. Which wasn't much resembled despite the vaguely human form, with the visible black and red coloration of the insect-like chitin covering the body. But the eyes, too big for the head, multifaceted, and the serrated clamps with which her arms ended instead of hands (one of which had run straight through Lynn's body, dammit!), made her look decidedly insectoid, in particular resembling a preying mantis. There were, also, membranous wings at her back, and they caught and reflected light as they moved, flickering back and forth spasmodically.

And the eyes, the two sets of eyes he'd read about. One pair glowing orange-red, the other sickly green. Happily, even the dull gray daylight muted that enough. It would probably be downright sickening even for him who was prepared for it, in the dark. The two sets looked, independently, down as the clamps half-crushed the box open, and the creature - or rather, Knight of the Blackened Denarius, for precision - hissed, then rasped. "Empty."

Max's eyes rose from her to the third Denarian, quietly directing those silent humans in position around them. He... it? looked like a sexless bald statue of ... obsidian, naked, powerful, and the human eyes under the Fallen Angel's were bright, azure blue which seemed oddly disconnected from the dark skin, but no less steely than the great sword he was wielding. Or at least, so far, handling. With ease. The wizard shook his head slightly. If they couldn't talk their way out, it would not be a good fight.

The wooden box clattered on the asphalt again.

"You see. I told you. Coins aren't here. LaMarck isn't here." There was still Father White, but Max didn't exactly point that bit out. "Nothing to really fight about. You can get another try, I guess. But there's not much for you here."

"Well, there is you."

That made something in his mind click and the bottom of his stomach plummet, not as in good news. Not that he let it show. "Me? How so?"

"Son, you should be careful talking with--" Father White's words were careful and probably sensible and Max nodded, but they were interrupted by a dry, grating laugh from the insectoid one.

"Oh hush, priest. You, you'll now be useless to the rest of them, you know. A liability that they will need to protect and will distract them. How do you like that?" Genuine disdain. Max's face twisted in disgust. They seemed to know what would hurt their listeners most, at any rate.

The minister straightened indignantly. "I can hold my own end up. I will fight when I have to." Max glanced sideways at him and sighed slightly, then wordlessly moved and handed him his revolver. The older man looked down on it, then took it, sighed, and at least demonstrated familiarity enough to be able to check if it was loaded. The wizard smiled slightly and a box of ammo changed its location from one's pocket to the other's. Just in case.

"Very, very heroic. And very touching, Max Parker. It still wouldn't do all that much good, but touching. And, to answer your question, the original plan was, to, ah, not only retrieve the two coins lost, but to make sure they have new hosts. One to go for my retinue, one for my husband's."

Max's mind provided whom she meant quickly enough. Stephen. Himself. "Well the original plan's no longer valid, obviously. He wouldn't have picked the coin anyway in the first place, and neither will I." Conviction, simple and absolute. He knew his boss. He knew himself. "And besides, you have no coins. Let us go now, try another time, if you need to."

"Nice try. However, this is too convenient to miss. We get you now, we'll find a coin to give you later. I am sure we can get you more... amenable."

"Max..." Stu's single word, in Stephen's voice which right now almost made Max wince, but did not quite succeed in that, were quiet and insistent. Meant that probably they were getting completely surrounded while the talk was going on. Not really unexpected.

"Keep the shield up." He could see the insectoid face smiling, and the black towering figure moved out of his easy field of vision, while the cat-woman moved closer, just outside his power field. He tried again. "Then let the rest go, if your interest is with me only?"

"No." There was a flicker of impatience then, and then the rasp, "get him. Kill the rest."

A blade was thrown up in the air, just over the top of his shield - too strong and too precise; and he flicked it up to protect the target, only barely for a moment, but it was all that was needed for the action to break all at once. Even if the knife thrown slid down along the shield and right into the arm of one of the human attackers - the human ones. The lifting of the shield got gunshots started, one making Stu hiss and his shield move.

There were shots exchanged all-around, and those of the brute squad who weren't armed with guns ended up easy target; in a few moments, Max brought down his protection to save up on juice - and to be able to concentrate on attacking and defending from specific persons. He'd flicker it on whenever cat-woman or mantis-girl would seem ready to fire a spell - and he wasn't wrong in too many of the cases - but mostly it was combat.

And he was well trained for that. So were his men. And so were, each in their own way, two of the others, and the third one made valiant effort, doing not too badly.

The first yell was Risko's. The great broadsword had slashed right through his leg. Max winced inside, between shooting a spell of his own to incapacitate somebody - the brute squad was getting satisfactorily, if slowly and exhaustingly, diminished, even if the three magic users were mostly untouched, and he knew that would be hard to change - the wound would probably bleed the man to death way too quickly if he wasn't attended to, and there was nobody who could do that here and now, damn it, and he was now picking up the sword from one of the fallen - his mind provided the word on its own - Denarians' minions and was rushing into the fray physically as well as magically, adrenaline, life, fear, courage, and grim determination running through his veins, through his entire body, making him feel - not invincible, he never had illusions about that, but strong, alive. It was what he'd chosen to do, and for the sake of all he could do, he was going to do it well.

The smell of sulfur and flash of heat made him turn his face for a moment, just in time to see the hellcat burn a whole through the middle of his maimed man's chest, right where Risko had been leaning against the side of the car, shooting and fighting still, despite the pain and blood loss.

He wouldn't be fighting anymore.

For him. For Lynn. For Ace.

The next one to fall was the tall woman that the minister had brought. She wasn't killed by a mundane either, credit to her skill and desperation. The broadsword's slash was way, way too powerful for her to do anything other than get pinned against a wall, and even though Max couldn't recall her name, it was for her too, fighting, trying to get a better chance for the rest of them to get out, to get back to those who were important.

The mercenary dodged a throw of hellfire in his direction almost completely, stepping aside from his employer a bit to take care of an immediate danger and then the cat-woman was throwing herself, really feline-like now, at the throat of Father White, biting into the skin, claws raking this chest, deeply, blood washing all over her, quick and strong and she seemed to enjoy it, which turned Max's stomach. In a sudden burst, he sent a tingle of a spell along his dead-man-borrowed blade and got to her, slashing across her back with all the power and momentum that he could muster in that moment. The figure arched back, letting the minister's body fall limply to the ground; the Denarian tried to turn, clawed hard at him, but the eyes quickly clouded as another slash of the sword cut through her neck.

A coin, old, odd for all he managed to glimpse of it, rolled away as the smaller body joined the taller, darker one on the side walk. Max cut his spell and stopped the motion with the tip of the sword, then with a swift motion sent it skittering to hide under the car. Not immediately reachable for anybody, that should be good enough for now.

One down. ONE of the Denarians down, and that kind of evened out the odds a bit, except that he was getting slowly drained and knew Stewart must be too. Max looked up trying to locate him, and his eyes couldn't avoid the sight of the insect's clamp running through the mercenary's burned body. Right through the stomach, and with a twist. She pulled her limb out, and the man fell on the pavement, writhing in pain. By the size of the wound, Max doubted any help could get to him quickly enough to save his life. His sword lashed out, cutting an arm and nicking the neck of another of the brute squad, and there was Stu, shooting the last of them, bleeding somewhat from a few nicks of blades or bullets (then again, so was Max), but he was still standing.

Two on two. Max registered the carnage, oh god did he ever, but he had no energy to spare for mourning it now. Practised, trained, Stu and him crossed the distance between them, standing this time really back to back. Well, not touching each other, each of them had enough space to move freely, but in formation. The remaining two Denarians drew closer to them, circling around them, one silent black and tall, and the other short and dark and blood-covered. Both tangibly menacing.

Well. So was Max. There was no grief in him now, he couldn't expend the energy for it. There was determination and power to him. He was a fighter, and he still had two lives to protect, even if one was his own. And he stood to his hight (ok, in a normal readiness position), and his eyes, threatening, focused, covered his half of the perimeter steadily, ready.

"So. You have now provided us with a coin to use."

"Much good that will do."

"We shall see." The large, faceted eyes flickered up, Max thought at her gorilla, and then there was clatter of steel against steel, and by the time he turned to see, to help, half a foot of steel was protruding from the back of Stewart's chest.

Max attacked, starting the same spell along the blade as before, hoping to get at the large figure before it could free its weapon, but it was too strong, too quick.

Max Parker had grown, over the last century, to be quite a proficient blade-master. Maybe he was not the very best out there, but he was pretty damn good.

However, against the brute, superhuman strength of his adversary, he could only end up retreating. In about four strokes, the great broadsword slashed right though his blade.

All he could do was keep retreating before the onslaught, countering it with bursts of his shield, trying to keep his eye on the mantis as well - although she seemed to be content to just watch for now.

He didn't even trip at the curb's edge. Not that the fact helped at all when one of the obsidian figure's large hands swept over the fire hydrant beside him and he was in the middle of flowing water, all chances of shielding or spellwork gone. He tried to step away, and one of those clamps shot a burst of hellfire, scorching his front.

The first glimmer of emotion flickered over the black towering statue's face, a grim satisfaction. Then he turned, lifted the car, and took the coin from under it, picking it up and placing it just out of reach of where Max had been stopped from moving past, on the ground.

"Now," if there wasn't the odd chitinous rasp to the voice, the wizard could almost say the voice was purring. "Let's talk."

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