L'Envol des Corbeaux

[Kayito-san]

The year 2348. Dimitri Corbeau, ex-COS and son of French diplomat Léon Corbeau, slid a magazine into his rifle and loaded a round into the chamber. His father had tried his best to restart diplomacy between Mainland Europe and the encroaching forces of the MEA. He was 21 when the peace treaties finally collapsed and his father was killed. At the time, he had already ascended to the head of an elite anti-terrorist team, the renowned "Compagnie Rouge". When they had been unable to prevent Léon Corbeau's assassination, European Media had dumped the blame on Dimitri's shoulders. He had felt personally responsible for his father's death. The entire continent saw Dimitri publicly renounce his position as Captain of his beloved Red Company. Not long thereafter, war finally broke out and every trace of the former hero had disappeared.

Dimitri peered down from the window of the former hotel. Much of central Europe had been destroyed by bombs. At first there had been much resistance from the country, but ever since the MEA had consumed Germany and Italy, France had been quick to fall. Dimitri had observed its collapse from a great distance. There was nothing he could have done. His country blamed him for the loss of their leader, and destroyed by guilt he had fled. He had just kept running until he couldn't run anymore. He was no longer sure in what part of Europe he was. He assumed that it was some part of Germany, but the MEA had already assumed control here, and so there… was no longer a 'Germany'. Everything below him was in ruins. Plumes of black smoke rose from what had once been a thriving metropolitan area. Almost all survivors had been either conscripted or killed. The MEA's thirst for power had struck Europe and spread like a plague. Dimitri's eyes were constantly met with proof.

Something beeped quietly. Dimitri backed away from the window and sat down on a dusty old couch. The walls around him were peppered with holes. His attention was drawn to his gun. The gun beeped at him again. Cautiously, Dimitri opened the side panel. A red dot blinked onscreen. The lifesign sensor. Dimitri stood up quickly. There was someone nearby. The sensor had a range of only 100 meters, but given he was fairly high above the ground, whatever he was detecting could be as far as 200 meters away. Dimitri set his bullpup against his shoulder and glanced out the window.

 

[Isis]

Josephine Autumn Smith didn’t fucking care for the year- mostly because she didn’t know it. Well, she did at some point, but now it just seemed pointless. Really, who the fuck needed to know the week, the month, much less the whole damn year? Days were important. Days and nothing else. So she knew it was a Tuesday, and Tuesday was a clean-up day.

She’d set out that morning with Bess, her favorite shotgun, Kathy, the assault rifle, and Floretta, her handgun- small caliber, filled with hollow point bullets. The only kind she really needed. Jo’d strapped the holsters on her lithe body, fixed her pack to her back, jumped onto her skateboard and started weaving through piles of debris and skeletons. She crossed herself out of pure habit when the bones darkened by ash and dried by age passed. It was a hollow gesture, done only because her mother had told her to when she was young. When they’d been shacked up in one of those damn camps- before Eleanor Smith had contracted pneumonia and died; God rest her soul.

Yep. Cleaning-day. That meant going from building to goddamn building to search for things. Anything. Cleaning house, taking what she could- leaving the rest for whatever poor fucker came through there next. Wherever “there” was. She’d been running so long, she didn’t even know where she was anymore. Eastern Europe, maybe? Northern? Ah, to hell with it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the walkman she’d found (it only had one CD, but Jo didn’t give two shits about that). The CD read LED ZEPPELIN in straight white letters; letters she’d grown to love.

Hey-hey mama said the way you move,
Gon' make you sweat, gon' make you groove.
Ah-ah child way you shake that thing,
Gon' make you burn, gon' make you sting.
Hey-hey baby when you walk that way,
Watch your heartache drip, can't keep away . . . ​

She guessed she made a pretty damn funny picture- gray jeans tucked into army boots she’d stolen off some dead motherfucker back in Russia, faded red shirt with the words “Enjoy Coke” written across the front. Leather jacket covered in patches, rosary hanging from around her pale neck. Black hair cut short, bangs turning to fringe just at her arched eyebrows. Green eyes invisible behind a pair of aviators, pink lips popping pink gum. Skateboard under foot, music blasting in her ears. Undeniably reckless, but it didn’t really matter. This was her land. ‘Sides, MEA cronies hardly ever patrolled this side of town. They’d been here a month, and fuckin’ combed the place over last week. They had the other half to worry ‘bout- even then the only way they’d be of any danger to her was if one popped outta the goddamn ground.

Hopefully one didn’t. She’d be screwed. Fuck, this was where she left off yesterday- that building with the shots gone near through it and the blinds still in the windows. Huh. It looked like a piece of shit. Promising. Jo twisted on her skateboard, bringing it to a stop below the front of the thing. Taking out Bess, she slung the shotgun across her shoulder with one hand, kicking her board up into her hand with the other, taking a cautious step towards the busted up piece of architecture. What if the motherfuckers were in there? She popped the gum she’d been chewing, laughing to herself. She’d not go down without a goddamn fight, that was what.

I gotta roll, can't stand still,
Got a flaming heart, can't get my fill.
Eyes that shine burning red,
Dreams of you all through my head . . . ​

 

[Kayito-san]

Dimitri paced around the room. He was very well equipped, but it was a real pain to transport his stuff. Before the war he'd been very diligent in purchasing shares from several arms dealers across Europe. Evidently, several of his shares had gone up in value, while others had gone down. In any case, that had put him in a good place with several weapon manufacturers. However, due to the progression of the MEA through Europe, the only way he'd ever be able to access his caches would be to visit them in person. Which led to further problems, including transportation. Currently, he had stationed himself in a hotel which had recently been combed by MEA forces. He'd be safe there for the time being, and had set up camp there. Dimitri needed to change position again. He needed to find somewhere that he could set up camp for more than just a couple of days. He needed a week.

The life sensor beeped twice in rapid succession. Dimitri paused and opened the panel. It was nearby. Quietly, he exited the room and walked to the stairs. He could hear it now. Clack, clack… Combat boots. Single entity. He doubted it was MEA. They typically traveled in groups of six. This was one person. Dimitri tilted his head slightly. It was getting louder, and he could hear something else. It was regular, very quiet, tinny… not unlike a small radio. He readied his weapon and placed the stock against his shoulder. He crouched and peered down a set of stairs to the landing, keeping his gun trained there. He muted the lifesign sensor and waited, breathing slowly. The screen indicated that whoever was there was only a couple of meters away– probably only a floor or two below.

 

[Isis]

Josephine kicked a piece of plaster with her boot. Damn, they'd really hit this one- hit it hard. Lucky for her, they never really searched the sewage tunnels, or the old metro stations. Really, they never hit anywhere dark and damp and likely to prove unlivable- at least not thoroughly. Which was exactly why Jo lived in one such place. Had for the past month. She'd set up home-base just after the first sweep. Always in the shadows, always unseen. Or so she hoped.

Fuck, she knew the place had blinds- oooh, but what was that? The red flashing on the wall? It was faint (like something was reflecting it), but in the dim light of the smoke-covered sky, it stood out well enough. Well enough for someone who'd been on her own since she was seven to notice. Some idiot had forgotten to cover the damn panel on his life sensor- a dead giveaway. She pressed Bess to the crook of her shoulder, holding the smooth surface of the gun-butt close. Shaking her head she took a step forward; the headphones dropped away.

Hey baby, whoa baby, pretty baby
Darling give it to me now.
Hey baby, oh baby, pretty baby
Move the way you're doing now . . .​

Josephine grinned, singing softly along with the words she knew so well- voice slithering from between those full lips, trigger finger itching. But goddammit, something made her stop. Made her slow. Loneliness, maybe? Aw, fuck. She was getting soft. Too soft. Next thing she knew, she'd be getting attached. Fuckin' hell. But damn, she had to do something. Say something. Because for once, she didn't feel like the only living person in the entire goddamn world.

"If I promise not to kill you, will you promise not to kill me?"

Her voice sounded foreign, even to her own ears. Feminine, strong; sorely underused these past few months. She waited, the silence broken only by the sweet tunes floating up from her headphones.

Didn't take too long 'fore I found out,
What people mean by down and out.
Spent my money, took my car
Started telling her friends she gon' be a star.
I don't know, but I been told
A big-legged woman ain't got no soul . . .
​

 

[Kayito-san]

He shifted his weight when he heard her voice. Several seconds passed before he spoke. "D'accord, um… agreed. This isn't a good place for you to be," he said, "If I had been MEA…" Dimitri lowered his rifle and stood up, moving into the stair well. "Put your hands where I can see them and then I will disarm. What is your business here?" he asked, his accent minimal but noticeable, "This area was swept only a week ago. I take it you're a scavenger, and I respect your situation, but continuing here would be unwise." He stayed his ground. His weapon was pointed down, but he kept the stock pressed lightly against his shoulder.

Since his arrival, he had deployed a small weapon cache in the room, and was currently in the process of re-packing it for transportation. There was nevertheless a lot of equipment, and carrying it all had taken a toll on him. He overslept almost every day out of exhaustion. He was considering leaving some equipment behind to lessen the load and give him a waypoint should he return to the area. But it might find better use in the hands of this scavenger girl. He didn't know how well equipped she was, but he assumed that most if not all of her armaments had been recovered from dead bodies.

 

[Isis]

All I ask for, all I pray
Steady rolling woman gonna come my way.
Need a woman gonna hold my hand
Won't tell me no lies
Make me a happy man.​

Josephine snorted. Disarm- yeah the fuck right. And her hands were going nowhere, thank you very much. Business . . . why, she was building a high-powered explosive device. Yep. But he didn't need to know that. She chewed her gum, blew a bubble, popped. Arrogant little Frenchman, wasn't he? At least he didn't sound Parisian. She'd haveta shoot him out of compassion for her fellow man if he were.

The CD skipped to the next track.

"MEA don't usually have lifesigns on their toys. And if they do, they sure as fuck close the panel before taking aim. 'Sides, hon. If you had been, one of us would be dead 'bout five minutes after I walked through that door. So it really doesn't matter."

She shoved Bess back into her holster, walking close to the place where his voice sounded to be coming from- a stairwell. Sighing, Jo set her skateboard down, kicking it in front of her. She then put her leather-clad hands above her head, fingers wiggling, gum blowing and popping once more. Her red shirt shifted high above her midriff, exposing her toned-yet-soft stomach and tattooed hip (she'd gotten a curling red dragon in Singapore) to his eyes; impatiently droping her hands, she secreted her palm over to Little Miss Floretta. Looking around, she realized she couldn't see him, but had a feeling he could see her. And it was creeping her out. Really.

"Now, can I come in? You've got some blinds, and I want them."

There was probably a mini-fridge somewhere in there, too. If it was a new model ('round 2320), it'd have the motor that ran with the aid of a pea-sized dollop of good ol' liquid nitrogen- exactly what she'd been looking for. Of course she had dry ice and rubbing alcohol, but the shit that made was more like cryogenic napalm- no leidenfrost effect. It stuck to everything. Jo needed something that would propel the ball that controlled the mechanism which deployed the bomb she was building- something only a fair amount of LN would do. So she was collecting it in increments- biding her time and destroying as many refrigerators as she could.

 

[Kayito-san]

She had a good point. He was so tired he'd forgotten to close it. He had forgotten to do a lot of things lately. Dimitri looked closely at his rifle. His weaponry was state of the art, but with the added features and configurations, he'd momentarily forgotten how to power down the electronics. There were at least eight different buttons on the gun's control deck. He really needed some rest. "You came here for blinds?" he returned, with a generous helping of disbelief, "Blinds! This floor is off limits, understood? I don't know what you're after, but you're not a very convincing liar." Her brazen attitude was really wearing him thin– and her choice of music was giving him a headache. He would have loved to take her down a notch, but instead he stepped back to regain his bearings.

He had nothing to gain from giving away his position any further, or for that matter revealing his identity. Then again, visual confirmation would let him determine her load out. But was it worth it? It was better safe than sorry. She was a scavenger with civilian armaments. He was wearing ceramic reflection plates, and Kevlar beneath that, so if she really was a scavenger, he had a surplus of advantage. Dimitri crouched slightly and silently made his way down a few steps. They both now had their visual. His first thought was that she was hardly a threat. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of the shotgun and his hands tightened on his weapon. His rifle notched up a couple of degrees and he narrowed his eyes. Oh, she was very good looking, but what caught his eye was what her hands were up to. He brought his rifle back up, "I thought I had made myself clear. Let me see your hands."

 

[Isis]

Jo rolled her eyes- he was one paranoid motherfucker. Decked out like a bitch, too. Easy on the eyes, but decked. To the nines. She bet he'd never felt a bullet's heat, much less had t'dig one outa that fancy gear of his- and now he had to go and be a pussy about the damn blinds.

She was getting aggravated. She'd already put her damn hands up once and she didn't want to fucking do it again, so she sighed and slung her sac over her shoulder, dumping on the ground before shrugging out of her jacket. She then took off Bess, Kathy, and Floretta- setting them all rather carefully on top of her things in a little heap. She had a strap and holster holding three daggers around her arm, a machete and serrated hunting knife at her belt- all of which she took off, and set with her guns. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but she had a feeling he was packin' more than those shiny goddamn plates of his. Jo was curious, and people like him never felt safe. He'd probably have his gun at her head while she went up and collected.

Holding up her hands with a bit of a grin, Jo took off her leather gloves, leaving them plain and pale and very much in-sight. They were covered with scars and burns, but not damaged in any serious way- merely patterned and rippled with what had become her life. She waved at him slowly, smirk teasing her lips. There was something flippant in the gesture- something suggesting that she was only doing this to amuse herself. Which was actually very true.

"I'm also going to take your refrigerator. I need the motor."

Josephine explained slowly as she walked to the stairs, hands still up, gum still being chewed, music still playing. She alighted the first step, figuring he could either shoot her or flip the fuck out or let her pass. Anyway it went, she was gonna get up those damn stairs. "The motor has liquid nitrogen in it. I'm making an engine of sorts. I need it to power a key piece- so get your panties out of a twist and let me by."

She was now on the third step, hands up, tattoo on her hip snarling at him. Her own lips twisted into a grin as if daring him to kill an unarmed woman.

 

[Kayito-san]

Dimitri watched carefully as she unloaded her weaponry. She was actually fairly well equipped for a scavenger. He was almost impressed. Taken by exhaustion, he leaned on the wall. As she started up the stairs, Dimitri lowered his weapon. She was like a civilian now, but damn if that wasn't a gutsy move. However, he didn't have the energy to fuss about it. She was unarmed. So long as she didn't try to steal anything, he might as well let her take the fridge... and blinds. Whatever. "Good enough." he muttered, "I suppose it's not my business what you intend to do with… window blinds and a mini-fridge." Something occurred to him when she reached the top of the stairs, and he stood up. He sighed, and gave her the 'ladies first' go-ahead. He was more or less convinced that he could consider her harmless. His setup was in the very first room. He followed her at a distance, eying her movements carefully. He couldn't help but crack a slight smile... he hadn't seen hips like that in a damn while. Sultry stride notwithstanding, he wasn't going to have her stealing from him, that was for certain.

The room was still a mess, but at least he had categorized his equipment. There was a broken table on which sat another set of ceramic and Kevlar that had been peppered with bullets. He had been in the process of re-finishing a few of the ceramic plates, so the table was littered with strips of wax paper and empty tubes of ballistic cement paste. Dimitri considered that for a moment. He probably wouldn't mind if she took that off of his hands. He looked around again, maybe there were some other things he didn't really need. Obviously his rifle outfits were off-limits. He was understocked in grenades, and he had a small crate of 5.56 that he no longer needed, plus he had four Claymores, two of which he probably wouldn't use. All of a sudden, he was struck with an idea. Maybe he could make some gains on giving her those supplies.

 

[Isis]

As Josephine had walked up the stairs, she'd been struck with two strange thoughts: one was that he looked tired as fuck, and needed a meal and a bed. Two? He had really nice shoulders. Broad, strong. They'd be easy to cling to-aw, fuck. Did she really just let it go there? Yes, she did. Snorting a bit at both his move to the side and her own wondering thoughts, she stepped in front of him. Well, at least he wasn't a complete idiot. He kept her under his gaze, didn't let her behind him. Good move, seeing as she didn't really need weapons to kill him. Fuck, all she really needed was her hands most of the time. She liked being involved with the carnage she reaped and sowed, hated how sterile war had become. A long time ago, there had been warriors. Now . . . Now you just pressed a button, and it was all taken care of.

Jo let out a low whistle as she stepped into the room. Damn. How did he carry all this shit, anyways? Taking off her glasses, she glanced around. Well, turns out he did take a few bullets- which meant his body was still recuperating from the shock of impact. Goddamn MEA. Stepping to the window, Jo unhooked the blinds, tucking them under her arm. Aluminum, hard compress, cheap. Good for testing water-activated flash powder. Turning, she stepped to the fridge in the far side of the room, crouching low and opening the door.

"You know, you need rest. You look like shit. And you're probably still bruised from the work those bastards did to your armor . . . And you need a safer place to store all this shit, until you pack up again. And I bet you're hungry. So, here's the deal."

With one hand digging around in the fridge, she turned her face towards him, the green of her eyes scrutinizing him closely as her fingers closed around the part she was looking for and pulled. The little glass vial popped out with a small clicking noise and Jo smiled. Yep. She knew it'd work. In your face, motherfuckers. She held it up to the light- brows furrowing as she tilted the little bottle this way and that, trying to figure out how much she had to work with. Fucking hell, there wasn't enough. Oh well. She could supplement it with a bit of dry ice and alcohol. That'd work fuckin' fine. She stood, tucking her prize into her pocket, folding her sunglasses over her eyes, scanning the room for something she might need . . . Oooh. Things that go boom. Grinning, Josephine crossed to the claymore mines, her hands tracing over the lettering, "FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY." She'd be able to use those. Bullets? No. Rifle outfits? No. Mines? Please and thank you.

"I want these. In exchange, I'll give you a safe place to sleep, food, clean water, and the promise that I will try my best not to kill you for as long as you need. Or until the MEA re-sweep."

It was a lot. She knew. She was giving him more than was necessary. But the only friends she had of late were the few stray cats who could find their way into her home without setting off her defense system, and she wanted a goddamn conversation.

 

[Kayito-san]

Dimitri kept his eyes on her as she retrieved the blinds and fridge component. It struck him as a bit strange that she should only want that one part of the fridge. The tiny vial looked to him like a chemical module– she was probably building something. One way or the other, it seemed like a very specific piece. He guessed that, maybe she had been a chemist? He wasn't about to ask.

She was right, in a sense. He hadn't exactly been kind to himself since his last firefight. He couldn't afford to. There was enough on his plate already that every day had become regimented. Everything for miles was a battlefield, and there simply was no time for a vacation.

He watched her very carefully as she stepped towards the explosives. Her offer was generous. They'd only just met yet she was offering to take him in for a short while. She had set up camp somewhere, which meant she was at greater risk should her location be revealed. But she wanted every Claymore. Come they part ways, he would be at a disadvantage should he need to set up camp in a more densely patrolled area. Given his objective, that would most certainly be the case.

"I don't know if I can part with all of them; I'll give you two. I see myself needing them in the future." he said. He didn't want to reveal too much. There was too much political implication in what he had to do.

He walked over to her slowly, and picked up his packsack. He reached in and withdrew a tiny ring of keys. "These are two-cartridge Claymores. They can each be detonated twice, but you need a key in order to arm or disarm them, because they can go off twice in direct succession. By that, I mean they're not remote anymore, they're motion sensitive. Twice as dangerous, but dangerous to both the enemy, and you." Preamble complete, he twisted off a key, tossed it onto the table next to the mines before packing two of the four Claymores back into the packsack. "Your rifle looked like it probably takes 5.56, the ammo is yours if you'd like it."

 

[Isis]

Two.Damn . . . Jo . . . Jo could live with that. But the bullets? "No. I have plenty at home. Thanks." Her tone was clipped, harsh. American accent making her words lilt and roll, soft voice strong in the silence of the dead hotel. She had the sudden itch to move- the air was . . . oppressive. Too quiet. It fucking sunk into her bones and made her damn spine feel like an electric current had just gone down it. Turning off her music player, Josephine held up a hand, signaling for silence.

". . ."

She listened, craning her head towards the window, brow furrowing neatly. Shit. She could hear it- the sound of silence caused by fear. Even the bugs had left. Motherfucker. They had fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Turning to him, her new-found accomplice, Jo smiled rather slyly. In a flash she'd grabbed the keys from the table and tucked and tucked a Claymore under each arm, long legs carrying her to the door of his room.

"We have to go. Grab what you can carry- leave the rest. They're coming."

With that, Josephine Autumn Smith padded down the stares and back to her sack, taking out one bitchin' bomb of her own design. It was about the size of her foot, flat, and operated by two extremely powerful magnets- would fuck up anything with wires within a 20-mile radius for at least ten minutes. The blast of electro-magnetic energy was enough to take down two full-grow, shit-strong buildings- in the deadlands? A city block, at least. Josephine set the little black box on the ground beside her things, rearming faster than you could say "cheap French whore." With a zip, snap, and click Jo's pack was on her back, jacket and glasses set, skateboard in one hand and a detonator in the other.

Again, that feeling of electricity- that feeling of calm before the storm. They really, really needed to leave. Fuck. Leave now.

 

[Kayito-san]

He looked at her somewhat dismissively. Normally he would take every opportunity he could to confront the MEA. He intended to seize every chance he could to thin their numbers. However, if he didn't follow her, he would have given up two mines for nothing. Dimitri quickly absconded, but stuffed most of his equipment into his bag, aside from the ammunition. Just as he was about to leave, he turned. The armour was still sitting on the table, and although it had already seen some action, it was in more or less working condition. He quickly scooped it under his arm and hurried after her. He trod down the stairs hurriedly in twos, his boots thumping loudly as he descended. His bag was heavy, but his determination carried most of the weight.

He met her at the foot of the stairs and handed her the vest. "It still works, and I think you should put it on. It saved my life and it could very well save yours. I'm expecting a firefight at some point and I'd like us both to have the advantage." He turned towards the door and ventured out, pulling his gun up and quickly scanning for movement outside. Slowly he put his gun down and backed into the building. "I don't hear anything, euh…" Dimitri turned to her. "En plus, I don't believe we've exchanged names." It hadn't occurred to him that names would be important, but here they were. The muzzle of his weapon dropped and he extended his hand, a smile visible at long last. "Dimitri."

 

[Isis]

Jo snorted. Bitch just looked at her like she was something on the bottom of his shoe- and now he was offering her armor. How sweet. It was her goddamn turn to look dismissive then, brows raised as she grasped the thing and slung her backpack down, stuffing it inside. She didn't need any armor. That was for bitches. French ones, to be exact. She readjusted everything for the millionth time, and pulled the bomb's detonator from her pocket.

Oh, fabulous. He was deciding- . . . Oooh . . . Pretty smile . . . For a Frenchman. Josephine grasped his hand quickly. "Josephine Autumn Smith."

For a moment, a smile flickered to her lips as well. For a moment she was beautiful- not in a raw, sexual way, but in a way that was almost . . . nurturing. And then it was gone, and she was smirking. Fucking laughing at him on the inside. "So, Dimitri- how fast can you run?"

The words barely had time to settle in the air between them before Jo was off on her board, skating ahead of him- hair blowing back in the breeze, eyes protected by her glasses. The bastard had to learn one way or the other, and a crash-course on How to Fucking Survive Without Being a Pussy was better than nothing.

 

[Kayito-san]

She had a very firm handshake, he noticed. "Josephine…" he repeated– his accent, blooming. Dimitri turned his attention back outside, but it was quickly drawn to Josephine. How fast could he run? Her hand– no, she wouldn't have tried to… Dimitri began to walk in Jo's direction. He would not be able to keep up with her, given his bag was very heavy and he was on foot. He augmented his pace to a tough jog. He glanced back at the building. "Marde…" he mumbled. He couldn't believe she was doing this. If she detonated a bomb, it would only draw the attention of the MEA, they might even re-sweep the area, which would be bad news for both of them. Second sweep– more units.

"Fucking… fuck…. you… stupide… girl," he mumbled between breaths, "You're going to… take on hell and… you don't even… realize it." She was well ahead of him by now, easily a hundred meters and long out of hearing range. He was keeping a good pace, but he was so lacking in sleep that it was hard to keep himself on his feet not to mention keep up. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was putting him in such a bad mood, but he had some serious doubts to the validity of the girl's practices. A bomb? It would be so much simpler to just wait for the MEA to come to them and pick them off one at a time. They'd have the advantage of high ground, it wouldn't have been hard. Dimitri exclaimed a grunt and dumped some coals onto the fire. His anger would keep him going. "Albari," he grumbled, "When I find… you, I… will kill you… with my bare hands…" Dimitri growled with anger and sprinted faster.

Another thought occurred to him as his aggression reached a climax: he was not going to be left behind by this undisciplined brat. He'd given her two Claymores and some reflection plates, and now she was getting away without providing her end of the bargain. He'd been bamboozled and it was just now dawning on him. His legs were pneumatized, supercharged from his increasing fury. He sprinted after Jo. She was not going to get away with this. Her distant silhouette grew slowly as he began to make headway. He wasn't built for sprinting, by any means. He was tall but he was far more suited for maneuvering during combat than for long-distance marathons. However, he was determined not to be shown up.

It had been several days since he had last gotten sufficient rest. The effects of sleep deprivation were beginning to take hold. His vision began to blur, but Dimitri's mind was too focused on 'catching up' to validate what he saw. Victor Alibari was standing not far away. Taunting him. Teasing him. Egging Dimitri on with the devil's tongue. Alibari, the mastermind behind the MEA's political aggression, the man whom had from behind the curtains brought chaos into Europe. The man who had killed Dimitri's father. Dimitri's heart raced. His brain rattled. He churned the idea of strangling that fucking liar, and now Alibari was just beyond, silhouette arrogantly mocking the Corbeau family.

 

[Isis]

Jo was oblivious to Dimitri's struggling- even if she'd known, she probably wouldn't have cared much. After all, it was his fuckin' fault for not sleeping. You were good as dead when alive and tired. If you were sleepy, you found a place to hunker down and took a goddamn nap. Y'didn't fuckin' push through that shit- not with the MEA outnumbering you at least fifty to one. She skated on, body weaving through debris, hand always on that goddamn trigger. Yeah, the MEA had them squared when it came to technology, but without it? They were pretty useless. That's why she'd designed the Black Bomb. BB was heavy duty shit- could be detonated from up to around two miles away, and the blast carried. All she had to do was wait.

Her figure swiveled abruptly, feet twisting as she turned back to face the building, Dimitri . . . and in the distance, the dirty haze swept up by MEA douche-bags and their goddamn cars. Fancy mother fuckers, weren't they? Yes. They were. She just had to wait for the opportune moment . . . . for everything to fall into place. Also, wait for that Frenchie to hurry his ass up. There was a reason she traveled light. His slow pace was exactly that.

As Josephine waited, she was oblivious to a second thing. There was another haze rising up from the road behind her, another envoy of MEA and their guns. Guns which used precision-targeting, completely electronic, designed by one of the top weapon-tech engineers of the last century. High tech and completely hands-free, soulless killing- not something to be celebrated or valued. But the designer was an especially interesting case. She was a woman who'd been on the run for about a year- a girl who'd been plucked out of the camps designed by the MEA at the age of seven, and taught how to make things go BOOM. She'd been like so many other trainees, until she realized what she was capable of. Until she realized she could make the organization which had killed her family, stolen her life, pay- or at least sell the weapons that would be their undoing to some high-class rebellious group. This once-girl, now a woman, was named Josephine Autumn Smith.

Jo smirked. Funny how things worked out, wasn't it? With that she pressed the little button, detonating the Black. Jo stood, smirking- watching as a soundless wave of electro-magnetic energy kicked up dust as it rushed towards her and the old hotel collapsed almost gracefully onto itself.