LotS/The Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)/Noir

"Alexa!"

Terrified eyes fasten on you. There's a fraction of a second's indecision in their depths, before she runs over.

"Help! He killed security! He-"

She whirls round, making her hair and dress flare in sweeping semicircles.

Noir is approaching. A tall woman moves to intercept him... The man in black doesn't turn his head or break his stride. His fist simply lashes out and sends her sprawling.

"Everyone out!" the barmaid shrieks, as she gropes behind the bar.

It's unnecessary. The other patrons are already screaming their way towards the exit, giving Noir a wide berth. He doesn't even look at them.

"Hold it, you bloody wanker!" The barmaid yells the words over the barrel of a shotgun.

Noir snatches up a chair and whips it at her. She crashes against the shelves of bottles, collapses amidst the shattered glass and streaming alcohol. He didn't even slow down...

"Move," you say.

Alexa Haelia is motionless -- staring at him like prey transfixed by a predator's hypnotic gaze. You grab her shoulders and yank her aside. That snaps her out of it. She darts into the corner and huddles there, with sputtering flames lapping along her limbs.

But Noir isn't looking at her now.

He stops in front of you, and places his hands behind him. You've seen that one before... Make them think you want to talk, then pull a weapon from the small of your back... So you stay tense, ready. But he makes no movement.

"[Player Name]. I knew Alison Haelia would send you here." Two voices tingle in your ear. One is soft, cultured, elegant -- draped in an accent you can't place. The other is a growl. "My name is-"

"I know who you are. You murdered Benito Fiduccio."

"I have killed many men. But it amuses me that you would speak of murder. I witnessed your deeds when I stood on Lorgen IV. Men, women, and children were obliterated around me, their bodies consumed by fire. Such viciousness... And so fitting, for one of your bloodline."

Lorgen IV...

The explosions are like the booming voices of angry gods, the mushroom clouds gigantic burial shrouds.

Fire. Inconceivable expanses of fire. A bombardment worthy of heaven and hell, of Armageddon. Destruction so utter it seems as though it must ravage the entire universe.

Cities die. Worlds die. Annihilation. A nuclear onslaught that obliterates flesh and metal with callous equanimity.

That's impossible...

"It is a shame I must destroy you. I would have enjoyed seeing what other terrible things you might bring to pass."

"Go to hell."

Noir's eyes flicker, and somehow you sense amusement in their burning azure depths.

His hands emerge from behind his back.

---

His knee rises, catching your right shin and blocking the kick. He's fast... Almost any other opponent you've fought would have let it past, had it lash their thigh like a heavy, brutal whip. You drop the limb and spring up in the same motion -- launching a hard, fast snap kick with your left leg. He bats it aside. Along with the overhand right and lunging straight left that follow.

Four attacks in the blink of an eye... All deflected. He's good.

That thought echoes through your brain, reverberates around your consciousness, when his counterpunch smashes against the side of your head. Blood spurts from your mouth in a long, frothing stream.

A black leg flashes at the edge of your perception, heard and sensed rather than seen. Your forearm flies out to knock it away. But the second kick catches you square in the gut. Only your armored clothing and the tensing of your muscles stops it from winding you.

His burning blue slits are still smiling, as he moves in for the kill.

You feint at his featureless face. Then you launch yourself into a low tackle, grabbing at his legs.

Noir's knee crashes on your chin, sending bright lights bursting in your brain. His elbow hammers downwards -- and only your deft, instinctive movement makes it thud on your shoulder blade instead of the back of your neck.

You throw yourself backwards, tucking your head and rolling to get away from him. He's on you the moment you rise. Ebon fists and boots fly in a shadowy flurry, forcing you back amidst your blocks, dodges, and parries, driving you away until the thick glass of the room's big window is a cool hardness behind your head.

To hell with this...

Your eyes flash. Blood and darkness swirl around your consciousness in a terrible, familiar maelstrom. Doom and despair rush through every fiber of your being, bringing both unimaginable strength and incomprehensible desolation.

"Kasan!"

A Princess dies. A universe perishes. A fist splits the air on its inexorable path to slaughter, annihilation, redness. All of creation is one massive, horrible, seething, dying tapestry of blood and blackness and screams and-

"No."

Your knuckles thud against something hard.

And through the whirling tempest, the lashings of blood and endless night, the cries of lost millennia, you glimpse one solid thing: your fist, caught by Noir's hand.

Impossible...

His kick thunders against your chest.

Something shatters, and you don't know if it's you or the galaxy. Then you're falling, through the blood and darkness.

They're all screaming. Illaria. Alexa. Billions of Centurian children. All screaming, but growing fainter and fainter as you plunge into the abyss.