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Old 04/20/2010   #52
Sheva Alomar
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“You dumb cunt, get back here!”

“You’re the only dumb cunts around here for bothering to chase me down.”

Fiona chuckled under her breath as she ran down a long stretch of a neglected alley way. This was one of the rare nights that the fire destrillian dabbled in the decrepit crime rings of the Orange Zone—and of course it went awry. A simple gambling night hosted by the notorious Don Fabrizio. Naturally, nothing was ‘simple’ when it involved one of, if not the, biggest crime syndicates in the area.

Out of curiosity only someone as wild as Fiona would harbor, she wandered into the abandoned office building where the games were to be played after being invited by a couple of goons plucking fodder from the masses unfortunately stuck in the Orange Zone. The #004 prototype was, no doubt, a unique specimen for rounding up for such an event. An interesting victim—let alone a female! If only the poor saps knew what they were in for.

Poker was the popular game of choice, which was luckily a card game the fire destrillian had picked up in her four years of squandering the streets of Osea. Cash only, and the #004 prototype had just so happened to come into some money that day.

It hadn’t even been an hour into playing, when a small-time criminal by the name of Jackal Roterio playing at Fiona’s table said something. Right in the middle of a hand while the river card was being drawn, he met with his eyes with hers and abruptly slammed the old card table with both fists.

“At first, I thought it was pure luck that this broad was picking away at our earnings, but now it’s the goddamn 15th hand and this bitch has yet to fold or even lose to any of us!”

He jabbed his heavily jeweled finger at the girl with fiery hair sitting so relaxed at one end of the table.

“You’ve fixed this game! Somehow, you’ve fixed this fucking game and I’ll crack your head open if I have to, to find out how! Boys, I want you two to escort this dyke to the back and ask her nicely about her little scheme. Maybe I’ll let her come back and play next to me if she complies.”

Smirking with his half-gold grin, he handed one of the two grunts he spoke to a hand pistol. Silently, the duo stood up and slowly approached Fiona from both sides. Her feet had been propped up on the table during that time and continued to keep them that way as she coolly rocked back and forth, waiting. Of course she had rigged the game, just not as he expected. With the psychic and telepathic abilities granted to all of her kind, she readily used them in cheap thrills such as this. Fiona laughed to herself in these types of situations. She knew they all ended the same way and this time would be no different. Just as their hands crept to the fire destrillian’s shoulders, she made her move.

“Heh...”

Swiftly sliding her legs just beneath the poker table, she flipped it over, knocking the rest of her company to fall backwards and over one another. Standing up Fiona bent her arms so her elbows were out and jabbed the two men on either side of her in the chests, then bringing her clenched fists up to break their noses.

“I think this is my cue, assholes! See you in hell!”

With one sweep of her arm she collected a large pile of bills that were still wrapped in neat stacks to her immediate right and bolted for the exit. The rest of the men there had little time to react to all of this going on. One found the breath to shout out “After her!”, but that was all, given that this sudden shift occurred in all of 10 seconds.

As Fiona made her escape towards the stairwell at the far end of the large, stale room, the men fast enough whipped out their guns and began to open fire. With her superior speed, the gangsters had but seconds to even hit her—not that, that was even possible. Leaping down two flights of stairs, the fire destrillian legged it quickly through the double doors out into the street. She could hear the multiple grunts clamoring and fumbling over the next guy to catch her and take her out. THAT would never happen. Continuing her run around the corner of the next street, she ran past a purse vendor with his bags spread out over a table. Without stopping, Fiona helped herself to one and shoved all of the money she had just ripped from the goons at the poker match.

“You’re too kind, old man!”

Her sarcasm was far too sharp for her own good, especially when she was excited by a group of dumb criminals who had no idea just what she was. Before the poor vendor could even object to her stealing, several cohorts from the gambling night were in pursuit of her and ran right over him.

Rounding another corner down a small side street, barricaded on either side, Fiona couldn’t have asked for a better escape. A translucent jug labeled ‘GAS’ was sitting in front of a run-down repair store. Stopping with plenty of space between her and her pursuers, she kicked over the large container and watched as the liquid slithered across and down the street in a number of directions. Jogging backwards to keep an eye on the gasoline and the goons chasing her, she casually waved her arm in front of her, setting the liquid ablaze and watching as it rose to the sky. It left a perfect wall of flame between her and them, letting her run off without worry. Even if some of the men were stupid enough to try to follow her even after that, she would know and would only leave corpses after that. The grunts, no doubt, remained on the opposite side of the firewall and could only shoot blindly at a target they could and would never hit.

------------

So hear she was, Fiona Myrwind, self-liberated destrillian prototype #004 in all of her glory—what glory she could salvage living in a dump like the Orange Zone. Living life no normal human ever would. She refused to. Unlike her roommate, Thetis, #004 would never succumb to “trying to fit in” or “keeping a low profile”. With her appearance, she especially couldn’t pull that trick off. Even as she walked down the street now, most of those who passed her by on her way to her current residence would stop and stare for at least a few seconds. Her bright hair and outlandish clothing were certainly a combination that only a handful that had ever really seen before. That handful tended to be the people that lived near her.

After walking another hour or so, finally arriving to the apartment building where she lived, Fiona made her way up the several flights of stairs to her dwelling. She could sense the old woman waiting quietly waiting for her, but begrudgingly allowed her to think she was catching the destrillian by surprise.

“Ah good, the other one decided to show up. Is that a new purse you’re sporting, Miss Myrwind?”

Slowly, #004 turned to face the sour woman, her countenance ready to turn into a snarl at a moment’s notice.

“What of it, hag?”

“Well, you inconsiderate…girl...y-your rent is due! You certainly shouldn’t go around buying new things for yourse--!”

“Would you shut it already?! I can’t stand listening to you!”

Blindly reaching into the bag around her shoulder, Fiona grabbed a handful of money and shoved it at the landlady.

“This should keep your trap shut and you out of our business for a while. Now go back to your hole so I can have some quiet over here.”

Before the fire destrillian could register the twisted look of horror, anger and disgust on Ms. Petrowski’s face, Fiona opened and slammed her apartment door shut. She whispered under her breath.

“Fucking humans.”

Now having the time to catch her breath, #004 took the bag to the shared bedroom and sat on the bare mattress there. Pouring the contents out, Fiona had a satisfied look on her face. The stacks she had taken were hundreds—most likely a private reserve that no one bothered to see was under the table. It really was her lucky day. A couple of months had gone by since the fire prototype was able to get her hands on some good money, let alone a small fortune. This was going to come in handy.

Shoving the cash back into the bag, with a few hundred dollar bills saved in her pocket for her next venture, Fiona threw it all under the mattress. Returning to the living area of the dirty apartment, #004 kicked her way through the garbage littering the floor to the small note left by her only roommate. She almost couldn’t read the horrible hand-writing, but managed to sound it all out.

“Please… buy… s-some… milk.”

There was a pause as she stared at the scrawl with a strange expression.

“Is she serious?”

Dismissing the note without thought, the fire destrillian flung the scrap on the floor with the rest of the junk.

Fiona was celebrating her victory tonight and in a fashion she rarely had an opportunity to do it in: getting wasted. Drinking and getting high were things Fiona was never exposed to before escaping Viola, unless you accounted for the large doses of distrum and other unconventional drugs specially made for destrillians. No, this was a new experience for her when she discovered it—and she certain enjoyed it when she could. There was a place she had heard of the last time she went to a local bar, they called it The Mirage and made it up to be a wonderfully grandiose experience that had everything you could ever want out of a nightclub. The group discussing The Mirage also mentioned how to get there and Fiona easily navigated to just the place. Hell of a time getting there considering she has to sift through the sewers, but she made it with ease all the same. When she entered, it was more than even what she expected.

As soon as the fire prototype walked through the door, all of her senses were assaulted by blood, sex and everything in between. Bright colors contrasted with the dark atmosphere and an earth-shaking bass attacked her eyes and ears. Still, Fiona gladly made her way to a seating area full of lush couches and other people.

She spent the next few hours drinking, smoking and eating multi-colored foods that tasted very different from what she was used to. A crowd also began to form in her area, everyone talking with everyone else. In her drunk and high state, Fiona melded into the crowd—having small talk with some of the more attractive people around her, mutually interested. #004 kept drinking and taking in drugs: body shots off of strangers and doing lines of substances she had never heard of. The music became low hums and the room, a haze. The fire destrillian was completely immersed in her environment. That’s when the vision started to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Lighten up a bit will you? I can’t be the only one you actually talk to around here. One day you might actually have to depend on the other guys, you know? I may not always be around. Fiona, are you listening?”

“Yeah, Ariel.”

“Good, because you being a little nicer wouldn’t hurt and could certainly help you in the long run.”

“I can’t talk to them.”

“And why not, exactly?”

“Because they’re not you, damn it!”

“What’s so special about me?”

It was a conversation that occurred often between the prototypes of sound and fire. Ariel was the only one of her kind that Fiona would be civil with. It was that charm that she retained when dealing with anyone that held #004’s interest. That, and Ariel always offered a warmth Fiona never had, without fail. The warmth the fire destrillian secretly yearned for…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The flashback left Fiona feeling empty. All of the alcohol and drugs she just took in were subdued by the fresh feeling of hollowness that engulfed her. What happened? Why did her life have to end up this way? Looking back, so many things could have turned out differently. Certainly, someone could have stopped Viola from taking her away. Just maybe…

The fire prototype hadn’t realized that she had removed herself from where she had been seated all this time. Before she knew it, she snapped her head up and caught the feeling of an ominous presence nearby. Fiona’s eyes caught a hooded figure in the corner and kept her inebriated sight there for a moment until a large man brutishly bumped into her. In the intoxicated state the destrillian was in, someone harshly bumping into her was hardly the sort of thing that should occur now. Combined with the still-fresh flashback and flood of emotions, a very sensitive trigger was set off in the back of #004’s mind.

She didn’t hear the apology; she didn’t see the concerned faces of the folks around her as she slowly balanced herself as best she could in her loose condition. Fiona could only feel rage. These poor souls were about to get a violent light show.

“This…is all…YOUR…FAULT! ARGH!!”

Nothing could stop her now. In one fluid motion she grabbed the large man’s skull and turned his body to melting flesh and bone. His eyes immediately turned to goo and puss and blood boiled and slowly traversed down what was once solid skin. The Blazing Fury was unleashed.

Screams echoed in throughout the nightclub as the customers started to come to their sense. The smell of burning flesh was a rude sobering scent. Fiona couldn’t hear them.

“ALL OF YOU WILL SUFFER! YOU’RE ALL TO BLAME! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU GOD! DAMN!! HUMANS!!!”

The furniture began to catch fire, the air became thinner, people began to fall to the floor and writhe in agony and even the temperature rose at an alarming rate. A small taste of hell, some would say. Everyone else was panicking; no one knew how to counteract this juggernaut of fire and death.

Fiona, the Blazing Fury, was going wreak havoc until this fresh wave of irrational rage diminished and no human could stop her.
__________________

Last edited by Sheva Alomar; 05/29/2010 at 03:33 PM.
Sheva Alomar is offline  
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