Shackles of the Past

[lawna]

Roman did think Monica looked nice. Not that it mattered, he would have had to take her out tonight even if she looked like a walrus, but it was pleasant to have a pleasant looking person to spend the evening with.

Something else that was rather pleasant was the fact that KG bastard was finally being taken care of. Out of all the people in the universe, he couldn't believe that it was that one! James Zrion, he already had the name memorized. How could such a monster have a name like James?

"I'm sorry by the way. They are all just a little nosey."

Monica's words brought Roman back to what he was supposed to be doing. He did the only natural thing he could think of to deflect her worry, and that was to shrug his shoulders and grin. "It's fine. They didn't beat me up too bad."

'Yet,' Monica couldn't help but think, but kept it to herself. Even after all this time, she really didn't know how far Zrion's protection went. He had been stabbed, shot at, and had otherwise risked his life a number of times for her already. She just kept smiling. "So, where are we going exactly?"

"You weren't listening to me?" Roman said, mock shock in his voice as he put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. Maybe she was ditzy enough he could get all the information out of her pretty easily.

Monica laughed, picking up that easy sarcasm. Zephan and Zrion really had prepared her for this moment. "I'm sorry, I was thinking about something else entirely earlier. Would you please tell me again?"

He told her the name of the restaurant, and Monica recognized it, pleased that it was a medium on her personal 'fancy-o-meter'. Her dad and Zrion had taken her there for the last birthday she had. "I love that place, but we don't go there often. It should be great."

'Not so great on the change I wasn't planning on returning anyway,' Roman thought to himself, the fifty bucks the mission briefer had gave him burning in his wallet. It was sweet that he was being paid to take Monica out. "Yeah it will be." He added with a grin.

And then they were chattering about food, something irrelevant to anything Roman needed to know, but it wasn't like he could just dive right in, questioning her about Zrion. He had told Charlie that he didn't need help coming up with ways to slide in these questions, or how to say them nonchalantly, but now he wasn't one hundred percent confident in himself.

But then Monica laughed at a lame joke he made, and he realized she really didn't have a clue. Who would? They were two young people, having dinner. At a lazy glance, they were on a date. Hopefully that's how Monica would see it, until the curtain finally rose to reveal the full scene, but Roman would have peaced out by that time, and wouldn't suffer any from that, besides a guilty conscious he could shake off.

It was a couple minutes walk, and food couldn't hold it's own as the entire conversation. He had to think of something else. There was something he had been wondering about, from reading the reports surrounding the mission and from meeting Monica's family. There seemed to be one important person missing. If he could get this question across in a polite way, and she answered in a manageable way, the rest of the evening should be a piece of cake.

"So, Monica, I don't mean to pry," Roman started, as there wasn't a round about way he could think of to get around it. "Your father and godfather were there to see us off. Was your mother not able to?"

Monica resisted the urge to bend over with an 'uff', because her surprise at that question made it feel like Roman had physically punched her in the gut.

She supposed it was a valid question. If her mother was still alive, she would have been there, perhaps cutting the men off from their embarrassing behavior. Then again, she may have been worse, the mama bear looking after her only cub. Monica hadn't been able to decide.

She didn't know how to answer that, or if she even should. They were strangers to each other, didn't even know each other's last name, but she finally decided it would be fine. If they did end up more serious, he would hear it anyway.

"My mother passed away, almost ten years ago." Monica said, a little quieter than the volume level they had been talking at. "She died in a Metalhead raid outside of Spargus."

That was not what Roman was expecting, at all, and his heart hurt for his date. He was such a douche for asking, but this was a good test. Asking about the day to day lives of her living family members would be easy compared to this.

He did have to figure out what he was going to say to her though, to sound sympathetic. Which shouldn't be so hard, but if he started to feel for her, he wasn't going to be able to do his mission correctly.

"I'm sorry Monica. I shouldn't have asked."

She shrugged, giving a half-hearted, trembling smile. "It's alright, I can't say I've never asked anything for curiosity's sake."

She looked down at the sidewalk, and tried to make herself upbeat again by thinking of some of the stupidest questions she's indeed asked. The time she had asked Zrion precisely how the neighbor lady and her husband happened to be expecting a baby made her eyes glisten in mischief again, and she was able to walk easily beside Roman again.

An awkward moment, and Roman couldn't afford those if he wanted to continue on with these things. If he would have waited about thirty seconds, Monica would have filled it in, but he was an impatient guy himself.

"So you stay with your dad?" The reports said that she stayed with Zrion, but now that Roman knew Zrion was her godfather, he assumed that he had picked her up at her father's. "The house was nice."

"No, that was Zrion's house. I stay with him, and my dad comes and sees us, or I go and see him, whatever." Monica said, with a shrug. "It was just for the best that way,"

'Hmm, that was interesting. He loves her enough for her to just live in his house. That's going to change. Hopefully with his death.'

Roman's hate sometimes scared him, but it had been so well fostered over the years, and he knew Zrion deserved it. His sister, his best friend, had been killed, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Zrion deserved no mercy, as Arissa had never received any.

They chatted about this and that as they approached and entered the restaurant. They were seated, and by time their dinner arrived, Monica had more or less painted Roman the complete history of her life. She felt in the mood, since she had already spoken about her mom. She skimmed over how she had lived by herself, homeless in the city, because she still felt dirty about that whole period of her life. She did tell how Zrion had found her though, and adopted her. Discovering her eco was also a major part of her tale, and emphasized that it still was, the only exception being that Zephan couldn't teach her much new stuff anymore. She talked about how Marcus had come falling back into her life, and how she felt like she had a family now, even if it was just her and three, somewhat-dysfunctional old guys.

'This girl can talk,' Roman thought to himself, swirling the ice in his cup with his straw. Some of this stuff was really worthless, but interested him nonetheless. Especially her Green Eco. Healers were important in the world, and there should be more of them. Eco like his, Yellow, it really wasn't much but a weapon, something to injure. Better than nothing, he supposed.

Monica did describe how Zrion would leave for weeks at a time sometimes, and that made him mentally furrow his eyebrows. Regular KG's didn't go on adventures. When Roman asked her where he went, Monica paused, shrugged her shoulders, and said she didn't know.

She was either lying, or was starting to smell a rat, so he laid off. Already, instead of seeing a pair of anonymous blue eyes and a head of long, dark hair, Monica Lorenzo was starting to take shape in front of Roman's eyes. She wasn't supposed to be, but he couldn't help it.

She didn't know her guardian was a cold hearted killer. Metalheads were one thing, but Arissa was seven. Roman couldn't believe Zrion's black heart was beating, and warm enough to reach out for Monica. Why Monica was important and Arissa wasn't, Roman wasn't sure, but he was convinced he was right in hating Zrion. Arissa's blood was proof enough.

Finally, Monica came around to asking him about himself, and Roman lied through his teeth. He made up whatever he wanted, and it was safer that way. People were stupid when they left even a bit of their true lives leak through. Roman did have the advantage of not having to remember any of this.

Eventually, they did eat all of their food, and they had been in the restaurant for almost an hour and a half before Roman paid the bill, and left a generous tip, because he recognized the waitress as being someone's wife from one of the Safe Houses.

They left, Roman holding the door open for Monica, which made her smile her gratitude.

The walk home was quitter. Roman felt like he had plenty, he probably didn't need to go out with her again, and he found that to be a shame. Maybe when she was done grieving for her godfather, he could help her pick up the pieces of her heart.

There was a breeze, adding a welcoming break to the summer heat. The sun wasn't quite all the way down, but the street lights were starting to turn on, and the sky was a dark orange and red. With both their stomachs full, they walked in comfortable silence.

When Monica accidentally brushed her hand on his as they walked close together, Roman smiled at her apology and the blush that followed.

'Oh, what the hell, I'm on a date after all.' He ignored her fuss about it and took her hand, brushing her fingertips as he laced their fingers together. He saw her get redder, but was giving a pleased smile, so he left it that way as he walked back his enemy's goddaughter back home.

They made it back without incident, and Roman kept a hold of her hand walking through the gate and walking onto the steps. This was the part he had been most unsure about, what he would say afterward if it had gone well. He supposed... He really didn't know. He stood biting the inside of his cheek, and sighed a silent sigh of relief when Monica started talking.

"That was really fun. Thank you for asking me to have dinner with you."

"You're very welcome Monica," Roman purred. He should probably keep up the pretense. He didn't know exactly what he would need her for after this. "It would be fun to see you again sometime."

"Yeah, it would," Monica said, her heart soaring. He wanted to see her AGAIN. Maybe Zrion and her dad would like him, if he stayed around long enough, and maybe Roman wouldn't get dirty looks EVERY single time he came to the house.

Roman grinned at her excitement, but a ball of tension was forming in his stomach. If they kept it to this one date, it would just seem like a joke, and Roman would be able to shake it off. Two dates though, that seemed to be cruel.

But he couldn't see into the future, so he would follow his gut for now, and that same gut was telling him he should 'seal the deal', so to speak. So, as Monica was looking at him expectantly with the blue eyes he really did want to see again, he kissed her on the mouth, and smiled at Monica's resultant giggle. 'Alright, not the most romantic thing ever, but a giggle is better than nothing.' Roman thought suppressing a laugh of his own now.

Monica really couldn't help laughing into her first kiss, it just felt a little too good to be true. She wouldn't be able to think of a more stereotypical date if her life depended on it, but that was alright with her. Everyone had to start somewhere.

Roman pulled away, and let go of her hand. "Can I come over sometime next week? We can figure out something to do then."

Monica nodded, "That sounds fine."

"Alright, that's good. I should probably be heading home, before it gets too late."

Monica nodded, not really wanting him to have to go so soon, but there really wasn't a reason for him to stay. "Good night Roman."

The way she said it was so sincerely regretful that Roman leaned in and gave her a kiss the bridge of her cheek bone, feeling the warmth from her blush. "Good night Monica."

[Darkjak87]

Marcus and Zrion lasted five minutes trying to read, by the clock. Privately, Zrion thought even that was an accomplishment, given what they had to worry about.

"Okay, I know you're suffering too," Zrion declared. "Any ideas on what we can do until Monica's back and we can lock her in a closet or something?"

"Hmm...Well, we could sing a song?" Marcus suggested, grinning.

Zrion gave him a 'you're stupid' look.

"Okay then...Oh! What about one of those army marching songs?" Marcus suggested.

"No. Wait, that's not a bad idea actually," Zrion said.

"Wait, seriously?" Marcus asked doubtfully. He hadn't actually expected Zrion to agree.

Zrion shrugged. "Why not? We sang them all the time, and it's not like it's a real song."

"Well...Sure, go for it. I'll join in when I get a feel for it."

"Okay, here's one of the favorites from the Wasteland War," he said, clearing his throat.

"For every hundred, we take a thousand!

For every hour, we take a mile!

From wall to nest, coast to coast

We'll stomp the bugs, crush 'em like a roach!

Every day, we raise the stakes

Rolling through, we have what it takes

For every hundred, we take a thousand!

For every hour, we take a mile!

From wall to nest, coast to coast

We'll stomp the bugs, crush 'em like a roach!

We draw the line, and push beyond!

We roll the tanks, and the Metal Heads shake!

We drop the bombs, and make them quake!

We make the charge, and the roaches break!

For every hundred, we take a thousand!

For every hour, we take a mile!

From wall to nest, coast to coast

We'll stomp the bugs, crush 'em like a roach!"

By the end of it, both Zrion and Marcus were openly smiling and laughing, their concerns about Monica all but forgotten. "That felt good," Zrion commented. "I forgot how fun marching songs were. We don't do a lot of them in Special Operations. We do good work, but we lack the same...enthusiasm as the regular army."

"Got any more?" Marcus queried.

Zrion grinned. "A bunch. Here's another one..."

The two continued like this for another two hours, as Zrion turned out to have quite the repertoire committed to memory. By the time 8:30 rolled around, the time had gotten away from them completely.

It was only when they heard the front door open that their thoughts returned to Monica. Exchanging a glance, they both all but ran into the next room to start pumping Monica for details.

Of course, once they actually got there, they came up short when they noticed how happy Monica seemed to be. In fact, she seemed downright smitten.

Not sure if that's good or not... Zrion thought privately. "So...How'd it go?" He asked cautiously.

[lawna]

Monica wasn't surprised that Zrion and her dad basically ran each other over to get to the front door, but was somehow even more surprised they weren't pressing their ears up to the door.

Zrion's question... How could she possibly tell them how she felt right now? She had her first date, with the first boy that had taken interested in her, and she had received her first real kiss.

She couldn't do anything but grin at the floor, but she finally looked up and shrugged. She felt like she couldn't say anything to her 'dads' with Roman's warmth still on her lips and cheek, but she squeezed out a little, "Fine."

She walked passed them both, and they seemed to shirk from her, as if they would catch something.

"Hold on," Marcus demanded as his daughter, his only child was trying to slink back into her room after a date. "Is he going to be back

"He wants to see me again sometime next week." Monica replied.

Marcus rose his eyebrows, and gave Zrion a look. A second date? What were they supposed to do with that?

Roman fell in much the same way, but his content bubble was popped upon seeing the expectant look on Charlie's face. He had paper and a pen on the coffee table, as Roman was supposed to write everything down, before he forgot it.

He sighed, and sat down next to Charlie on the couch. He began to scribble, and drank the sip Charlie offered him from the beer bottle Charlie had been drinking out off.

"How'd it go?" Charlie asked, taking a gulp of his own.

Roman shrugged, knowing better than to tell Charlie anything about his feelings. Roman really wasn't sure how he felt, but he felt like if he hadn't have kissed her tonight, he wouldn't be feeling what he was for Monica.

She was beautiful, Roman wasn't trying to play the 'she's alright' card anymore. She was interested in what he had to say, even if ninety-nine percent of it had been lies, and Monica herself had an interesting story, one that Roman wanted to know, like waiting for the continuation to his bed time story. He couldn't wait to see her again.

And he also couldn't wait for that KG bastard to die. He couldn't find a balance between these two emotions, but he would have to figure this out by himself, most likely at a later date. Right now, this was the most important thing.

He had it written all down, and took another sip of beer, even if it wasn't offered this time.

He reread it, and then faced Charlie. "Do you remember the night Cindy and Arissa were killed?"

Charlie finally looked Roman in the face, taken aback by the question.

He didn't wait for Charlie's answer, obviously he remembered. "It was this one Char. He has to be taken care of."

[Darkjak87]

"Well, I'm glad it worked out," Zrion managed. Idly, he noted that Zephan had emerged from his room, obviously hoping for a show of some sort. Of course, that made Zrion start thinking about actually providing him with one. When a plan began to form, he had to try very hard to suppress a smirk.

I'm going to hell for this one...He thought. Zephan would approve.

Zrion, his expression dead serious, reached up and pressed at his ear, as if his earpiece was in. "This is Zrion to Overwatch, come in Overwatch. Monica is clear of the target, you are cleared for takedown."

The room was silent as the occupants looked at Zrion in stunned silence. Marcus looked conflicted, Monica was horrified, and Zephan's was resigned.

Zrion held their gaze for a full five seconds, before he finally cracked and burst out laughing, nearly collapsing before supporting his weight against the wall. After a few moments of shock, Zephan couldn't help but crack a grin of his own, and much to everyone's surprise, actually joined Zrion in the laughter.

"Okay..." Zephan managed, between chuckles. "You're an ass, but I have to admit, that was a pretty good one."

And here's where I start regretting it, Zrion thought, as he looked at Monica, who was turning a rather angry shade of red at the moment. Still...Totally worth it.

[lawna]

Zrion and Zephan's laugher was obviously not returned by Monica, and even her father's chuckles infuriated her. She was getting tired of these jokes.

There wasn't much a teenage girl in a blue sun dress could do to a seasoned Spec Ops KG, but her anger didn't let her think things through very clearly.

She faced Zrion, stomping up to him, and pushed him square in the chest with her hands. She felt pleased with herself when he was knocked slightly off balanced. "Stop. Trying. To kill. MY BOYFRIEND!"

Marcus' daughter's behavior embarrassed him for a second. She knew better than to act like this, but maybe all this grown up, feminine stuff was going to her head.

He took a hold of his daughter's arm, humor gone from his face. "First of all, I don't know who you think you are trying to put your hands on Zrion like that. Second of all, it was a joke, so you better refind your sense of humor girl. Now, after you apologize to Zrion, you are going to go get ready for bed, understand?"

Monica's mouth was a straight, white line, face red from the scolding she had just received. She clipped out a short apology to Zrion before yanking her arm out of her father's steady grip. Even passing by Zephan's smirking face made her think of kicking his fuzzy little self into the wall, but she bit that thought away. These men, thinking they knew everything and that they could make fun of her. She was getting sick of it.

The next morning, Roman reported to the Mission Briefer to tell him what happened the night before. All of their meetings, this one being no different, had taken place at his family's kitchen table, with his kids screaming over toys in the next room.

He looked Roman over carefully, especially after accusing Zrion of being apart of the Massacre that took place close to ten years ago.

"I have had that man's face burnt into my memory since that night." Roman kept convincing. "He's gone for periods of time, on missions Monica wouldn't tell me about. He's Special Operations."

Byron, the Mission Briefer, looked over Roman's notes again. "I believe you. Even if he isn't, I need to keep this moving up. This guy seems important enough. However, I don't think we are done with Monica yet."

"I don't think I'll get much more out of her." Roman said, not liking the tone Byron was using. "Besides, like you said, that's enough to move up for someone to look at."

"Not what I meant. This little girl, she could make a good Underground operative."

Roman was taken aback, and wanted to straight up decline. Zrion had been the whole reason Roman had joined the Underground, and once he was dead, Roman wondered where his motivation would come from. Probably solely the thought of Arissa, he would avenge his little sister until he saw her again, but... He couldn't drag Monica in. Zrion was like her second father, and he would be dead soon enough.

Byron must have read Roman's silence as a decline, so he added. "She can be convinced. You know why the Underground exists. She has Green Eco, she could solely be our personal healer, get more work if she wanted it. You know it would save eyes and limbs if we had an exclusive healer."

Those thoughts had ran through his head, as soon as he learned she had eco, but he still wasn't sure.

"What if she refuses?" Roman asked. "She's a KG baby."

Byron shrugged. "In the lieu of all the death in her life, I'm sure we can convince her to keep the meeting a secret."

Roman still shook his head. "I don't know."

Byron took his arm. "The last part of your mission. Bring her to Charlie's Safe House. Bonus points if she is recruited."

That sounded like an order if he's ever heard one. "Fine."

That left him trudging up the sidewalk Tuesday afternoon, on his way to Monica's house once again. This time, he wasn't excited, as he didn't know how this would sit with her. Monica was about to be hurt by Zrion's death, and hurt that now she would know Roman had a hand in it.

Byron had been right though, if the right people said the right thing to Monica, he was sure this could have a possibility to smooth out.

He came to the gate, walked through, and knocked on the door. He had to knock a second time before someone came to answer.

[Darkjak87]

The long-standing war with the Metal Heads had hit something of a lull in recent weeks. Even Metal Heads had to take a breather once in a while, so the KG were taking the time to regroup and get more soldiers out into the field. Of course, for Zrion, that meant he had a lot more time off than usual, leaving him with little to do except for housework. Perhaps if he had been away at the time, the situation with Roman might have gone a lot more smoothly for Monica.

As a result, he had been spending most of the day roaming the house with a toolkit, patching up any miniscule dents and dings that he could find but which had previously not really been worth the effort. It was mind-numbing, boring work, but at least it kept him busy.

It was then that he heard someone knocking on the door, and he blinked in surprise. It wasn't often that anyone knocked - Marcus usually just let himself in after Zrion had gotten him a key made.

After a second knock, Zrion stood up and walked over to the door. Opening it revealed Roman, looking as uncomfortable as he had when they'd first met. For some reason, Zrion hadn't really expected to see him without a call first. Of course, while someone dropping in unannounced probably wouldn't have bothered him normally, Zrion was looking for any excuse to justify his dislike.

"Roman," Zrion greeted, somewhat stiffly. "What brings you here? Breaking up with Monica already?" he asked hopefully.

[lawna]

Just seeing his face without being able to strike out at it made Roman grind his teeth. Even though he wasn't being hostile about his feelings, he could tell it wasn't doing him much good. Zrion, perhaps not knowing the reason exactly, could pick up that Roman didn't have a positive attitude toward him.

"Of course not Sir," Roman said, trying to give a humorous smile. "I came by to surprise Monica. Is she here?"

Zrion stiffly nodded, and motioned Roman to step in. He did so, shutting the door behind him. He didn't know what to say exactly, he'd probably just lie about where they were going, and then just take her. This really was about to be an adventure.

When there was a knock on her shut bedroom door, Monica thought for some reason that it could have been Zephan with something to say about eco, but was surprised when it was Zrion, announcing that her 'lover boy' was here to see her.

While she resented Zrion calling Roman her lover boy, she walked passed him and really smiled when she saw that Roman was indeed here. He had said he would see her soon, but to be surprised like this was a real treat.

Roman made sure to hug her tight to him, and accomplished his goal of causing Bastard some discomfort. It was probably a petty injury, but anything he could do didn't seem much.

"Hey," Roman greeted her. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out today."

Barely out of his arms, Monica looked to Zrion. "Can I go?"

[Darkjak87]

Zrion raised an eyebrow at the rather abrupt request as he considered it. Obviously, he was tempted to say no and point out that Roman hadn't given them any warning. On the other hand, he still felt a bit bad about that stunt he'd pulled after Monica's first date, so maybe he should give her a break. He still didn't like Roman, especially since Roman seemed to hate KGs, but in fairness that wasn't an uncommon opinion in the city. In the end, he decided that it was a good time to pick his battles.

"Yeah, you can go," Zrion said reluctantly. "I suppose I don't have to tell you not to do anything stupid, like join the underground or go on a scavenger hunt in the sewer or something. Just be back before it gets dark, alright?"

[lawna]

Monica didn't have to be told twice. She went back to her room to slip a pair of shoes on, and threw a "Bye", over her shoulder to Zrion as she ushered Roman out of the house.

Once out on the sidewalk, and a safe distance from the house (almost to the corner), Monica turned to Roman and asked, "So, what are we doing?"

'Oh, me and a bunch of my friends are just going to knock you out and kidnap you, no biggie.' Roman had to hold back a sigh. He hated this plan. Worse had been done for the sake of a recruitment, but this was Monica. The pretty, talkative Monica, who had already had her shit handed to her when she was young. She hadn't told him her whole story, but after being homeless himself, and only without his parents for a day, he knew Haven wasn't a very nice place. She was on her own for two years, at ten years old. She didn't deserve all this drama, and if she wanted to be oblivious for a while longer, oblivious as long as her decent life was being lived, Roman thought she should be allowed to.

But, the only thing he had in his life was the Underground, and he wanted to do this job. He just wished it didn't have to be Monica.

"I thought we could just walk around. I've missed you since Friday." When was he going to stop lying?

Monica thought she would go from walking on the sidewalk to walking on air. He had missed her? That put a stupid smile on her face that she tried to control, but couldn't. How could this even be happening?

"Yeah, we can walk. We'll find something to do." Walking obviously hadn't been on her agenda, for today, but anyone could bet that it was now.

Roman knew exactly where the guy that was going to take Monica was, and Roman almost wished he was hid closer, so he could get rid of all this pent up anxiety. All that anxiety he had to ignore, and had to cover up with meaningless conversation. Meaningless conversation that was all lies.

He was going to be so happy when this was all over. And here they were, the last alley before the Residential district ended.

Monica hadn't really been paying attention to where they were going, she was just enjoying herself. She loved walking in general, feet hitting pavement and all her muscles moving. She loved talking to Roman, because he listened to her when she spoke, and she listened to him in turn, and they just went back and forth. It might mean nothing right now, but it might someday. Zrion's expression might peel the paint off of all the walls in the house if Monica came home with Roman as her boyfriend, but she supposed he would get used to it eventually.

She barely had that thought thunk when there was suddenly a pair of hands grabbing her from behind, enveloping her in a bear hug. The person brought her off her feet, turned her around, and walked right into the alley.

She initially just squeaked in surprise, and then her Emergency Training that Zrion had drilled into her anytime she would leave the house by herself came to the forefront of her mind: Get attention, hurt as many people as you have to, run.

It seemed so idiotically simple, and the fact that she had been dodging trouble for a while, caused her to half-listened to what the seasoned Guard was saying. But now, she was being straight up attacked, with no warning or provocation.

She tried to scream, but a bunch of cloth was put into her mouth, stifling her, and it almost made her choke. She was trying to make her eyes work, but whoever was behind her, dragging her into the alley, was literally thrashing her around like a rag doll, making her dizzy. Breathing was also on her to do list, as whatever cloth mass in her mouth seemed to be touching her tonsils.

Her arms were included in this bear hug, but she was able to bend them up at the elbow, and her blue-painted fingernails raked and stabbed at the hands keeping the gag in place. She also tried to kick backward, but there was no leverage really, and her sandals didn't do anything.

Her nails did the most damage, and that earned some muttering from the attacker. That damage earned Monica getting more or less rammed into the brick wall of the alley, and the whack she received on her head made her eyes flicker to blackness.

Roman entered the alley to get off of the sidewalk. The plan was that Bruce, the 'kidnapper', would just drag her in, gag her, and hold the chloroformed rag over her nose, until she passed out. Roman was then supposed to check into a safe house across town, confirm, then go back, and then... He shrugged, not caring to think about it now.

Then, Bruce deviated from the plan, and Roman more or less gave Bruce a right hook to the back of the head in turn. That caused the brawny box of rocks to pause.

"You. Were Not. Supposed. To hurt her!" Roman hissed, still trying to be quiet, as a rift in the ranks now would be hard to make their way out of.

Bruce shrugged, and put Monica over his shoulder, similar like one would a have bag of flour. Roman twitched in annoyance, regret, pity, anger? He didn't know, but he did that when he saw the blood dripping down Monica's forehead. She better not have any more damage after they get to the safehouse.

He wasn't supposed to know the route she was being taken, and he wasn't supposed to follow Bruce at all. Roman wanted to, since this ass hole was banging up the merchandise, but Roman had his own orders. He stalked off without another word, wishing he could bet money with someone that he would be at the door when Monica arrived to Charlie's safehouse.

[Darkjak87]

With the house empty and no work to be done, Zrion was bored out of his mind. After Monica had left, he’d started by cleaning his pistol and sharpening his dagger, a process that took under an hour considering how many times he’d done it. With the whole day left to go, Zrion stood up and decided to pick through the house’s limited collection of literature for something to entertain himself with.

He’d scarcely taken two steps before the sound of shattering glass, accompanied by the whizz of a bullet soaring past his head, rudely interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, his training kicked in and Zrion ducked down beneath the windows, moving to the side to ensure he was completely obscured. Looking around, he narrowed his eyes as he saw the burn mark on the wall where the bolt of yellow eco had nearly killed him. Sniper…he realized.

Rather than risk getting his head blown off, Zrion dropped to his stomach and crawled toward the couch, where he quickly grabbed his weapons, thankful he hadn’t gotten around to putting them away. He strapped the pistol to his thigh in the usual spot, and his dagger hung on the opposite side, from his belt.

However, he only had one magazine at the moment, the rest being in his closet near the back of the house, leaving him with only seven bullets. Before he could make a dash for it, he needed to see what he was dealing with.

Zrion pressed himself to the wall next to the far window, his pistol out and aimed safely at the floor. After a few moments, he carefully peered around to see what he was up against. He bit back a curse and pulled back at the sight – a large crowd of people, a couple dozen at least, waited on the other side of the street. It was made up of both men and women, all armed, but lacking a common uniform.

Rebels, Zrion realized with a scowl. What the hell?

When none of the occupants of the house presented themselves, several of them broke off from the main group and began moving toward the front door.

In response, Zrion moved a few feet to the right and took up a position against the wall next to the door. Seeing the potential for an easy kill, he returned his pistol to its holster and instead drew his black dagger. He listened intently as the agents began working on the door, frowning as he tried to figure out what they were doing.

He got his answer a moment later, nearly crapping his pants when an explosion blew the door apart and nearly filled him with splinters. Considering the extent of the damage and the fact that his ears were ringing, it was presumably a military-grade breaching charge.

“That was not what I meant by ‘precision!’” a woman snapped, her accent surprisingly aristocratic.

“There’s less than an inch of wall missing around the whole door, how am I supposed to be more precise than that?” a male rebel argued.

“Both of you, shut up!” A third voice barked, another man. “Get in there and kill that bastard!”

The man’s word obviously carried weight, as one of the rebels immediately stormed in through the entryway, scanning the hallway for enemies. He failed to check behind himself however, and Zrion quickly leaned forward and plunged his dagger into his throat.

Zrion pulled the knife free a moment later as his victim collapsed, the agent’s punctured jugular spraying blood all over his hand and the nearby floor, and quickly ducked back out of sight. The other three rebels were quick to follow after their ill-fated comrade, entering the house barely a second later. Designated assault team, Zrion noted. These guys are pros. Definitely know I’m spec ops, then.

Since he wouldn’t be able to get the drop on them this time, by the time they entered Zrion had already sheathed his bloodied dagger and slipped back into the living room. He might’ve been tough, but a point-blank shot from a scattergun would have torn him in half on the spot, armor or no armor.

“On the right! Someone blow his head off!” the leader shouted.

“Someone can try!” Zrion taunted.

The rebel squad opened fire at Zrion’s retreating back, blasting holes in the wall but missing their mark. The sound of shattering glass alerted him to a new danger as the ones outside started shooting through the windows, one of the bolts nearly taking his head off while he crossed the room. Cursing furiously, Zrion ducked out of the room and retreated deeper into the house.

Since the living room was too exposed, he instead took cover behind the wall on the opposite side, just out of sight of the windows and entry team. After a few agonizingly long seconds, there was a break in fire, and Zrion quickly took advantage.

He swung around the doorframe, pistol ready, and spotted the trio of rebels spreading out as they searched the living room. He took aim at one of the men and opened fired with deadly precision. The first shot missed, but the second tore through one of his cheeks, dropping him like a stone. The woman shouted in alarm, but before she could retaliate Zrion’s third bullet pierced her throat. She died slowly, falling to her knees as she clawed desperately at her ruined neck.

The third rebel fired wildly, and Zrion grunted in pain as the edge of the shot caught him along his hip. Before the rebel could adjust his aim to finish the job, Zrion fired again, the shot taking the rebel in the center of his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

While the final rebel collapsed to the floor, Zrion slipped back into cover, quickly looking himself over to assess the damage. He had been lucky – the shot had only opened a shallow cut along his side. It was bleeding steadily, but wasn’t immediately life threatening. Still hurt like a bitch, though.

Zrion considered taking a few potshots at the rebels outside, but he was quickly relieved of the temptation when they started shooting again. Since he was rather attached to his various body parts and had little faith in the long-term ability of drywall to shield him from searing bolts of yellow eco, he retreated deeper into the house, intending to make his way to his room where he kept the rest of his gear.

However, a loud crunching sound stopped him in his tracks as he neared his destination. There were more agents breaking down the back door, trying to box him in. If he hadn’t already killed the other team, it probably would have worked, too. That was a worrying development – it proved that the rebels were being smart about this, and for obvious reasons, Zrion preferred his enemies to be stupid.

Well, he wasn’t going to wait around this time. Since they probably didn’t know that he’d already killed the other team, they most likely weren’t expecting a pissed off commando waiting for them on the other side. Aiming his pistol, Zrion fired two shots through the door, and a pained cry indicated he had managed a hit on at least one of his assailants.

The crunching stopped and they seemed to back off, but it was quickly replaced by a loud boom as one of the rebels simply blew the door in half with his scattergun. The way cleared, the remaining three members of the assault team charged in, weapons readied.

The two in front immediately opened fire, and Zrion made a break for the nearest open door, avoiding the broad waves of red eco with millimeters to spare. It turned out to be Monica’s room, but he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking before he climbed to his feet and slammed the door closed behind him.

Okay, so there’s three more rebels, all with scatterguns, they know exactly where I am, and I have one bullet left. Fan-freakin’-tastic. So, what are my options? Panic? Already doing that. Eco? He considered that for a moment, before deciding that it was his best (and only) option.

He holstered his pistol and began to draw on his reserves of red eco, his body enveloped by a crimson aura as his muscles strengthened. He extended both arms at chest-level and shaped the energy into a shield around him. He wasn’t as good at it as Zephan, but it was still pretty sturdy. Enough to save his ass, at least.

He was just in time. The agents outside were apparently pissed at him for killing one of their friends, and blew the door off its hinges without so much as a courtesy knock. Zrion’s shield blocked the fragments of the door and what little of the shot made it through, which was fortunate since the shrapnel alone probably would’ve given him some nasty injuries.

I am so freaking tired of those fucking scatterguns! He thought furiously.

“Kill that son of a bitch!” One man screamed in rage, possibly a friend of Zrion’s most recent kill.

“Better assassins than you have tried!” Zrion shouted back.

Keeping his shield up, Zrion charged into the group, knocking all of the rebels to the floor and reentering the hallway. Before they could recover, Zrion lowered the shield and bent down to slam his fist into one man’s face, caving it in and killing him instantly.

Normally a hit like that would have broken half the bones in his hand, but one of the nice things about red eco was that it didn’t just make you stronger; it also reinforced your bones and tissue by an equal amount, making you more resistant to damage. After all, increased strength wouldn’t be very useful if you broke every bone in your arm trying to use it.

Without missing a beat, Zrion spun around to face his next opponent, who was just climbing back to his feet. Still glowing furiously with red eco, Zrion delivered a vicious kick to his midsection. The strength of the blow caused the rebel to immediately empty the contents of his stomach, and collapse a moment later, clutching desperately at his abdomen while he screamed in pain.

A battle cry alerted him to the remaining member of the group, and he twisted back around just in time to catch her arm by the wrist as she plunged a knife toward his face. It stopped inches away from him, but between his natural strength and the red eco coursing through his veins, Zrion easily held her in place.

“Just die!” She screamed, eyes burning with hatred.

“Go to hell!” He spat. With a burst of red eco, he shoved her away, the knife sliding away as she landed squarely on her back. Zrion allowed his red eco to fade as he drew his dagger, moving swiftly to stand over her. Before she could recover, Zrion bent down and slit her throat.

The deed done, he stood back up and turned toward the final member of the entry team. He was currently curled up on the floor coughing up copious amounts of blood, and probably in a lot of pain too, if his agonized screaming was anything to go by. The massive indentation in his abdomen showed quite clearly where Zrion had kicked him, a blow that had broken every single one of the man’s ribs, and probably burst most of his organs too.

Zrion was brutal when he needed to be, but he wasn’t cruel. There was nothing that could be done for the man, so the least he could do was put him out of his misery. The red eco receded from Zrion’s body, and an equally intense yellow one took its place. Zrion stood over the man, extended his glowing arm, and a thin lance of yellow eco pierced his head, killing him instantly.

The house fell quiet, the rebels outside unsure if their entry teams had succeeded. They would wait until their comrades failed to emerge, and until then, Zrion had time to prepare.

As he allowed his eco to slip away entirely, Zephan made his first appearance. Zrion had no idea where he’d been hiding, but assumed he’d been playing it safe until the shooting stopped. After all, the ottsel wasn’t built for a heavyweight fight like this.

“Zrion!” He yelled. “What the hell is happening?”

“There was a spider,” Zrion deadpanned. “It’s gone now.”

“Oh, of course,” Zephan said sarcastically. “What is it really? Rebels?”

“Yep. There’s more outside too, and my charm doesn’t seem to be winning them over, so feel free to make yourself useful.”

“Speaking of which, are you alright? You look like an axe murderer,” Zephan pointed out.

Zrion glanced down, seeing that the ottsel was correct. His right hand up to the wrist was completely covered in blood, with smaller amounts splattered across his face and torso. The sight made him want to vomit, but it wasn’t like he had time to wash it off with rebels kicking down the door.

“Most of it isn’t mine,” Zrion explained, wiping his hand on his pants leg. “I do have a scratch on my hip that’s still bleeding, though. Think you can handle it?”

Zephan gave him his trademarked ‘you’re stupid’ look before walking up and lifting Zrion’s blood-soaked shirt. He pressed one of his furred hands to the cut, and in rapid succession there was flare of green light, a warm feeling, and finally a pleasant cooling sensation.

While looking him over, Zephan noticed that the back of his shirt was soaked too. After asking Zrion to lift it up, Zephan found another gash, stretching almost from one side to the other. “There’s another one on your back,” Zephan told him. “Looks like you caught the edge of a scattergun blast. Give me a minute.”

Zrion frowned while Zephan worked. He hadn’t even felt that one until the ottsel had pointed it out. Must have been the adrenaline. It was fortunate that Zephan had caught it, since it seemed to be bleeding quite rapidly.

“There, done,” Zephan announced, allowing Zrion to lower his ruined shirt. The ottsel didn’t even seem to be winded.

Zrion flexed his muscles experimentally, nodding his approval when there was no pain. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem. Anyway, I’d prefer not to be shot and mounted on someone’s mantle, so do me a favor and keep them away from me, would you?” Zephan asked wryly.

“Fine, fine. But before they figure out that their assault team failed, do me a favor and move some of the furniture in the living room to block the front door. It sort of doesn’t exist anymore.”

“On it,” Zephan grunted, eyes and hands glowing as he made his way to the living room.

“When you’re done with that, watch my back. Throw up a shield and hold them back if they try to flank us again. I’ll keep them pinned down out front,” Zrion called after him.

While Zephan was shifting the furniture into a makeshift barricade at the door, Zrion retrieved his assault rifle and began stocking up on ammo. From what he’d seen through the front window earlier, he would be needing it. He briefly considered going for his armor too, but doubted that he had time to get it on before the next wave. He supposed he’d just have to settle for not getting shot. Always a challenge in his line of work.

Once he’d finished equipping himself, he began to assist Zephan in fortifying the house. He decided to make a second barricade about halfway down the hall, so he’d have some cover if they managed to get past where the front door used to be.

He started by hauling the kitchen table into the hallway and turned it on its side to face the front door, inwardly thankful that it was a sturdy oak piece rather than a cheap plastic one. He added some additional protection by dragging the couch from the living room in front of it, which would hopefully help absorb some of the bullets that would be coming his way.

When Zephan was done, the lower half of the front door had been blocked with a thick wooden dresser and several overturned kitchen chairs, forcing any rebels trying to gain entry to expose themselves to Zrion while attempting to climb over it. Zrion found himself entertaining the idea of putting a few bear traps on the floor underneath for when the rebels climbed over, but unfortunately he didn’t have any on hand.

He completed his work by dragging the dresser from Monica’s room to block the other side, giving him some cover from both entrances. It wouldn’t do any miracles, but it was certainly better than nothing.

After Zephan was done, he joined Zrion in his makeshift fort and prepared himself to raise a shield. In theory, if another group came through the back door, Zephan would hold them off long enough for Zrion to deal with the ones in front first.

It helped that their house was surprisingly defensible. It consisted of a single main hallway that lead from the front door to the back and connected the rooms together, making it a chokepoint. The rebels’ failure to kill him in their initial attack would cost them dearly. As long as Zrion controlled this hallway, any attack would be a costly frontal assault, and with Zephan blocking the back door with his shield, they wouldn’t be able to flank him either. Even if they succeeded in killing him, Zrion would make sure that their victory was hollow.