Futuristic Give Me Your Best Shot

[PixelSymphony]

Valeria de Alma

~~~​

Few stars shone in the night sky, the majority of their twinkling bodies washed out by the sheer behemoth of light pollution that was the city below. Plastered atop the rooftops of skyscrapers and even on occasion projected into the very night sky were signs and icons advertising all myriad of services available for the discerning individual, for the right price of course. Trains rushed by on elevated tracks, sending rhythmic clatters into the air at every plasma welded junction of rail, while underneath, cars and pedestrians wandered roughshod about the surface, the nominal borders of their respective roads and sidewalks proving mostly notional at the busiest intersections. Stores hawked their wares through video screens and audio announcements, drawing crowds to see what the newest piece of consumer gear could be purchased for the week, while elsewhere, crooked, cramped alleyways hide the presence of less than salacious affairs taking place, their business cloaked in the long shadows cast by the buildings overhead. Concrete, asphalt, and steel seemed to stretch forever onward in this testament both to mankind’s capabilities, leaving little room for what once might be considered natural to grow but in the cracks and fissures between. And in the middle of this municipal monolith, this megacity of Mammon, stood a young woman who went by Val, smoking the rapidly dwindling remains of a cigarette and wondering what it all meant in the end.

​

Clad in proper shirt, tie and waistcoat, she was the very image of the dapper publican, and indeed, as she tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with her heel, she turned to return back to her job as bartender at The Crossroads, an eclectic bar mixing both traditional and futuristic decor. Neon tubing and LEDs ran over a bar of mahogany and oak, and the jukebox in the corner pulsed with music best described as electronic jazz. Settling behind the bar again, the young woman took a quick look at the checklist she’d made earlier of items she needed to restock; the previous night had been oddly busy what with a bachelor party having crashed the premises with no warning. She was happy for the moment of respite the current night seemed to consist of; so far she’d only had to make three drinks and pull a number of draughts. And yet, I can’t help but get the feeling I’m not going to get off easy tonight... why is that? Shaking the thought from her head, she grabbed a plastic crate and headed into the backroom to begin stockpiling the front back up.

She had just returned to the front of house, the swinging doors still rebounding with a whoosh-whoosh when she heard the doors open. She dashed over with the crate back to the bar and roughly set it down in order to prepare herself to receive the incoming patron.

“Welcome to the Crossroads, wanderer. Can I get you a drink?”

 

[Aron the Aron]

[ The Crossroads Bar - Mammon District #05 ]
[ 01:46:12 ]​

---

The stranger could feel the weight of her heavy jacket shift around on her shoulders as she let the doors close behind her, barely paying the bartender attention in favor of looking around the bar all around her. It was the kind of bar that tugged at the strings of nostalgia, scarred by the bits of modern technology that was endemic among the megastructures and neon signs. The faint smell of mass-produced nicotine and liquor of varying qualities and pricetags was hard to miss when she opened the door and beheld smooth mahogany and worn leather; it was the same kind of art-deco style that rich billionaires often harkened back to in their homes and offices; as if trying to match the glory of the roaring 20's or the glorious 50's...

To someone like her, it felt like nothing.

“Welcome to the Crossroads, wanderer. Can I get you a drink?”​

"..." Dead grey eyes shot towards Valeria's own, boring into her with a blankness that matched the thin line her lips formed. She didn't grace the bartender with any emotion, only blinking blankly at the greeting before she strode away from the door and made for an empty stool at the bar. The only sounds indicating her tangibility were the eventual squeak and creak of the leather stool when she finally sat down.

"... Gin and Tonic, whatever's your best." The stranger's voice was husky and deep, the accent of smokiness appropriately accompanying the light smell of cigarette smoke. Sadly she didn't seem much for conversation, only drumming her gloved fingers against the polished and lacquered wood with a free hand whilst her gaze was fixated out the nearest window.

Perhaps it was a good thing her gaze wasn't on Valeria... The sensation of danger and mystery in the stranger's eyes screamed out to the Demon's heightened senses, like as though she were trapped with a wild animal ready to devour her.

 

[PixelSymphony]

Name: Valeria de Alma
Location: The Crossroads Bar - Mammon District #05
Local time: 01:52:19

~~~​

Val failed to immediately reply, her eyes scanning over the gray clad woman in front of her. The demoness had survived for a long time through relying on her ability to get a feel for a person on first glance, but for this girl, she may as well have been staring into a fog cloud. A blank expression matched her blank palette, the monochrome ensemble she wore ceding absolutely no hints as to who she was or what she did. At best, she was a professional of some variety, owing to her necktie and well-tailored shirt, but whether that meant she was a secretary or a professional assassin, Val was none the wiser. It wasn't until she caught a glimpse of her eyes that the needle shifted far towards the latter, the immediate sensation of do not fuck with this girl sending shivers up her spine; those slate gray eyes held a hardness like honed steel that Val had not seen in some time, and it took all of her composure to remain cogent enough to continue speaking. "Very well. I hope you are all right with Hendricks?" she asked, more out of courtesy than genuine inquiry as she was already moving to make the drink.

Into a highball glace went three nearly transparent cubes, filling the glass to the top but leaving enough room for the drink proper. Val measured out two ounces of gin into a jigger and carefully poured it down into the glass, before following it with a solid four ounces of tonic water straight from a bottle in the fridge. Reaching for a long metal bar spoon with a twisted handle, she gently plunged it down the side of the glass and began to stir, her fingers deftly manipulating the bowl of the spoon such that it faced outwards at all times. Deeming the drink mixes, she extricated the spoon with a single pull and tossed it into the sink, reaching for a lime in the same motion and bringing it hence. With blade seeming to flash through the air, wheels of the emerald fruit emerged in rapid succession, two of them making their way onto the gin and tonic as she slid the drink over to the stoic girl, presenting it in a pleasant, feminine tone.

"Your gin and tonic, Miss...?"

 

[Aron the Aron]

"Your gin and tonic, Miss...?"

"... Asriel" The woman replied, not bothering to look up at Valeria as she grasped the glass with her gloved hand. The way she smoothly brought the glass to her lips was urbane in many ways, but the way she didn't react or even emote when the cocktail went down her throat was nearly uncivilized, as though she was guzzling a can of cheap beer instead of a fine cocktail. She certainly had a strong palate if she was able to down half the glass in one go, gently setting it down to the side.

"... Not bad for a Demon."

The silence that followed deafened the world around Valeria, blotting out any sense of peace that could've done from an otherwise quiet night...

​

... and the bar itself felt ten degrees colder when the stranger's eyes turned up to look her dead-on.

"... Don't bother reaching for the panic button under the bar."

 

[PixelSymphony]

Val's nodded. "-Miss Asriel." Something about the name bothered her, but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Asriel... Asriel... She watched the girl put down half the drink in a single long slug and raised her brow in acknowledgement, impressed, but still preoccupied with her thoughts. That ending... something about it... It almost felt like some piece of information buried deep in her memories was crying out to be remembered, but just at that moment-

"... Not bad for a Demon."

The instant the D word came out, Val's thoughts vaporized and a cold sweat began to run down her spine. Between that stare and her subsequent remark, Val knew that this girl was here on Business with a capital B, and her target was none other than yours truly. But why? For the past several years, she'd barely done anything more out of line than park her motorcycle in the fire lane of a convenience store during a late night ramen run. Who in the world was both someone she had crossed in the past, AND had enough money to send someone after her?

The rest of the bar could tell something was up at this point, and in almost hilariously coordinated fashion, filed out of the front doors of the bar post haste, leaving the two stark haired women to stare at each other. Val sighed, her gaze falling downwards as she carefully and slowly folded her hands the bar together, signifying her decision not to act. "To be honest, I don't even know if anybody would come if I pressed it. Police response in this district isn't exactly particularly speedy, as I'm sure you've researched in this case. Well, what will it be then?" She said, in an ironic echo of her first statement when Asriel had entered. "Are you here for the till? To steal our liquor selection?" She gave a feigned laugh. "Of course not, you've already signified I'm the object of your desire, and how could I blame you? Tell me though... why?"

 

[Aron the Aron]

"To be honest, I don't even know if anybody would come if I pressed it. Police response in this district isn't exactly particularly speedy, as I'm sure you've researched in this case. Well, what will it be then?" She said, in an ironic echo of her first statement when Asriel had entered. "Are you here for the till? To steal our liquor selection?" She gave a feigned laugh. "Of course not, you've already signified I'm the object of your desire, and how could I blame you? Tell me though... why?"

"Why indeed." Asriel was deathly still with her gaze still fixated on Valeria's eyes, only switching to look at the Demoness' hands to make sure she hadn't reached for anything before returning to her eyes. This Demon... was a lot more defenseless than the ones she typically chased and hunted down, the look in her eyes could almost be mistaken for resignation if she wasn't looking deep enough.

With her right hand still hidden under the table from Valeria's point of view (although it was more than obvious that Asriel had a weapon ready to be drawn), the monochrome woman reached into the inner face of her jacket, before withdrawing and throwing a small assortment onto the table. Papers, photos (many of Valeria), and likely God knew what else all loosely foldered with a paperclip binding everything together. The woman, Asriel, pointed to one photo in particular though...

It was a corpse, one Valeria likely didn't recognize. The head had been fully perforated, with brain matter and blood splattering the wall it was slumped against.

"Someone wanted you dead..."

---

[ Unknown Location ]
[ 127 minutes ago ]​

"700,000 for her head."

The apartment she was meeting the potential client in was, for lack of better vocabulary, generic. The furniture was as empty and unimaginative as the Demon standing across from her, nervously tapping his fingers together as Asriel pretended to mull over the photos and dossiers she had been given. "You're offering a lot for some bumfuck bartender in a speakeasy."

The poorly-disguised Demon flexed his fingers, likely as a reflex reaction. "She's a Demon you know! You hunt demons, right? You'll accept the contract and kill her, right!? She has to die!" The Demon asking was not at all subtle about his eagerness to see the girl dead, his eyes almost sparkled when Asriel tucked the paper and photos away in her jacket.

"I-Is that a yes! Oh thank God, I thought that yo-"

*BANG*

​

A real shame that there were so many Angels and Demons who never get the memo that the mercenary schtick was a front...

---

"... and I want to know who and why."

 

[PixelSymphony]

Name: Valeria de Alma
Location: The Crossroads Bar - Mammon District #05
Local time: 02:12:48

~~~​

As the documents spilled out onto the bar's surface, Val's eyes swung downward to inspect them, her eyes going wide. If previously she'd been curious as to Asriel's purpose, now she was befuddled. "What... what the... how did-" Glancing between them and she who presented them, the demoness reached out to pick up the photographs, astounded at their sharpness despite the incredible distance they must have been taken from given the hallmarks of lens distortion. "... these were taken by satellite. They have to be, all of these angles would be impossible otherwise." Setting the photos aside, she picked up the informational papers, her eyes scanning over the collected intelligence in dismay. "Work shifts, travel routes, even the damn noodle bars I frequent. There's enough info in here to track me straight across the globe, which explains how you found this place," she remarked, setting the printed sheets down. "But this still doesn't answer the prime question of who exactly it is that asked you to do the deed."

She finally picked up the post-mortem photograph and studied it, the gore and viscera making her frown but failing to deter her critical eye. "I can't say I know this man. I tend to keep to myself other than standard barkeeping practices, truth be told. Tends to muddy the waters in terms of tipping otherwise." A hand moved to cup her chin in contemplation as she continued to ponder. "Which makes the fact that this berk was the one who sent you after me ever stranger. Were you another sort I'd think you were lying to me for some reason, but I get the feeling that isn't the case." Her faced screwed up in intense thought as she tried to puzzle this mystery through. None of this makes sense. Someone who's got the resources to dig up this kind of intel and the power to order a hit but doesn't have a guard watching their back? Or at least knows the game well enough not to get shot in the face? How would this happen? Unless...

Realization hit Val like a brick in the face. Unless he's not the real client. A proxy for a shadow client, but then that begs the question of who would be so focused on hiding their identity to be willing to go through with-

-oh... oh no. It's them.

The Order.

​

"Tell me, Miss Asriel, what do you know of the religion of the Creator?"

 

[Aron the Aron]

"Tell me, Miss Asriel: what do you know of the religion of the Creator?"

"I know enough." The response was as simple as it was blunt out of Asriel, who appeared not at all concerned by the mention of the Order. Instead, she pulled out a box of cigarettes with one hand, while the other patted herself down for something else, likely a lighter. "A group that large tries to put their finger in every pie there is, hard to not the power to act via proxies..."

Finally, Asriel found what she had been looking for after feeling her back pocket: a worn old lighter that appropriately matched its owner's lifeless color palette. Scratches and scuffs garishly laid all over its dull gunmetal finish, and the classic wheel-flint took more than a few tries to get a sputtering flame going. From Valerie's observations: the old lighter saw plenty of adventure throughout its life, one that saw love and abuse from its owner...

"... You seem excited to talk about this group anyways though... Go ahead: may as well entertain the both of us."

 

[PixelSymphony]

Val's eyes narrowed in on the lighter. Worn out flint. Scratched exterior. I was right, she's been at this for a while... She nodded along with Asriel's remarks. "I wouldn't quite say excited. Trust me, I'd rather never cross paths with them again, but alas, fate seems to conspire against me... or rather, I should say the Order does." She sighed, then turned to walk towards the back shelves. "I dare say I will need a drink to get through all of this. Shoot me if you distrust me, but this is not a minor affair, to say the least." Tucked behind the various liquors on offer, an unmarked bottle of brown liquor made its way into her outstretched hands with little decorum. Two crystal clear ice cubes went into a squat glass, clinking against the edge before falling to rest still inside their glass confines. As she returned to the counter, the brown liquor revealed its identity as she poured it out, the hints of oak and leather identifying her sin of choice as old reliable whiskey.

"So, anyway, it sounds like you're more than familiar with the Church of the Creator," Val let out with a note of commiseration. "In that case, you shouldn't be surprised that certain subsets of it chose to defend their faith in a manner somewhat more... militant. Formed by papal decree, and branded the Order of the Inquisition, the Order is... was granted the task of rooting out heretical actions against the church, and dealing with them in accordance to ecclesiastic doctrine. 'The flame that burns away the wickedness of mankind'," she seemed to quote, before giving a dark laugh. "The one thing nobody ever tells you is how quickly a fire can spread if uncontrolled. What began first as a defense of the sanctity of the creator quickly spiraled into an all-out shadow campaign against anyone who dared oppose the Order's leader, the Archbishop of Excelious. Countless were swiftly and silently removed from existence under dubious accusations of heresy and witchcraft, and for a long time it looked certain that the world could not stand against the rising tide of hidden power this Archbishop held."

"But then something no one could have predicted happened," Val's continued as she moved to the far end of the bar to stare out the window, and she seemed to then speak as if recalling the event. "... a massive report exposing every single action the archbishop had taken was leaked to every law enforcement agency and every news agency. Secret bank accounts, assassination orders, surveillance reports, everything was in there, everything to send him away for a million years. Soon after, the archbishop was found dead in his office, with a single gunshot in his head."

"After that, the Order splintered, with various regional heads chosing to either continue their dark missions on their own, or otherwise fading into society, never to be found. The reason I bring all this up is because what I am now completely certain that the group who hired you is one of these splinter cells." She picked up the photo of the man with the bloody face and tossed it over. "Unfortunately, I suspect there are far more behind whoever this was that you killed. The Order prides itself in subterfuge, and as you said, very likely used this demon as a proxy to get you to come after me. Honestly, you probably did them a favor by shooting him, by tying up a loose end."

 

[Aron the Aron]

"But then something no one could have predicted happened," Val's continued as she moved to the far end of the bar to stare out the window, and she seemed to then speak as if recalling the event. "... a massive report exposing every single action the archbishop had taken was leaked to every law enforcement agency and every news agency. Secret bank accounts, assassination orders, surveillance reports, everything was in there, everything to send him away for a million years. Soon after, the archbishop was found dead in his office, with a single gunshot in his head."

The ghost of a grin on Asriel's face was so easily missable behind the cheap cigarette; it was the kind of curve on her lips that people only had when they knew something the other didn't. Unfortunately for Valeria, she'd never get the chance to notice and ask; the smile was quickly schooled back into a frown that better complemented the tired grey lustre of her eyes and hair.

"After that, the Order splintered, with various regional heads chosing to either continue their dark missions on their own, or otherwise fading into society, never to be found. The reason I bring all this up is because what I am now completely certain that the group who hired you is one of these splinter cells." She picked up the photo of the man with the bloody face and tossed it over. "Unfortunately, I suspect there are far more behind whoever this was that you killed. The Order prides itself in subterfuge, and as you said, very likely used this demon as a proxy to get you to come after me. Honestly, you probably did them a favor by shooting him, by tying up a loose end."

The way Asriel leisurely puffed a cloud of cheap smoke from her mouth spoke volumes as to her opinions on the organization that was crossing paths with her and Valeria. Nobody could behave that lackadaisically without good reason; nobody could be that confident about their place in the food chain unless they were close to the top. If Asriel's uncaring attitude regarding the Order was anything to go by, she had history with them... enough history to consider them a non-threat to her.

"Spend long enough in the dark, and you'll forget that there's always something bigger and scarier in there with you." Another puff of smoke, and the scent of cheap nicotine was now nauseatingly mixed with the dry smell of liquor and spirits. How fitting that Valeria's small bar had become so unfamiliar and frightening with the lone stranger suffocating its atmosphere. "I've spent long enough here, and I've got work to do."

The glass of mostly-finished gin had gathered a pool of condensation underneath when Asriel slapped down a fat wad of worn plastic bills. The faded ink of the old currency was a near-foreign concept in an age of digital currencies and chit cards, another relic of a bygone era that the monochrome woman seemed to be chock-full of.

"Stay out of trouble, and don't do anything to make me visit. You'll live a long life that way."

 

[PixelSymphony]

The bartender watched as this girl puffed away on her cigarette, registering next to no fear at the organization she was dealing with even as Val was entirely too familiar with the wave death and destruction that tended to follow in their wake. This girl, who is she? "Very well then, I'll wish you the best of luck then. Just don't forget that saying cuts both ways." She scooped up the thick roll of bills, counting through them and sliding them into the appropriate trays in her register; assuming she was leaving the rest as a tip, which given the fact she was already standing up to go, meant that she certainly wasn't hurting for money. Either the whole mercenary gig paid better than she thought or something else was going on. In fact, she'd been getting weird vibes the whole time, more than just the situation itself, almost like this girl's presence itself was weaponized.

Wait a sec, Asriel...

As-riel...

-iel. I know that suffix! that's used for-

She closed the cash register with a clunk. "I can only promise one of those two, I'm afraid, Miss Angel." She bowed demurely.

 

[Aron the Aron]

Valeria closed the cash register with a clunk. "I can only promise one of those two, I'm afraid, Miss Angel." She bowed demurely.

"Angel"; now that was a title she hadn't heard in literal ages. Once upon a time that title meant something to her; maybe she once had been an angel way back when. Nowadays? Such a moniker no longer applied to her. Being an Angel stopped meaning anything to her when she fell to Earth... when she saw Heaven and Hell run red with blood.

... She couldn't let such a small thing distract her.

Without another word, the Angel left through the same door she entered minutes before, taking the oppressive air of looming dread with her absence. The Crossroads Bar felt a whole lot better without such a dangerous individual within its four walls, but any hope of resuming the night as if nothing happened was impossible. All of Valeria's guests and customers, regular and irregular alike, had all left the moment "Asriel" walked in...

That Angel... "Asriel"... It was obvious that the Angel was far older than her apparent age implied. Only someone who'd lived for eons could look that tired of everything, and not care about the world around them. It was the kind of attitude that someone could only get when they've seen everything life could throw at them, and something niggled in the back of Valeria's head. Perhaps this "Asriel" woman did see everything... maybe she saw everything and more...

Meanwhile, with our Fallen Archangel...

Recipient

me

Nic, it's me

them

Eh?

them

I'm still waiting on the replacement gas cylinders for your old handgun Sar

them

Vintage shit's rare and expensive

me

I don't care. I need a compact and 3 boxes of 9mm. Tonight.

them

What?

---

[ 71st St. - Mammon District #05 ]
[ 03:22:04 ]​

The more things changed, the more things stayed the same...

The starless night sky above had long become a faint memory in the collective mind of the average citizen; the bright and sterile lights of LEDs and neon had long conquered the night sky for its people. For most, this meant that the city never truly slept. For Sariel, it meant there was always people out and about... It meant there were always rogue Fallen Angels and Demons making a mess of Earth, murdering humans as collateral damage in their endless feuds, or simply killing for the tasteless sake of killing. It meant she would never know peace until she eventually became another victim of the shadowy wars humanity were unaware of.

Sariel would never admit it, but she missed the serenity that came with the beauty of a starlit night.

Brightly illuminated in hues of whites, blues, and pinks, the monochrome Angel slinked down half-empty sidewalks on her lonely walk. She was the epitome of "ghostly", being such a colorless presence that attention seemed to just slide off of her. It was appropriate given the average human's choice of wearing the same drab monochrome tones, or some variation of blue, brown, or the rare exotic color; she blended in perfectly amidst the colors as she marched down with intent.

That bartender... that demon... the Order wanted all the demons in the city dead. Even the ones minding their own business and causing no trouble were being targeted, and Sariel had a problem when large and shadowy groups try to rope her into conflicts she has no business being a part of. She had long thought that putting a bullet through the Archbishop's forehead would cause the Order to implode in on itself like other big organizations; unfortunately the Order proved too troublesome and stubborn to let a single death stop it from being a thorn in her side... She should've just wiped the entire Order off the face of the planet when she had the opportunity.

... Well, it was better late than never. She'd do things properly this time, and clean up the mess she unintentionally created.

But first, she had guns to collect...

 

[PixelSymphony]

Without another word, the Angel left through the same door she entered minutes before, taking the oppressive air of looming dread with her absence. The Crossroads Bar felt a whole lot better without such a dangerous individual within its four walls, but any hope of resuming the night as if nothing happened was impossible.

As Asriel slowly stalked back through the door whence she came, Val risked a glance upwards at her retreating form. No reaction. Girl's got ice running through her veins. The air cleared as the door closed, and Val let loose a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding as a long sigh. "Guess there goes the rest of the night. Doubt anybody's going to want to wet their whistle after that," she grumbled to herself, pouring a second glass of the unmarked bottle. So now what? Angel girl didn't whack you, which honestly is a bit surprising, but it's clear that she's got some beef with the Order and she's not going to stop until it's been put to rest. Which, to be honest, I'm inclined to allow occur unhindered and send a gift basket, but there are too many question marks floating around to leave it at that. She tilted the glass upwards, pouring alcohol through a frown as she mulled over her options. Finding out anything about her electronically is a non-starter if she's the kind to always pay in cash, and nosing around every haunt I can find is a good way to get my head bashed in. She tapped her chin, continuing her thoughts as she swirled the liquor in its glass. Ironically, since the Order were the one who tracked this angel down, they're probably the best source of info as presumably they had collect enough to be able to get in touch with her. I mean, they wouldn't just randomly pick some random off the streets to come after me, I hope. But there's no way I'd be able to get access to their servers considering they airgap those and guard them with their lives-

Her eyes opened in sudden realization. -which Asriel intends to end with extreme prejudice. Yes... yes, okay! I think I can work with this; gonna need to step up the surveillance sweeps for OoI activity, but the instant angel girl starts shooting up a nest their 'net is gonna flare up like a toaster with a fork in it. She glanced at her watch and again at the empty bar. "All right, I'd better clean up and close for the night; this is gonna take some time..." A hand absentmindedly reached out to the smoldering ashtray near her to pick up one of the discard cigarettes, bringing it to her lips to inhale before she immediately burst out hacking and coughing. Creator ABOVE those are bad...


----

​

Mammon City - 21st st, District #3 - Lower Warrens​

Val's apartment was astonishingly unremarkable in its decor: dingy plaster walls, utilitarian scuffed carpet, ripped vinyl blinds. Formica countertops worn partially through formed the majority of her kitchen counter space, while a worn, half broken coffee table acted both as her main storage spot for her mail and the dining spot of the apartment, the remains of several bowls of ramen a testament to the latter. Deeper in, past the ancient TV with its withered aerial and the bathroom that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the last municipal administration, lay the true purpose of the apartment; the bedroom.



More than merely a rest space for Val (though there was certainly no discounting the ability to just shut ones brain off for a bit), this was also the resting place of her analytic computing cluster, the dizzying array of electronic devices that kept her finger on the pulse of Mammon. When Asriel had first presented herself Val had been astounded how she had never caught whim nor whiff of her; now that it was evident the Order were involved she knew she was going to have to re-calibrate her sweeps. The Order, despite having been effectively the clandestine intelligence arm of the Church, operated by a rigid set of rules which included the encryption patterns used, fashioned by the archbishop to ensure all operations were to his preferences. Now, with the central structure of the organization shattered, each individual cell was operating as their own copy, which meant that while she could still track their activity from their signatures on the net, actually being able to decode it was out of the question. But again, that was okay; she just needed to know when there was an uptick in activity.

Hauling a keyboard out from under a pile of circuit boards, Val began to change her network sweep configurations. Various other gangs, groups, and organization's activity would just have to be left unwatched for the moment; the Order needed maximum attention now. Like an organist at high mass, her fingers swept and moved over her keyboard, the staccato of her typing intersperse by the gunshot cracks of her spacebar. Algorithms came to life under her watchful eyes, and before long, she had a new program ready to run. With a final keystroke, her virtual watchdog launched itself onto the net, and disappeared into the noise. Now all that was left was to wait.

 

[Aron the Aron]

The first hour of waiting obviously produced no results, no matter how frequently Val could check the time or busied herself with some other activity. The little clock widget sitting in the corner of her screens happily informed her of the minute time that'd passed every time the Demon checked, the only indication that time was even passing being the endless updates of information being parsed, sorted, and filed away by her surveillance program.

The second hour still produced nothing in terms of results; the repurposed-remnants of the Order's once-extensive network still chirped away with data packets bent sent and received, all under a watchful eye.

Meanwhile, with our Fallen Archangel...

[ Apt. 604 - #1034 Frontier Ave. - Mammon District #03 ]
[ 05:50:36 ]

​

And now: back to Valenia two hours later...
The third and fourth hour coming and going without any activity spike was when things started to feel... odd. The faint tint of pink in the night sky meant the morning hour was encroaching on Mammon City, and it seemed like Asriel hadn't kicked the nest yet. How strange... Surely the angel would've made a wave somewhere, but no: the closest server hub controlled by an Inquisition splinter group had been dead silent... not sending or receiving data...

 

[PixelSymphony]

Valeria’s eyes began to crust over as she intently stared at her computer screen, eyes hardly blinking so focused was she on monitoring and analyzing the network patterns being presented in front of her as a pattern of waves and colors. I don’t understand... it’s been four hours now; the way she stormed out of the Crossroads I would have expected to barely get this program running before I started seeing the grid light up like Foundation Day. But no, the biggest flare up I’ve seen so far is somebody downloading an entire server’s worth of porn and getting traced for payment. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, resting her head in her knitted hands. If this keeps up I may as well leave this to run over night and get some sleep; tonight’s deader than dead. In fact, judging from the analytics, if anything it looks like the Order’s servers were reporting less activity overall-

-wait a minute-

Val launched herself back towards the screen. Her earlier supposition made no sense the instant she remembered what she’d said earlier about the OoI and their adherence to doctrine; even on a night where nothing was happening, SOP was to mask their activities by maintaining their normal broadcasts so they didn’t give a COMINT signature. If they’ve suddenly deviated from that... Quickly, the demoness pulled up another window and scanned through the various known OoI junction points. “Shit!” she swore as she zoomed in on the one closest to her current location; it wasn’t that all of the servers were down in activity, it was that very specifically one had been completely blanked out. You fool of a Fellstari, you completely misread her! She didn’t kick the doors down and start shooting, she slipped in through the shadows and turned this into a predatorial hunt! If this was the case, she had no time to waste; if she’d noticed the sudden radio silence from this cell, chances are that others would as well, and the instant they did, she could expect server rooms to start turning into information-destroying balls of fire. Grabbing her field gear and her coat, she threw her door open and dashed into the night, running down the side streets and back alleys she hoped she would never have to use again.

---

[ Apt. 604 - #1034 Frontier Ave. - Mammon District #03 ]
[ 06:20:18 ]​

Val slinked down the dim hallway towards the waiting apartment door, florescent bar lights flickering in and out of existence above her irregularly. The door was still closed, but if Asriel was now who she suspected she was, either she’d re-locked it after she’d entered, or she’d never come in this way in the first place. Regardless, it was a simple affair to pick the lock, but the true trick was activating an RF jammer before she opened the door. OoI operatives always booby trapped any obvious entrances, and even if the interior of the apartment was potentially a bloodbath, the last thing she needed was to set off an alarm, or worse. As the jammer began pushing interference static out on all channels, she slowly pushed the door open, her eyes rapidly scanning the entrance way. She was in the maw of the beast now, and it would not do to drop her guard for a single second.

 

[Aron the Aron]

Val slinked down the dim hallway towards the waiting apartment door, florescent bar lights flickering in and out of existence above her irregularly. The door was still closed, but if Asriel was now who she suspected she was, either she’d re-locked it after she’d entered, or she’d never come in this way in the first place. Regardless, it was a simple affair to pick the lock, but the true trick was activating an RF jammer before she opened the door. OoI operatives always booby trapped any obvious entrances, and even if the interior of the apartment was potentially a bloodbath, the last thing she needed was to set off an alarm, or worse. As the jammer began pushing interference static out on all channels, she slowly pushed the door open, her eyes rapidly scanning the entrance way. She was in the maw of the beast now, and it would not do to drop her guard for a single second.

It was hard to miss the scent as the door creaked ominously on it's hinges; the pungent, coppery odour of blood hit Valeria's heightened sense of smell like an out-of-control freight train. The door itself was remarkably devoid of any trap or trigger, the absence of which only further triggered the deep foreboding that had suddenly settled in her stomach. The same stale lights as the ones painting the hallway she was in greeted the Demon as she finally pushed the door wide enough to peek inside...

---

[ Apt. 604 - #1034 Frontier Ave. - Mammon District #03 ]
[ 06:20:30 ]
​

---

Slaughter.​

It was the only word that could accurately depict the gruesome scene that welcomed Valeria inside. The darkening puddles of blood scattered throughout the floor were still liquid enough to hear it squish and foam underfoot as the Demon slowly walked inside. Death itself seemed to haunt the room, the lights above showering Val's hair in tinges of red as more and more evidence of uncompromising violence made themselves known. A dozen bodies, some of supernatural creatures like Valeria and "Asriel", mapped the scene with the twisted ways their corpses lied. Some laid in thickened pools of their own life essence; others were slumped over against the wall, hands as red as their torn giblbets.

Among the madness of murder though, patterns and recurrences emerged to the careful eye...

A few of the unfortunately-deceased clutched cheap 3d-printed handguns in their cooling hands, but none showed any signs of being fired. There were brass casings everywhere, but there were no signs of a gunfight having broken out; the flimsy boxes of handgun bullets (poorly-made .22 LR rounds once inspected) stacked on nearby tables didn't match the spent cases littering the floor, and no bullet holes were immediately visible on the walls or windows...

The only bullet holes Val could find were the ones ventilating the skulls of OoI victims who hadn't had their throats or abdomens cut clean open... and the conspicuous perforations of shot-up servers.

If anything, at least the Angel hadn't shot the lone computer nestled in between two shelves of sparking servers, but if she had been this thorough in wiping the place, then there was a strong likelihood that she did something with it...

 

[PixelSymphony]

[ Apt. 604 - #1034 Frontier Ave. - Mammon District #03 ]
[ 06:20:42 ]​

There it was, that unmistakable scent that teetered on the line between dread and excitement: blood. The sanguine fragrance had not graced her olfactory nerves in some time, but it wafted its way into her nostrils, something primal deep within her flared, before she pushed it away. Concentrate, Val... She slipped through the doorway, closing it behind her as she gazed at the carnage on display. She was no stranger to death, and definitely no stranger to gunshot wounds, but this looked like no other targeted hit she had ever seen. "These guys never even had a chance," she muttered as she sifted through the crimson stained bodies, careful not to stain her own clothes lest she be tagged an accomplice to this catastrophe. Demons, angels, and humans... this is the OoI all right, or what's left of them. A sad frown wormed its way onto Val's face as she spotted one of the "zip guns" several of the deceased were holding. I recognize this design, Val realized as she moved over to investigate the crude ammunition, prototypes of a weapon system that could be manufactured on site and then immediately disposed of, with no way for them to be traced back to their user. A perfect assassin's firearm... but a terrible choice for self-defense; what were they doing with these things?.

​

Just then her eyes spotted one of the bodies that had nearly been disemboweled and she grimaced. Again, it wasn't the blood or the outcome that was setting all of her nerves on edge, it was the way the grisly act had been performed. Professional assassins were trained to be quick, quiet, clean; to kill with the minimum level of effort and emotion necessary and then leave. This... was different. Asriel (or at least she assumed it was Asriel) had torn through this outpost like a panther coming across a careless camp of hunters, singling out her prey and tearing them shreds in an act of unmitigated primality before methodically moving onto the next. And as the last fell, I wonder... what did he think? Did he know the dangers that lay in store for him this day? Was he prepared to have his life cut short for the Inquisition? She shook her head, already knowing the answer. No, if this splinter group operated like the Order used to, chances are he didn't even completely know what he was going, left in the dark by his superiors under the guise of compartmentalization. In some ways I pity you, Brother... She held her hands together for a moment, a silent prayer upon her lips, and then it was gone; time waited for no-one, and certainly not for her.

The server room was easy enough to find, what with the rat's nests of cable heading into it, but the rapidity of her arrival only served to make the display of destruction that had been wrought inside sting that much worse. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she reflexively let out, unable to contain herself. Her eyes septet from rack to rack only to find holes nine millimeter in diameter in each. She threw her hands up in frustration. "Do you KNOW how much data you just deep-sixed?" she growled under her breath, as if talking to the angel herself. It was clear Asriel was more focused on the physical destruction of the Order than waging any sort of information war against them, but there were all manner of plans and archives that Val would have given her left arm to have. Well at least she left the computer functional... though I've got a feeling it's been "neutralized" as well. The demoness reached into her jacket from it emerged a slim handheld computer, its exterior alight with blue LEDs as it powered up. One datajack later, she confirmed her suspicions: Asriel had clearly been on this thing; worm signatures were all over the active memory, and the user logs still had traces of her login. Quickly scanning through the activity log, it looked like the angel had been accessing quite a few different directories; she couldn't tell exactly what was in the files she had touched as they'd been deleted, but given the names and directory structure listed in the log, Val could make a pretty good guess they had to do both with OoI internal operations as well as their interactions with her. This must have been the cell that originally reached out to her...she must have been trying to erase what info they had on her. Well that's never stopped me before.

As Val scanned the computer's data integrity, she winced. The sectors that had once held the files she wanted had been pretty roughed over, undoubtedly thanks to whatever brute-force worm Asriel had used to crack this computer. To say this would be a "best effort" attempt at data retrieval would be an understatement. Firing up a low-level reader, Val began the process of recovering whatever files she could, and a few moments later her efforts were rewarded with a small dossier file which had mostly escaped the worm's wrath. "Subject Aleph is a mercenary for hire with known specialities against Demons. We believe she could be a valuable asset to eliminate-" The file cut out here, but it was fairly obvious that they were referring to Val, given the events of a few hours prior. "-believed to be a high ranking Angel, possible Power-class, with exceptional combat prowess." She lowered the screen, glancing out into the hallways towards the pile of bodies in the corridor. Well, you weren't wrong about that part, though wait... don't Powers tend to be more of the "kick the door open type?" Was this why they hadn't bothered to secure the remainder of the apartment? Val shook her head. Rule #1 guys: Bad intel gets you killed.

Well she had at least gotten part of what she'd come for, and judging by the glow of red marks on her minicomputer's screen, it didn't look like she was going to be getting much else. Quickly disconnecting the device from the desktop terminal, she shoved it back into her coat. A few moments later she was gone from the apartment, the door once again locked, and her boot heels fading into the streets as the sun began to rise over the cityscape. Tomorrow's shift was going to be hell to get through...