And the Chancellor called it for what it was, a day of infamy, one that would be forever remembered. Where the ten kings were thrust into the crucible, and of them, but seven would remain loyal.
The other three were the dead walking.
Church of All Saints Ossuary - Sedlec - Czechoslovakia - Earth
The ceremony was blessedly short, the cold seeping even beneath the ground, causing those unaccustomed to the harsh European winters to shiver despite their warm coats. Cardinal Strathcona was verbose, leading the prayers in Latin, drawing upon ancient ritual as yet another forum to drive home the point that all were mortal, even those in the room.
VonGrippen remained patient, the head of his house, a Highlord rather than a governor. A pattern upon which Markus wished to base the entire world. Was it nothing more than the fanciful dreams of a madman? Markus seemed sane enough, but there was no doubting the ulterior motive that had to lie beneath his deeds.
He paused when he felt the wave of euphoria sweep through him at the thought of Markus. An unaccustomed feeling, one that was wholly out of place to a man that was cut off from such feelings. He examined the emotion coldly, a rush of warmth that signalled an endorphin release, his body conditioned to that response after so little exposure to Markus. He turned his head to look down the line to where Markus was sharing a prayer book with Queen Beatrice, mouthing the words to the prayer.
The man was persuasive, and yet with the manipulations, how could VonGrippen be certain of Markus's motives? He needed to find trust if he was to believe Markus's ideals. Flowery though they were, healthy scepticism was required. Calm analysis of what was truth and what was fiction behind the dream of a single, unified world beneath a collection of Highlords.
Firstly were the obvious obstacles. Democracy had, for so long, been touted as the ideal. And while General Chow didn't face that problem, and Queen Beatrice had the unique opportunity to rid herself of her own Parliament and secure Europe with the right backing. Markus surely couldn't hope to accomplish that task with America. It was a bastion of democracy, its people thrived upon it.
Something would have to happen to make them believe that democracy had failed. A single event, or a combination of events that would shake the American people's belief in their own leadership so badly that they would turn to a single voice of sanity.
He stroked his beard thoughtfully; it would take pure genius to shape the world the way that Markus was suggesting. A combination of events that had to be carefully poised and positioned. Firstly, the American military would have to be so badly undermined that it was considered a liability rather than a recourse. Secondly, the American President would also have to be removed -- there were delicate and indelicate methods to accomplish that feat -- and considering Markus's position as Vice-President, there was no doubt that he had already thought through that plan. Which left the dismantling of the Legislative Branch and the pesky Judicial Branch that would hamper the recindation of the US Constitution. But to accomplish that, he would have to engineer a plan of such meticulous detail that it would border upon diabolical. Something of undue, catastrophic proportions would have to happen to even get the American mind to consider forsaking its beloved constitution. And then it would take generations for all remnants of it to be stricken from the collective memory.
The chatter of gunfire broke VonGrippen's thoughts, his hand wrenching his the broom-handled pistol from its holster as he turned towards the stairs. Across from him, General Chow had also drawn his pistol. The two warriors staring at each other, reading the surprise on Chow's face VonGrippen came to the conclusion that Chow hadn't expected the attack. That realization reached, VonGrippen tossed his peaked cap aside and sprinted towards the steps.
He was unaware that behind him, Rikard had knelt to pick up the cap, turning it over in his hands as he smiled coolly as he collected a hair sample, eyeing Markus watching him as he protectively covered Beatrice.
At the foot of the stairs VonGrippen looked upwards, Chow taking the other side, both men lifting their weapons as they covered the stairs.
"There was to be no attack," Chow muttered. "this was a sanctuary from the war."
"There is no sanctuary from war," VonGrippen replied listening to the weapons fire carefully, "I don't hear pulse fire."
"You use European pulse weaponry," Chow nodded, "that would make sense, but there is the sound of American weaponry..."
VonGrippen held up a finger, "yes but if you hear it, the American weapons fire is probably the Swiss Guard. No the weapons fire of the attackers... The beat is too regular... and deeper. Russian or Chinese weapons."
"A DT-09," Chow shook his head, "but the weapons do not sound like mine, it is too... deep... Sharp."
VonGrippen nodded listening the repeated crack of the weapons burst, there were a lot of them, occasionally peppered by the sound of a higher pitched DT-09. "That was one of yours..."
Chow nodded, "my men are under attack and they are outnumbered..."
VonGrippen pulled out his radio and tested it, knowing that were he co-ordinating the attack he would have jammed all communications bands. The attackers had covered their bases but it had been worth the attempt, "Who else uses DT-09's?" VonGrippen asked, putting the radio away and advancing up the stairs slowly, Chow covering him.
"The Middle East purchases many from Russia, but they are like the Chinese model, and not like this..." Chow paused, "there is a South American country that duplicated the design, Argentina. They sell to the South Americans and to Mexico. Much cheaper than the American weapons."
"South Americans?" VonGrippen stepped out of the door and into the church, the Orion weapon in his hands swinging up as the doors opened on a dark armoured figure rushing forward, a DT-09 lifted threateningly.
Chow's pistol barked, and the trooper collapsed halfway along the pews. The Chinese general shaking his head, "he was too well armed for a South American."
The sound of small arms fire peppered the churchyard, and VonGrippen hurried towards the edge of the doors, while Chow investigated the fallen trooper. VonGrippen pausing at the sight of the fallen Swiss Guards that littered the yard just beyond the doors, more black armoured troopers advancing selectively towards the church.
"This is not human," Chow announced, rising with the DT-09 in his hands and nudging the body with his boot, "an alien of some kind."
VonGrippen spared the larva a glance, frowning at it as he swung out into the doorway and firing twice, falling to the far side of the doorframe to get a look at the other side of the yard, "we have more, a dozen or so to the right, a half dozen on the left."
"We cannot hold them with this," Chow gestured with the single assault rifle, hurrying to the far side of the door and dropping to his knees, "it has been many years since I last fired a rifle in combat."
"I suggest pulling the trigger," VonGrippen suggested, "preferably pointing that way," he gestured towards the troops.
Chow obliged him, the Argentinean weapon chattering a return burst of fire, causing the attacking aliens to scatter amongst the grave stones, returning fire their bullet's chipping the mortar and stone work of the doors.
VonGrippen kept his head down as he lifted his radio to his mouth, "Actual calling Echo-X-Ray-One, assistance required, respond?"
The radio spluttered, but through the static he was greeted by a response, "Roger Actual, Echo-X-ray-One will provide aerial support, over."
Across the yard and through the buildings, the Excalibur's dropship lifted off of the ground, it's stocky, dragonfly like body swept too and fro as its engines repositioned it to sweep low over the church yard. The twin door pintle mounts, swung out, a pair of Kaynin operated the chain guns as they spat bullets and showered the churchyard with bullets. The alien's retreated backwards away from the hovering gunship as it curved about to cover the church.
Chow nodded his approval, "fetch the others, I will hold the door."
VonGrippen charged across the church, sliding towards the doors as a hail of bullets erupted through the open door and carved up bone and stonework around him. He picked himself up and charged down the stairs, "up and out," he yelled gesturing towards the church.
The other dignitaries sprinted up the stairs, Beatrice being assisted by Markus as they were ushered out and around towards the doors by VonGrippen. The Cardinal next, picking up the hem of his robes as he rushed, uttering in Italian things that no Cardinal should ever utter.
VonGrippen nodded for Jabin to take over as he hurried back to the doors, keeping his head down this time as Chow leaned into his assault rifle, "the aliens are still out there, regrouping," The old general pointed towards a collection of mausoleums to the right, "your dropship is attempting to land at the church gates..."
"That leaves a two hundred meter dash, across open church yard." VonGrippen murmured, "we'd never make it. Not with so many civilians." He squinted through the snow as Lieutenant Worth's men descended from the drop ship, a pair of support troops armed with squad assault weapons, or SAW's began to lay down cover fire as the House VonGrippen soldiers took up positions around the gates.
"Two at a time," VonGrippen surmised, looking back at the people around him, "Markus, Beatrice, you two first." He looked into Markus's eyes, "keep between her and them, and just run. My men will cover you."
VonGrippen reloaded his slivergun, holding out his hand for General Chow's pistol. The General sliding it across to him without hesitation as the four of them tensed. And at a signal, Markus and Beatrice burst from cover. The General and VonGrippen stepping around the door frame, the pistols firing as the General sprayed the alien area, both men pulling back as Worth's men took up the cover, Markus keeping Beatrice close to him as he pulled her through the gates, and up the ramp into the drop ship.
VonGrippen nodded, looking at Chow, "the Cardinal and the Russian President?"
Chow nodded, "agreed, though my ammunition is running low."
VonGrippen nodded, "I know the feeling... four this time?"
"The Slavic and the Doctor," Chow pointed to Morvanor and the President of the Balkan states.
"Go!" VonGrippen barked as he stepped around again, giving a couple of shots as the general fired off half of his remaining bullets. Buying time for the others to run. The aliens picking up the intensity of their fire as they tried to pin down the four runners. One of them scored a lucky shot, striking down the Balkan President as he fell into the snow halfway across the yard.
"Damn," VonGrippen muttered.
"I will get him as we run," Chow uttered tossing the assault rifle to VonGrippen who discarded the empty pistol and re-holstered the slivergun. He rotated the side- loading weapon to his shoulder and gritted his teeth. It was just him, Chow, Jabin and Rikard now. Both Jabin and Rikard seemed unfazed, and the GN-2 stood, calmly brushing down his suit as he walked past the others and out into the yard, lifting his hand as he walked calmly through the hail of bullets, he looked intently across the yard as Chow and VonGrippen stared in shock.
The bullets swept towards Jabin and froze, spinning uselessly in air as they were held frozen in place, dropping to the snow and dirt as he walked past, stepping over the body of the fallen Balkan President as he shot his cuffs and walked through the confused and startled men at the gate.
"Typical," Chow sneered, "the only one they think of are themselves... dogs all of them."
"That was you," VonGrippen stared squarely at Rikard, realization in his voice, "Sephradon and the others... on Phobos."
Rikard smiled, "I have done a great many things, Highlord, as I recall there were a few things you did on Phobos yourself."
Chow frowned, "you made those... things?" he pointed to Jabin as he climbed aboard the dropship.
Rikard shrugged, "you really should learn to keep up, general, now if you will excuse me. It is my turn." He stepped out of the church doorway, walking calmly through the grave stones, as the aliens stepped up their fire, ducking his head as Dominic's men were driven to cover, more of the aliens coming forward to cover Rikard as he was swept into their midst, and off into the darkness or the falling snow.
VonGrippen pulled Chow back away from the increased gunfire, "I don't suppose you have any tricks I should know about?"
Chow shook his head, "I wasn't so... blessed. Do you Highlord?"
VonGrippen shook his head as well, "Nope, I guess we're on our own. You run for the President while I cover you."
Chow stopped him, "I do not say this often VonGrippen, but when it comes time for us to cross swords, it will be an honour."
"Optimism, I can appreciate that," VonGrippen remarked dryly, "go!"
He stepped around and walked his fire as he strafed the alien position, running sideways, watching as Chow bent to help the Slavic President to his feet, and half carried the man the last few steps into Worth's hands.
VonGrippen made it about halfway when his clip ran empty, tossing the rifle to one side he sprinted, his coat tails flapping as he ran for cover. Around him the aliens returned fire, pressing everything they had after the last man out of the church.
Within two steps, the stray bullet slammed through his knee, sending VonGrippen sprawling into the snow, scrambling up despite the pain he reached out a grasping hand, to find Commander Maguire's close about it. Desmond yanking him into cover as they group retreated onto the dropship that was soon powering its way skywards and away from the alien attackers.
* * *
The Xia slid silently to just beneath the surface of the South China sea, positioned perfectly for its strike. The Amsus had worked diligently to prepare the weapon that would be needed, and the mission commander stood in the command centre looking down at the board, counting down the moments that he would need to finish fuelling the cruise missile.
There was no need of verbal communication aboard the former Chinese vessel, the scents carried on the air delivered all the information the Commander needed. If there were any problems, the change in scent would alert him to it. The ship sounded ominously like a tomb, which was fitting given that all of those aboard it would soon be dead.
At the appointed time he set the pair of keys into the fire control board, his counterpart inputting the appropriate codes to arm the nuclear weapon. Up on the dorsal side of the ship, the missile tube swung open, ready to launch.
The Commander moved his hand to the fire control, and depressed it.
The three-stage missile tore free from the submarine, roaring out of the water from amidst the joint Sino-Russian amphibious force, curving through the air as it separated its first stage, dropping to just above the waves as it rocketed through the air. It altered its course along the prescribed flight plan closing on the coast of Japan. It swept past the tracking systems that were analysing the weapon and the trajectory, anti-missile systems locking on and deploying in an effort to shoot the ultra sophisticated weapon down.
It roared into the heart of Tokyo, screaming over buildings sighting in upon its target, the heavily fortified US Eastern Command structure, smashing upon impact, crashing precisely through one of the window barricades, the weapon splintering as it failed to detonate.
* * *
Markus was aboard Special Flight 400 two hours out of Czechoslovakia, sitting behind what was normally the President's desk. Doctor Morvanor sat, looking slightly the worse for wear on the far side of the table while they were teleconferenced into the White House situation room.
"What do you mean a nuclear device?" Markus asked appearing rattled as he stared up at the collected joint chiefs and the President.
"Exactly that," Secretary Morgan replied, "there is no doubt, the weapon that hit Eastern Command in Tokyo was a nuclear missile capable of destroying the entire city. The Japanese Prime Minister is pitching a fit, he's mobilized the MDF and wants us to honour our defence treaty and protect them."
"What exactly does he expect us to do?" Markus asked looking slightly the worse for wear after the Church of Bones and the Sedlec attack he leaned on his elbows, "all our forces are deployed, the most we can do is mobilize the USS Enterprise and the third fleet. But they'd take a week just to get into position, and last I checked the Chinese have an entire amphibious force a couple of days from Japan..."
"The Japanese MDF are nothing more than paper tigers, a corporate army run by the Denver Security Corporation," Morvanor interjected, "they don't stand a chance against the combined Sino-Russian task force. There is only one response to this kind of action."
"Agreed," Morgan snapped triumphantly, "we have to authorize a nuclear strike, and quickly... we have a twenty four hour window to launch a counter attack, before those amphibious assault ships are within range of Japan's northern island. It is a proportionate response and one that would..."
"No," Markus snapped, looking up from his notes, "no nukes, I don't care what they threw at us, we can't go nuclear on this one."
"With all due respect, Mister Vice-President, are you insane?" Morgan blinked, "we have half the goddamned Russian and Chinese armies arrayed in one neat little circle and you want to ignore the opportunity?"
"You have twenty three hours to consider other options or we use nuclear arms," the President said standing and tucking papers under his arm as he marched from the situation room, with Secretary Morgan in tow, leaving a stunned collection of individuals to stare up at the Vice-President winging his way back to Washington as fast as his plane could travel.
Markus shook his head, "he's the President of the United States."
"Someone has to talk to him," the Attorney-General stared squarely up at the screen, "twenty four hours from now four hundred thousand Russian and Chinese troops are going to start spilling out onto beaches in Japan and there will be nothing we can do to stop them. It'll take us weeks to prepare the kind of liberation force needed to route them. The cost in life alone will be horrendous..."
"He's right," Doctor Morvanor said folding his arms, "however we should give the President at least until we arrive in Washington to change his mind. If he doesn't..."
"What?" the Solicitor-General inquired, "plunge us right into the middle of a nuclear war we've all been fortunate to avoid up until now?"
"I will change his mind," Markus said confidently, "they still have to plot targets for those missiles and stand ready should he require them. That buys us some time."
"That's awfully close to disobeying a Presidential order," Morvanor warned.
"It is?" Markus replied, "I heard nothing except an order to come up with alternatives, and we should follow his orders to the letter and explore all alternatives. Whatever it takes to avert a potential catastrophe that will destroy the world. Can we track down the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?"
"Yes Mister Vice-President." The Attorney-General nodded, "I'll get her on the line for you right away."
* * *
A black shadow slipped up the garden path, moving around the dark single story house in the suburbs of San Francisco, California. It possessed a serpentine grace to the way it moved, curving into and out of the shadows the way that its progenitor had done two years before.
A new class of Amsus, bred from the High Commander's experiments. The regeneration alone made them formidable foes but the heightened analytical skills, despite a lack of imagination, made them terrifying.
It found the back door, and after breaking the window, let itself inside.
There was a light that went on in one of the bedrooms of the small bungalow, and the Amsus charged the door, throwing its weight into crashing through it, rolling up as the gunshot sent it staggering.
Special Agent Bruce Maya was standing beside his bed, staring in alarm as he levelled his service automatic again, firing a second shot as he scrambled around the bed.
The Amsus knew its task, and leapt for its prey, deliberately letting him have that second's head start for the desk. They crashed down together, the Amsus wrestling his way up Bruce's body, driving him back into the desk, knocking it over as the contents of its drawers spilled out.
Maya pushed back, sending the Amsus staggering as he dropped to a knee, pulling the PKD close to him as he brought it up and trained it on the Amsus, "hold it!" he ordered breathlessly.
The Amsus had been prepared for this, and he hurled himself bodily at the Agent, allowing the PKD blast to tear apart his molecular structure. Knowing that its task was complete.
* * *
It took a half hour for elements of Agent Maya's task force to descend upon his house. He sat in his kitchen with a mug of strong black coffee watching them pick through elements of his life while they snapped photographs of the pile of smoking black goo on the floor of his bedroom.
"You're lucky you kept that," one of the agents nodded to the PKD sitting on the kitchen table just in front of Maya.
Maya looked up from his coffee, "I suppose, but they're being issued all over the place, aren't they?"
"To select police departments on a trial basis," Special Agent Wong smiled her beautiful smile, "so far they're generally viewed as a non-lethal deterrent weapon. I've never seen one kill a man like this one did."
"As I told you," Maya sighed, "that," he pointed to the black goo, "was no man."
"Are you sure that it was the same..." Agent Wong began, before she was silenced by the arrival of the section chief for San Francisco. Bob Conklin walked into the room amidst a pair of sunglass wearing agents straight out of some bad comic book, surveying the area as he talked on his cell phone. He finished his conversation before he closed the phone.
"It seems we have quite the mess here," Conklin observed, "what with the Chinks..." He looked at Wong, "sorry, the Chinese, trying to blow up Tokyo, now this..." He tsked loudly, "we're going to have to wrap this up and let the military take over, and it's a matter of national security and all that BS."
Maya stood, taking the PKD off of the table and sliding it into his shoulder holster, "great, all I need. Explaining everything again to a bunch of meat headed MP's..."
"Sir," One of the younger agents rushed into the room, setting a laptop down on the table, "we found his car, it had Mexican plates and this was on the passenger seat, it's still logged in."
Conklin helped himself to a cup of Maya's coffee motioning to the table, "well show us then?"
Wong glanced at the chief, "sir, what about the military?"
Conklin shrugged his shoulders, "who the hell cares? If we can tie this up before they get here, that's a feather in our cap." Suddenly the chief was all smiles, the prospect of a promotion in the forefront of his mind.
The younger agent set the computer up, and activated the screen, the Denver Corporation logo flashing before it vanished revealing a work screen and emails.
"Careless to leave this out in the open like this?" Conklin said thoughtfully, leaning in and nearly spitting his coffee across the desk.
Maya blinked and leaned in as well, reading the short email that detailed the capture of the Chinese submarine Xia... and of the readiness of the nuclear missile. He drew back and looked at his boss, "sir?"
Conklin nodded, "I see it," he scrubbed a hand down his face, "if this is legitimate then it casts doubt on the Chinese firing a missile at us..."
Maya's phone rang; he excused himself stepping away from the shocked chief who was ordering other e-mail's opened up. Maya sighed as he lifted the phone to his ear, wishing he'd had time to put something on other than his pyjamas and a shoulder holster.
"Agent Maya," the well-educated voice greeted him, heavily accented.
"Yes?" Maya asked, confused who'd be calling him with an accent... except it was slightly off... he tried to place it from his training, walking through to the yard, "who...?"
"I am a concerned friend, Agent Maya, you could call me your divine deliverance..." there was a pause, "look into the sky towards the East."
Maya did as he was instructed, looking towards the East and squinting into the dawn's light, watching the small black thing drop out of a bank of clouds, screaming in a high speed towards his house.
He squinted, looking at the small plane shaped object with a pair of round cylinders under its wings. A little UAV, carrying a heavy payload...
"Oh my God!" Maya yelled, as one of the cylinders dropped off of the wing of the UAV, it's fantails spreading as it rocketed downwards on an laser guided path right for the kitchen behind him.
Maya did the only thing he could think of, he propelled himself off of the deck, running for the far end of the garden as the missile slammed into his house, the fireball incinerating his home and the collection of agents gathered around the computer.
The UAV climbed, curling about for a second pass, Maya picking himself up from the ground, pulling his phone to his ear, "what the hell!"
The UAV fired again, sending a second missile into the collection of FBI vehicles gathered at the front of the smouldering house, sending them sky high, killing yet more agents as the UAV self destructed. Spinning pieces of debris falling down over the suburban street as people rushed from their homes to see what was happening. Just in time for the procession of military vehicles to sweep up the road past them.
Maya turned still holding the phone, "who is this... why?"
"Because His Ever Watchful Eye never blinks Agent Maya," the reply came crisp and clear before the phone was switched off.
* * *
General Chow sat aboard his own personal transport plane, under heavy escort almost from the moment it had entered Russian airspace, he was making a hurried dash for China and the closest military command centre there.
His military advisors had informed him of the Xia's capture and the subsequent firing of the nuclear missile, and the General knew that time was running out until an American reprisal. There was a time for doubt, and a time for action.
America would have no choice but to respond to the Chinese challenge, legitimate or not. They would strike back swiftly and totally. It meant that Chow's hand had been forced, he would have to maintain the momentum of the surprise attack, order his forces to attack Japan early, before the full weight of his forces had assembled. He had enough men for a creative man to successfully take control of Japan, and Chow knew that he would be able to direct his forces the moment he landed.
There were clear early objectives to be attained in the crucial early stages of a war with the United States, things that would ensure that they were left reeling from his strikes while he snatched up as many resources as he could in Asia.
He contemplated playing his cards, using his newly constructed space fleet to decimate the American Space Fleet and wrest control away from them. But with VonGrippen sitting in orbit and the uncertainty that he brought to the battlefield, Chow considered it wiser to hold that ace back. Instead he would bring a conventional war to the Americans, one that would educate them that the brutality that had failed them in Vietnam, Iraq and Korea would fail them once again. Technology was no match for a cunning mind.
Lifting a phone from its cradle he issued a series of orders, authorizing the commencement of the attack on Japan. The Americans would come, but not before he had torn the heart out of Japan.
* * *
Sephradon stepped down off of the train; Sarajevo had once been such a beautiful city. Host to the Olympic Games it had been the crown jewel of the former Yugoslavia. But years of war, of civic unrest, and of American peace keepers, followed in turn by a European stabilization force, the city had never quite recovered.
It was a dirty city of ramshackle construction built without the benefit of city planning, it was a maze of back alleys, teetering buildings and shadows. The black market thrived there, growing fat upon the illicit trades that were born of war. With rationing strictly enforced across Europe the citizenry were feeling they had no other recourse but to turn to cities like Sarajevo for the basics of survival: medicine, food, luxury items, etc.
Sephradon wore a white fur lined coat over top of her simple dress, a couple of her hired men following just behind her, each carrying submachine guns under their long trench coats. They drew attention to her; she could see the eyes watching her from the shadows trying to work out who she was and what a woman of her beauty and calibre wanted in a place like that.
Her goals were simple, she stalked her prey. One of her sisters were there, serving under the Balkan President Pashek. He was an iconic figure; his pictures were everywhere, a big brother to the people reminiscent of Stalin. Powerful and strong, dynamic... a puppet.
Her sister controlled the man, moulded the man into what she wished him to be. Controlling from the shadows she could dispose of Pashek once his usefulness had been exhausted. Once her army had been built, and equipped with black market arms, then she would carve out an Empire for herself from the surrounding states.
Already there were signs of it. Soldiers marching through the streets, tanks and jeeps in heavily guarded motor pools. Sarajevo, once a place of peace and hope, was a haven for a coming war.
Sephradon smiled, Madame VonGrippen would put the army to an even better use, turning them to the task of threatening the European establishment, a knife poised at their breast that, when weilded by a skilled politician would wound them mortally. With the leaders gathered in the Czech Republic, the world was distracted, and the players revealed to the assassin that would gladly make them pay in blood for their betrayals.
She spotted her then, the black cars that swept from one of the larger buildings, blue lights flashing on the secret police sedans, their only markings, Sephradon smiled as she cast off her coat and gestured with her hands. Watching as the rain sodden streets turned to ice, the temperature dropping so rapidly that water froze in pipes, cracking them. The radiators of the cars dropping below their insulated levels, the anti-freeze in them formed ice crystals before they too froze solid.
The cars shuddered as their engines seized, sliding on the slick pavement to crash into one another. And at a gesture from Sephradon, her men lifted their sub- machine guns, firing bullets into the cars, gunning down the secret police as they struggled to get out of their cars.
Around them the streets emptied.
Assassination in the streets was nothing unheard of in Sarajevo, great events had been sparked from a death on those streets. And as the GN-2 emerged from her car, Sephradon struck with a violent fury, using the ice itself as a weapon, shattering it and hurling it with pure hatred at her opponent. The sister who had abandoned her, who had left her to wither and die.
Her sister, she could no longer remember her name, struck back, one of the cars flipping end over end, crashing through where Sephradon had been. She felt the resonance of the world around her, the chill of the air, the bitter cold that she could use. She drove the car aside with a simple twist of her wrist. Her sister was still young, her powers only half as developed as Sephradon's own. The bloodroot that had poisoned them both, hadn't transformed her as they had Sephradon.
Sephradon manipulated the atoms in the air, like a maestro conducting a symphony of death she drew the heat from the air, freezing the moisture in it around the girl, hardening it like a frozen shell. She tightened it, sealing her prey within the tomb of ice, solidifying it as she froze the body within. Death could still reach a GN-2, and once she was satisfied that her sister was defeated, she recovered her coat, ignoring the frozen bodies of her men, she vanished back into the city streets. Sarajevo was a rabbit warren, and money, of which Sephradon had in abundance, was the only law.
The vacuum created by the removal of Pashek's chief advisor would assure the well positioned Madame VonGrippen an opportunity to seize control, and the woman wouldn't hesitate to take the chance to taste power again. For Sephradon, it meant a freedom from the tyrannical woman's yoke. At last her obligation was at an end, and she could cut her own path.