While she’s distracted, the security guy in front of her finds himself an opening. Before I can yell a warning, he charges at her, punching her in the jaw.
Safiya stumbles, shakes her head as if clearing it, then scowls and moves forward. The knuckle duster connects with the guard’s nose, sending him reeling. But, before he can recover from it, she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kicks him in the crotch, causing him to bend over. Still holding onto him, she shakes him, and when he looks up at her, she fists her hand and raises it, then stabs the trench knife into the guard’s neck before dragging it all the way to the other side, splitting open his throat. A watery stream of blood pours out of it, drenching his pale shirt and slacking body.
Safiya lets him go, and as he falls to the ground in an unceremonious heap, she shrugs her bloodied hand over him and moves towards another guard.
I shift my attention to Alex next, who ducks just in time to avoid being hit by the sleek butt of a security personnel’s AR-15. Sliding the curb chain from his pocket, he brings its ends together, doubling it, then skillfully leaps towards the guard before slashing the chain across his skull.
The guard’s upper body jolts sideways, right before he loses his footing and lands on the grass. Solo comes to stand over him, and then, bringing his silver pistol forward, he puts a bullet in the poor guy’s cervical spine.
I bring my eyes back to Cignette, and feel my lips spreading into a wide smile. “This looks too good to not be a part of.”
She huffs out a short, airy laugh, then all but dumps Fredrick’s slanted head to the ground. “Well, I’m onboard with whatever unhinged theatrics you’re currently weaving inside that devious head of yours.”
I chuckle. “I love how easy you are with me.”
She scoffs. “Don’t test my generosity; this entire bullshit mission is already way above my pay grade, so I’m doing you a solid by agreeing to indulge your itches.”
“Awh, aren’t you the epitome of Joan of Arc reborn,” I muse.
Fredrick makes a grunt-like sound. “I’m still here,” he croaks out.
“And what a misfortunethat is,” I tell him.
Cignette laughs a little, so I give her a quick wink before looking to my left, and find Magner stabbing his beautiful dagger into a guard’s eye. Next to him, Aras grabs another guard in a secure sleeper hold. I watch, utterly transfixed, as he chokes him, right before twisting his forearms, jerking the guard’s neck sideways. He then yanks the guard’s head up and backwards, giving him what looks like a manual hangman’s fracture. The guy falls to the ground – his neck now distorted, and his eyes all but bulging out of their sockets.
Holy fucking shit, that wasbeyondimpressive.
God, I hate that I’m missing out on all the fun. But I’ve got something important to do; a dirt of a man to punish. Priorities and all, I guess.
Aras kicks the corpses away from him, just as Magner wipes his dagger on his pant thigh, leaving behind a wide, chunk-studded stain.
“Yo, Magner!” I call out.
He jerks his head up and looks my way, pocketing his weapon in the process. “Yeah?”
“Can you lend me a hand, please?” I ask, gesturing towards Fredrick.
He nods. “Yeah, sure.” He pats Aras’s arm, staining his shirt with blood. With a twisted scowl on his face, Aras glances between said stain and Magner, but before he can open hismouth to say something, Magner turns away from him and starts walking over to me.
“He’s probably going to have your ass for that,” I tell him the second he reaches me.
Magner laughs, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Eh, let him. It’s fun tainting his pristine exterior sometimes. It’s my version of getting him to touch some grass, I suppose.” He bends and grabs Fredrick by the collar, who grunts and proceeds to thrash once again.
“Let me go!” he yelps. “You’re filthy! Don’t youdaretouch me, you’refilthy!”
Magner rolls his eyes. “Where do you want him?”
I smirk. “Right in the center. And while you’re at it, ask everyone to gather around, will you? Let’s make this a little interesting.” I stare down at Fredrick, and when he glares at me, I shoot him a wide, mocking smile. “He does, after all, deserve an audience for his farewell.”
Magner whistles, long and low. “Devious. I fucking love how you think.”
“I never cease to amaze myself, really,” I muse, to which both Cigs and Magner laugh.
“You lot will burn in hell, I promise you,” Fredrick decides to spew his unwanted two cents.
Magner straightens – completely ignoring the nutsack, of course – and is about to pull him away from us, but stops when Cigs calls his name.
“Use his hair instead of his collar, please,” she suggests. “You know, for better leverage and all.”
