CHAPTER 4: PROMISES
You've been putting this off for too long sis.
sat at her desk looking at her laptop monitor.
To the left of the laptop was a flower. It was a budding Iris she had gotten from the store when she moved here. On the other side was a gun. Specifically, a fully loaded Glock 18.
She removed the ethernet cable, disconnecting it from the internet completely as she set it to airplane mode, denying any wireless connections which may seek to peer into what she was typing.
Remember no lies. Because-
“I always keep my promises.”
She said, reciting the motto of Styx, the mercenary. After all, people needed something to anchor to. Something to rely on. Sacha
wasn't very sure if she was a good person, after all, everyone told her otherwise. She enjoys killing people, after all. Or more so, the thrill of it. Bullets, fists and swords flying. Chaos. The poetry found in a single trigger pull.
She needed some measure of virtue, though. Something to be proud of. Given that one of her only friends in her life was her brother and in a way, her deceased betrothed, she was hardly ever in a situation where she had needed to lie. Most any person she had ever met, she was capable of killing at will. Everyone else? She could escape.
No lies. The situation report must be honest. Her fingers slid forward along the keyboard and the words weren't coming at first. She took a deep breath and thought about something that excited her. That made her smile and would provide the fuel for the job. Scanning the room, she sees something. A fly. Out came a fly. She stared at it smiling. Styx's small arms had some small arms became a blur and a razor blade embed in the wall. But, not before nicking a fly on the way. The fly fell with it's wings cut off. Another whir motion and a razor blade appears and sticks into the table, slicing the fly mercifully in half.
Muse. She is proud of her accomplishment, and this pride lends her emotional fuel.
Time to write.
She sets her fingers to work.
“It has been quiet in solar city. The moth man is illusive and it seems he steers clear of this place. Heroes operate in solar city often and overall orderly. I would say Solar City is one of the happiest places in the world. Most crime is white collar and has seemingly little room for the “high profile supervillainy". So, to find the target , I had to lure him out.
I had to cause chaos.
In summary, I’ll put it like this: I went on a rampage. I like to think it was controlled buy I will leave it to you to decide. Ultimately, the facts remain. The deaths were all found to be criminals. And this was cracked down on by cops who investigated them. My murder couldn't be allowed and so they pursued me as expected. Collateral damage was due to gunfire and damage cars. No civilians were harmed. No police were killed.
The result was contact with the Mothman himself. He aided my escape and I had thought he would meet me. He seem to appear before me and you might ask me, why did I not shoot him then and there? I realized he was merely an illusion. He communicated and I agreed to work for him. We are planning an attack, but the Mothman has specified that no killing is to occur. The term “harassment" is a more correct term, I believe. I am to non-lethally engage a group of heroes at his leisure.
The attack is not for some time, so I have decided to establish something of a life to better blend in.”
pauses, staring at the screen. She wondered if that last statement was a lie. Or the truth. She would blend in. But was that why she was establishing a life here?
She decided to keep typing.
“I work at a coffee shop.” Another pause. Then she continues typing.” I have also decided to take up mercenary work again, but under a more reliable source. The global contract agency. Or GSA. They have are sanctioned by many governments, and put up high bounties on members. One such bounty I have in mind is a member of the pack. This can help me fund and equipment for things not pertinent to the mission at hand.
Overall, I would say for the purposes of cooperation and psychological evaluation, I am well. I haven't eaten warm food so consistently in a long time. Nor had so warm of a bed. But the hunt continues. I have no desire to live and worry about being taken and thrown to the wolves.
That's wouldn’t be very fun.”
She smiles at the last statement, and sends a signal to a wired printer. She strolls over to the printer snatching the paper and proofreading the report for errors. Content, she puts it into a tiny envelope and slides it underneath the door to Mordred's room before she returns to her own room.
A drawer pulls out and she reaches inside, hastily drawing a bloody handkerchief. Looking it over, two names come to mind. Two alone.
She murmurs the words low, her gaze lingering a little while long until she leaves the handkerchief on her desk and returns with a box. On it, is an address somewhere in New York. Nobody would know.
Outside, she tosses into the nearest mailbox before she heads back inside.
A promise is a promise.