twiststheblade

It may only be a visit or a simple rescue mission, but we leave the bar prepared for war, a formidable arsenal concealed about each of our persons. Black is de rigeur for me, in the guise of a T-shirt, a utility vest and my cutest leather pants. I know she's awfully fond of them...

And just like that, we're standing in a rain-slicked alleyway.

As far as cross-dimensional travel goes, world-walking beats the hell out of riding the timestreams with the phoenix. This way only took a fraction of a second, and the only side-effect is an ever-so-sweet headrush upon arrival. Not bad at all. My hand tightens around Mary Anne's as the mild euphoria washes through me. And then, all too quickly, the feeling is gone, leaving my senses to adjust and take in the new environment.

It's raining. Of course.

Yuck.

I don't see Miho—for some reason I'd expected her to be standing right before us. There's no time to question Mary Anne's targeting though. The sight that does greet us demands immediate attention. And action!

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Mary Anne raises a finger to her lips, then takes two steps forward. On the third, she lays a hand on the man's shoulder and spins him to face her.

She slams a booted foot hard into his groin, free hand resting on her knife in case his friend by the lamppost gets any ideas. The man (boy) staggers, doubled over and cursing. He fumbles for a gun tucked into his waistband. She lets him fumble; her draw is clean.

Checking him hard with her shoulder, she slams him against the wall. The curve of her knife fits beautifully against his throat.

"Don't think the lady's interested, pal."

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"Oh shi--" is all the girl manages to get out before the second kid, not having seen the other deadly woman, barges in to help out his friend.

"We're just havin' a good time with this pretty little piece of ass, now fuck off and spoil someone else's fun." He smirks, confidently. She wouldn't dare hurt him.

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Fuck. She's good. But she needs a little help.

My .45 comes out of its holster as Mary Anne goes to work, and I take a bead on the guy by the lamppost, though he doesn't seem to notice. That makes it all the easier to get the drop on him when he rushes to the aid of his buddy.

"Back off, Chump." The muzzle must feel cold against his temple. "Unless you have a dying wish to see what that wall looks like in shades of Emerging Brain."

He doesn't look afraid. What's that about?

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The first goon grins at Mary Anne. "Actually, buddy," he says to his friend, "I dunno but that this chick ain't hotter." His teeth glint in the sodium glare. "Whaddaya say, you and me go and make some fun of our own?" His hand might is making a grab for her ass.

Asshole number two turns his head to look at the blonde arrogantly waving a gun about near his face.

"Do you have a license for that cannon, doll?" He asks.

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Her eyes darken a shade.

"Oh, honey. You couldn't afford me."

Her free hand reaches back and grabs his wrist, twisting hard.

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"Sure I've got a license. It's a universal license to eliminate predatory scum."

I nearly laugh. And then slam my free hand into the guy's nose.

A textbook Shang punch. Thank you, Alanna and Liam.

"PS: The 1930's called. They want their slang back."

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The whore has been staring at the altercation, mouth open, but finally gets her wits back. She pushes in between Goldy and the man on the ground, and starts yelling.

"Just what the fuck do you two idiots think you're doing? These two have 'cop' written all over them - and we leave the cops the hell alone. Now what the hell am I going to do?"

Goon A, still against the wall, eyes Goon B, sprawled on the ground with his hand to his nose, and starts to make a move. He's cut short, though. Lucky for him he doesn't do anything rash, or he'd be cut shorter. By a head.

Miho's in the street, suddenly, arriving with a nearly noiseless, soft thump, her blades already out, one held to the throat of Goon A, the other at a ready to take out any of the other threats. The other three threats. Her eyes are completely empty.

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Mary Anne spots a new blade at the man's throat and steps back, sheathing her own knife.

Her hand stays on the hilt, however, when she notices Miho's eyes.

"Not here for trouble," she says, glancing over at the whore.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding."

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I don't have a chance to assimilate the whore's words properly. Because... there she is.

Miho. A cat-like shadow. Arriving with all the perfect grace that I remember. So deadly and yet so beautiful. Fuck, I've missed her.

"Sweetness!"

The street lighting glints off the familiar blades. Thunder rolls in the distance.

Something's wrong. It's like she doesn't recognize me.

"Sweetness?"

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The blade at the goon's throat doesn't waver, but the other one does, for a second. The dead expression in the little samurai's eyes wavers for a moment, too, before setting into something . . . undecided. She turns her attention back to things that she does understand, not spectres of a past that she isn't sure was real.

A flick of a razor sharp sword, a sideways glance, and the two cops are scrambling out of the alley as fast as they can. They won't be telling any tales. After all, it's too. . . humiliating. The whore crosses her arms and glares at the newcomers.

"Right. Explanations. Now."

Miho's eyes waver again. The girl can see them too?

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"We're new in town," Mary Anne says, not wanting to make things more complicated until the whore isn't present.

"We saw you getting harrassed and got involved. We didn't know they were cops and didn't know the rules. Not looking for trouble, like I said."

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She looks okay, physically. Better, actually, than when I last saw her. But I don't like the vacant expression. Not one little bit.

My focus is all on Miho. So much so that I barely hear the whore. And most of Mary Anne's words melt into the pitter-patter of the rain about us.

There's a cold dead weight brushing at my thigh. It takes a good few seconds before I register it as my gun.

"Sweetness. It's me. Goldy. We came to see you."

I take a step towards her.

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The whore gives them a suspicious look. . . but it's been a slow night. and nothing actually went down. She leaves. Miho can handle it, should anything come up.

Miho returns Goldy's gaze, steadily. She looks, for a moment, as if she would like to take a step back, but she doesn't. Her eyes aren't empty, really. It's more as if they're walled. Nothing shows - but not because there's nothing to show.

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"You with us, sweetness?" Mary Anne asks softly.

"We came to see how you were."

There's a beat of nothing but falling rain and heavy silence.

"How are you?"

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There's no reply from Miho.

Again.

My next step is far more tentative. And I actually spare Mary Anne a glance, partially questioning, partially seeking assurance.

I'm starting to hate this. And not just because of the rain. I hate feeling scared.

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Miho looks from Goldy to Mary Anne, and back. She's still not backing away, and now, she doesn't look as if she really wants to. In fact, more as if she wants to step forward. But she can't. That's when she wakes up.

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The silence is downright unnerving, so she breaks it again.

"You alright? You're not...mad we came, are you?"

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I sense an unspoken need in her, and that makes me feel a bit better. I take the final step. The one that brings me within inches of her. And, throwing caution to the wind, I slip my arms around her slight form.

"I don't care if you are."

I embrace her tightly, gun still in my hand.

"It's good to see you, love. I missed you. So much."

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Miho doesn't hold her back - but she does relax, just a little. She still has her blades out, likewise, so it's probably as good thing.

She is rather conscious of the gun, however.

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The rain continues to fall as I hold her. It spills out of my now-drenched hair, coursing down my face in warm rivulets.

I'm soaked.

I hardly notice.

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Miho rests her head on Goldy's shoulder, wet hair sticking damply to both of their faces. If she is crying, the tears are lost in the rain.

She can't sheathe the blades, and she won't drop them, and she can't do anything but hold them by her sides. She can curl into Goldy's embrace.

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And still she says nothing. I try and convince myself that actions speak loudest, and keep on hugging. It feels good. And yet wrong. Everything feels wrong. I realize that I need to hear her say something, my name, a greeting, anything. And somehow I know that's not going to happen.

She's damaged. Again. Worse than ever before. And I have no idea how to fix her.

That hurts.

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Miho pulls away.

Only for a second, though, only to re-sheathe blades (they'll need caring for, later. They're far too wet), before slipping back into Goldy's arms, and this time her own arms slip up in between them, fingers curling hard into the taller woman's shirt.

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