“Send them up,” Flock said into her earpiece as she strode through the halls. It was a habit she’d picked up after wearing slightly more flamboyant -- but no less practical -- clothing. The kind with strips of fabric hanging off the belt, sometimes with a single-shoulder cape. Anything that billowed or made the fact that she was wearing heels more impressive. And striding through the halls, seeing her people look at her the way they did made all the pomp and fanfare entirely worth it. The nods of respect from guards on duty, to the smiles from her engineers, and the terrified blink of her science team.

That was something she’d had to reconcile over the years. They weren’t terrified of her. Well, they were, but they weren’t terrified of her because of her. Her top smart people had a tendency to take deadlines -- which they often set themselves -- incredibly seriously, and then panicked when they almost (but never entirely) failed to meet them. Any attempts on her part to get them to relax had failed, so she’d quietly reduced the stimulants in their tea and tried not to scare them too often. It was like working with stressed-out hamsters.

She rounded a corner and passed a room where Shakes was teaching some new recruits how to take care of their weapons. The next few days, discipline and readiness was going to be paramount. The heroes that were coming down could be intercepted, sure, but Flock wanted to strike before her resources were worn down. She didn’t think she could win a war of attrition with one or more of the major corporations above, but she could have a hand in whose blood they smelled in the water. Though Tore showing up had most definitely bought them some time. The first ‘Hero’ had arrived an hour ago and apparently her crew was still trying to get the dents and stains out of the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling. 

And apparently the mercenary had called in some favours when she’d heard the full story, which had been an unexpected boon, and had made up for Flock’s anger when she’d found out she’d been duped. She was still a bit miffed, if she was honest with herself. The realization that Tore was not a single person but a title that had been passed on -- if only once -- made her feel like she’d paid through the nose for someone else. Like she’d been swindled. Of course, the other Tore had carried out the assignment perfectly, but that wasn’t really the point. Flock had only just decided not to demand a full repayment. Only because the job was done, and Tore’s insistence that other, younger Tore was just as capable as she was, if not moreso. But there was definitely a difference between the two. The younger one didn’t make her feel as flustered as this other one did. Something about the woman’s presence made her feel like she was on the back foot. Flock wasn’t sure she hated it, but the woman and Ellis apparently enjoyed ganging up on her, which was patently ridiculous. She was a warlord, people shouldn’t be able to make her stammer like a schoolgirl.

She was on her way to meet with Tore’s old compatriots. Allies? Friends? Did mercenaries have friends? Bounty hunting seemed like a lonely profession, considering the high casualty rate. Would they all be old and decrepit? She tried not to imagine a team of geriatrics who were supposed to help her break Ellis’ partner and friend out. Now that she knew where to look, it was just a matter of time before her mechanical spies and drones sussed them out. And she wanted to be absolutely prepared. A handful of mercenaries even half as good as Tore could tear through an army, if their age wasn’t a problem.

She stepped onto the elevator that would take her to interrogation room four. If her timing was right, she’d be arriving at around the same time the team did, and Ellis would be stationed inside, just another guard, to put his own nerves at ease. She hoped. If the team turned out to be capable. The way Flock saw it, he had just as much of a right to be comforted by the idea of a competent group to rescue the people he cared about. Sure, Flock’s motives were more immediate and selfish -- she just wanted to see Ellis happy -- but that didn’t change her desire to make it happen. 

The elevator hummed and she flattened her clothes to make sure she looked calm and composed, and did a quick diagnostic on the thirty-eight drones hidden throughout the folds in the fabric. Some were needle-sharp, and would be able to stop even the fastest attacker at the speed of a thought. A few had small shield generators and would burn out in a second, but it would make it look as if she was wearing a personal shield generator in case she was shot at. For years, people had been trying to make a shield that didn’t require a two-ton battery, and ideally one that didn’t explode on prolonged use, but none had been found. This was a good alternative, although limited in use. And she did not want to take the risk with a bunch of mercenaries. While she trusted Tore’s reputation, she hadn’t heard of most of the people she’d brought and mercenaries weren’t known for their loyalty. 

With a soft chime, the doors slid open, and then the bookcase shifted aside. Another fun little diversion. She made sure to have people on the back foot where possible, and appearing out from hidden passages had people wondering what part of their surroundings was real and what was fake. Being a renowned villain and criminal was half planning and resources, and half presentation. Guests needed to believe she was always several steps ahead of them. She couldn’t afford to be seen as weak or unprepared, after all.

The group gathered in the well-furnished room was certainly something to behold, flanked as they were by quite a few more guards than she’d initially asked for. Someone had apparently found it necessary. Tore stood in front of the gathered mercs, as if to be both presenter and protector. She wasn’t going to let the mercenary distract her, no matter how tall, buff, imposing, beautiful… Flock shook her head and forced herself to focus past Tore at the group. It was like they’d been chosen by their ability to make up the most stereotypical Ragtag Group of Misfits she’d ever seen. They all stood in stark contrast to each other. 

At the edge stood a robot, studying the nearest bookcase, ignoring her entrance, which was a kind of flex in and of itself. It made a show of not caring about her, or not be scared and intimidated at the very least. It was fairly tall and slender, elegantly built, with neutral features and six sensors on its forehead instead of eyes. It seemed to be wearing some kind of regalia, a mesh of blues and reds, that made it look like it belonged in a convent. It also seemed to have a small dragon, sleeping gently, curled around its neck like a scarf. Just to be sure, Flock gently probed the robot’s mind, and promptly bumped into the natural protections afforded by sapience. Good. Can’t reprogram a conscious mind, Flock knew, so even if there was a threat in the room, it wasn’t a pre-programmed assassin bot. 

Next to it stood a woman who looked far too young to be an associate of Tore’s, barely in her mid-twenties. She wore a large overcoat and a wide-brimmed leather hat. Two things immediately drew Flock’s attention. The first were the guns. There were so many guns. Two strapped to her back, one in every one of the eight visible holsters, and at least two knives. Disarming this woman would give her guards a field day. That was the other thing, of course. The woman hadn’t been disarmed, and it was clear in her eyes why. She was young in appearance, not a single blemish in sight, but her eyes were old and angry. She looked like she’d snap the first person in half who might try and touch one of her guns. They also glowed softly, and gave her skin a gentle green hue. 

Next to her stood a giant of a man who might well have been Shakes’ long-lost brother. He had a wide grin on his face, and his hands planted firmly on his sides, happy to be presenting himself. It was because he seemed to have had most of his teeth replaced and was missing an eye, as well as the extensive scarring on his arms and neck, that Flock didn’t doubt for a second that this tank of a man was a professional combatant. 

Next to him stood a woman wearing clothes similar to Flock’s own, and when their eyes met, they both smiled softly and nodded at each other. They respected each other’s energy, if nothing else. She was beautiful in that very dangerous kind of way. Smiling at her was like flirting with a snake. You couldn’t tell whether she was smiling back genuinely, or sizing you up for a meal. Flock would be into it if she wasn’t actively trying to project the exact same image back into the room. The woman also wore the tattoos printed by freelance hackers, who were very popular with every single community in the city. They could pretty much go where they wanted to, their ability to manipulate machinery almost unparalleled. Flock smirked to herself. Almost. With her implants, she probably had her beat. 

She looked over at Ellis, who was standing by the door and clearly trying to size up the gathered strangers. She just barely failed to look away when he caught her eye, and just barely managed to suppress an embarrassed smile. Of course, Ellis had no such compunctions, and fired off a happy smile at her that went straight through her brain and directly into her chest for a little extra oomph. She had to take a breath to compose herself. 

Next were two men wearing similar clothes, although one was significantly more heavily armored than the other, with a lot more technological additions to his outfit. The other was very… analog in his approach, and Flock assumed he was a mage of some kind. The other, who was likely his brother, bore the telltale signs of marksmanship, from the fingerless gloves, the one padded shoulder, the cybernetic right eye. 

The last one was a fairly young, chipper girl, covered head to toe in dirt, and Flock smiled despite herself. Engineers and mechanics could be spotted from a mile away, but their enthusiasm and drive was often infectious, and this one was no different. She could probably put together a vehicle or a drone in a matter of minutes, albeit not safely. Mechanics with that kind of manic grin on their face had a tendency to make things that exploded. Flock knew the type and she definitely didn’t mind having one on the team.

She crossed her hands behind her back and looked at every single one of them individually with a stern gaze, the one she used to practice in front of the mirror. She wanted it to be absolutely clear that she was in control, and that she wasn’t, like, desperate or anything. But she also wanted them to be allies. She didn’t want them to be bought out by the first corporate stooge with a fat bank account they ran into.

“So,” she said, softly but clearly. She’d learned to modulate her voice perfectly so that, when she was talking to a group of people, they’d all be able to hear her if they focused and kept quiet. “You’re all here because Tore has asked you to be here. For this I am, of course, grateful, though you will obviously be… greatly compensated. This assignment is dangerous, and the reward will reflect this.” A few nods, a few shrugs. “You are of course also entitled to any looting. After all, you’ll be going up high.”

“How high?” asked the angry woman under the hat, her eyes narrowing.

“Twenty, at least. Maybe higher.” The large man whistled and raised his eyebrows. She nodded at him. “Exactly. Like I said, risky. But don’t worry about collateral damage, and anything loose you want to take with you can be considered a bonus.”

“What’s the target?” the robot asked, its voice refined and constrained.

“I’m not sure how much Tore has told you all…” She let that hang in the air.

“We’re here to rescue her ex-girlfriend,” the mechanic answered cheerfully. 

“What?!” Flock and Ellis blurted out in unison.

Elamimax

(・о・)

If you like this story and want to know how it ends, the whole thing is up on my patreon! Subscribers will get access to every single chapter right now. Other than that, I will be posting a chapter (maybe even two) every other day (I don't think we'll get many more four-a-day like this :p). You'll also have access to my other stories, including some that aren't available on scribblehub yet!

If you're in the mood to catch up on my other stories, feel free to check them out. Additionally, Horns in the Library 1 is now available as an ebook! 

I also want to point people at the discord server of the ever-prolific QuietValerie (right here) where you can find her wonderful stories, like Ryn of Avonside, Falling Over and The Trouble With Horns, as well as other authors' works, and talk about them with fellow fans, and even the authors themselves! I heartily recommend joining it and reading their works! (Also check out Walls of Anamoor. It's rad as heck.) 

Thanks again for reading, and I'll see you all in the next one. 

<3