Eyes. All on her. She was being watched.

 

Seeth tried desperately to ignore them. The hunger gnawed at her insides; she was so close to that sweet release. Her mind was clouded and distracted, her thoughts only on the Mark before her, of indulging in Tora’s body, running her hands over the demoness’ skin, pinning her down and rutting her senseless.

 

She would look so much better drenched in me, wouldn’t she? I already own her, she just doesn’t know it yet.

 

But that crawling feeling along her spine would not go away. It itched at her shoulder blades, pulling Seeth away from her carnal desires. Her mind was torn, and both sides were as desperate as the other. One wanted to indulge, to let go and release. The other screamed at her to listen to her instincts, to be present, and to come out of the haze.

 

Fuck. FUCK! FINE, WHATS TEN MORE MINUTES AFTER SIX MONTHS OF WAITING?!

 

Her frustration boiled over as she begrudgingly let go of the sexual smog that was clouding her mind.

 

But the second she did, she felt her skin prickle and ignite, as though she had been pierced by thousands of tiny flaming arrows.

 

There were dozens of eyes, watching her through the Den’s large glass windows. 

 

Panic spread through her as she snapped her head around, to where she felt the staring coming from, but there was nobody there.

 

No! I can feel them! They’re right there!

 

“Seeth? Are you okay -”

 

*PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG*

 

The Den shook violently. Tora gasped and threatened to fall over, but Seeth quickly reached out her hand and propped her up. Seeth, in contrast, seemed unfazed and remained in place, still staring at those unseen. The metallic thudding echoed around the Den, and the party, just on the other side of the door, slipped into a concerned silence. 

And a blissful few seconds it was, for what would come next.

 

Several silver canisters suddenly penetrated the walls. They stuck there, protruding only a few inches into the room, but that was all the space they needed. A loud hiss filled the room.

 

Seeth immediately took a deep breath and held it. She eyed one of the closest canisters, and noticed a scratchy font etched into the protruding nozzle.

 

5%

 

“The fuck is tha…” Tora’s voice trailed off immediately as the gas hit her.

 

At that moment, a ship flashed into vision through the glass. From inside, a squad of Vora Barons leered menacingly, gnashing their jaws and sharpening their weapons, all eyes on her. She didn’t need to be able to hear what they were saying, as they spat, jeered and drooled at her person.

 

They have cloaking panels too?!

 

Seeth turned back to face Tora, but the demoness was already losing consciousness. She swayed side to side, before suddenly collapsing into Seeth’s arms. Seeth’s heart pounded in her chest; she could see the Barons docking at the Den already, preparing to board. Her party thudded to a stop, with the sound of multiple collapsing bodies filling the Den. 

 

“Barons! The ventilation! Seeth!” Garnet stumbled out of the kitchen and into the lobby in a panic. He gestured back towards his office, but his voice was waning - he was about to collapse too. “Black Lance… arm… kill. Don’t let them t-take… V…”

 

He fell to the floor, his voice stuck on his wife's name.

 

Seeth quickly scooped up the unconscious Garnet and, with Tora draped over her other arm, carried them quickly back down the corridor, and into Garnet's office. She laid them both down gently at the back of the room, doing her best to hide them behind the folding screen and the clothes rack. 

 

The Den’s forward airlocks hissed open, and the sound of the Baron’s charge echoed through the Den, their heavy footsteps, their laboured breathing, and their clinking weapons.

 

“I WANT THEM ALL TAKEN ALIVE. WE’LL STRIP THEM ON THE SHIP, IN FRONT OF LOCKBLADE, UNDERSTOOD?”

 

Now… Why have you done this FUCKING NOW?!

 

Seeth’s hands clenched into tight fists. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, although it wasn’t just the adrenaline. She’s been so close, so close to victory. And they’d snatched it away from her. She was beyond starving, her body aching with a selfish, deprived hunger. She stared down at Tora, and then at Garnet, and her thoughts drifted slightly to her friends, who were still in the loading bay, ripe and ready for Baron picking. She tried desperately to quench her fury - now was not the time for contemplating, every second mattered.

 

I need my gear. I need my weapons. I need to get downstairs.

 

She really was trying to stay focused, but those split sides of her psyche were pulsing with rage, and it was bubbling to the surface. A curiosity took over; she needed to know who dared to attack her, in her Den. She needed to see them with her own eyes.

 

So she slipped across the office again, back towards the corridor, and peered around the door.

 

Maruarding within the lobby, hazmat-suited Barons carrying massive silver casks on their shoulders stomped towards her, wearing black gas masks with bright blue lenses.

 

“I HEAR HER, SHE’S THIS WAY!”

 

Sense suddenly shuddered back through her mind. This wasn’t - couldn't - be about revenge-killing Barons. This was about saving her friends' lives. Seeth leapt back across the room, out of their vision, searching frantically for the panic button. She still wasn't thinking clearly, her brain was foggy, but that heavy thumping of the Baron's getting closer helped her focus a little, and she finally reached down to Garnet's desk. “Thank you!” Seeth sighed with relief as she found both the panic button, and Garnet’s emergency control panel. She smacked her hand onto the bright red button, causing all the fans in every room to spin up. The main buckhead doors slammed shut with a synchronous *BOOM* across the Den, sealing most of the Baron’s forces within the lobby, at least for now.

 

As the fans drained the room of the Baron’s noxious gas, Seeth cautiously sucked in a mouthful of air through the corner of her mouth. A wave of relief washed over her as she felt no change to herself, but everyone else was still out.

 

“Haw haw haw! Look at this, Lockblade’s getting married! Sorry to crash the party.” A pair of Barons had squeezed through the office door, both holding those giant silver caskets on their shoulders and suited with the same hazard suits and gasmasks. The Baron in front also held a one-handed super-sized taser rifle, a copper wire looping around its body and a thick black cable connected to a battery pack on the baron’s thigh. “Caught you by surprise, have we?” He asked, noting Seeth’s complete lack of armament with a yellow-stained toothy grin. “Such a shaaaame.”

 

“We’re taking our pound of flesh, today, Lockblade.” The second Baron growled, glancing behind Seeth at Garnet’s unmoving body. “And we’re taking some much owed meat from your crew, too.”

 

The taser rifle spat a handful of barbed darts at Seeth, slamming across her body and hooking into her skin, sending a paralysing discharge through the cables now connecting her to the Baron.

 

Her body tensed up and locked in place, her limbs quivering. She couldn’t move.

 

A guttural roar of victory screeched out from behind the Baron’s mask as he clambered forward, the lenses of his mask firmly locked onto the statue-still Seeth as the tac-tac-tac-tac of the taser rifle played out endlessly.

 

An unbridled rage forced itself to the front of her mind. This fat sack of maggot shit needed to die. 

 

They all did. 

He stomped across the room, reaching a gloved hand out towards Seeth… and then he froze. 

Behind Seeth’s pretty lips, a mouth full of daggers curled and snarled into view as the Controller roared back at the Barons, a half-synthesised, bassy screech like thunder at dawn, rumbling through their bodies and vibrating their bones.

 

She wrenched herself free of the electrical assault and bared her claws, plunging them into the Baron’s suit. They pierced straight through his flesh, like daggers of purest ice, and with every ounce of furious strength she could muster, she raked the skin and muscle clean from his bones.

 

As he screamed out in agony, her other hand broke free of its electrical tension and snapped cleanly around his mask. The mask crumpled beneath her overwhelming grip, and the Baron instantly fell limp, as her claws punctured straight into his soft flesh. He collapsed with an earth-shaking *smack,* his taser rifle still clacking as it and the casket dropped to the floor.

 

“POUND OF FLESH YOU SAY?!” Seeth roared, yanking the remaining barbs out of her skin.

 

The other Baron stared, frozen in horror, his finger repeatedly slamming on the trigger of his own taser rifle. He dropped it to the floor and raised his arm to defend himself as Seeth lunged at his neck from across the room, slashing at his forearms and shunting him back against the wall. He leaned into her charge and went to slam his casket at her, but a surgically-precise slash of his wrists rendered his hands limp and ineffective. The casket rolled off his shoulder as the Baron lost his grip.

 

Overcome with rage, Seeth lunged at his neck again and clamped her teeth straight into the front of his throat. In one swift movement she tore the front half of his neck out cleanly and spat the pulsing flesh to the floor, then clamped her hands onto his head and tore the entire fat thing off in a single, clean pull. She launched it at the far wall of Garnet’s office, where it hit with a sharp crack before splattering against the metal. 

 

The front of her white dress was now splashed with a brilliant crimson.

 

Another crash rattled through the Den, but on the opposite side now.

 

The crash was followed by an alarming whirring, and the clacking of barbed clubs against the floor. Ragers. A second craft must have punched through the Den’s walls further down.

 

The back-up.

 

With every exhale, a low growl escaped her throat. She determinedly snatched up both giant silver caskets, off of the floor, before moving to the corridor.

 

A line of Ragers, too numerous to count and too dangerous to ignore, were walking up the corridor, armed with barbed clubs and taser rifles. Their rage-engines, clamped to their backs, were spinning up to the furious hum. Behind her, the sealed blast-door to the lobby entrance fizzled and creaked; the Barons were cutting through the door. In between her and the rapidly-approaching Ragers lay her friends, still out-cold and frustratingly vulnerable. She forced her gaze away from the nomads, and focused her eyes on the Ragers.

 

“None of you are leaving this station alive.” Seeth spat, her eyes twitching as her fists tightened on the caskets.

 

The Ragers screamed back at her and broke into a frantic sprint, thrashing and frothing at the mouth, clawing their way down the corridor at the Controller, when she launched the first casket, straight at their charge. Half a tonne of metal crunched and ploughed into their galloping bodies like a car crash, with an ear-splitting thwack. She managed to knock out several of the Ragers, but more of them poured out their barge, leaping over their dead, clubs in hand.

 

Seeth raised the second casket and clutched it with both hands, using the space where the loading bay intersected the corridor to fight. Her hands squeezed the metal, bending it to the shape of her palms as she swung the colossal keg at the approaching Rager. 

 

*PANG*

 

The Rager was sent skittering back down the corridor, his body flapping like a plastic bag as the force of blow liquified his skeleton. A second Rager immediately leapt over the first and raised his club, but found no opening as Seeth swung the casket again, never letting its momentum drop. A hurricane of steel found its way to the Rager's face, this time in an upwards arc. His muscular body pinged into the ceiling, flattened and broken, punching into the ceiling tiles and getting tangled in the once-hidden cabling.

 

More of them approached, each as angry and deviant as the last, but each met with the bone-liquifying force of the blood stained casket, turning their once proud forms into little more than chunk addled slurry.

 

Seeth heard a loud, definitive clunk and hiss behind her, but all she saw was red. Every furious beat of her heart sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through her blood, filling every inch, every nook of her body.

 

Every swing of the casket sent a handful of bodies skittering back down the hallway, each body as broken and busted as the last, leaving a carpet of mangled limbs and spluttering rage engines.

 

Only two Ragers remained now, along with a Baron, who was still clambering through the breach-hole. Seeth launched the casket at the Rager further back, punching straight through him and embedding itself in the Den’s wall, the Rager's body pinned and flattened between the two.

 

The last Rager screamed at her, frothing at the mouth and swinging for her face, before suddenly finding himself snatched up in the Controllers grasp. Her hands bent his body out of shape, crushing his bones, as though they were little more than cardboard.

 

The Baron in the pod stumbled out into the hallway after her lessers. That crazed look of insatiable hunger quickly disappeared from her eyes and the colour drained from her eyes, she watched Seeth dig her claws into the seizing Rager’s body and rip him in two down the length of his body, heaving with every ounce of strength she had. Her dress now completely drenched in fresh Baron blood.

 

The Baron shuddered in horror as that wet cracking of a ribcage, meat still attached, ruptured through the Den, mixed with the sputtering sound of a dying rage engine. She turned on her heels and tried to clamber back into the breach pod, shaking as she heard the slop of the Rager’s corpse being thrown to the floor, in two fleshy, dripping thumps.

 

Your turn.

 

Seeth locked onto the Baron and sprinted down the corridor, snatching the casket free from the wall. She raised it up and slammed it into the base of the Baron’s back. The monster cried in pain, feeling her legs go numb, but managed to spin around as Seeth raised the casket again. A blade shot out from under the Baron’s wrist, twelve inches long with a curious orange colour to its edge and she raised it to defend herself.

 

Seeth brought the casket down again on the baron, flattering her skull with it, the baron’s defence doing little to save her own life, but as Seeth lifted the casket from the body, she heard a loud hiss emanating from the casket’s dented silver body.

 

The blade had punctured the casket cleanly and a jet of ice-cold gas washed over her face, filling her mouth and whistling through her teeth.

 

The gas’ effect was powerful and immediate. Her head spun and the den turned into a grey and red blur. She quickly threw the hissing casket away and watched as it sailed back down the corridor, only to be greeted with the sight of more Vora Barons, carrying their fresh haul out of the loading bay and towards the lobby… 

 

A slither of salt and pepper fur, grasped crudely in the clutches of a Baron, dragging his body across the floor…

 

A golden lioness with a hand clutched around her throat, squeezing her tightly as the monster prepared her for transport… 

 

The tail of a soft, white rat, visible for only a moment as she was pulled away from Seeth’s blurred vision.

 

Baron hands were on her friends. Right now. The entire Den was at their mercy.

 

Her head spun, her thoughts a blur, she was barely able to keep herself upright. It was like the Den was a ship, riding the waves through the darkest of storms. Suddenly the ground gave way beneath her, and she stumbled. The momentum of the slight fall carried her. Again, her lurching stumble failed to find ground, the fall was larger this time. 

 

A single coherent thought entered her mind; Stairs.

 

She braced herself as the momentum carried her straight to the bottom of the stairs, where a room cloaked in darkness awaited her. She fell back, thumping against the wall and braced herself, trying to move the gas out of her lungs. One breath at a time, her mind slowly stabilised, air in, then out, through blood stained, pursed lips. Her head swayed as the gas slowly left her lungs, and that red fog clouding her vision also started to lift. She was still angry, but not uncontrollably so anymore.

 

She wasn’t sure how long it had taken for her to return to her senses, it could have been mere seconds or entire minutes, but the Den rumbled with the sound of approaching Barons. She could hear the approach of their heavy feet, slick with the blood of their fallen kin, and the jangle of their ammo belts, rattling across their bodies and hanging from their guns.

 

“Where the fuck she gone?!”

 

The Baron’s grating voice echoed down the stairwell, and Seeth felt her heart jolt in her chest.

 

“Fuck wit! She’s gone down there, where the obvious blood trail leads?!”

 

“She’s killed three more of us, I say we bring her down. Boss can have his fill cold.”

 

There was a grunt of agreement, followed by the rustling of weapons.

 

“I know you can hear us, Lockblade. You can stay down in your fuckin’ hole and listen to your friends getting carted off, or you can come out and face the lead.” One of the Barons bellowed, thumping his chest.

 

Seeth peaked out from behind the wall, glancing up the staircase to see it absolutely packed with fat, heaving Barons. They stood in a staggered formation, pointing their auto-cannons into the darkness, waiting for the slightest movement.

 

A frontal assault would be suicide. There was simply no way Seeth could get close without getting hammered by auto-cannon shells. She ducked back behind the wall and looked around the room; maybe she could pry the panels off, there must be something she could use as a shield, or a projectile…when a scream tore through her thoughts.

 

“NO! NOT AGAIN! I CAN’T GO BACK IN YOUR CAGES! STOP! SEETH! DIEGO! HELP ME, PLEASE!”

 

Those cries were followed by one of the most harrowing screams Seeth had ever heard, nothing but pure terror echoing through the Den.

 

Tivy?!

 

Seeth could hear a faint commotion now, the nomads were waking up, but the Barons were hell-bent on taking them, awake or not. Not that they would be able to put up much of a fight - in their slurred sleepy state, the nomads were unarmed and powerless versus the Barons that were now swarming the Den.

 

Tivy was still screaming, screaming with all the might her little body had, and prompting a wave of cruel laughter from the Barons blocking Seeth in.

 

“Listen to that, Lockblade. Ain’t so tough when you’re caught by surprise, are ya’?”

 

“If you touch a hair on her fucking head…” Seeth growled. She could feel it, her mind was on the cusp of something… she was reaching out, into the darkest and most forbidden parts of her psyche.

“That little shit? Haw-haw. Critters aren’t worth the effort of butchering. Not enough meat.” The Baron chortled. “We eat 'em whole. They have a nice crunch to them!”

 

The thought of Tivy being eaten alive, her precious little light extinguished by these monsters swelled inside Seeth’s head, when they were suddenly interrupted: More commotion in the Den - it sounded like someone was fighting back.

 

“NO! SEETH HELP, PLEASE! SOMEONE! ANYONE!” Tivy cried out again, her voice hoarse and dry. A Baron further down the corridor suddenly yelled back.

 

“Someone shut that little shit up? I can’t hear myself think.”

 

*Thump*

 

And with that, Tivy fell silent. 

 

“We’re gonna drag all your friends out, one by one, Lockblade.” Another Baron growled. She could hear the sinister snarl growing over his face as he spoke. “And, one by one, we’re gonna turn them into meat paste.”

 

“I-If I surrender, will you let them go? It's me you’re after, not them!” Seeth pleaded, the tips of her claws digging into her palms as she squeezed her fists tightly as her mind continued to tease at the darkness inside her, itching, crying, begging to be unleashed.

 

Her question was met with a roar of laughter from the Barons plugging up the stairway.

 

“No.” 

 

No… Such a short word. But the power, the finality of it echoed inside her head. She needed to act, now. Too much time had already been wasted. 

 

Do or die.

 

An uncomfortable shiver shuddered through her. She knew what she needed to do.

 

Clenching her fists, she took one final peak up the stairwell.

 

They were all looking in her direction, but no one was watching the Baron at the very top of the stairs. She took note of what arm he was holding his auto-cannon in, and the way he was standing. In the darkness, she mimicked his posture. Standing legs apart, right arm hooked around the body of a long auto-cannon.

 

She blew a stressed, hot sigh out from her pursed lips, gritting her teeth together, her heart pumping steadily in her chest. Either this was going to work, or everyone was going to die.

 

Now or never, Seeth. 

 

She visualised the Baron in her mind and let her body do the rest. She lifted her leg like she was descending a staircase and leaned back slightly, as if she was teasing a teetering cliff edge.

 

Then, fire and frost.

 

Her bones and muscles felt molten hot, but her skin was prickled and cold. The corridor filled with a nightmarish clangour, caught between tearing and popping. Where once the farthest back Baron stood, Seeth now occupied his hollow carcass, his body forcefully splattering over the walls around him and the Barons in front of him.

 

The auto-cannon looped into her arm perfectly, as if she had been the one holding it the whole time.

 

*BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM*

 

She held it firmly and unloaded several shells into the barons in front of her, punching through their unarmoured flesh easily. They tumbled down the stairs lifelessly and gracelessly, left as a pile of perforated bodies. She quickly snatched a second auto-cannon and looped it under her other arm, ignoring the gore splattered over her once white dress and splashed over the walls.

 

Her mind focused, calculating. She stepped out into the corridor, bathed in gore, an auto-cannon slung under each arm, fingers ready to snap onto the triggers the very second she confirmed no friendlies were in harm's way.

 

Her guns spat a wall of lead down the corridor, punching through more barons and what few ragers remained. Their punctured bodies collapsed into the already carrion filled corridor as empty casing rained to the floor either side of her. A body and mind of steel, surrounded by spent brass and split corpses. 

 

Only the very bottom of her dress had any semblance of its original colouration, the rest of her slick and shiny with crimson. She advanced up to the next doorway with her storming automatic-fire, pausing at the break in the corridor to let the barrels of the looted weapons cool. Hearing the invaders scramble around and scream at each-other, she pushed herself up against the wall to ensure she couldn’t be seen.

 

Every place they couldn’t see was somewhere she could be. It felt so odd at first, she knew where she couldn’t be, even though she couldn't see it. 

 

But then again, she didn't need to see it. She was a soldier, and she hadn't spent her first few weeks here meticulously studying the blueprints and memorising the layout of the Den to be caught out by a technicality. 

 

She could feel their presence in the lobby, but the rest of the Den felt empty, the Barons had already dragged the nomads out. The only other place she could feel their presence was in the workshop, where her equipment was currently being kept. 

 

My weapons. I need my weapons.

 

She focused, and teleported to the very bottom third level of the den. This level held nothing but a workshop, purely for the refurbishment and repair of Garnet’s mercenary gear. A fresh line of Barons were marching into it, separated from the main force and searching for more bodies. They didn't notice the blood dripping from Seeth’s splattered frame, as she teleported behind them, over their own laboured breaths and creaking equipment, their focus firmly fixed forward.

 

She made to fire, her fingers pulled firmly against the triggers, but as she did, both auto-cannons suddenly seized up in her hands, clacking loudly and refusing to fire.

 

Shit. SHIT! I don’t have time for this. Eyes forward fuckers, I can only hope this hurts as much as it looks like it does.

 

There was no time to mimic their stance this time. She needed them gone. Now.

 

The workshop filled with that same disgusting fleshly pop, organs and gore spraying everywhere in a vile, thick crimson spew.

 

Again.

 

In the blink of an eye, she warped through one after the other, starting at the back and warping her way forward, straight into their bodies. The same pop, the same splat, the same crunch, every time. The noises blended together, seven Barons mulched in less than a second, filling the workshop with a prolonged organic crackle, like someone was driving a pair of scissors through a very long, wet piece of paper.

 

Her skin prickled with blood stained frost, her bones ached with fire, her joints cried out in agony as if they were clogged with rust. She stumbled to the workbench, panting loudly and slamming her hands onto it for balance. The Barons were eviscerated and spread all over the workshop but the pain shooting through her body was excruciating, like someone was sanding her bones away from inside her.

 

FUCK! N-Noted. That stings something fierce.

 

She pressed through the pain, gritting her teeth as she looked around the blood-flooded workshop, ignoring the pitter-patter of baron blood raining down on her, dripping ichor down her carapace.

 

The SAFU lay disassembled on the main workbench. Although, judging from how the auto-cannons took to being teleported, she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk warping with it anyway. Her eyes drifted instead to her axe, leaning against the workbench, freshly sharpened and ready to be wielded. 

 

*

 

“You fucking bitch, we were gonna wait until you lot were loaded up on the ship before butchering you! But you’ve earned a few slashes for the journey.” The Baron growled, blood dribbling down his nose and teeth. 

 

Tora struggled furiously in the grip of a second baron, a thick, fat arm hooked around her neck from behind. The two men struggled to keep the demoness under control as they dragged her into the adjoining bathroom of the Den’s lobby.

 

The second Baron positioned himself behind Tora, grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back, locking her in place. Despite her furious thrashing, there was a vengeful smile on Tora’s face as the Barons managed to close the door behind them.

 

“The fuck you grinnin’ at?!” The first baron snarled, pulling a thick metal knife out and holding it to her face, while his other hand clumsily unbuckled his belt.

 

“Do whatever the fuck you want, asshole! You’re all fucking dead and you know it.” Tora laughed.

 

Before he could reply, the squad chief bellowed from within the lobby. He was a human male with several bionics grafted onto him, including a thick metal leg, more akin to that of a war mech than a typical bionic.

 

“YOU GONNA START SEALING THAT DOOR OR WHAT?!”

 

“Sire, we-”

 

“THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY! WE BROKE GUILD LAWS FOR WHAT?! SOME MEAT?!” He gestured broadly to the Den’s captured inhabitants. Venner, Oxyi and Geralt were strung together and sitting on the ground in the corner of the room. Garnet and Tivy were on the opposite side, Tivy face down against the same wall, lying still. Garnet was bound and gagged, but fighting with every ounce of strength he had to break free. “We’re leaving. WE’RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW! Before the fuckin’ bounty hunters turn up.”

 

“We can hold them.” Another Baron disagreed, kneeling by the security door that led to where the party was taking place, preparing to seal it shut.

 

“No, we can’t. This was a bad idea. A BAD IDEA! No matter where we go, we’ll have a fuckin’ target on our backs now! Barred from guild services forever!” He turned away from his remaining barons and stared up the boarding ramp back to his own ship. “As soon as that door is sealed, we’re out of here.”

 

“Eat shit, Baron!” Oxyi spat, her eyes sharp like daggers but widening in horror as the Baron stomped over to her, frothing from the mouth.

 

“DON’T TEST ME, MEAT!” He screamed, raising his massive metal leg above her. “I’M NOT IN THE MOOD TO BE BACK-CHATTED BY -”

 

*Clack*

 

The room was suddenly bathed in darkness, the lights all across the Den snuffed out.

 

The Baron's fear intensified and he swung around in the darkness. The lobby now was illuminated solely by the Baron's shiplights, shining through the Den's front windows. The scuffle in the restroom intensified, a muffled crack rang out from behind the door, followed by two thumps, and then silence.

 

“Gorge?! Barma?! You deal with that demoness?!”

 

The Baron leader waited a couple of agonising seconds for a response but none came. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silhouette flicker behind the other Baron. Shrouded in darkness, he could swear it wasn’t real, or maybe he just wished it wasn’t.

 

An executioner, clad in a dripping red dress, gripping a massive axe in two furious hands, illuminated only by the flickering light of the welding torch.

 

The blade swung through the air and sliced the baron crouched at the door in two, cleanly severing his body, dropping his welding torch to the floor.

 

The final Baron reached for his pistol desperately but saw a final blur of movement in the darkness.

 

Speared straight through the shoulder, the axe was slung at him, handle first like a javelin, knocking the pistol out of his hands and sending him clattering to the ground. 

 

He hardly had time to breathe before she was upon him, she ripped the axe free of his body and brought the blade down on his head, ending his life with a final vicious slam.

 

It’s over.

 

With the final Baron dispatched, she tore the keys free off his belt and slung them over to the girls trapped in the corner. Seeth quickly turned her attention to Tivy, crouching gently over her still body, and gently stroking her antenna. Drops of blood pattered faintly against the ceramic floor from the bottom of her dress.

 

A wave of relief washed through the Controller as Tivy stirred, every inch of her body trembling with fear. She rolled over and caught sight of Seeth’s silhouette in the darkness, her blood-dripping exterior thankfully obscured, but the eye-watering stench of wet iron still present.

 

“Are you okay, Tiv? Did they hurt you?” Seeth’s eyes softened as she glanced over the trembling girl. 

 

Tivy couldn’t find any words, her body was shaking too much. She softly felt her head and winced, slowly reaching a hand out towards Seeth. Seeth went to hold it, but stopped as Tivy’s finger straightened out into a shaking point. 

 

Her eyes met with Seeth’s, pleading.

 

She was pointing towards the kitchen.

 

Seeth hadn't even noticed Garnet run out of the room, but suddenly she heard him scream, a blood-curdling, heart-wrenching scream that shook Seeth to her core.

 

A fresh jolt of anxiety shot through her. She stormed through the lobby, ignoring the concerned expressions of the nomads now freeing themselves, and tore through the half-opened doors with her bare hands.

 

Her heart thumped in her chest as she rounded the corner and surged into the kitchen. A dead Baron lay slumped in the middle of the room, his body pierced with several oozing wounds, and many kitchen knives still lodged in his corpse. The floor was slick with a mix of blood, soup and crushed food, all mixing together to make an unrecognisable, metallic stench.

 

At the very back of the kitchen, illuminated only by the soft glow of her still warm oven, V lay still, slumped against the ground, a pool of blood spreading around her neck.

 

The Barons had claimed a victim after all. 

 

Garnet was hunched over V's body, screaming and cradling her in his arms.

 

“Wake up, V… V, please wake up!” 

 

A painful, suffocating ringing threatened to overwhelm her senses. Seeth’s heart pounded in her chest. The pain she was feeling in her body from the fight, was nothing compared to how her heart was feeling now. She could feel a pair of fast, heavy footsteps from behind her, and suddenly Tora was rushing past her, throwing herself over V’s body and wrapping her arms around Garnet, squeezing him close. Seeth caught a brief glimpse of the oni’s tears rolling down her cheeks, before burying her face against Garnet’s shoulder. 

 

Seeth could hear them, Garnet’s shrieks and cries, Tora’s shaky sobs of pitiful reassurance, but their words were muffled, both distant and close, and impossible to understand. Her own laboured breath was the only thing she could hear, with any degree of clarity. 

 

And that ringing in her head…

 

Garnet’s empty eye sockets clenched painfully, squeezing a dribble of blood between closed eyelids, dripping down his face mixed with tears. He wheezed painfully, choking on the air, barely able to breath as he quivered over V’s body.

 

I… I can’t look at this.

 

She turned to leave the kitchen, only to be met with a gathering of mercs and nomads at the door, concerned by curious looks across their faces. She pushed past them, her stride surprisingly calm, as she moved back towards the lobby. A deep, stinging anger was welling up in her chest.

 

A voice broke through the white noise for a second. Tora.

 

“GET OUT! DON’T YOU HAVE ANY DECENCY?! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!”

 

She was screaming at the top of her lungs, followed by a heavy slam of a door.

 

Seeth didn’t know exactly how to feel. Her thoughts were spinning out of control.

 

I was supposed to save them… all of them…

 

But, through the noise and the madness, the fear and the carnage, a single coherent thought solidified in her head. It led her back to Garnet’s office, back to the other day, back to the last person they’d spoken to, about the attacks…

 

A fresh, new rage flowed through her. A hoarse, curdling scream wrenched itself from her chest and out of her mouth:

 

“SOMEONE GET ME JACE KOA!  NOW!”

 

*

 

The Den was busy again, but the mood now was very different compared to the lively, bubbling atmosphere that had occupied the Den just a few hours ago. Several friendly merc ships had arrived, and even some less-friendly ones too, and were offering aid. The Vora Barons, after all, were an enemy of all. The Baron's own vessel had been stripped of parts, detached from the Den and promptly scrapped via repeated volleys of ship carronades. 

 

The gore and viscera spread throughout the Den was being cleaned by friendly faces, and those eager to help in any way they could. The sheer destructiveness of the attack only further cemented Seeth’s reputation.

 

Not that it mattered, at that moment.

 

The atmosphere was surreal, deep sadness and loss, mixed with hope, bizarrely. Seeth couldn’t quite piece it together, as she sat alone, in one of the spare rooms within the Den, glancing out over the friendly ships that were still arriving to help.

 

It was refreshing to see the nomad’s coming together, if perhaps a little too late.

 

But as she sat on the room’s windowsill, gazing out over the station, an unsettling feeling took over her. Something had appeared in the cosmic horizon, and was moving impossibly fast. In the blink of an eye, it went from being a speck in the distance, to being right in front of her, hovering mere metres outside the window.

 

The sudden closure made Seeth jump to her feet, ever cautious, ever ready for a fight.

 

It was some sort of drone, too small to be a piloted craft, around the size of a lorry-cab in its entirety. With a shiny, black body and a large, singular orange optic on its front, sleekly built into its frame. The chassis had a faint marking on its side, two triangles pointed towards one another, almost like an hourglass.

 

It appeared to be looking through the window, scanning the room, its optic twisting in its frame slowly, adjusting and taking in information.

 

I wonder if it's looking for me? Good luck with that. Seeth thought to herself, watching the drone scan the room fruitlessly. It didn’t seem to be aggressive, at least.

  

She sighed loudly, hoping some of the other ships would notice and shoot it down. There wasn’t exactly much she could do from inside.

 

Suppose I could tele-kill it if it turns hostile?

 

She continued to watch the drone with cautious interest as it remained entirely fixed on her room, watching as its orange, plate-sized optic continued to adjust itself until -

A shiver suddenly ran down her spine.

 

A large, dark line materialised on the optic, splitting it down the middle, almost like a giant iris. 

 

It could see her. 

 

She could feel it, it was looking directly at her.

 

Shit - SHIT!

 

The drone’s attention stayed locked on her, its giant eye fixed on Seeth as it slowly hovered closer to the window. Its optic twisted slowly in its frame again, almost like a curious dog.

 

She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know how to react. It kept on its slow approach, gently hovering closer and closer to the window until it was practically touching it, all the while locked onto Seeth with an unnerving, machine-like focus.

 

Locked in a staring contest with the drone, Seeth froze, her mind desperately searching for anything that might resemble what the hell this thing was.

 

It’s not DA, looks way too advanced to be DA… So what are you?

 

But, before she could ponder much longer, the drone suddenly retracted. 

 

Its eye disappeared into its body, its body changing shape with several massive, intimidating weapons suddenly protruding from it. Its form now much more war-like and threatening compared to its inquisitive former version, but thankfully it did not give Seeth the chance to worry, as it turned away and rocketed back into space, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared.

 

The tingling down her spine faded away; she was no longer being observed, but any relief that she felt was accompanied by a mixture of confusion, concern, and curiosity.

 

What the fuck was that..?