Etoile Couvier's Story

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Bounce. Catch. Bounce. Catch. Bounce.

The bright yellow ball bounced back against the wall and into the outstretched hand that caught it with perfect precision. Dark red nail polish clashed against the bright and preppy color as the owner fo the hand gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting soft squishing sounds from deep within the fist sized ball. The yellow sphere was raised up to the owner's eye level, blood crimson orbs focused on it like a hawk's gaze on a prey. She squeezed again, this time with her talons digging into the flesh of the ball, ripping through the rubber as easily as a bread knife would slice through butter. Her lips curvens into a sinister grin, pearl white canines shining when hit by the light of the fluorescent overhead, as the ball's contents began to ooze out. A yellowish liquid that looked strangely similar to bile and smelled like a seven year old rotten milk dripped down into the tiled floor, creating a small pool of goo a few inches from her toes.

A dark, hoarse chuckle escaped her lips - the sound echoing maniacally in her confines.

In the darkened corner of the room, a figure curled in on himself. The other occupant held his legs to his chest in an attempt to make himself invisible from the lunatic that sat in the lit side of their cage. His heart thundered in his chest, cold sweat formed on his brows, and his hands began to become clammy. One wrong move and he'd draw the monster's attention, resulting in what might be a slow and excruciatingly painful death. His eyes were wide and focused on the wilting ball in the maniac's hands as she squeezed its contents out onto the floor, the same crazed grin playing on her lips. He knew what the yellow liquid on their floor was. He knew what that rubber ball held inside it.

Her last victim's eyeball.

As if hearing his thoughts, the crimson eyes fell on his shadow. He started and gasped, fear gripping at his every nerve. He was paralyzed, those deadly eyes pinned him down. He was going to die, he was sure of it. He was going to die. Her grin grew bigger, the smile reminiscent of that of the Cheshire Cat's, and the faint smell of piss permeated the air. Another bout of dark laughter escaped her lips as she stood. With careful steps, she slowly demolished the distance between them. The sound of his pounding heart echoed in the man's ears, his eyes never moving from the image of death in front of him. He wasn't ready to die yet. He had wanted to escape.

Fight! That was it. Maybe, just maybe, he could overpower her. Maybe he could come out the victor and secure himself one steo closer to the freedom he so coveted. Maybe he stood a chance against the beast. The merciless beast that killed so many of her own kind to appease some sick form of pleasure deep within her. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't die right-

He blinked and almost let out a bloodcurling scream. She had been a few more step away, but suddenly, all distance between them was gone and her nose touched the tip of his nose. Blood red eyes bore into his with unwavering strength. His heart pounded erratically against his ribcage, threatening to run out of his body at any second. His head was spiining from the close proximity and the smell of death that surrounded her. His breath was labored, the gulps of air he so desperately swallowed disappearing before they reached his lips.

"Boo," she whispered. That was all it took for the man's eyes to roll to the back of his head before he slumped back, unconscious. The sight of his pathetic body and the strong smell of excretion that emanated from him was enough to make her fall back in a fit of laughter, the almost childish sound feeling foreign in the bars they were held in.

The sound of metal clanking against metal halted her glee and she turned to glare at the disruption, only to falter at the sight of the camp's general. She arched a questioning brow at him, silently wondering what caused him to tear her away from her merry-making.

"Stop playing with that Dark Mage, you lunatic. I have a new job for you." His tone was clipped and to the point, just how she liked it. Because of this, she quickly got to her feet and performed a lousy and mocking salute. "Etoile Couvier, at your service," she stated in what she deemed to be a proper military tone, before her hand fell back to her side. Stray strands of her dark hair fell above her face, blocking out most of her features and yet somehow, making her piercing eyes and sinister smile all the more prominent. "Now, tell me. Who shall I add to my collection?"

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New Eden City | Government Holding Facility "Death Row" | 3 pm

The boy was at his knees, the first time in years. An egotistic grin was on his face, eyes covered by the hood on his head. A pickup truck with a large wooden pole was carrying him through the camp, with about a dozen of heavily armed guards at the front and back. His arms were tied tightly to the pole, binded by a rope. He was bluffing: he knew he was going to die, and he hoped that his siblings were still alive at this point. It was extremely hard to believe, especially because he was brought in. He saw a soldier eating bread under a small tent: he looked bored, forgotten like the crowds of men in the camp. The prisoner boy smirked, like he was about to wreak havoc on this poor man. "You having fun?" The soldier looked up at the boy, and the truck stopped, and they started to prepare to execute the boy. "Hehe, I'm just starting to have a little fun of my own. Watch you bread, though." The soldier was perplexed.

It appeared that he was kneeling on a wooden platform with wheels and a handle. He was carried off, hands still tied to the sturdy pole. As the boy was rolled away, a scream was heard minutes later. The soldier's bread had appeared to have slimy maggots crawling out of it, and the soldier saw that the bread started to crumble at his hands. It turned into a mass of maggots, and they started crawling all over him. "Ahh.. AAAAAAH!" he screamed as he felt maggots crawling into his uniform pants. They were crawling through his buttons, and through the Corporal badge. "Get them off... GET THEM OFF NOW!!" he screamed as he started swatting and curling up in agony. To him, it felt like slimy tendrils were caressing his body. He let out one last shriek before he dropped to the ground, heart pulsing at full speed. Cardiac arrest? Heart attack? It didn't matter to Ren Young Ming. He had to pull off his biggest show before he died: he promised himself he would die happy.

But to the others, they didn't seem perturbed. To them, they just saw a soldier lying under his tent, taking a nap. No maggots, not shrieking soldier. Yes. It was all the boy. I guess you could call him the master of illusion.

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Silence had befallen the calm before the storm, and nobody dared anymore venture into the dark if they valued their lives. A thick eerie fog had set in the heart of New Eden, so no one could make out the ungodly bloodshed occurring in one of its alleys. Blood painted its streets and splattered its walls, and what remained of the lifeless carcass that it once belonged to found itself slumped onto the ground – with its head neatly displaced nearby. “Fucking disgrace against your own kind.” What came next was enough to send chills down the spine of any ordinary person as he dug his fingers into the man’s skull; the excruciating sound of mutilating flesh as he removed its right eye. “An eye for an eye.”

“Bastard.” Spitting on its corpse and taking up his sword, he became a mere silhouette in the enveloping darkness that continued to writhe its way through the city. Slowly the skies began to grow dark and the streets ran cold, the silence broken by thunderous applause overhead before the rains came. Still clutched in his palm was the slimy sphere he had taken from the mage; but he wasn’t any ordinary mage. He was a dog of the government who sold out his own kind for a few pieces of silver and a warm bed. The only use he would ever serve was giving his assailant access to one of the most heavily fortified lockups in the city.

If there was a hell, this prison was it; inside was every unimaginable horror ever committed to anyone who ever called themselves a mage. Torture, genocide, and worst of all traitors. But soon enough they would all be taught a lesson to know what fear truly tastes like. Raising his arm and smirking in the distance, he closed his eye, and with a wave of his hand you would think he was maestro to Beethoven’s 9th as lightning violently struck the control tower. Screams echoed in the courtyard as chaos ensued, all the while the maestro stayed true to his ballad of death.

When the guards finally took notice it was already too late as he had made his move, slaughtering the men as if they were sheep. “Too slow.” Coming up on his last victim, he grinned as he drove his sword through the man’s back, bursting through his sternum as a spew of blood poured out just as he removed his blade. Alarms triggered, calls for backup could be heard screamed over the intercom. Using the eye he had procured earlier, he overrode the retina scanner to gain access to the inside – and was welcomed graciously to a firing squad on the other side. “For me... ? You shouldn't have!"

“Belial…”

“What?” the waitress across from Laiq loosed a shrill squeak as the milkshakes she was carrying over to a booth surged in their cups. Drinks, sauces, and even the frying oil in the kitchen roiled violently as Laiq's magic bled into the nearby atmosphere. He stared at his phone, grip threatening to crack the screen. Whoever was on the other line spoke a few more times attempting to relay the information again and gain confirmation that the agent had heard, but hung up when only raucous answered them.

Laiq was already storming out of the restaurant before anyone could muster up the courage to ask him to leave. She was at it again. No matter how many times they spoke, how many times he tried to explain it to her, she still did not understand. That, or my likely Laiq realized, she didn't care. Etoile kept on maiming and killing captive mages for little to no gains. Magic-users that Laiq had captured in many cases, ones that he unwittingly delivered into the waiting clutches of one deranged earth mage.

Etoile Couvier was a bit of a sore spot as far as other agents were concerned. Laiq enjoyed her strength, her determination. She brought an impulsiveness that got things done where other members of the ACO would falter and fall back to rethink. Laiq frowned upon recalling the first time he had witnessed the darker side of Etoile.

Similar to many companies and government-funded facilities, the Arcanist Corrections Organization was a privately owned organization. As a result, it is assumed by the ruling government that they follow proper procedure. Assumed. Just like in any corrections facility, the jailors make the rules. They are the law. Human rights violations are as common as their perpetrators would like. Prisoners and non-compliants become plaything for people like Etoile to break. What she and her ilk did not realize was that they set the bar. If they extended basic human rights and proper living conditions to captured mages and their supporters, the horrible ghost-stories surrounding the ACO would vanish like smoke. People would see the value in their organization, not just the common folk who fear mages but other magic users themselves who are not so near-sighted as to believe regulations on magic have no merit.

A cab slowed near the curb in response to Laiq's hasty hailing. If I make it back to the facility soon enough, she may not have time to hurt the poor soul too badly. If not, well... best not to dwell on “ifs”.

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New Eden City | ACO Holding Facility | 3:15 PM

“By all that is holy, what on earth...?” the words tasted ashen in his mouth and his intentions to reprimand Couvier dissolved. The sky above the compound was a rolling mass of black shot through with veins of lightning. Above the din of thunder Laiq could hear the klaxon of the alarms going off. Faintly, he registered the sound of the cab driver speeding off to leave Laiq alone in front of the compound entrance.

The woman in charge of overseeing the gate stood motionless with her back turned. Her gaze was reserved solely for something out of sight. Laiq called out to the guard, and her attention snapped back to the present. Her rifle was leveled in Laiq's direction for a tense few moments before she realized that she was poiting her weapon at a sanctioned mage.

“Agent Kassem!” the guard relaxed the grip on her weapon and gave a half-hearted salute. It was obvious she was torn between wanting to assist in the defense of the ACO Facility and not wanting to abandon her post. The guard filled Laiq in before he could ask. “Reports have been spotty at best, but if what I have gathered is true, Belial is launching an assault on the Class-A criminal cell block.”

Laiq motioned for the guard to let him into the gatehouse. The man made a b-line for the lockers in the back of the wall-affixed building. Within a few moments he was dressed in the ACO guard uniform, a padded suit of white and blue built to absorb a great deal of trauma as well as resistance to temperature fluctuation. It was not much, but it afforded ACO troopers some measure of protection against the various abilities of mages.

Last was the helmet. A shock-resistant polymer covered the entirety of the piece, except the blue-lenses that served as eyes. The comm within the helmet sparked to life as the suit's basic micro-hydraulic systems activated. Mixed reports from across the compound flooded in. Belial's location, the number of wounded, several hostile magic-users were already running free.

There was no mistake where he was needed most. The guards could subdue what prisoners were freed, and there would be at least two-dozen Agent-Mages such as himself on the facility to assist. Laiq began sprinting through the corridors of the compound. He pressed a finger to the armor at his neck to activate the speaker-end of the comm.

“Agent Couvier. Agent Couvier, respond. It's Agent Kassem.” the hiss of mercury running through the power-system of the suit was a constant thrum in the background of his message. “Ignore any and all escaped detainees unless they immediately threaten you. There is a priority-1 target on the grounds, designation: Belial. He is a tier-1 Storm-Mage and to be killed on sight.” there was a small pause before Laiq spoke again. “I am heading to engage the target now. I will require assistance. Kassem, out.”

The double-doors opened outward into the courtyard overlooking the Class-A block. Bodies littered the stone and a large chunks of the building had been collapsed inward by some sort of tremendous force. Ahead, the source of the devastation was plain to see.

“Ex-Agent, designation Belial.” Laiq called out across the courtyard, his voice amplified by the speakers in the suit. “You are hearby ordered to laid down you arms and turn yourself in. Should you comply, your execution will be swift, and those aiding you will be allowed a fair trial.”

Not expecting a positive response, Laiq was already girded for battle. The storm provided all the moisture he needed to form eight spheres of water each the size of a small car. They hovered in a ring roughly ten feet from Laiq in a liquid bulwark, already churning with violent energy waiting for release. The agent fell in to a boxer's guard and allowed his mana to flow freely. He was already expecting a lightning strike. This is going to hurt...

At the same time, a sleek flash of pale flesh trailing shadowstuff leaped from a gap in the solitary block and into the storming outside. Oh no. Not Davlaman. Not taking his eyes from Belial, Laiq activated the comm bead once more and set up a feed with the firing squad a few dozen meters away.

“Detain the detainee, Davlaman.” scrambling for what information he could recall about the high-prority convict, Laiq hastily added: “Keep him at a range. His abilities make melee dangerous. Pump him full of lead, he will run out of mana to maintain his defense relatively quickly if you all focus on him.”

Without anything more than a ping of confirmation, the twenty-four ACO guards opened fire on Harper. Among them was a sanctioned Speed Mage, Lydia Cooper. The stocky woman wielded ten custom side-arms at the same time with her augmented speed, pumping out rounds towards Harper at twenty times the pace of the human members of the squad.

Sadly, that left Agent Laiq Kassem alone against the infamous Belial. For the moment, at least.

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Etoile walked aimlessly in the corridors. Somewhere, far away, she heard the echoing sounds of shrill screams. The cacophony of destruction and death that usually surrounded the facility was like music to her ears and it made her heart pound with excited vigor against her ribcage. She wasn't really aware of the background behind all the chaos that had suddenly sprung up, but she saw the cloud of black that rose up like the devil's fingers inching torturously slow and about to devour the very ground she stood on. She appreciated that, the theatricality of everything. It set up the mood and the stage for a battle that would not leave the minds of men for years to come.

The lights flickered overhead as her heels clicked against the carefully waxed floor. Behind her, her long dark locks swayed like a demon's tail, swishing with every movement of her hips. Her crimson eyes are hooded, bored, but clear enough for her to remain focused lest someone attempt to sneak up on her. The tip of Genocide slid on the floor, creating that deafening friction that made some people's teeth clench. For her, it was the sound of a promise. Her other hand clenched around a couple of seemingly ordinary rocks, special items that she had procured years prior for special cases such as what she was sure she would find in a while. Adrenaline coursed through her body like fire and the monster in her mind grinned maliciously.

The light stopped flickering overhead and disappeared completely, plunging the hallway into complete darkness. Etoile slid to the walls and kept her breathing shallow as the sounds of hurried footsteps echoed. Her grip on Genocide tightened, but she slipped the rocks back into her pockets. No, this one was not worth it. This one wasn't a threat moving to murder her. This one was running, like a coward. The person, she quickly discovered to be another mage, turned the corner and ran into her hallway, blind to the danger that dwelled within. His eyes were wide and afraid. He was pathetic.

She didn't have to wait long before he was killing distance. With one swift swing of Genocide, she separated his worthless head from his body, which slid on the floor due to inertia and stopped a couple of feet away. She caught the severed head in a fluid motion and held it high for her eyes to examine. He was nothing worth describing. Even the expression on his face at death was pathetic.

A hiss sounded from the lapel of her shirt. "Agent Couvier. Agent Couvier, respond. It's Agent Kassem,” came the rough voice from the tiny communicator that was pinned to her clothes. She had forgotten about that. “Ignore any and all escaped detainees unless they immediately threaten you. There is a priority-1 target on the grounds, designation: Belial. He is a tier-1 Storm-Mage and to be killed on sight.”

She looked at the decapitated body of the man she just killed with a blank face. "Oops," she said to nobody in particular, but with a smile tugging at her words. Laiq would probably give her an earful about this and she wasn't in the mood for any of that. She threw the head in the opposite direction of the body and heard it land with a sickening thump. She just wouldn't tell him about this little mishap.

“I am heading to engage the target now. I will require assistance. Kassem, out.” Etoile nodded, despite the fact that he would not see her. She swung Genocide in an arc and rid it of the pathetic swine's blood. With that, she made her way to the courtyard, where she felt the tremendous pull of chaos swirling like a whirlpool. It didn't take her long to establish a visual of the place and saw how much ruin had taken place. Her stomach flipped with anticipation.

She quickly spotted Laiq and moved to walk towards him when she felt a atronger force from the side. Her head tilted to the side as she examined this person. Harper Davlaman. Etoile's heard of him before and she couldn't help the smirk that reached her lips. Davlaman was strong and would be a worthy opponent, but there were already others dealing with him. Belial, on the other hand, had only Laiq to oppose him. Etoile shrugged as she pulled out her stones and pushed her power into them, willing them to bend to her command. They shone a magnificent emerald before shifting in her grip and forming her other sword. After a few test strikes, she moved out from behind the shadows and walked up casually beside Laiq. In her peripheral, she watched as Belial raised that sword of his.

"Sorry to join this party so late, but I'm here now," she offered another shrug. She turned her head to Belial and gave a simple curtsy. "Enchantee."

It was only sheer luck that Belial had chosen to monologue before their bout began. It stalled the engagement long enough for Etoile to arrive. Although he did not look her way, Laiq knew she was carrying that green blade with her: she always wielded the emerald weapon when she was fighting seriously. They would need everything in their arsenal to take down Belial, even two on one as it was. Laiq did not even flinch as the figitive's weapon began sputtering magical sparks.

“I'll have it move with you as best I can, but try to stay close to it.” with a small mental nudge, one of the aqueous spheres floating in the immediate area moved to hover just behind Etoile. This close, she might notice the unusual bubbles rapidly forming and popping within the water. Each sphere was fizzing at its core. A technique that Laiq had developed specifically to combat Air Mages, and one he hoped would not be necessary to demonstrate. As an afterthought, he added: “Don't talk with the enemy, Couvier.”

Belial was still speaking. The fact that he had not taken the initiative was something that Laiq intended to punish him for. The hiss of composite plates scrapping against stone accompanied the movement as Laiq began strafing around Belial, keeping him at a distance while moving away from Etoile. Two mobile targets would be far harder to hit with a gust of wind or lightning. The seven remaining spheres of water broke form and flowed protectively around Laiq as he sprinted, like great frothing serpents.

A quick cutting gesture stiffened the first of the water-javelins and condensed the mass, sending it hurtling towards Belial with the force of a mack truck. A couple more succinct movements brought two more of the water constructs around. They struck out at Belial from the sides, both taking the form of a giant's fist.

“Couvier,” Laiq shouted over the comm, “Keep this bastard grounded at all costs! Engage him in melee if you can. The longer we keep him fighting, the better our odds. Storm mages may be the strongest of our kind, but they burn through mana like wildfire.”

That was the gist of the plan: outlast the fugitive. The only flaw, however small, was surviving those terrifying moments of Belial's wrath.

So early in the altercation and Belial was already sorely outnumbered two to one. All the same, they were severely outmatched. Not a second’s hesitation followed in the moments to come; and before they had even made the first move, fog quickly came cascading over the tops of the building, absorbing the courtyard in darkness. As the clouds continued to crackle overhead, the rains begun to fell twice as hard as they had before. At home in the dark of the storm, their first blow presented itself as hardly a challenge. Knowing he couldn’t survive the attacks head-on, his timing would have to be perfect for what came next. Hoisting himself up into the air, he just barely caught the spear under his boots before using it to propel himself towards Laiq just as the two colossals at his flanks collided with one another.

Gripping his sword and landing but mere feet from the traitor, he drove his blade into the ground, instantly nullifying its effects. Taking a few small steps back, an egocentric grin painted his lips as he managed to catch his breath. “Well that’s a neat trick. This storm has taken a mind of its own. Which means there isn’t anything keeping me… from giving you everything I got.” Skies erupting, the winds began to kick up something fierce, and the clouds slowly churned and twisted as they seemed to start their descent. Belial's eye gleaming, lightning struck nearby before directing itself adjacent to Laiq’s position.

Paying close attention to the femme nearby, the wind violently battered against her in attempt to control any advancements she might make. “It is nigh time I end this little drama.” Taking up his sword, a tornado touched down almost as if out of thin air, and in less than a few seconds another soon followed. As if the fog wasn’t bad enough, the air grew thick with dirt, and the bodies of the deceased found themselves getting drug into the abyss. The destruction already done to the prison was fodder as rock and metal was sent soaring through the air; meanwhile the nearby buildings ached, their foundations shaken from the impending cataclysm. Standing amiss the carnage with nothing more than his sword and deception at his back, he egged them on. “Give me everything you got.”

Belial knew he was in trouble; that he had let his impulses get the best of him when deciding to attack the facility on his own. Mages had only gotten stronger in his absence, and even he feared what they were capable of. They were taught to be remorseless killing machines, fueled by money and glory that only the AOC could offer. The bounty on his head in particular was worth millions and would make any mage richer than in their wildest dreams. So the question begged to differ was what would these two would do if they actually did manage to cut him down?

“Working together will only get you so far. The bounty on my head is worth more than all of the rest combined. Do you think they’d just let you share it…?” Laughing almost uncontrollably, he could only hope to drive them against one another. They’d already sold themselves once, so why would anyone think they wouldn’t do it again?