[Okay, it's time. Slowly, slowly, she reaches under her matress and pulls out the blue lycra leotard. and stupid hat She reaches into her trunk and lifts out the heavy gauntlets. And then stares at them. But she has to do this.
She crosses the room and locks the door, undressing slowly. And then she pulls them on. The tights. The leotard. She straps
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"Ahh, Rea. Congratulations on your escape."
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It was really hard. They locked me up and kept following me, and it took ages to actually slip away. Are you okay...sir?
[she looks at him. He looks tired. Maybe he'll fall asleep soon, and this will all be over?]
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"Very well. Very good, my dear. And I am, as ever, more than fine. You will find your quarters ready for you. Tomorrow will be a big day."
He says nothing more, but he does gesture towards the door.
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Thank you, Sir.
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"It will be of great interest to you, I'm sure."
And with that, he heads for his room.
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[Bison's last words send shivers down her spine. What on earth could he have planneed that he would think would interest her? More people to fight and kill? Hopefully she'd never find out.]
[She waited. An hour past, and another, before she made her way out of the room. She felt in her boot for the gun which Trowa had given her, and her own little knife.She flipped the silencer ontothe gun, as he had shown her to. Thus armed, she crept from her room, and into the hallway. It took a while to find Bison's room. She had been softly listening at doors, opening them as quietly as possible, jumping at the creaks, until at last she found it. Bison's room. She let herself in quietly, immediately aiming the gun at the bed.]
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He waited until she pointed the gun at the pillows that were meant to be his form on the bed. Then he lurched forward, grabbing the gun with a hand ringed in purple-fire, letting it start to melt in his hand.
"Film has made us think silencers are useful, you know. Funniest thing, really. They only drop a handful of decibels. Useless outside of combat, and certainly not what you see on television. Kind of funny, really."
He regards the lump of metal, tossing it aside.
"Bold of you, child. But not especially bright."
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"Pathetic," he says, exerting pressure on her wrist. The other hand casually, almost without care, gives her a backhand slap across the face.
"Did you really think I trained a weapon I could not defeat? It will be a long, cold day in hell before you can defeat me, girl. You were a tool, nothing more, and now you're just a broken one. I wonder how they turned you? Torture, perhaps. That Master is up for it, certainly. The rest are too weak to consider it."
He grins, looking at her with his dead, shark-like eyes.
"The weak leading the weak. I will prey upon all of you. You might have watched my rising at my side, Rea. But, be glad, you will still serve a purpose...a warning to those who would cross me."
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They didn't torture me. They didn't need to. You nearly KILLED Faith! You didn't listen to me. You said you would and you didn't. You're just as bad as they are. JUST AS BAD. I HATE you for what you've done to me. You've ruined my life. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!
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"I'm not as bad as they are, Rea. I'm far, far worse. And yes, I nearly killed dear little Faith...I do regret that, yes."
He moves his face closer, the hand beginning to squeeze.
"I should have broken every bone in her body in front of your eyes, made her beg for mercy. Perhaps I still can. Or perhaps I'll put your head on a spike for all to see. I haven't decided yet. To hurt you, or to make you a warning. It is so...difficult to decide. And yes, hate me. With your last breath you'll give me just a little bit more triumph."
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