[center][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/e865729029a47b7509d2460b60a94b3f/tumblr_p5cqwm19yY1w6599so1_1280.png[/img][/center] [hr] Daimyon walked purposefully out of his room, paying little attention to the row of screens on the hospital walls announcing the addition of four new robots, more murderous than ever. He was set to meet Mary at the entrance of the pharmacy in the second floor hospital where they were assigned. With a little pacing, they could watch over all three entrances to the floor from there. Pacing was what the poet was doing, also—driven forward by anxiety and excitement alike. Mary was there already, so he composed himself and smiled before addressing her: [color=seagreen]“Looks like this is it. Do you know the plan?”[/color] [color=pink]”Uhh, yeah, I think so I’ve done the ice bucket challenge, so I’m confident I can pull it off!”[/color] [hider=2F Hospital] [img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/012e9a0a6ff3938da5e26ccfa12ce28f/tumblr_ou9u0eliql1w6599so1_1280.png[/img] [/hider] The plan was reasonably simple. Daimyon would keep an eye on every entrance, waiting for a Carnage Sister—hopefully Willow, as his plan was most likely to work with her—to show up. He would then take her attention, and lead her down the corridor between the pharmacy and the implant workshop, in an apparent straight line to the morgue. Mary, meanwhile, would be waiting in the workshop, equipped with a bucket of water and a kitchen knife. The latter would be used to cut one of the live wires powering the CNC machine, then throw the electrified water on the Sister for a nasty surprise. It was not a risk-free plan by any chance, but, and that was the most important, it was executable by the two Infinites who otherwise lacked combat skills and would not have been able to fend any of the robots off. Not to mention that they were in the same area the morgue, the ultimate destination of every Carnage Sister was. Everything depended on this approach to work, for Daimyon had no plan B. Not one that would dismantle the sisters anyway. Mary’s legs shook as she held the knife in one hand and the bucket on the other. [color=pink]”Sheesh, this is heavy! But I gotta stay strong; Daimy-doo’s relying on me!”[/color] She mumbled to herself, and kicked her heels off, knowing they would only impede her if they had to run. [color=seagreen]“Good luck, Mary! And, ah, try to aim that water...!”[/color] Daimyon told her as she was on her way out. While Mary might not have been the strongest or fastest Infinite, the poet knew of the…[i]lengths[/i] she was capable of going for things—or people—she had sought after. Before the night struck, he had reminisced about the earlier weeks in the hospital: his time spent with Shaun and Caora, his brief escapade with Mary and Noel, and the other pleasant and not-so-pleasant memories he had written down. They had strengthened his resolve further; he was thinking of his friends as he leaned against the corner of the pharmacy, from where all three entrances were in view, in wait. He would do his part. Daimyon could hear something coming down the stair case from the third floor. It was the unmistakable clop of a horse. It didn't take long for the horse to finally appear, and the rider was happy to announce her arrival. [b]”The queen is here!”[/b] Willow twirled her sword. [b]I almost regret taking the quick route. I suppose my reinforcements can deal with the other mongrels on their own.”[/b] She used her free arm to brandish her cannon. [b]”Fear not Nariko, you may not be a princess, but you are my sister, ahahaha!”[/b] Willow prepared to charge west, so that she could enter from the north side of the intersection where the fight with Nariko was taking place. Before she could do so, however, Daimyon steeled himself and stepped up ahead of her. She towered above him on her mechanical warhorse, not to speak about the massive cannon in her hand that could have obliterated him in one shot. A wave of fear ran down the poet's spine—all he had were his words and his instrument. But, with some luck, they might just be enough. [color=seagreen]“Your Highness! Forgive my interruption,”[/color] he began. [color=seagreen]“You must be busy in your infinite wisdom. Yet! I must assure you I have a similarly important matter to bring to your attention.”[/color] [color=seagreen]I notice that you have no bard in your court! No one to regale tales long and short Of your magnificent story, guided by fate Well—I am here to step up to the plate! I know you're in a hurry, so I won't hold you Just follow me along, relax and listen to The odes and hymns this poet wants to sing And, of course, next to verse, pluck the string![/color] He took his lute into hand, then beckoned her to follow him down on the path straight ahead. ———— Mary heard Daimyon’s loud voice ringing in the distance, and shut her mouth before she could gasp; she listened intently for clopping noises drawing near. [color=pink]”Come on...Just a bit closer...”[/color] She thought as she waited for Willow to come into sight. Her arm holding the bucket slightly shook, causing a tiny drop of water to hit the floor as she anticipated the moment of action. Willow looked down at the poet. The static face of a carnage sister was hard to read. She stood motionless. It wasn't clear if she was captivated, or bewildered by Daimyon's strange behavior. [b]”This is an unusual hour for you to be outside, peasant. If I wasn't mistaken I'd say it was a trap.”[/b] The horse walked closer to the poet. [b]”But this is far too elaborate to be a trap! Are men not vulnerable when they bear their hearts to the ones they fancy?”[/b] She let out a queenly laugh. [b]”But please, continue to sing.”[/b] Daimyon let out the slightest sigh of relief, then smiled a reassuring smile to the queen. She would not regret her decision. He took a long breath, plucked the first chord and began walking down the road merrily. [color=seagreen]Once upon a time was a queen named Willow... She sat on a throne of heavenly glow Her fame swept the land and everyone knew That her daring exploits were quite a slew…[/color] He played a simple melody and sang in a minimal range—it did not sound terribly impressive, but this way it seemed like he was an actual trained bard. He did not look behind him, the sound of metallic hooves were reassuring enough that the robot was still following him. As they rounded the first corner, he took a moment's glance into the implant workshop. He could not see Mary, which hopefully meant that the Sister could not either. He just hoped the woman would choose her timing well, for they only had one shot… Willow was starting to hum along with Daimyon's singing. It was fair to say she was captivated by the tune, willingly following the 'bard' wherever he went. Meanwhile, Mary's concentration was broken by a dull thud. Instinctively, she turned to look at the long window along the north side of the implant workshop; There was a second carnage sister with a crazy look on her face. The tower shield and gladius let her know it was Julia, one of the champion carnage sisters who introduced herself not long ago. [b]”I thought you were in bed!”[/b] [color=#bd71e8]“And you totally woke me up!”[/color] That sounded like Jezebel. A latticework extension arm came into view. On the end of it was a leather glove, which struck the carnage sister's shield. [b]”Party pooper!”[/b] The attack hadn't really done much more than harmlessly bounce off the shield. [b]”Well whatever, you're not going to stop us!”[/b] Julia advanced towards the other side of the window, but stopped when she saw Mary out of the corner of her eye. [b]”Another one! Wooo!”[/b] She rammed the side of her shield into the window, scattering glass shards all over the workshop. [color=pink]”KYAAAAHHH!”[/color] Mary screamed, and threw the bucket of water right on Julia’s face as a reaction. Then, she bolted right out of the room, as fast as her legs could carry her; she was really glad she wasn’t in high heels. [color=#bd71e8]“Leave the Betty alone, barf bag!”[/color] Jezebel followed after Julia. Her extending punches weren't strong enough to beat down Julia's shield. But that didn't stop her from ruthlessly chasing after her.Julia's head and hair were drenched. [b]”You bitch! I just colored that!”[/b] She pounced into the room. [b]”Come back here, I wanna dry off with your blood!”[/b] She was running after Mary. Julia occasionally bumped into some of the equipment with her massive shield, which made her a bit slower than she normally would have been. Hearing the cacophony behind him, Daimyon froze. He had just finished a verse, but his mind was two ahead and he was ready to turn the tale into the fall of the mighty queen, for that extra dramatic effect when Mary jumped out to douse her. It appeared that he would not get such satisfaction, however. Instead, he heard the streamer's scream and then saw her rush out of the implant workshop ahead of him. She made a small skip before turning the corner and disappearing out his sight. Wait a second! There was something at the end of the hallway: a tripwire! Daimyon had forgot about it—of course they had a plan B, how could they not, when the stakes were so high? Since the original idea had spectacularly failed, it was about time to act on this emergency measure. [color=seagreen]“Well,”[/color] he turned to Willow, who stood similarly dumbfounded at the rapidly unfolding events. The poet knew she would soon catch from her reverie, however, realising that they had indeed set a trap for her. That sizeable cannon shining in her hand would also no doubt be aimed at him right after. He wanted to avoid that at all cost. [color=seagreen]“It has been an honor singing for you, my gracious queen. But, alas, this is a tale for a different time. Farewell!”[/color] ———— He took a quick bow, strung the lute back on his back, then took off forward. He stepped over the tripwire, trying not to make its presence obvious, and rounded the corner to the right. Willow had started to chase after Daimyon, but stopped just short of the tripwire. [b]“Hmmm.”[/b] Willow looked over her shoulder at the chaos unfolding behind her. But this was only momentary before looking ahead once more. [b]”You know Daimyon, my dear bard. We do receive video feed from all the sentries until night of carnage starts right?”[/b] The Horse then sped up, running directly into the tripwire. This caused the steed to stumble forwards and plant it's face into the ground. The rider tumbled from her mount and landed on her face. [b]”I seem to have forgotten about this little detail.”[/b] she said before getting up. [b]”For your sake, peasant, I hope you're better at running than I am at shooting.”[/b] Willow aimed down the corridor at Daimyon. [b]”Off with his head!”[/b] she cried out before firing. Mary continued running around like a headless chicken, panicking as she heard Julia cursing her and proceeding with the pursuit, metallic creaks causing her to sweat with dread. All the planning they did went to shit! [color=pink]”At least we got their attention!”[/color] She half-screamed, followed by more regular screaming of terror. She decided to run to the dorms; no team she was aware of were operating there, and it would buy them more time. Jezebel groaned. [color=#bd71e8]“Mary! Like, slow up!”[/color] [b]”I agree!”[/b] Julia said, following directly after Mary. The poet's outfit was undoubtedly snazzy, but also rather unsuited for intense physical activity. In fact, Daimyon [i]himself[/i] was unsuited for intense physical activity—he was a man of the mind, not the body. Still, he was human, and that meant he was pumped full of adrenaline by the prospect of a murderous robot out for his blood just as much as anyone else would have been. Hearing Willow's cry from behind him propelled him further ahead and, acting on a sudden impulse, he rounded the other corner of the pharmacy as fast as he could, even losing his feathered hat in the turn. In that very moment, a bombastic shot rang out and a cannon shot rammed the wall ahead in a perfect line. He was thinking about fetching his cap, but quickly thought better when he realised just how much that projectile could have shattered him if he was any slower. Catching his breath and doing his best to suppress the growing feeling of exhaustion and the pain of sudden exertion in his limbs, he started running again, giving little thought on where he would end up. He knew that the attack and rescue teams were waiting in the wings; his task was to get the Carnage Sisters as far away from the morgue as possible. He had no idea where Mary ran to, but he hoped she was okay. He hoped everyone was okay. [hider=2F Patient's Quarters] [img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/6349f41fed66582ed059121f7f099161/tumblr_otx9f1vOVx1w6599so2_1280.png[/img] [/hider] After running past the pharmacy, the poet quickly found himself in the patient quarters of the second floor. He did not look behind him—all he cared about was that he was in a large open space, the absolute worst place to be. The familiar exterior of the break room caught his eyes first, so that was where he headed next. Slamming the door shut behind him, he felt like he could stop to take a breath, which he was horribly out of. His mind was racing and the silence, his beloved companion on most occasions, was now instead terrifying. The tell-tale sound of a cannon shot could sound again at any moment, and it would be perhaps be the last sound he heard. Frantically, he looked around for a place to hide. His heart skipped a beat when he realised he was quite stuck in this room, and it started beating faster again when he spotted another door with the word ‘Lockers’ written on it. Inspiration struck him, and he stepped inside. The locker room was about how he imagined it. An enclosed space with rows of lockers separating the area into tight corridors. Using a large weapon in such space would be ill-advised, but Daimyon was still not willing to take his chances. He found another detail of the room much more interesting: the fact that one small door was the only way to enter. A sudden resolve possessed him: he could take down Willow for good here. He just needed a weapon. First, though, he took the heavy lute off his back, as it was weighing him down. Hold on! He took the lute back in his hands, but held it upside down. The neck was thin and the body unshapely fat in comparison, and he had to hold it with both hands, but it actually looked like a passable weapon this way. Definitely one that could deliver great upfront damage, which was hugely important for him—while sharper and deadlier in the right hands, he was not strong enough to pierce a robot's body with kitchen knives and the like. With a sizeable lute, though, he might just have had the chance. He took two swings in the air: his shaking and weak arms were barely enough to hold onto the instrument stably. He realised he would potentially only have one opportunity to strike Willow while she was unaware. He had to make it count. Daimyon Londe, Infinite Poet, stood at the side of the door of a locker room, pressed up against the wall, with a lute wielded like a deadly weapon, waiting to ambush a murderous robot. If someone told him this would be him in barely a few weeks, he would have not only not believed them, but would have certainly written a lengthy poem to ridicule their delusions. Alas, truth was stranger than fiction. And the survival instinct overrode everything else.