Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

Chapter Five: Hôtel du Meurtre

The Grand Lux Hotel was the height of opulence. A jewel of Chicago. The sleek lines of its construction towered over the skyline, rising high to pierce the heavens like a spear. Many desired to rest their weary bones in its vaunted rooms, but only the most powerful and wealthy could claim that right. Inside, polished floors and walls of marble reflected the shining lights and glittering gold that those in power were so fond of.

Here was where the trail of a killer led.

A dark car splashed through the rain street outside. Its black tires scraped against the curb as the vehicle pulled to a stop against the curb opposite the towering hotel. The engine died with the turn of a key. The only sounds left were the tinkling of hot metal coming to a cool and the pitter-patter of rain on a hardtop.

Suddenly, the car's doors opened, spilling light into its interior, and from within a crew emerged.

They were only half here - half within the dream.

Gleaming pendants hung around each of the figure's necks, shining with powerful runic magic. The soft lights banished the cruel comfort of oblivion from the adventurers' minds. Yet they were far from free of this nightmare.

Some of their borrowed memories remained, and along with them, parts of the dream remained tangible upon their bodies.

A familiar face stepped into the harsh light of a flickering streetlight. That of our heroine: the Detective. Here she stood, hat damp with falling rain, not as a grim-faced veteran of a war she'd never known but as the ruby-skinned demoness once more. Lingering on her svelte body was the long trench-coat whilst at her side hung her white-gold blade. Curiously enough, under her arm lay the revolver still.

Orange eyes stared unblinkingly up at the hotel's facade.

Her fingers itched for a cigarette.

The hilt of her cutlass offered an alternate comfort. Its cool touch soothed the pirate's restlessness.

Behind her, the sound of the car's trunk popping open resounded. She turned.

The others had gathered around the vehicle's storage space while she'd been musing and pondering the quest ahead. Before setting off for this final destination, they'd sourced a fair few weapons to add to their small arsenal from the dreaming. A collection of guns, bullets, and bombs lay within.

Edwyn claimed a hefty shotgun and a pocket full of shells.

The Manus had changed little to the demoness' eyes since they'd freed her from the rose-tinted illusions placed upon her mind. They still looked every bit the scruffy Dwarf. The only thing that'd changed was that she could now see the runes tangled in their wild beard and the blue markings tattooed upon their face. The combination of steel chainmail and a porkpie hat made them look faintly absurd.

Not that she was going to say anything — that mace looked knee-breakingly lethal.

The sound of shotgun shells being loaded one by one cut through the rain, sounding like a rhythmic prelude to their night.

Nelva drew forth a Tommy gun contemplatively from the trunk - a Thompson submachine gun with a 50-round drum.

Gone was the singer that Liddie had met as the Detective, both in visual form and demeanor. Where the human woman had worn a carmine dress that'd left little to the imagination, the Lepus knight now wore a blood-red three-piece suit that clad her like armor. With the submachine gun in hand, she looked the picture of sex and violence. The only things that disrupted the look of a modern feminine gangster were the magical shield slung across the knight's back and the iron and bone sword worn proudly on her waist.

As Nelva stuffed a few extra 30-round magazines into her belt, Liddie's eyes were drawn to the last member of their little troupe.

From the car's trunk, Pyre withdrew a pistol and a belt of grenades. The pistol was a Colt 1911, if her recent memories were right, and the grenades were simple fragmentation ones.

While she was justifiably nervous about handing explosives to the younger girl, Liddie figured they weren't anymore dangerous than what the alchemist usually carried. By similar logic, the alchemist had far more experience dealing with volatile substances, maybe even more than Edwyn did. Plus, it'd keep the younger girl in the backlines where she'd be, hopefully, safer.

Looking her over now, Liddie could see that the nightmare realm had tried to sink its insidious fangs deep into the flame-child's psyche. The flames in the girl's eyes were duller than she remembered, and there were dark circles beneath them. Granted, that might've just been a consequence of the twists and turns their journey had taken since they'd left the safe walls and heights of Duskfields.

Edwyn had told her they'd found the girl wandering around the black sands on her own, muttering to herself about dark places, dark realms, and dark omens.

Whatever that meant, Liddie didn't want, need, or care to know.

Pyre could keep her horrors to herself, thank you very much!

When they'd all collected up as much ammunition as they cared to carry, the group of four gathered up beneath Liddie's flickering light. There they stared out across the street at the hotel.

"Alright," Liddie said softly, "everyone ready?"

The others checked their gear around her one last time before nodding.

In her veins, the rogue's nerves thrummed. Her heart beat an anticipatory melody. She licked her dry lips to wet them. Ahead of her, the hotel awaited, its jaws of glass glowing bright like the lure of a deep-sea terror, hungering. Inside, a killer waited, unknowing of the violence about to be visited upon him. He'd made a mistake in taking their friend.

Liddie breathed.

The prick was the mayor's son.

Surprised? She wasn't. It didn't take a genius to guess that the rich and powerful had skeletons, or in this case, psychopaths hidden in their closets. Whatever his reasoning for hunting and killing young girls, Liddie didn't care; she was going to kill him. And it wasn't like he was truly real, so who cared.

The only complication to this quest for retribution was that the boy-psychopath was smart enough to do his crimes somewhere he felt safe and under protection. Such as in the penthouse suite of the Grand Lux hotel that they now stood before and under the guard of several members of the local Mob. Likely, the gangsters were just obliging him to gain leverage over his father, but that still left him with ample bodyguards.

Hence why they'd dressed up in their Sunday best.

Ice flooded the demoness' veins as she regained her wits. Cracking her neck, she stepped off the curb and out of the light.

The others followed.

As she walked across the empty road, leather boots splashing in the puddles, Liddie admired the tall towers of steel, concrete, and glass that dominated the sky. How this world, even if it was only a memory, built such constructions without magic, she couldn't fathom. Even places like Duskfields needed magic to function properly on a day to day.

She felt so lost here. So alone.

This wasn't her world.

Everything seemed to press down on her, trying to force her out.

Fuck that! She'd leave when she was damn well good and ready!

The lobby of the Grand Lux gleamed. Here, there was no trash, no litter, no sign of the ever-present grime of the city beyond its walls. Even the rain was kept out by the revolving doors. White walls and polished floors of marble shone under the soft glow of golden chandeliers. Chairs and soft sofas made of expensive fabrics littered the sides of the lobby, accompanied by low tables of imported rich wood. Small galleries lined the walls, sporting expensive paintings of famous artists Liddie couldn't name.

A reception desk lay before the entry. It was large and ornate, like the rest of the lobby. Behind it stood a well-groomed and well-dressed receptionist who was currently in the process of checking in a wealthy-looking couple. She and the rest had yet to fully notice the armed group or recognise the danger they represented.

Looking around, Liddie took in the other occupants of the hall.

Even as late as it was, the place wasn't as empty as she thought it'd be.

A fair number of revelers dressed in their midnight finery dotted the hall. Some had gathered in small clusters, chatting idly away with each other as they prepared to set off to sample what Aqua Vitae the city outside possessed. Others lounged with or hung off of coquette accompaniment, having already indulged their thirst for the night and sought to satisfy their other base desires. Several of these feminine figures were of the mercurially horizontal persuasion.

Besides the wealthy clientele and their guests, sinners clad in suits and arrogance occupied the hall. The gangsters lounged around the sides of the hall and at the back by the elevators, indulging themselves with smokes, cards, and liquor. While not the best of guards, even the most unobservant could keep half an eye on the main entrance to the place.

As such, it didn't take all that long before they noticed the heavily armed group.

The pretty receptionist dropped her pen as she gawked at them.

Slowly, the civilians caught on that something was wrong, and their conversations died off.

Silence soon dominated the hall.

Liddie felt a grin crawl across her lips even as her heart beat louder and louder in her ears. She licked her lips.

"Well, isn't this exciting!" she chirped before turning to the pale receptionist. "Love, could you make us a reservation for the penthouse suite? And yes, I know it's occupied, but I'm sure there'll be a vacancy soon!"

The gangsters didn't appreciate her humor.

Shouts and screams filled the hall as they dived for their guns and the civilians rushed for cover.

Many were too slow.

Nelva had been ready.

In a flash, the suit-clad knight drew her gun and let loose. A deafening roar filled the hall as the 50-round drum emptied itself rapidly into the crowd. Those too slow fell like scattered dolls. Gangsters tried desperately to free themselves from their chairs only for hot bullets to tear through them with contemptuous ease. Blood splattered across the white walls and stained the expensive fabrics.

Liddie herself hadn't been idle while the Rabbit-kin had been killing. She'd dived for cover behind the marble reception desk at the first shot.

Pyre had swiftly joined her. The alchemist's grip on her gun was white, although thankfully, her finger was not yet on the trigger.

Digging her finger in her ear as she tried in vain to clear out the sudden ringing, the pirate cursed. She'd vastly underestimated the loudness of gunfire. Sure, she'd been in cacophonous fights before, but those had been from a magic spell exploding or thanks to a beast's roar, not because of a weapon going off so near her ear.

She could barely hear herself think.

Taking her pistol in hand, Liddie crouch-walked to the end of the desk and peeked around it.

Red dunes littered the hall. Slowly spreading lakes spilled out from them, staining the pure marble. Cries of pain and shouts of rage and fear became the orchestra of this grand gathering.

Liddie's eyes met the glassy ones of the receptionist. The well-dressed woman hadn't had the chance to find cover, and a stray bullet fired in retaliation had struck her in the back. Her dead eyes held only fear. Guilt welled up in the pirate's gut, but she reminded herself that the woman was only a shade. She wasn't real.

None of this was.

But fuck, it sure felt like it sometimes.

She turned away.

Nearby, a pair of gangsters huddled behind an overturned couch. One was older and grizzled, the picture of a rough thug; the other was a fresh-faced boy. The pair were taking turns shooting over their cover at Nelva, trying to hit the knight as she took cover behind an already bullet-riddled pillar.

Lining up a pair of shots, Liddie pulled the trigger twice.

The first took the older gangster in the shoulder, spinning him around with a cry, while the other hit the younger boy dead in his left eye. The bullet tore through him. Blood and brains painted the wall behind him with a thirsting flower. His body slumped to the floor, still twitching and jerking a moment more.

Crying out in shock, the wounded gangster tried to shoot Liddie, but a shotgun blast ended him.

"Fuck, guns are wild!"

Pyre grunted beside her. The younger girl peeked around her side of the desk and fired off a few hasty shots. A cry of pain announced a scored hit.

"I still prefer alchemical bombs," she snarked.

"Throw some of those grenades then!"

Liddie ignored whatever Pyre said in response; she'd likely not hear it over the discordant gunfire anyway, and peeked around the side of the desk to look for more targets. Another trigger pull sent another gangster to join his fallen brothers with a bark of thunder.

Stricken eyes drew the pirate's attention. There, huddled among the dead, lay a frightened young woman. Her dress was rather provocative. Perhaps she was a lady of the night here with a client? She wondered. The woman was using a body as cover. Every shot that screamed over her head sent the young lady flinching more and more into the makeshift cover she'd found.

Snow skin becoming crimson.

Tainted.

Waves seeking to drown.

Nightmares every night.

Eyes in the dark.

The Maw.

Chains.

The Mermaid.

She was just a dream, Liddie reminded herself.

Not me.

Edwyn's shotgun roared. Another gangster fell, this one missing half his chest.

It couldn't have been more than a minute since the fighting had begun, but already half their enemies were dead or dying. However, those that remained had firmly entrenched themselves on the other side of the lobby, and the adventurers' side was struggling to reload the unfamiliar weapons. Nelva herself had quickly run out of bullets in her drum and had to switch to the smaller box-magazines.

In a sudden lull, one of the surviving gangsters found the nerve within himself to speak up, yelling to be heard over the cries of the wounded.

"Don't you know who we are?! We're with the Chicago Outfit! We run this city, you fuck! We own this hotel! This is Accardo's turf! You get that?! We're gonna kill you, we're gonna kill your family, and we're gonna kill everyone who's ever been dumb enough to share a polite word with you morons!"

Liddie scoffed. "I don't know who you are, and I don't care! You prickless fuckers took our friend, and so now you gotta die! All you've got are cheap suits and even cheaper lives!"

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you!"

Pyre rolled her eyes at Liddie as the pirate continued to shout back at the gangsters on the other side of the hall. Taking a frag grenade from her belt, she pulled the pin and tossed it over the desk towards the gangsters, aiming for the one shouting.

"What the?!-"

A loud explosion rocked the lobby as the grenade exploded.

The gangster who'd been yelling was now screaming in pain as several fragmented pieces of hot metal had scythed into him. Others who'd been close to the explosion joined him.

Liddie looked over at the alchemist with a betrayed look. "Hey! I was still bantering!"

"You call that banter?" Pyre deadpanned. "You were just yelling 'fuck you' back and forth."

"And? Bantering is a time-honored tradition! You shouldn't just interrupt it with a lazily tossed grenade!" Liddie said as she leaned over the desk and shot another gangster in the face.

"Lazy?! You told me to toss one, you bitch! And you try to throw one of these without blowing yourself up! Go on, I'll wait! I promise to heal you up afterwards, mostly."

Liddie laughed. "Did I say lazy? I meant the opposite, my most wonderful, amazing, and beautiful alchemically inclined friend!"

"Stop, you'll make me barf."

"Hey, you two!" Nelva called out from her cover. "Stop flirting and shoot them!"

Liddie laughed as Pyre glowered.

Taking a calming breath, she leaned around her cover to survey the battlefield. The lull was over. Bullets zipped across the room from both directions, scoring hits across marble pillars and walls. Dust lingered in the air like a smokescreen, joined by the smell of death. A shotgun blast tore a chunk of stone from the far wall, showering the gangsters in rubble.

Only four enemies remained.

Liddie slid out from her cover behind the desk and sprinted for the nearest pillar. Shouts from the other side signaled that she wasn't as stealthy as she'd have hoped. However, luckily, the enemy wasn't able to capitalize on her mistake as gunfire from the pirate's teammates forced them to keep their heads down lest they lose them.

The boom of another grenade going off resounded throughout the hall.

More cries of fright and pain echoed alongside it.

As she rushed down the side of the hall, dipping and diving behind pillars, Liddie trained her gun on the gangsters cowering in their cover. One peeked over his cover and spotted her. He had only a moment to widen his eyes before she fired. One shot, then another. The first hit the edge of the couch with a plume of ripped fabric, while the other ended the gangster via percussive lobotomy.

The body fell with a thud.

Three remained.

Shouts of dismay and rage came from her foes. By now, she was near enough that she could see the whites of their eyes. See the fear laid within.

Her gun clicked empty.

Throwing it away, she brandished her cutlass and leapt. She cleared their inadequate cover in a single bound. The pirate landed among her frightened foes and the fallen few and set about claiming a reaper's due. She struck fast. Her blade was like lightning. Oh frabjous day! How it went snicker-snack! Blood spilled, spoiling on the ground.

The last thing those shades saw was white-gold and the demoness that bore it.

Quiet filled the hall.

Liddie stood amongst the carnage of shadows; only the hammering of her heart and the sucking wind of her heaved breaths could she hear. Remembered gore ran down her blade and dripped silently from her hands.

She smiled.

"D-demon!" a wounded voice called.

Liddie turned and dispassionately took in the dying man trying in vain to crawl away from her. His guts formed a grim artwork on the snow-colored tiles.

"Demon!" He croaked.

"Sorry, can't hear you," Liddie said as she wiggled a finger in her ear after hastily cleaning it. "There seem to be some angry bees in my head. So, I'm just gonna assume you were begging for your life or something. If so, sorry, but no can do."

The thrust of a blade opened up his throat, and he died swiftly afterwards.

By now, the others had made their way across the bloodied lobby floor to join Liddie by the elevator doors. Pyre was looking rather green in the face as she tip-toed around the bodies and pools of blood. She was no shrinking violet anymore, but this was still a level of violence new to her.

"We should hurry," Nelva said. "The local guards ought to be here soon!"

"What?! I can't hear you!" Liddie gestured to her ears.

"Quoi?"

"I. Can't. Hear. You."

"Bah! Yeh lot are pansies!" Edwyn chuckled. "This ain't got nothin' on a blastin' Mine. Workin' in one'll have yer head ringin' like a bell fer days! Stout Manus ears cannae be undone by a wee bit o' smokepowder-fire!"

"What's he saying?!"

Nelva shook her head. "Non, merci. J'ai déjà mangé."

"What?"

It took a moment more of charades and a minute dulling of the incessant whining in their ears to be understood by one another. Thankfully, Pyre took pity on them, or just got annoyed by all the yelling, and with a drop or two of healing potion in each of their ears, their hearing was restored.

Liddie shivered at the sensation as her ears popped. "Urgh. Come on, let's get going; I think I hear sirens coming."

After quickly retrieving her gun from where she'd tossed it, Liddie joined the others by the elevator doors. She thumbed the button to call them down. Above the doors, a little needle moved from right to left after a moment, showing what floor the elevator car was on. It was coming down from the top.

In the ensuing wait, the group reloaded their spent guns. They shared mixed results in handling the strange weapons, and many swears were had. The sound of spent casings tumbling to the floor was rather musical in the dim silence.

The dinging continued.

Liddie blew out a breath as she grew bored. Her eyes trailed up to the slowly moving needle. A thought crossed her mind, one she couldn't help but share.

"Do you think they heard us all the way up there?" She said, eyeing the others. "Think they sent someone down to check?"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The others glanced among themselves before looking to the elevator once more.

Nelva nodded slowly. "That is a possibility. Should we set up an ambush?" An expression of discomfort flashed across the noble knight's face.

The idea of participating in dishonorable conduct sat ill with the Lepus Knight. Liddie herself resisted the urge to snort, settling instead for just rolling her eyes. If the rabbit-woman wanted to avoid ignoble acts, then she shouldn't have become an adventurer. Sure, they'd mainly stuck to dealing with villains, bandits, and monsters so far, but there were plenty of contemptible quests out there if you knew where to look. Predictably, those were the most lucrative ones, aside from stumbling across a lost Dragon-hoard or a sealed vault in some mage's tower.

Still, it was the smart thing to do. The ambush, that was.

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

Finally, the elevator came to a stop.

The doors opened. Inside, a small group of be-suited gangsters froze as they stared out at the carnage occupying the lobby. They had no time to react. A hail of bullets tore through them, shredding their bodies and turning the elevator car into a scene from a horror movie. Gore coated the wall behind them, now riddled with bullet holes.

It wasn't even a fight.

Liddie whistled in appreciation.

Swiftly, they dragged the bodies from the lift. They reloaded their guns and piled into the lift one by one. Nelva entered last. She'd taken the time to remove her cracked mirror shield from her back and strap it onto her arm. While it'd hinder her aim, the magical defense would be of far greater value lest they wished to become like those they'd ambushed.

Nelva pressed the button for the penthouse floor.

As the doors slowly closed, Liddie's roaming gaze fell onto the girl in the dress she'd seen before. She was still alive. Red petals now decorated her snowy skin. Blood clung to her hands. The body she hid behind grew colder by the moment. There was such terror in her eyes.

She was just a shade, a memory. So why did Liddie see herself there?

So lost.

So alone.

Drowning in the deep.

Betrayed and swallowed.

A fury that ate its way out of a beast.

The doors closed.

The adventurers stumbled as the car lurched upwards. Liddie felt as if she'd left her stomach behind on the ground floor.

While this wasn't the first time she'd been on a lift, it was the first one of enclosed metal. It made her feel entombed. Trapped. Swallowed once more. How someone would want this as their final rest, she didn't know. Fire was better; it cleansed; freed. Her goddess awaited her in the flames.

Suddenly, music filled the elevator.

"Catchy."

Nobody else spoke as their ride rose higher and higher.

Boredom grew in the rogue's mind, and before too long she was shuffling her feet to the beat and humming to herself, much to the annoyance of the others.

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

Liddie blew out a breath. Turning to the dwarf, she asked. "Hey, do you have lifts like this back home?"

Edwyn grunted. "Sure. There are many o' em underground, movin' between the layers o' the deep roads an' underpasses, but they're powered by Magiore and steam and tend tae be far larger meant fer transportin' metals from the deep mines. Only a few are small like this."

"Hmm, the only ones I've been on are the one in Duskfields and in, what was that place called again? Fort Rain? Rainguard? But those were all wood and rope. That's not including cranes for loading and unloading ships. You're not supposed to ride on those, or so I've been told, and those are wooden too. What about you guys?"

"Aside from those you've mentioned, non," Nelva shook her head. "The city I grew up in didn't have such convenances, it's mostly known for its beautiful flower fields and knightly prowess, not mechanical inventions."

"Sounds lovely."

"Oui, it is," Nelva sighed with unmistakable longing. "It is the most beautiful city in the world. You should visit sometime."

"Maybe once this is all over, I'll take you up on that."

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

"...Think this is the world Autumn came from?" Liddie asked after another moment of awkward silence.

Nelva pondered the question. "Maybe. Maybe not. She hasn't told us much about her world. If this is her world, I both do and do not envy her."

"How so?" Pyre asked curiously.

"This world holds such advancements that I wish to explore and discover more, but it also seems to be riddled with corruption and criminals. Not to mention the dangerous weaponry they all have."

"I don't know if this is a good representation of this world," Liddie hedged. "I don't even know if this is a memory of a real world or just someone's imagination of it. Gah! Thinking about it makes my head hurt!" She shook her head like a dog trying to rid itself of fleas. "And besides, maybe this city is an outlier. I mean, you wouldn't really want to judge the whole Empire by what happens in Brokenship Bay, let alone all of our world."

"True."

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

"...this is so boring! Totally not fun!"

"Would ye have rather taken the stairs?"

"...no."

"Then pipe down an' wait!"

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

"What's with the hat?" Pyre asked Liddie.

"Huh?" Liddie said intelligently. Her hand reached up to touch the hat sitting atop her messy crimson curls. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I just had it when Edwyn woke up from the dream. Why? Do you think it suits me?"

Pyre snorted. "No. It looks stupid."

"You take that back! It looks cool."

"Ha! You wish!"

"So mean!" Liddie sniffled dramatically.

'Ding.'

Suddenly, the elevator came to a jarring stop. The group stumbled at the unexpected end to their rise. A glance at the needle above the door showed they weren't yet at the top; a full ten floors still lay between them and their destination.

The banter vanished in an instant.

Slowly, the door rumbled open.

They trained their guns on the entrance. Fingers tightened on triggers. Nelva held her shield protectively in front of the group. Pyre clutched a grenade, its pin jiggling from her shaking. Edwyn grumbled something dire while Liddie herself bounced from foot to foot. In her hands, her blade and pistol thirsted.

The doors opened.

It was not death that awaited them with a hail of bullets. There wasn't even anyone armed beyond the elevator doors. Instead, it was a nervous teen who beheld them, frozen in shock. His eyes took in the array of guns pointed at him, growing more and more frightened as the seconds ticked by.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody said a word.

Fairies laughed as a cyclops cried.

Reaching out, Liddie pressed the button for the top floor. The two sides stared at each other awkwardly for a moment as the door stayed open a moment longer. When they finally began to close, she couldn't resist a parting word.

"You'd better take the next one."

The teen wet himself.

Liddie snickered as the doors snapped closed. The elevator soon rose once more.

"You'd have thought he'd have heard the gunfire, non?" Nelva spoke with humor coloring her voice.

Edwyn snorted. "Ye get eejits everywhere, it seems."

'Ding. Ding. Ding.'

Chapter Six: Penthouse Number One

Daisy was having a bad day.

In fact, she was having a bad couple of days.

It'd all started when her friend, Jenny, had met some handsome guy at the club. At first he'd been kind, charming, and well-spoken. He'd often brought them drinks, given them generous tips, and otherwise been a perfect gentleman. Not once had he been improper. And he was clearly rich judging by the way he dressed and by the looks of the car he drove.

And the easily smitten Jenny had fallen in love just like that.

Daisy had her reservations.

There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. Something that felt... predatory. Whenever they spent time together, she always felt like she was in the presence of a beast; a tiger uncaged.

She never liked the way he looked at her in those moments. Never liked the way he smiled; it didn't reach his eyes.

He was too kind. Too nice.

She should have listened to her instincts.

Jenny had no such fears about her handsome Daniel, if that even was his name. Daisy had tried to warn her friend off, but that led to nothing. Jenny just called her paranoid, called her jealous, called her many other hurtful things. The last words shared between them were recriminations and accusations. Her friend had stormed off into the rain, upset.

While hurt by Jenny's words, Daisy had been more worried for her friend and had followed her. She'd watched as Jenny had met with her handsome man in the dark of night and had gotten into his rich car. She'd watched as they drove away, a sinking feeling in her gut.

Daisy had taken off for home, intent on calling someone, anyone, for aid.

She feared that she'd never see her friend again.

However, she never reached home.

He must've seen her watching them, even in the dark, or perhaps he'd always planned to take her too as soon as he had Jenny in his clutches, for as she was hurriedly ascending the steps to her apartment, a pair of dark-clad men abducted her. Their strength eclipsed her own, and they quickly subdued her.

They'd gagged her mouth, bound her wrists, and tossed a bag over her head, all before tossing her in the smelly trunk of a car. After a long and bumpy ride, she was frog-marched into an elevator that ascended for a long time. When they finally removed the bag from her head, the sight that greeted her was of her worst fear. Ropes bound Jenny too.

There he stood — the handsome man, Daniel. A smug smile adorned his wretched face. He stood before a bay of windows, the rain-swept city held behind him like a prize.

And that was just the start of the nightmare.

Their captor subjected them to a sermon, a rant, where all the misdeeds of the city were seemingly their fault. He called them whores, harlots, and scum of the lowest type. It was their fault for the sins of young men. It was their prancing and parading and succubus wiles that led men from the path of virtue, and only by the culling of their kind could he and he only cleanse this befouled city.

He was mad. Stark-raving mad.

Their tearful cries only inflamed his madness.

They were but animals to him.

His to slaughter.

He killed Jenny first. Strangled her right in front of Daisy. The look of satisfaction and euphoria that washed over his face as the vessels in her eyes burst and her lips turned blue would haunt Daisy for the rest of her days, however short that might end up being.

He was a hypocrite. A liar.

Just like the weaknesses of men he decried, this sinner desired pleasure like all the rest of them. Only, it was not a rape of sex he was after, but of life.

Daisy cried for her friend.

She cried for a long time. So long that it felt like she had nothing left to shed.

He'd spared Daisy. Not for anything noble, but to prolong her suffering and have a ready victim at hand for later. He'd then left, taking Jenny's body with him to dispose of, and had locked Daisy in the master bathroom under guard.

It'd been days since then.

They hadn't bothered to bring her anything to eat. She was starving; it felt like her stomach was eating itself. The pain was dull and aching. Thankfully, she'd been able to remove her gag and could drink from the sink and use the bathroom.

She'd thought of escaping somehow, but every time she made too much noise, one of her jailers would investigate, and they weren't shy about using physical intimidation on her. Getting a beating wasn't exactly high on her list of things she wanted right now.

Daisy resigned herself that she'd likely die here.

Miraculously, that was when the shooting started.

It came out of nowhere. One second there was just the general echoes of the city filtering in through a crack in the bathroom window; the next, a series of roars, blasts, pops, and bangs filled the air with their frightful menace. It sounded awfully close, like it was coming from the street below, or maybe even within the building itself.

But that wasn't possible... was it?

When the staccato music of violence ended, the city outside sounded even quieter, like it was holding its breath. Sounds of panicked shouting filled the air, coming in from the main room into her prison.

The door slammed open with little warning.

Rocketing back, it crashed into the wall; the handle denting the plaster.

Daisy flinched. Her eyes darted fearfully towards the opening.

Her captor stood in the doorway. Fury twisted his features; he looked more akin to a gargoyle now. White teeth flashed behind a snarl. His eyes were like fire. They glared down at Daisy's cowering form; her hands still bound by rope and numb.

"You!" he snarled, the word dripping from his lips like poison or a curse.

"You!" he repeated as he stormed into the room with long strides. His clawed hands tore into Daisy's clothing, bundling her blouse up into his fists as he hauled her struggling form up with ease. Eye to eye, he practically spat in her face. "Who did you contact! Tell me!"

"N-nobody!" Daisy shrieked.

"Liar!!!" A powerful slap accompanied his roar. The crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed loudly in the bathroom.

Daisy tasted blood.

"Tell me the truth, whore! Who did you contact?! Who is here?!"

Daisy shook her head. "I d-didn't- I d-d-don't know w-what you're t-talking about!"

The beast in human skin growled in her face before punching her in the gut.

Blood and spit flew from her mouth as she gasped in pain. Several drops landed on his pristine suit.

"Bitch!" he swore before tossing her back down to the ground. "Do you know how much this suit costs?!"

Kick after brutal kick struck Daisy. She tried to curl up to protect herself, but it only enraged him more. She lost track of how many of his kicks she endured. Of how much it hurt. She wanted it to end.

She wanted him to die.

A kick struck her in the ribs, and with a sickening crack, one snapped.

Pain flooded her body, leaving her breathless and gasping.

Eventually, after venting his frustrations upon her body, her tormentor finally calmed. He stopped kicking her and wandered over to the sink. There, he tried in vain to wash her blood off his sleeves.

The sound of flowing water filled the room.

Bloody spit stuck to Daisy's lips and the side of her face as she lay on the cool bathroom tiles. She gasped fitfully; it felt like there was a knife being driven into her side and twisted.

The pain was blinding.

Her captor tutted as he inspected his suit. "Alas, it's ruined," he said. Looking into the mirror, he looked at Daisy as she squirmed on the ground. "Why couldn't you just tell the truth, whore? All that pain you are feeling now is your own fault. I suppose your kind just can't help themselves; women are born liars. Better to be seen rather heard, as they say," he laughed.

It wasn't a good laugh. Fake. Likely practiced in front of a mirror, just like now.

"Even then, it'd be better if your kind weren't seen at all. Lairs, fornicators, scum. How dare you pollute my city with your stench, with the sight of you?" Marching over, he grabbed Daisy by her blouse again and hauled her to her feet.

The pain was excruciating

Her tormentor ignored her cries. "No matter," he said. "Whomever you called will be dead soon, if they aren't already. And then you'll join them. Soon I'll cleanse my city of all the harlots like you." His eyes burned with self-righteousness.

Heated conversations filtered in from the main room. Daisy's captor glanced at the ajar door with a frown. He sighed dramatically.

"You just can't find excellent help anywhere in this city. Come now, let's go see what is happening. I'm keeping you where I can see you lest you get any fancy ideas about escaping."

With that, the pair of them left the bathroom.

Daisy tried to struggle free of his grasp, but she was too weak, too in pain, and he too strong.

When they arrived in the main room, he tossed Daisy unceremoniously onto a couch. She hit it hard and bounced off to slide to the floor. With her hands still bound, she couldn't arrest her fall, and her head hit the carpet with a dull thud.

A cry of pain died in her chest. Slowly, painfully, she leveraged herself up and looked around the room with watering eyes.

Dim light from an overcast sky filtered in from a bay of tall windows that dominated an entire wall, giving an unparalleled view of the city's skyline. Or it would have if the heavy rain weren't currently obscuring everything outside from view. The terrace patio outside was entirely windswept and soaked.

An enormous kitchen and bar sat on the other side of the room from her; or at least, it was large by her standards, anyway. Her captor had already found his way behind it and was in the process of making himself a drink: a martini, by the looks of it.

Aside from the couch she'd been tossed to, the only other pieces of furniture in the great room were the dining room table and accompanying chairs. Right now, an abandoned card game cluttered its top alongside a handful of spare guns and a few small cardboard boxes of ammo.

Around the table, a mob of gangsters stood, speaking to and over one another. Some watched the door that led out into the hallway and the elevators, hands tight on their guns. They were noisy, but Daisy had little hope of anyone investigating.

From what she'd overheard in her time here, these mobsters had occupied the other suite on this floor and had cleared out the one below. Daisy couldn't even imagine how much that cost, if they paid at all.

One mobster held up his hand, and the others hushed.

He was older than the rest. Silver dotted his temples, and there were lines etched into the corners of his eyes. He'd paired his clean-shaven, slick-haired look well with a more expensive suit than the others, and a gold watch adorned his wrist. Steel would look soft compared to the look he was sporting.

Clearly, he was the captain of this group of mobsters.

"So?" her captor asked the mafia captain after he'd finished making his drink. "Any word from your boys down below?"

"No," the captain growled. "I sent a few of my men down to check things out. They'll be arriving shortly. Once they clear the lobby, we'll know who hit us and why."

"What happened to putting your best men down to guard the lobby?"

"I did."

Unnoticed by the others, and partially hidden by the couch, Daisy tested her bonds. They were still painfully tight. All her efforts amounted to was further hurting her wrists. A flame of frustration burned in her chest. If only she could free herself, she might have a chance.

Just then, more thunder sounded — gunshots from below.

They lasted only seconds.

Everyone looked towards the elevators.

After a tense moment, the voice of an underling called out from the hallway. "The lift is coming back up, boss."

The captain grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes darkening.

"Think your boys made it?"

Her captor's mocking words earned him a dire look from the captain.

He met it with contempt.

Downing his drink, he set about making another. Despite his calm demeanor, Daisy could see his hands were quivering. He clenched them around his glass. Evidently, he wasn't enjoying the turn this situation was taking.

Daisy took joy in the sight.

The captain turned towards his men and gestured for most of them to enter the hallway. They obeyed. About a dozen enforcers covered the elevator doors with their myriad of guns. She pitted those that were coming up and hoped they had a plan, else her rescue, if it was one, would be short-lived.

"Just remember who's paying you," her captor said. "My protection is your top priority, got that? My father will have your boss' head if even a hair on my head is harmed."

A stone-faced glower was all the reply he got.

There was no further conversation.

Guns were cocked and chambered. The sound of nervous breathing and the rustle of fabric filled the air. Tension sang like a cord — eager to break.

Daisy saw little from where she hid. She couldn't see the elevators or where the car currently was, nor when it'd arrive. All she could do was wait. Carefully and slowly, she lowered herself down to the floor, putting more of the couch between herself and where any shooting would likely occur.

Silence reigned.

The waiting was torturous.

However, before too long, the elevator arrived with a whir, a ding, and a thud of metal locking into place. The sounds almost made Daisy jump out of her skin.

Slowly, the doors opened.

Daisy held her breath.

There was a beat or two of pure silence. Nobody fired. It was as if the mobsters couldn't understand what they were looking at. As if something had occurred outside of their comprehension. However, this peace didn't last long. A gunshot echoed down the hall, and there was a cry of pain.

The mobsters returned fire.

It was the last mistake they'd ever make.

Although Daisy couldn't see it, hundreds of bullets fired by the gangsters impacted a cracked mirror and were split seven ways and returned with all the force and fury they'd been sent with. It was like God had opened a path to the gates of Hell. A storm of lead swiftly turned the hallway into a slaughterhouse. Nothing could stand in its path; not the men, the cover they'd been using, not even the walls were spared.

Bullets tore through all of them and into the suite.

Daisy screamed as the couch she'd been using as cover was rent by hot metal. Tattered stuffing and ruined fabric rained down on her. By luck, the bullets missed her.

Bottles of expensive liquor exploded on the other side of the room, showering the bar and kitchen with alcohol and colored glass. Wounds marked the thick oaken counter. Of her captor, Daisy saw naught, but she hoped he'd been killed in the barrage.

When the violence finally abated, all that was left of the overwhelming force of gangsters was a few muted cries from out in the hallway.

Looking over her cover, Daisy spied the stalwart captain. He was lying on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Blood leaked from his still chest, staining the carpet crimson.

There was a beat of silence.

Hushed whispers from the hallway flowed quietly into the room before the sound of footfalls approached. Daisy jumped as the bark of a pistol silenced one of the muted cries. They were executing the wounded; she realized with fright.

Daisy gulped.

Hopefully, they were here to save her, or at the very least, she hoped they'd let her go after they'd done their grim deeds.

If she survived this, she was getting the hells out of this damn city. She swore this on her ancestors.

The pistol fired again.

Suddenly, a powerful arm wrapped itself around her throat. Daisy struggled, but her captor, who'd evidently survived, simply pressed the cool metal of a gun to her head. She stilled, albeit reluctantly. He forced her to stand up and put her in front of himself to use as a human shield.

From out in the hallway, an unfamiliar voice called. "Hey! Anyone alive in there?!" The accent was strange — Daisy couldn't place it, but it sounded familiar.

"If you've come for the whore, know that I have a pistol pressed firmly against her fucking skull!" her captor replied hotly. "If any of you fuckers take a single step into this room, I'll paint the walls with her brains!"

"What girl?"

"Don't you fuck with me!" he roared unhinged, eyes wide and darting. "I know you've come for her! She called you, didn't she, the lying bitch!" Slowly, he began to move away from the entrance, keeping Daisy between himself and it. His back was toward the windows.

Where he was going, Daisy didn't know, as there wasn't any other way out. Not even a fire escape, not this high up.

Maybe he'd learn how to fly?

"Look, there's no need for that kind of language," the voice called out once more, calm and reassuring. "We're reasonable people, and I'm sure we can work something out. Just give us the girl and we'll walk away. No mess. No fuss. Hells, you'll never see us again, I can guarantee that."

"You think I'm stupid! You think I'm an idiot, don't you! The second I give up the whore, you'll kill me!" her captor snarled. His back was now pressed firmly against the glass. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Daisy noticed that a spider-web of cracks covered its surface. The impact of the bullets had weakened it; however, it hadn't broken fully.

Outside, a drop of near a thousand feet loomed.

"Call her a whore one more time and I'll do worse than simply kill you." The voice had lost its cheer, becoming harder than granite and colder than ice.

Her captor licked his lips nervously.

"Now, we're coming in, and there's nothing you can do about that, but we're all going to be all cool like, you dig? You're going to be cool. We're going to be cool. And nobody has to die... well, nobody else, that is. Can you be cool, Mister Bigshot Daddy's Boy?"

"There's naw need tae antagonize the man," another voice chimed in, this one bearing a Scottish-like intonation.

"Sorry, sometimes I can't help myself."

Oh, holy gods above, Daisy was going to die, she lamented.

Behind her, her captor tensed. His arm tightened around her throat slightly, forcing her to stand on her tip-toes as to not choke. The glass creaked as more weight rested against it.

"Hey, you haven't died in there, have you? Honestly, that'd make this so much easier for all of us if you did."

"Fuck you!"

Daisy could almost hear the eye roll the girl outside gave as she spoke. "Good one. Very clever. Now can we come in? You gonna be cool?"

For a moment, her captor said nothing, and Daisy thought he'd refuse, but he eventually agreed. "Fine, but I'll kill the bitch if you so much as twitch funny!"

"Alright, we're coming in!"

Footsteps sounded, and four entered. Slowly, they spread about the grand room with guns lowered, but eyes hard and trained on the man behind her. Daisy herself was left blinking in open-mouthed confusion. Had that blow to her head knocked something loose, she wondered, or had the stress and starvation taken more of a toll on her than she'd thought, for stood before her now were four beings of literature: a Dwarf, a Demon, a woman with rabbit ears, and a girl with fire for hair.

Honestly, it sounded like the start of a bad joke.

She just hoped her death wasn't the punchline.

"Put your guns on the table," her captor demanded. Clearly, he wasn't seeing what she was seeing as he wasn't responding with the appropriate measure of confusion, awe, and fear as he should be. Another mark of this being a hallucination on her behalf, it seemed.

The Demon spoke first. "No can do, hotshot; this here is a stand-off," she winked.

Looking at Daisy, she smiled widely. It was full of sharp teeth. "Hello, kitten. How've you been holding up?"

"Don't fucking talk to her! You're talking to me!" her captor roared. Daisy choked as his arm tightened. The glass creaked once more — it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "So stop fucking around and put your fucking guns on the fucking table or I'll blow her brains out, I swear to fucking God!"

"So much fucking going on. Fuck this. Fuck that. I'm starting to think you're obsessed with it or something."

At that, he turned purple in the face.

Oh, by the holy gods, Eme/Daisy was going to die.

The gun pressed painfully against her head. His arm around her throat shift and she could breathe again.

"There is a saying in my country," the dark-skinned rabbit-woman spoke suddenly amidst the tension. Her voice was velvety and smooth like rich chocolate; it made Daisy want to relax even now.

"Shut the fuck up, you n-"

She continued speaking, bowling over his hate. "It is unwise to bully a kitten, for while its bite may be harmless while young, teaching it bad habits often results in bloodshed in the future."

Daisy got the hint, even in the tortured metaphor.

"What the fuck are you talking about!" her captor roared. He withdrew the gun that'd been pressed against Daisy's temple to wave it threateningly towards the dark-skinned woman.

Taking her chance, Daisy bit down on the hand holding the gun hard.

He screamed in pain.

Desperately, her captor tried to pull his hand free, but that only caused her to bite down even harder. Copper and meat flooded her mouth. A gunshot went off near her head deafeningly loud. The bullet impacted the ceiling. Daisy bit even harder. Instinctively, her captor let go with his other hand to pry her jaw off his wounded hand.

Daisy's feet touched the ground.

Using her new leverage, she launched herself backwards, driving her shoulder into the man's diaphragm. The impact knocked his already off-balance form backwards, and he impacted the cracked window with a heavy thud.

It shattered.

A look of sudden realization flashed over his face, but there was nothing he could do to stop his fall. He tipped over the edge and fell.

Daisy let go.

Into the rain, her tormentor, her captor, the killer of her friend vanished. His scream was lost in the wind. Down, down, down, he fell amongst a shower of glass. Ten seconds — that was all the time he had left to contemplate his sins before the ground rose up to meet him. An ocean of blue and red was there to greet him.

Shadows swallowed all.

Way back up at the top, Daisy teetered on the edge. She felt herself falling. Hands bound, she couldn't reach out to something, anything, to stop herself from following the killer's fate.

Just as she was about to fall, firm hands grasped her and pulled her back from the edge.

Daisy found herself in the arms of the Demon.

Without hesitation, she looped her hands over the woman's head and sobbed into her shoulder. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she blubbered incessantly.

"It's okay. You're okay," the Demon soothed her. "You pretty much saved yourself, kitten. All we did was clean up the rabble."

Daisy sniffled. She looked into the Demon's eyes. They were so close. Too close. She flushed. "Uh, w-who, um, who are you guys? Not that I don't appreciate the rescue and all, but I don't know who or what you are. Do... do I know you? It feels like I should know you, but I don't. Sorry."

The Demon smiled. It was a cheeky thing.

"Don't you worry about that, little kitten; we've come prepared."

"What-" before she could say anything else, a glowing necklace was looped over her head. It fell to rest against her bosom. She idly noted that they were all wearing them.

Her head exploded with pain as the worst headache imaginable rocked her.

When the stars cleared from her eyes, Eme took in her friends.

"Urgh, what kept you?"

Liddie laughed.

"And where's Autumn?"

The end?