“You-you promised…”
Ira turned away from the cells, double steel doors locking behind her. She lifted her head, eyes closed as she took a deep breath.
“You forbade anyone from KILLING me! You promised me!”
She clenched her teeth, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. She could hear the heavy scraping of bones screeching against the ground, underlining the words that Tristan screamed at her.
“You fucking liar! You promised! Ira, don’t-don’t let him do this!”
Her metal fingers jerked and twitched before she clenched it into a fist, bringing it up towards her lips.
He had grasped onto her hand, his survival instinct pushing away her primal authority as he tried to jerk her back. Tears left clear, burning streaks down his cheeks as he pressed his naked, scarred chest against her leg, “You promised me! Don’t leave, don’t you fucking leave!”
She bared her teeth, biting down onto her steel fist, her teeth denting the steel of her fingers, sparks sizzling against her gums.
She cursed, grabbing Tristan by his hair, barely acknowledging him before she kicked him back to the ground, forcing him to skid towards his opponent. Her lips opened to speak, but seeing those stormy blue eyes silenced her. She turned away from him, trudging to the door.
Her metal fist left her lips, her body swaying before she leaned her right side against the wall.
The tightening of her throat.
The heavy pounding of her heart.
The pangs of pain radiating from her left shoulder.
The throbbing against her temples, strumming like war drums.
She closed her eyes tightly, pressing her forehead against the wall. She could feel her eyes moistening, a trembling whimper aching to escape her throat. Tristan’s pained words stabbed her repeatedly.
“IRA! DON’T LEAVE ME!”
How irritating.
She slammed her metal fist into the wall, webs of cracks ripping through the plaster and cement. She could hear other prisoners gasping and whimpering. Their fear eased a little of the emotion she had hoped Tristan’s transformation would extinguish.
Guilt.
Frustrating, simpering guilt.
Her nostrils flared, and she straightened herself away from the wall. She had to have faith. She had been through so many trials, similar to the one she gave her beloved. How many so-called friends did she kill with her bare hands? How much rage did it take to awaken her own capabilities?
He needed a catalyst, and she gave him one.
He would survive.
He had to.
She paused, seeing a stone and steel barred gate before her, having lost track of her steps. Her body had traveled the length of lower cells through memory alone. She grimaced slightly, uncomfortable with her lax attention. She nodded to her guards and pressed her right hand onto the sensor.
Before the scan could begin, the gate was already splitting upon, locks unbolting away. The guards backed away as they noticed the hovering drone gazing at them. They should’ve had been used to seeing the mischievous creatures, but the intelligent gaze on the lens of the cybernetic creature unnerved them.
Ira smirked slightly, ignoring the bumbling suited men as she walked past the drone.
Sybil was expecting her.
The drone hummed behind her, following the Head of the Dante family into Sloth’s lair. It paused when Ira did, seeing the door open and watched as the fiery woman scoffed slightly, acknowledging the gentle giant organizing the nests of cables.
It was a silent acknowledgment. Ira was in no mood to listen to Orsin’s protest, and Orsin did not have the fortitude to keep pushing. Instead, he nodded towards her glumly, his eyes downcast with lips pursed in a frown. Ira looked away from him; the resigned disappointment in his eyes only encouraged the infuriating gnawing at her chest.
She walked towards the wall of monitors, her teeth clenched tightly as Sybil already had a moving collage in place.
Even though only a few minutes have passed, chaos erupted.
Sybil tilted her head barely towards Ira, her glassy eyes taking in nothing, yet reflecting everything. She had a slight smile on along her thin lips, but her expression was anything but impish. “Your… beau… is losing…”
Ira didn’t respond. Those icy words melted in the air; a punishment geared towards Wrath. She flinched, her red eyes narrowing, watching the monstrosity toss Tristan against the wall, the impact causing streams of red down her beloved tear-stained and bruised face. She could already see that the physical damage was healing, but the psychological impact?
That remained written all over his face.
Ira dug her nails deep into her palm, the smell of searing flesh filling the room as black smoke rippled updates from the self-inflicted cuts. She watched as Tristan struggled to stand up, his head turning towards the sluggish hulk. His hands, fingers trembling, lifted his mouth parted.
There was no time to speak. Whatever words he attempted to free from his mouth ended up being slapped away. His head soon followed that direction and he slid against the ground, towards the other corner. Blood streaked across the floor, leaving a path towards him.
She ground her teeth together, “Stop wasting time.” Her words came out in a hiss, her teeth bared as she forced herself to watch the fight. She felt a sense of pride when Tristan, no longer interested in trying to reason, rolled out of the way of the incoming punch. He was winded, the previous hits taking a mental toll.
Yet he was finally showing some spirit.
“You promised!”
“You won’t get killed. I won’t let you die.” Those words come out as inaudible whispers. Reassurances to the man fighting for his life on the screen. Reassurances that he cannot hear. “So fight back! Eric is nothing. No one. Just shit under your feet!”
Please survive.
Sybil's eyes stayed on Ira, unwavering. She was registering every single twitch, every tiny movement the muscular woman made. The slight widening of Ira’s scarlet eyes; the unconscious clenching of her fists; her brow scrunching updates towards her hairline. All of those minuscule actions were part of the data gathering.
Everyone who entered Sloth’s cold, neon domain knew that she was studying them. Even if her milky blue eyes failed her, her drones and cameras relayed everything.
All of that data packaged down into an algorithm that allowed her to predict and understand the hidden meanings and emotions behind every human interaction.
Ira, confident and volatile Ira, flickered quickly between moods and emotions in almost every exchange.
The data compiled in these long few moments did not show the usual fluctuations. They remained constant.
Ira was worried.
One might even say… fearful.
The corner of Sybil’s thin lips jerked downwards, just barely. This tension was uncomfortable. The mischievous sin of Sloth loved to get under the skin of her adopted siblings, but this did not amuse her.
Her incendiary sister was silently praying to the screen. Begging that her tormented lover would get mercy.
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