Chapter 4-105: Tit for Tat (2/2)
Bone crunched. Women screamed. Terrific impacts of inhumanly strong fists meeting flesh rang out, and Sama cackled in glee as she waded right in.
Nona shrieked as her gauntlet slammed right into Sama’s fist, and something discharged right back through it, instantly pulverizing every bone in her hand, wrist, and forearm. It was flung back, flopping uselessly.
Sama parried with an elbow, heard two of Sigrid’s fingers break, backfisted her across the jaw, leaned over backwards almost to her heels as Pryssia punched in, and lifted the eldest Amazon right off the ground with a foot right in the jaw that could snap the neck of a bull. She torqued and twisted, and Nona, actually coming in with her other fist, shrieked as Sama’s foot came around like a steel beam, crushed her right knee on the way to sweeping out her legs, and as she fell, she could only stare at the golden bludgeon coming right down on her face and driving her into the asphalt of the road with a wet crunch.
Sama reached up to grip Sigrid’s incoming fist, and noticed it was spiked as she did so, the four inch-long blades punching right through her hand. Sigrid started to grin, and then Sama’s hands flickered, and bludgeons unfolded into cleavers a bit more than an inch long.
Sama closed her fist, and the blonde Amazon screamed as the golden finger blades punched through her gauntlet and right into her hand, cutting completely through her palm.
Sama blurred through a feint so fast Sigrid’s automatic parry sent her broken hand flipping into nowhere, and Sama tore down through her leather breastplate and the skin below in a bloody spray of finger-claws.
Her clothing hanging open and four inch-deep parallel furrows down her chest, Sigrid stumbled back, clutching at her chest as scarlet stained everything.
“Might want to use that Potion,” Sama said out of the side of her mouth as she strode towards Pryssia. Going into shock, the nearly-eviscerated Amazon behind her fumbled at the metal vial at her waist.
“No spikes,” Sama observed on Pryssia, and finger-knives became bludgeons again. “By the way, Cursed wounds. She can stop the bleeding, but they aren’t going to heal until tomorrow morning. Enjoy your day of misery.
“Was your contract worth it? Mine sure was! TREMBLE, SHE COMES!”
Two tones rang out in quavering series, and Pryssia tried to snarl and retaliate, but it was too little, too late, and she had been here before, so it was more like a wince and a whimper...
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The scorched driver started to scoot backwards as Sama idly kicked Sigrid in the temple, knocking her down the road. The empty vial clattered on the ground, and the bloody wounds weren’t bleeding out anymore, but she ended up top-high, completely exposed to everyone passing by.
Sama just turned her eyes on their driver, who froze instantly at the sight of that wicked cursed eye, and how all the skin on Sama’s face seemed to have been sucked right down to the bone.
“Go on and call for help,” Sama said, little edges in her voice, like knives on the ear, and all those canines suddenly looked very prominent. “I’ll stay right here and wait.”
“I-I,” the woman stammered.
“Of course, if you can’t call anyone, you’re totally useless, and you can join the others.”
The driver looked at Nona, her face a flattened mess, head driven into the asphalt; Sigrid laying out there, bloody and completely exposed; and Pryssia, face down on the same street in another crater, both of her arms shattered in several places and bones jutting through the skin.
She clawed for her phone and hastily dialed a number. She was visibly praying and tearing up as she stared at Sama looming over her, golden hair swirling as if it was alive.
It rang, and a woman answered. “Hello? Stacey? Why are you calling?”
Sama calmly held out her hand. Stacey almost dropped the phone as she handed it over.
“Matriarch Cordelia, this is Sama Rantha,” Sama said calmly, and continued right on, ignoring the shocked breath at the other end. “Three of your little goddess-juiced wussfraus were sent out to deliver a message. I was dispatched to deliver a counter-message. Your little snot-nosed, crying, singed attendant was nice enough to call for some help for them, as they’re in a pretty bad way right now. They’re all beat up and kinda half-naked and bleeding in front of Miss Jutterby’s florist shop. You might wanna send someone down to help them out a bit. Don’t bother healing their wounds until Renewal tomorrow morning, either.
“Now, you’ve gotten the message I was sent to deliver. Your girls didn’t quite get around to delivering theirs. Do you have anything you want me to pass on?”
“Shiv killed one of ours. We wanted her to know that we knew,” the Matriarch of the Eryllian sect here in St. Paul replied coolly after a moment.
“Oh, okay, I’ll pass that on, not that she gives a shit about offing someone who tried to murder one of her little brothers. As professional message-deliverers, I trust we can let this matter drop here? Because otherwise there’s going to be some personal deliveries required, and the delivery fees are totally killer around here.”
“As long as they can recover, we will let this go... but we will not forget,” came the stern voice at the other end. Sama’s bone-screeching little chortle broke any impact it was supposed to have.
“That’s fine! I’ve a good long memory, and no sympathy for your bunch of harpies. My next message will involve freeing up a bunch of Amazon Pacts and sending a bunch of faithful souls off to the Queen of Storms at the same time, a charitable two for one.”
Sama clenched her fingers, and golden hand-razors cut the cell phone into five precisely-cut segments. Driver Stacey could only watch them fall and clatter to the ground, sparking.
“Encourage them to keep this up,” Sama told her calmly, as the burned and terrified driver stared up at her. “You’ll have a Pact for yourself in no time. Just don’t take the Amazon Level, or you’ll act just as overzealously stupid as they do.”
Sama glanced over, saw the out of place bag of groceries nobody had dared get close enough to grab, and glided over to pick it up. Unhurried, she skated on bare feet down the sidewalk, heading to the Blakhamar place to deliver the bag.
Sirens were less than a minute out as she glided away... and nobody would dare take advantage of Amazons, anyways...