A Journey of Black and Red
Chapter 222: All In.

There is no time to plan. I must absolutely get to the other side. Fortunately, the next portal should be fairly close and completely out of reach of the becalming spell. I estimate it will take ten minutes at top speed to reach it if it was indeed opened as planned. Before that, though, there are things I must do.

“Skipper. The magic is going to fade again. Make sure all ships have landed before their batteries run out.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

A few seconds later, I land at the empty spot where the portal used to be and where ambulances now stop, their shocked drivers looking at the empty space where the lifeline of their patients used to be. General Stiglitz is already racing towards me with anger flushing his face. Around us, the battle has stopped. The slave warriors have collapsed in various states of horror while it appears that a regrettable amount of allied soldiers have simply been blinded by the detonation, even with buildings blocking most of the blast. Only now do I turn around to take in the results of the detonation.

Where the city center had been hidden from sight, now fragments can be seen from sparse holes in the concentric layers of skyscrapers that form the Last City. The little I can spot from my position reveals hints of pyramids and toppled towers and fire, fire everywhere, a crimson glow that radiates like a second sun. A storm of ash dances around an expanding cloud so tall it dwarfs even the colossal buildings. The sight would steal my breath if I still had any. For all their corrupted ways, the inhabitants of the dead world built enduring structures so vast I could confuse them for geological features. I was wrong. The mushroom of superheated ash? Now that is the size of a geological feature.

It appears our ability to destroy far outstrips their ability to build. I have a feeling this has been a constant for many years.

Cadiz should be there, somewhere. Hopefully underground.

By the Watcher, with the land becalmed, his emergency recall portal will not activate. I do not even have time to look for him.

I think I killed him by bringing him here.

I gaze at the inferno hidden behind the wall of damaged buildings. The crimson glow of the gigantic blaze bathes everything in red. It is so far, miles away, that the moans and cries of the slave warriors drowns it out. They abandon the field and start to walk back to the city as I watch, perhaps in the vain hope to stop the enfolding disaster. The surviving liches have abandoned them. Their world is collapsing.

I doubt there is enough water in all of the city to make a difference.

“Was this you?” Stiglitz screams, “was this your plan?”

I consider Charming the anger away from him before I come to the realization that I do not care.

“The bombs were my idea. Getting trapped was not.”

“You madwoman! This is insanity! Wait. Are we even safe here?”

I am about to reply that yes, they are, but I remember the corpses strewn across the lab back in Sweden.

“No. You need to pull back to Charlie Bravo point. It is the closest —”

“Makeshift landing strip for emergency recovery. I know. I can read a map.”

I hiss softly but he stands his ground.

“I would advise leaving everything behind except what you need for the trip. The Last City is done for.”

“Why did the dark god close the portal?”

“Yes, I would like to know as well,” Slava’s voice says behind me.

Urchin has come as well with a smattering of vampires. I see the Fury maneuvering in close. I should have flown to them so they can carry me. Or perhaps not. Perhaps waiting a minute to clear things up will not make a great difference in the grand scheme of things. And perhaps the dragon will be faster.

“The dark god is not truly a god, not yet. To do so, he needs to consume his mother,” I explain.

“That thing has a mother?” Stigitz asks.

“Yes, he did not pop out of Hades’ thigh, fully armed. I made a deal with her. She will try to ascend to godhood herself, leave this planet and take him with her. Or at least disable him completely. Unfortunately, the ascension ritual is felt all across the planet. She started as soon as Nirari left with the hope that she would finish before he could return. Unfortunately, we have been too effective.”

“So now he is after her and she is on earth, defenseless?”

“Not defenseless. I have left a squad of people I trust with her but her wards and schemes can only last so long while the guards themselves would merely be a speed bump. I suspect he has summoned his own forces as well. Chaos likely reigns on the earth side. I will fly there immediately to stop him.”

“We will discuss the use of an experimental weapon IN RANGE OF MY MEN after this is over but in the meanwhile, I will be coming with you.”

“Room is limited and I must take others with me,” I reply.

“Listen, woman. The portal closed and now the soldiers under my responsibility are in disarray, possibly attacked by forces unknown. You will take me with you so I can bring order to the allied forces before this degenerates into a second world war. I know what it is you deployed just as I know there are more earthside,” he says. “Believe me. You want me to stop this as much as I do.”

Hmmmm.

He is making a lot of sense. Chaos serves Nirari more than it does me.

The dragon reappears from a wall of thorn. I have delayed enough.

“Very well. Jump on. Slava and Urchin will come as well. Let us go.”

Stiglitz screams a few instructions at his subordinates, mostly to drop everything and retreat in good order. We have a lot of wounded so it will take some time. The blind will have to be led as well. He also orders them to recover the pilots of the fighters and dive bombers as they make emergency landings across the battlefield, something I had not considered. I sit on the neck, Slava takes position over the wings with Stigtiz safely nestled between us. Urchin is left clinging to the tail. We are airborne in short order, though fear still constricts my heart. I believe that every second counts.

The dragon statue takes off. Its very flight bothers me because its wingspan should not possibly be enough to sustain its heavy weight. This affront to physics tickles the engineer in me though so, technically, does my body.

Another part hopes that the Old One never learns I used his likeness as a cargo transport, or all is lost.

No one speaks as we fly away from the battlefield and across the deserted plains. The tension is palpable. Even Slava’s nervousness pierces through his stoicism.

“Are you alright?” I whisper.

“Yes. I only hoped I had more time to prepare myself for this final confrontation.”

“I could not let others know…”

“I understand, though I now wonder how Nirari learned of this little maneuver.”

I sigh. To be honest, I was a little foolish.

“He has agents and allied vampires on the other side. One of them must have long range communication options, something I did not consider given the old vampires’ general aversion for technology. The plan worked insofar as Nirari was trapped by the terms of our agreement until the end of the battle. Unfortunately, his little trick at the end might undo whatever advantage I managed to glean.”

“How good are the wards?”

“They were designed specifically to stop him so… quite good. Still, with Semiramis busy, he will replace a way to bypass them.”

“Where is the site?”

“About twenty miles from the allied base.”

Slava hisses with disbelief. I have never heard him do so.

“This is the place where the barrier between worlds is the thinnest and also where most of our loyal forces have gathered. Nirari knows how to access the warrens of the world. He has gained almost complete control over them. She could have started in Antarctica and he would have been there in half an hour. We would not.”

“I see.”

Suddenly, the world turns black and white.

For the second time that day, I can see every bone in my body and for the second time, a kiss of heat leaves the taste of ash in my mouth. A shockwave hits us, sending my hair aflutter and forcing a swear word out of Stiglitz. I look back and see a second ball of fire engulf and devour the first one, most of the buildings still intact collapsing, shredded and abused. The Last City is a desolated wreck of its former self. In less than twenty-four hours since we arrived, a metropolis that had withstood the end of its world now breathes its last, gutted and charred beyond salvation. A second mushroom rises above what remains of the blackened skyline.

“God almighty,” Stiglitz whisper.

We no longer speak after that. It takes seven minutes for the dragon statue to fly as fast as it can to the secret air strip. It lies hidden in a recess, portal mercifully open. Two damaged planes already wait on the tarmac, though I am using the term loosely. It is merely more than packed earth and a few camouflaged tents.

Two anti aircraft guns open on us but they aim far too high and we are on the ground before they can truly do anything. The soldiers rushing out lower their weapons when they spot us. No one opposes me as I march resolutely through the portal and back on earth. I step out on green grass, rich, loamy air with the scent of golden wheat, the din of distant battle, and quite a few people.

“You are here. Good,” Aki says.

Our newest Progenitor wields a blood-stained javelin over his armored shoulder. The black weapon glints in the light of nearby lanterns. I smell werewolf blood.

My perception expands to cover our surroundings. We stand in the middle of a clearing with yet another airstrip built to be the continuity of the first one. Mages and soldiers rush around, carrying crates of ammunition and other supplies.

It appears Nirari has already started.

I spot Ollie standing by a table with human officers while Slava, Urchin and Stiglitz cross over. The leader of the Red Cabal looks majestic in his uniform.

“What is happening?” I ask.

“Your fire mage will explain better than I. I must return to the trenches.”

“The trenches?” I ask, but he is already leaving.

Ollie looks up when we approach.

“You are here, and earlier than I expected. Is it done?”

A flash of blinding light lights up the aperture behind us. The earth shakes on the other side of the portal while it remains stable here, a disturbing sight. All three bombs have detonated. I am not quite sure what to think but I am quite sure the war is over. There is such a thing as overkill. Unfortunately, the fact often only becomes obvious in retrospect.

“It is thrice done. What is the situation here?”

“That is a relief. Well, hard to say, Ariane. Total chaos since ten minutes ago. Suddenly, everyone started firing at everyone while a wave of feral werewolves attacked our position. I felt Nirari’s aura heading west towards that massive ritual. I assume this is bad news?”

“The ritual must succeed. What of the rest of the Accords?”

“When we lost contact with the base, they headed north towards the ritual site while Aki stayed behind to fight the werewolves. One of their masters reported that they had engaged Mask troops. I know little more. Ariane, everyone is moving in from everywhere. I heard reports that Amaretta squads deployed before everything went dark. They normally never fight. What is going on?”

“Semiramis is trying to become a god. Nirari is trying to eat her. We are on Semiramis’ side. I made a contract with her.”

“I hope that contract is airtight.”

“I sent it to the Rosenthals for verification,” I tell him, feeling no need to elaborate.

No one can wiggle out of a Rosenthal contract.

Ollie turns to watch a blazing airship crash nearby, a trail of fire marking it advance. Flames erupt in a line a few hundred yards away.

“I need to move,” I tell him.

I can feel the monstrous pulse of Semiramis’ ritual needling me on. Nirari must be in this direction. At least she is still alive.

I have no time to waste. Running is faster than flying here. I also need to consider mental fatigue. We have been fighting for over twelve hours now and even my mind needs rest. I hope I do not run into too many obstacles.

“We will clear you a path,” Ollie tells me, perhaps understanding my concerns. “Over here!”

“I will stay here and replace a radio,” Stiglitz tells me before heading off to the nearest tent.

The redhead races, Aki by his side. I follow him through a nearby copse of trees to replace the trenches he had mentioned.

In front of us, several lines of fortifications and machine gun nests host a hive of moving soldiers in French uniforms and Red Cabal fighters in crimson. An empty field extends to faraway woods, now filled with mortar craters and the corpses of ferals. I recognize Jeffrey in the first line with a group of American werewolves. He is already transformed. Nervous soldiers reload and prepare. I notice that the French soldiers wield IGL guns rather than their own.

“Sharing my property with strangers?” I ask Ollie.

“Their rifles can’t fire our silver bullets so we shared. Have you ever tried to use steel jacketed rounds on a mad werewolf?”

“No, I do believe I ever have.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” he grumbled “Ah, here they come again.”

A massive werewolf appears at the edge of the forest, soon surrounded by a mass of ferals.

“He has been testing us. Steady!” Ollie orders.

The humans and mages abandon what they were doing to grab their weapons.

“I could just kill it,” I observe.

“That will make the ferals berzerk according to Jeffrey. He wants to kill the leader himself. He has refused my help,” Aki says with approval. “I will open the way for you after they charge.”

“You go ahead,” Slava tells me. “Urchin and I will catch up.”

The enemy leader howls, a mournful sound closer to a dirge than a celebration of the hunt. The ferals do not seem to care and they rush in while he stays back.

“Steady… Now! Fire!”

Under Ollie’s direction, the soldiers unleash a storm of silver. I notice that they attack everywhere except on a corridor that leads straight to the leader.

“We hunt,” Aki says.

I follow him and Jeffrey as they charge the mass of attacking ferals. Jeffrey roars a challenge but the foe merely snarls, moving away. He intends to let us tire ourselves.

Trees explode behind him. A long black arrow is lodged in the grass. The foe hesitates and that is all it takes for Jeffrey to roar again, and for battle to become inevitable. Aki skillfully carves a path for us with his spear. He throws it in front of him to skewer several foes before it shortly reappears in his hand. Our path leads us away from a large circle where Jeffrey and the foe duke it out while his men form a ring to cover his back. We are in the forest soon though I keep track of the duel for a while longer.

“I will remain behind,” Aki says by my side. “We will join you as soon as we are clear.”

“It might be too late,” I reply bitterly.

Aki chuckles, a low rumble that shakes his whole frame. I can count on the fingers of a single hand the times I have seen him smile so his display comes as a surprise.

“You do not understand him as well as you should. It is his first hunt in many winters. He will make sure he enjoys it.”

“If you say so.”

“The moment matters, Ariane of the Nirari. You will understand.”

He nods then heads back. I accelerate, leaving the woods behind. I race across fields and bases, replaceing desolation everywhere. Even here, far away from the base, the signs of conflict are omnipresent. Deserted bunkers and slaughtered patrols alternate with running groups of men firing at everything that moves, and above that, the urgent call of the ritual. Squadrons fly aimlessly overhead. Chaos rules everywhere. I consider the distance and whistle for Metis though it will slow me down even more. The valiant lady gallops the moment she appears without sass this time. She must be feeling my tension.

I can see it soon after, as I leave another patch of wood. Far in front of me, a lonely hill surges out of the surrounding flatland, its top dominated by a dome of shimmering golden light. The power it would take to fuel such a construct boggles the mind but I remember that Semiramis has some way to store power. She has been storing it for a long time, apparently. The protections are still in place and do not appear to shake or flicker. I wonder what Nirari is doing.

Between the hill and I, a battle is raging. In contrast with the Dead World’s merciless struggle, this one is fast and moving, with groups constantly moving in and out before repositioning. I can spot a mass of warrior slaves and mercenaries arranged before the edge of the shield in a half-circle, the only constant in that ever-shifting contest. They appear to have engaged British soldiers as well as mercenaries I do not recognize. I do, however, recognize the hulking armors providing supporting fire.

“Loth…”

I should hurry. Metis surges forward even faster. Entire fields disappear behind us on our mad race ahead. For a moment, I believe I am clear until auras approaching from the front force me to slow down. There are many of them and I fear leaving them at my back. I recognize old foes and friends as they grow closer.

A wall of fire appears in front of me, the flames reaching as high as the tallest tree in a sudden conflagration. The edge of the wall immediately shifts and turns into a ball that slams back into the one who cast it. I hear invectives in Akkad.

A mere push of the Aurora kills the inferno, allowing Metis and I to pass through. On the other side, I replace a familiar duo. The two women stand face to face on a field of ash. The same heart-shaped faces and rictus of rage animate them. Being on Metis’ back also makes their short stature even more obvious.

I would say they are having a small disagreement if I were in the mood for barbs.

“We’re not done you harridan!” Melusine hisses at her distant relative.

Martha of the Lancaster frowns though she does not take the bait. Power gathers in her hands, forming two blindingly bright flashes.

“You are aware this will achieve nothing?” I ask the war mage.

“It does not matter.”

“I bet you are regretting promising Nirari help for a single battle now that the time has come.”

“You do not have to remind me, girl,” she hisses. “Not that it matters. He is waiting for you atop his throne like an emperor of yore. You can hurry up to him as much as you like but you cannot win.”

I huff at the provocation, or at least start to until I see a cunning glint in her eyes. More telling, Melusine has not used the opportunity to spew vitriol. Martha does not enjoy her predicament and she is sneakily attempting to tell me something. Bertrand appears before I can decipher the meaning of her comment.

“We stand and fight here,” the Mask champion grumbles.

He knows I can dispatch him in moments.

“Though I suppose the duel would merely be symbolic,” he continues with a flat voice.

The delivery is so deadpan that I stop and frown, momentarily thrown off. I am missing some context here.

Constantine appears soon after in his golem armor. He stands far above the others in that colossal suit of enchanted silver and steel. Chains ripple on its surface. A few stomps bring him to my side.

More and more vampires arrive from both Mask and the Accords. Adrian, Wilhelm and Jarek take their spot by my side while Rafael stands by Bertrand's side. A blind man could tell the Mask vampires are less than thrilled to be here. Unfortunately, they gave their word.

“What my esteemed colleague is trying to tell you is that we are fighting a battle for the fate of the planet and since fate is involved, symbols matter quite a bit. You know the importance of a proper hunt. You must understand.”

And I do.

This is a contest for domination. Two world views clash tonight and the winner takes all. Nirari stands for sovereignty without compromise. I stand for unity of purpose. He stands on a mountain of corpses while I walk at the head of the living. I remember that brief confrontation with the reanimated dragon, the way matter and physical events seemed less important than meaning and corresponding actions. Perhaps tonight will be decided by a single stroke of the blade but in order for there to be a chance, I need to act my part. I need to be the leader I claim to be so that others may carry my vision as well. I need to fight Nirari as an equal. Ollie and Aki understood it. That is why they insisted on opening a path. I am merely a little slow.

“Ariane. It is time,” Constantine declares with absolute conviction.

All it takes is a step forward.

I need to trust them. I need to trust myself.

I spared a thought to those who lost their lives making sure the day would come, not just for me to stand a chance against my sire, but also to do so with my mind intact. Dalton. Nashoba. Mannfred. Thank you. It was all worth it just for this moment.

“I am the Queen of Thorn and Hunger. Tonight, I challenge the first of us all for dominion over vampirekind. Warriors of the Accords, open a path for me.”

Auras explode on our side. Constantine’s power is exceptionally domineering, like chains on one’s shoulders. His golem armor’s fist lifts, showing serrated, engraved claws. They point at Bertrand who seems really eager to be somewhere else.

“We have faced each other many times for power but this time, I face you for the future… and I think I am going to enjoy this. CHARGE!”

Magna Arqa explode all around as the Accords force falls on the reluctant Mask warriors. I push Metis who moves on at a smug canter while the vampire war rages all around us. Constantine grabs a lord in layers of Promethean chains before smashing another who had stepped on my path. The ground heaves with furious displays of power yet we never falter. After all, I am queen and queens stand above the melee.

“We’ll catch up,” a Roland lady yells at my back.

And I believe her.

I let my intuition take over, if only for now. There is no need to rush. He is waiting for me. Relaxing my grip on the Aurora, I make way towards Nirari’s main line of defense. I am a queen on her way to a contest, walking over a field of ice. All of the groups in the plain perceive my power and how could they not? They converge towards me.

Among their numbers, one aura blazes like the north star and causes me no small amount of concern though I do not show it. It tastes… ancient. And primal. Soon, a man stands in front of me with a retinue of elite warriors in old armor of chain and furs. The wild facial hair and stretched auras hint at their nature. Those are old and powerful Dvor lords. The first among them is a wide man with gray hair, a beard that reaches his belly, and a frown over a nose broken far too many times to keep its original shape. Disapproval radiates from him in waves. I am forced to stop which I fear may not be ideal until I remember that being opposed then let through will reinforce my image as queen. I merely need people to stand for me. In the meanwhile, I only need to stall.

It should be easy. Dvor seems eager to speak.

“It was mistake to make woman into warrior. It was mistake to invite her to sup on the black blood. Now she has become manlike, and her servants, who follow her into battle, will lose their way.”

A measure of shock fills me. He speaks Akkad, as I do, and yet the meaning behind his words and the way he articulates them feels old and alien to me. He talks like one reads an ancient tablet gnawed by time. He probably saw it engraved. I am talking to a vampire as they were near the beginning. Nirari evolved. He did not. Well, time for a taste of modernity.

“Feel free to bring it up with Nirari since he decided to change me. I am sure he will value your advice.”

“Woman wields sharp tongue,” he spits. “You are no Ishtar. You are but the smallest babe crying for a breast. We remember the scent of blood on the sand of Egypt. We will force you into the accursed ground until you grovel. Order will return to the city.”

“You’re a little out of date, you old fossil,” a voice says from behind me.

As before, people line by my side. The one who talked this time is of Dvor’s blood which incenses him. Viktoriya rests her trident on her armored shoulder and stands, defiant and cocky. More Dvor line up by her side, the young and the hungry. I am surprised to see Dominique, de facto leader of Mask and the Roland twins come as well as a contingent of loyalists. It seems our current struggle has split factions in two. Brotherhood members are next, then Amaretta warriors with their glaives, then a group I have never seen before wearing silver mail and crosses. Those are the Vitiazi, Slava’s supporters. The last group surprises me the most.

“Do not think that makes us even,” Laestra the Shade trainer says as the Knights join my side.

Finally those scoundrels are fulfilling their promise eighty years after I told them to sod off. There is hope yet. Or not. I do not see Octave among their ranks and he is one of the only ones who can genuinely threaten me due to his equalizing Magna Arqa. No matter. My role is set. There is no path but forward.

“I am the Queen of Thorn and Hunger. There are allies brought together by a common cause and then there are allies of circumstances, allies brought by a common enemy. It does not matter what sparked the fire in your heart. What matters is that you serve. Enemies of the first, open a path for me.”

“You overstep your role, little child,” Dvor grumbles but he is vastly outnumbered and he is no Devourer.

“You’re far from your ruins, old man, while everywhere I am at home. Magna Arqa!” Viktoriya says with an eager smirk.

She is the first to lead the charge towards her Progenitor which I replace quite courageous of her. Dvor’s honor guard is forced to peel off by a multitude of Magna Arqa while the ancient monster himself stands his ground, that is until the leader of the Vitiazi brandishes a cross in his face. Dvor is forced back and I move through, still on the back of Metis and still unbothered. I am very close now. I can almost see the last line of defense. Behind me, familiar cries clue me that the battles I left behind me have joined as a general melee. The battle is reaching a paroxysm. I also realize that if I had to battle through all of this, I would have reached Nirari exhausted.

I can finally see him, far away at the foot of the hill, his back to the golden shield. He is looking at me.

***

The bunker was dark despite the pale glow of electric lights. The three men inside stood nervously across a table. Confused reports came every minute from different sources but all agreed that the portal to the dead world had closed and that slave warriors fought on the plains.

Despite the late hour, summer heat never left them. They sweated under tight uniforms that clung to them. They glare at each other and the map. They had discussed this before but now that action was required, no one dared take the lead. Worse, the situation was simply too chaotic. Some said that the main base had been attacked and others that the Last City was razed to the ground. Uncertainty weighed on their shoulders. They knew the decision they had to take might lead to the pantheon of heroes or to a place in Hades’ collections. They knew that no matter what, it would end in history books. The fate of the planet hung in the balance.

“Gentleman, we will not get a better chance,” the central figure finally said.

“May God forgive us for what we are about to do,” the left man said, always eager to follow the first.

The third man hesitated. He had always been the voice of reason. Now though, he realized the first man was right.

The vampires had all gathered in one spot. This blight upon mankind could not be rooted out without a full commitment of the population, one the heathens would never tolerate, yet in their arrogance they had all gathered in one spot. It was as if a cancer had retracted its insidious tendrils and gathered in a single, easily operable spot. Healthy tissue would have to be excised as well, they realized. Hundreds of thousands of patriots defending their land would fall when they pressed the button but it would neutralize the aristocracy of the night and break them for millennia. Perhaps even forever. All the intelligence sources agreed that their strongest members were all in attendance.

The first man was right. They would never get a better chance. Mankind would never get a better chance.

“I will do it,” he finally agreed.

The three made their way to the radio station in solemn silence. The sentries on duty paled when they spotted the three together. Those brave men knew what it entailed. Many began to pray. Jaws locked in the radio room. The central man approached a long device and inserted a key in consternated silence, soon followed by the three others until a complex machine was revealed. He pushed a dial and a number appeared on a slim sheet of paper.

The central man approached the nearest radio then took the microphone. Besides him, an operator had already selected the right frequency with trembling fingers.

“Eiger this is central three, please confirm your current position and heading, over.”

“This is Eiger, we are circling over Home One at seventeen thousand feet, over.”

“Eiger, prepare to receive the code.”

The central man read twelve numbers in a slow, deliberate voice, then he repeated them to complete the protocol. He soon received acknowledgement.

The central man took a deep breath.

This was it.

“Eiger, you are clear to drop the package. I repeat—”

Gloved, delicate fingers stole the microphone from his rigid fingers with disconcerting ease. He felt like a child whose prized toy was snatched by his mother. Shock froze him in his tracks.

“Picard, is that you darling?” a female voice asked.

Said voice belonged to a beautiful woman with mesmerizing gray eyes under black locks. She smiled in a sinister fashion.

He had no idea where she could have come from. It was as if she had appeared from thin air.

“This… yes? Who is it? What is going on?”

“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.”

The three men beheld a fit body clad in a positively scandalous black bodysuit, but they were soon fixated on black gun she held in her left hand, barrel ending in a thick cylinder.

“Lady Constance? What can I do for you?” the bomber pilot finally said.

The three men gasped but they were alone. All around them, the operators and sentries looked ahead in bovine dazzlement. A song like a distant hum teased their ears though they could not quite hear it. There was something about the woman’s eyes. Something cold. So very cold.

“Belay that order Picard. Come home.”

“Understood, Lady Constance.”

The three men could only watch in horror as the stranger returned the microphone to the operator. She never broke eye contact.

“Who are you?” the central man finely demanded.

“Oh. I am insurance. Farewell.”

The stranger lady raised her gun and, calmly, shot them each in the head.