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Manticore · (This post was last modified: 10-02-2012, 07:42 AM by Manticore.)

ID: BANSHEE

Far away, back on Buffalo Base, Banshee howled in rage. The clunky mask the Rogues had scrounged up to 'fix' her with was horribly inadequate for her needs, and she was constantly suffering low-grade symptoms of cardamine withdrawal despite the fact that the mask was technically working. The pain added further fuel to her already towering rage towards the nameless Rogue who'd come to deliver several pieces of progressively worse news to her.

'So you're telling me that Lambert is gone, Pita is gone, and, on top of that, Moka has ordered me off this base?'

'Uh, yeah. That be the gist of it.'

She shrieked. 'Fool! Moka dares not cross me! I am powerful beyond his pitiful understanding!'

The man shrugged, not backing down an inch from her imposing figure. 'Frankly, I don't think Moka gives a sh...'

He was interrupted by her right hand closing around his throat. Steel fingers, powered by cybernetics and spurred by her fury, closed around his throat as cardamine-infused strength lifted him off his feet.

'You dare? YOU DARE? SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR IDIOCY, ROGUE!' she screamed.

His neck was smashed to a pulp by her powerful fingers. The last thing he saw was her hideous face, twisted in rage, with steely dark eyes staring straight into his soul.

In the morning, other Rogues came looking for the man. They went to Banshee's quarters and were stunned by an indescribably brutal scene. There were no remaining pieces of the body big enough to identify the man with. Banshee, meanwhile, was long gone.

She would find Lambert again, and when she did... he would pay for every last one of his sins.

--~--

"Who knows what true loneliness is - not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion."

Joseph Conrad

~FIN~

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