“W-wait, hold on! I w-was cool with you! I tried to help you! Besides, if you kill me, the others will-…”
“Save your hollow threats, Nazi. We’re not scared of your gang of mercenaries. After this, we’re going to pay little Miss Bourgeois and the Latin loser a visit,” hissed Johanna, running a hand along the length of her tail. “And if the Hurricane’s kid is half as stupid as you, well…”
Max knew he had to act. Losing his armor against two enemies in such a tight space would be catastrophic, but if he didn’t move now, his death would be assured. With no other options, he lifted his back and began to break away from the calcified ligaments that supported the shell’s superstructure.
Cautious of the crackling noise, Johanna urgently pushed her comrade to finish the deed. “Kibo, get it over with! He’s trying something!”
The axeman was quick to oblige. With one brutal stomp, he slammed Max’s carapace back down against the pavement and, bearing down with his full weight, held the boy firmly in place. He then brought down his crystalline axehead in a glistening cascade of light, directly onto the base of the knight candidate’s armored nape. The cleave was so swift- so atrociously brutal that it split through the hardened shell like a rotten log and cracked the asphalt beneath. Without its connection to Max’s plated shoulders, his broad, heavy helmet immediately dropped to the ground.
“Bum bada bum! Goodnight fascist!” cheered the girl, her slender tail swaying excitedly. “Now let me get his head out of there for the commissar…”
Dropping back to her quadrupedal stance, Johanna scurried over to the lifeless hulk and gripped the helmet’s flattened rear edge. Straining intensely, she attempted to flip the ossified shield over to get inside but was unable to gain sufficient leverage.
“Y-you’ve got to be kidding me… How the fuck did he move around in this…?” she growled. “Hey, Kibo! Give me a hand here, will you?”
At the behest of his partner, Kibo placed his axe in a specially-designed leather sheath on his back, stepped to her side, and knelt down. He then gripped the protruding points on either end of the helmet and pulled back, flipping it onto its front plate and exposing its dark hollow. Finally able to peer within, Johanna was stunned by what she found.
“It’s… empty…” whispered the girl.
“What do you mean, empty?” huffed Kibo, dragging the armor piece a few centimeters. “His head probably fell further up, let’s just drag it into the light and-”
“I have perfect dark vision! I’m telling you there’s nothing inside of the stupid thing!” Johanna snapped back, increasingly unnerved.
Rummaging through his brain for any explanation, Kibo scratched at the back of his neck. “Maybe I crushed it. Maybe there’s nothing left.”
“Then where are the pieces?” she inquired, drawing her finger across the shell’s rough inner lining before pulling it back in observation. “And where the hell is the blood?!”
Just as Johanna turned her attention toward the open hole of the armored suit’s neck, Max erupted from its back, sending jagged shards and sharp splinters in every direction. Caught completely by surprise, the murine girl’s upper arm was pierced while her ear was shredded by these rogue projectiles. She fell back onto the ground, yelping in pain as a startled Kibo reached for his weapon. Though the axeman was quick to react, his position had left him significantly disadvantaged, and he was unable to properly defend himself. By the time Kibo had drawn his axe, Max already slashed him across the jaw. Staggered by the pain, the man missed a retaliatory swing and was impaled in the stomach by his opponent’s right wrist claw.
“Kibo!” shrieked Johanna, clutching her blood-drenched ear.
Overcome with pain and slipping into shock, Kibo stumbled back a step. Max responded in kind, moving forward as he drove the rough-edged blade deeper into his soft flesh. The axeman coughed and his red face covering, torn by the previous slash, fell away from his jaw to reveal a mouth covered in fresh blood.
“Y-you! You fucking bastard!” Johanna cried out, her eyes wide and panicked. “Murderer, we’ll make you pay!”
Max shot her a sharp glare out of the corner of his eye. “Shut the hell up,” he growled. “Five minutes ago you were celebrating cutting my head off and threatening my friends, now you have standards?”
Catching a glimpse of movement from the direction of Kibo’s axe hand, the boy twisted his wrist, further rending the enemy’s flesh with the barbed surface of his claw. “Besides…” Max grunted, “I don’t plan on killing anybody today…”
With that, he ripped his blade from the enemy’s stomach and struck him beneath the jaw with a closed fist, knocking the man through the air and onto the cold, hard ground.
“No!” cried Johanna, reaching a hand toward her fallen comrade.
Sensing that the girl was about to lunge toward Kibo, Max pointed a claw in her direction, causing her to hobble backward. “Stay right there. I won’t warn you again…”
Though she didn’t immediately move, it was clear by Johanna’s eyes flicking between her partner and the exit that she was weighing her options. After a few arduous seconds, the girl made a sudden break toward the street.
“Hold on, Kibo, I’ll get the others!” she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder as she ran for the light of the open road beyond the alleyway.
Mere meters from escape, however, Johanna collided with a solid object and crashed to the ground. Planted on her rear, she clutched her sore head and looked up to find the dark silhouette of Arthur Sturm looming over her, blocking daylight with his back.
Pushing herself back across the ground, the girl gasped, “Shit!” before flipping around and dashing back toward the middle of the alley, an equal distance from both knight candidates.
“Don’t let that bitch get away, Sturm…” said Max coldly.
Though Sturm was unclear on the circumstances, it was obvious that Max wasn’t his normal self. His expression was hard, his tone serious, and his stance prepared. The swordsman didn’t know it yet, but this was the outward presentation of a young man who had just survived a close encounter with the reaper.
“Max, who is this?” Sturm inquired, looking at Johanna warily before turning his eyes toward his friend’s shed exoskeleton and the incapacitated Kibo. “And… who is that…?”
“Communists…” huffed Max, spitting a cheekful of azure blood onto the pavement. “This one is Johanna, the girl from the report. The other one- I’m not too sure. Kibo, I think she called him.”
“Is he dead?” asked Sturm anxiously.
“Nah,” replied Max, keeping a close eye on Johanna, “Not yet, anyway. But if she doesn’t surrender, he might bleed out before we can get him any help. That’d suck.”
The girl’s eyebrows twitched with her ears as she gritted her teeth. There was nowhere to run. Regardless, she knew too well the fate that awaited any Communist rebel who gave themselves over to the authorities. Many of her comrades had been captured in the past and none had ever been heard from again. Given her own group’s history of terror bombing and the fact that she’d be surrendering in the commission of one very such act, her execution would be nigh guaranteed. So, with no other option, Johanna exploded into a full-fledged four-legged gallop, accelerated to her full speed in under a half-second, and charged between Max’s legs. She then slid underneath him and broke into a roll before snagging Kibo’s glass axe and jumping to her feet. As the weapon’s weight was initially too great for her to balance, the girl reinforced her grip by coiling her long tail along its silver shaft. She then stood over her comrade’s unconscious body and began to swing the axe back and forth ferociously.
Sturm immediately responded to the gesture by drawing his saber and moving up beside Max. Together, the boys slowly closed in on Johanna while being mindful not to leave any room for her to pass between them.
“Drop that weapon right now!” shouted Sturm, taking another step forward.
“Put it down, Johanna…” added Max, clenching his fists.
Unfazed, the girl continued wildly thrashing the axe about, snarling like a trapped beast. “Get back! Get the fuck away from us! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“If you don’t listen, you might get hurt,” warned Max, moving closer.
“He’s right. Nobody wants to die in an alleyway,” said Sturm.
“You’re the ones not listening!” Johanna raged back. “I chose the hardest possible way to live, just for the slightest chance to make the world a better place! Every day for me is a hell you wouldn’t last ten seconds in! If you think I’m going to give up just because a couple scumbag fascists have my back to the wall, you’re even stupider than the rest of them!”
Sturm sighed resignedly as his gloved hand tightened around his sword’s grip. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Max, but we might have to kill her.”
“No, we can’t-”
“Look at her, she’s beyond help! You need to drop this, already!” yelled Sturm, cutting his friend off.
“No man, I mean we can’t kill her because she might know something about the bomb…” Max reaffirmed. “And she definitely knows something about the murders, remember?”
Eyes narrowing with resolve as he looked upon the frantic enemy, Sturm returned a nod. “Fine. Be careful, though. She’s out of it and there’s no way to predict her next move.”
“Got it…” replied Max. “Keep an eye on the axe. I don’t know what it’s made of, but it cut through my armor like paper.”
Now on the same page, the boys prepared to engage Johanna, intent on neutralizing the threat she posed without causing life-threatening damage. Unfortunately, as was all too often the case in these trying times, this would be easier said than done.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
