The tires moved up the dusty, gravel trail. As instructed, the driver turned off the lights. "G-good, j-just drop us off here, p-please." Martyr said, passing the fat wad of cash up the the driver. Opening the door to the black sedan, Martyr took the time out to go over her thoughts. It wasn't like anything she'd expected....To think that she'd ever be sharing a quiet car ride with Nazareth was strange enough on its own, but to think that they'd be going on murderous adventures together—it was insane. It made her think of something that Phoenix might do....She wasn't here anymore, though. It was Martyr's job to do the dirty work. Normally, she wasn't one for revenge....However, this was something else entirely. Family was more than blood to her. Which made Orchid family, Minoko family, and certainly Emlen and Phoenix....He'd crossed the line, and she wasn't going to give him the chance to do it again.

Turning to Nazareth as she stepped out, she took in a breath. "Sure you w-wanna do this?"

The ride was indeed quiet as Nazareth was carefully guarding a secret nausea throughout the entire ride. There had been several occasions when the weather was unagreeable and she had broken down and purchased a taxi for Agnus" sake, but those rides were mere minutes; the ride she'd just shared with Martyr was an absolute trek. In the back seat in her leather trench, her blade snug against her shoulder, the Dominioness did not appear to breathe, did not appear to breed a single thought across the duration of the ride. And when the sleek sedan stopped rolling she couldn't leap out fast enough. Outside now, she spun her wrist with rancor and snapped the door closed. The woman had cut a slit into the waist of her jacket so that she could slide her blade through it and it would be available from the hip at a splitting of a second. Now that the perturbation had ceased with the end of the ride Nazareth was visibly tranquil. She slipped the sheeny sheath through the cut in her jacket, pressed out the wrinkles in the leather and nodded affirmatively. "Quite sure. I'm in need of a—-flex."



Martyr stared at Nazareth for a few seconds, before nodding. Her own nausea was no secret, it was worn over her face the entire car ride. Questions raced through her mind. What if I don't make it' What will Max do' What will Vice do' I have to do this....I have to do this for them....Her expression was firm, and her eyes were fixated on the house. "If I r-remember correctly, there's j-just a few g-guards we need to t-take out first." This, was what didn't settle in Martyr's stomach...They were innocent to her. Perhaps not so innocent. Or maybe even stupid. They knew the risks....Still, Martyr didn't like it. "We'll save the k-killing for S-solaris...So if there is any w-way you c-could, I d-don't know.." Knock them out instead of t-tearing them apart, that would b-be great."

Nazareth crossed her arms and folded into thought. "It is unhealthy to be so disarming when staring in the face of an operation of this magnitude. I imagine that your father knows you well, knows that you are healer and a 'saint' in most respects. Killing the feeble would show the man that you indeed mean business." Her expression shifts, a new thought and one less sour than before. "But were you to be seen as a killer before the true hostilities were to commence would put him completely on guard, so perhaps it is not such an unsavory idea." A smart little smiled leaked across her jaw when she nodded. "Then I accept. I can take care of them on your command."

Martyr nodded firmly and took in a breath. "Ok-kay, good. I'd r-rather not kill the innocent. It's j-just n-not me.." Martyr didn't know the house front to back like Emlen did. She did, however know where the guards would be. Where Solaris stayed, and which door was best to go through....She couldn't lead Nazareth in with her words, but she could navigate inside. "Ok-kay...This way, then..." Martyr moved up to the door, and stopped dead in her tracks. "And N-nazareth..." Martyr called. She wouldn't give her time to answer. The wind blew through her cropped hair as the immortal stood stiff in her position. "..Thank you."

Nazareth did not speak at first, as she was drawing up the area with slow and infatuated scrapes of eye. It was important to be certain of all angles, to be familiar with what was available, to understand everything the senses could provide as quickly as possible. The girl listened to Martyr as she spoke and on the suspense of her own spoken name, flicked her eyes to the left and waited. When she was offered thanks she was moved to petrification. "That's fine. I mean. . I mean you're welcome. If I'm slain you'll take are of Aggie, right' That's all the thanks I need."

"Of c-course, and if I'm slain....I think," Martyr turned to her and gave a sharp grin. "I think I'm g-going to let P-pilot take care of M-max and V-vice. N-no offense." The girl said with a soft grin. "D-don't worry, though...We're g-going to be fine." The girl nodded. It may have seemed selfish of Martyr to drag Neth into this. However, she offered—not to mention, next to Phoenix, Nazareth was one of the strongest, meanest warriors she knew. It only made sense....Moving for the door, she opened it carefully, and slipped inside.

Nazareth, naturally, took no offence to Martyr's unwillingness to award her custody. Aggie was the only child she wanted, and even though she was probably the most easily pleased teenager on the face of the planet Nazareth still struggled to perform day-to-day tasks. Several oven fires later, she'd finally managed to prepare a frozen pizza so at least some progress had been made. Nazareth followed the immortal in and exercised zero caution, zero care for stealth. The girl was tall, and she stood to full six, rangy in her sweeps of long leather and suspended blade, her sharp licks of silver and mangy, restless eyes of red.

Nazareth could rest assured, Pilot was spoiling the heck out of Agnus through this adventure. Home cooked meals, with Martyr's home made cookies. She was living the good life. Moving inside, she looked around. She pointed down the narrow corridor and nodded. "There's usually a g-guard standing there....Y-you can't see him from here...I'm going t-to move ahead. He'll go after me if he's there....You sneak up from behind" Yeah?" Martyr asked with wide violet eyes.

The Dominioness" nose was frighteningly sharp enough to virtually paint a picture of the rooms ahead. She nodded and took the lead away from Martyr, storming straight into the lengthy corridor that forked about twenty feet out in both directions; Nazareth picked out several distinct scents but such was the trouble with relying heavily on scent while indoors, everything-and-one blends into a sort of esoteric stew confined by the halls. It was clear that the closest person was on the immediate right of the fork for that's where the concentration was greatest. Nazareth reached the end of the hall, took a bit of a crouch and leaned an eye around the corner and spied that single guard of mention, his body partly turned but his back was not completely favored. Martyr requested a swift rear-aimed knockout blow but Nazareth was not going to nest in the hall any longer waiting for him to turn. She jets into the hall and her heavy boots immediately bring the man to attention. His body spins to face a disturbance his eyes diagnose only as a grey-bottomed, silver-topped blur. The woman's great speed brings her within inches of the man and in one sleek revolution, unsheathes her blade, spins three-hundred-sixty degrees and deposits the entirety of her created inertia onto the side of the man's startled skull with her blade. But she had not broken her promise: Nazareth's blade was sharpened on the curved side only, so she opted to whack the inept guard over the head with the blunted concave edge on the reverse, effectively knocking him out and nothing more. Well, the girl was strong, was quick, so there may be some memory loss associated with the blow, but these things happen. The guard's body is thrown off his feet and into the wall where it hits then slides down it like a runny egg and pools up on the floor.

Martyr's hand came up, as if she'd stop Nazareth. A soft sigh escaped her lips—she was stupid for expecting anything less of the dominioness. She sulked forwards, making sure the woman didn't actually kill the guard. She was very impressed with the fact that he was alive, she couldn't even let herself get annoyed. "N-nice." Martyr said, and she'd go in for a high-five, however her fear or rejection from the hellish woman stayed her hand at her side. "Ok-kay....Just a c-couple more g-guards down here....Think y-you can handle it' I'm g-going to head upstairs."

Strangely, Nazareth did not express her triumph. Either it was a ruse or knockout blows were meaningless. She snaps the blade back into the scabbard and takes a lean against the wall. Her thin eyes slipped into soft violet jewelfaces so warmly hung upon Martyr's soft face and immediately cracked them with scrutiny. "Are you certain that it's wise for you to advance alone" I'm picking up roaming scents all over this building, Martyr. I will however advance on your command, I virtually have no stake in this and will not complicate it with a feud."

"Y-yeah, I c-can handle m-myself." Martyr whispered softly. She trailed her eyes down to the symbol that was burned into her hand, the dark marking that was foreign as it was troublesome. It ached every now and again, and in this house, for some reason, it was throbbing. She nodded, and forced a smile. "Stronger than I act, r-remember?"

With no time to just stand around checking bodies for signs of life, Martyr ran up the stairs. She knew she didn't want to know. She couldn't tell herself that they were probably alive if she knew for a fact that they were dead. Sucking in a breath, long legs carried her to Solaris' tower above.

Part of her felt like a noble prince, headed up to the tallest tower in the castle to save a princess and defeat a dragon, or a warlock, or whatever Solaris was....There was no Princess, though. She knew this for a fact. Solaris had killed her damsel, her best friend. For that alone, he had to pay. Martyr could have waited for Nazareth, but if she could get this done without her...what was the sense in putting her in danger" She saw the door, ran for it, and directed a soul blast that would surely send it flying off its hinges. "Solaris!" she howled.

The blast popped the door clean free of the frame and sent it smoking and coursing through the air and smashing into the far wall of the man's room where it blasted to shards. He had his arm crossed over his face as a prepared shield as it was unknown what was to follow. Turns out Martyr's voice was to follow. Solaris slips of his bed, pulls on his trousers, clasps his belt and strolls calmly through the broken doorframe that was still veiled by layered ribbons of hot steam. "Okay, okay," the shirtless man said leaning into the frame. "What is it, Martyr" What is it now?"

Martyr's eyes narrowed, looking through him. She panted, and it looked as if she was already spent. She was far from it, though. She wouldn't rest, until his beating heart was in her hand...."Solaris..." Martyr whispered and looked at him. "Only one of us is c-coming out of this room alive.." The girl whispered softly. "I m-mean it."

"Oh goodie, a threat. I think you're the last of my children to issue me one. Shall we celebrate with a drink of wine?" Motive there perhaps but he didn't budge from the doorframe. "If this is about Phoenix I think your hatred of me is a little misplaced. Whatever it is you think," said with a factual overbear and a shaking of his head, "you are misguided. Phoenix foolishly split from her body, got her soul all tangled up with lord-knows-what and it zapped that poor artificial body to pieces. I think you should thank me, it must've been very painful.

Nazareth was in no rush to bombard into the room. She'd heard the voices from the stairwell, had smelled the charred air as it had been scorched by a sudden outburst of energy, and understood that Martyr was laying it all down for her father. Traditionally it was not like Nazareth to lay the spotlight down, but in this case she had agreed to terms and was unwilling to relinquish her pledge.

Martyr shook her head in a violent, but firm protest. "This is about Phoenix and y-you have n-no right. You k-killed her out of your own will to be spiteful...It's about you, though...It's about you, and I'm n-not going to let you hurt anyone else..." Cold violet eyes trailed up to him, "I'm n-not afraid of you anymore....So f-fight m-me or d-die." Martyr said, holding her arm out to the side. A blade came from her flesh, and with her hair covering her eyes, she finished the summon.

Solaris leaned away from the door frame and let his arms fall down loosely at his side. Martyr's words could very well be just that, but there was most certainly qualities of unquenchable violence on her face and cadence that had never been there before. At heart the man was of course not in the least afraid of her ability to injure him, but he did not want to consider the possibility of losing. "Then kill me, Martyr. If—"

In the hall, about thirty feet from the door frame where the standoff was rehearsed, Nazareth was unsheathing her blade and approaching with a benevolent serenity. She'd removed the blade and, as she walked, let the sharp tip drag across the flooring behind her like a child would a blanket. It cuts through the hardwood and a straight division of board would trance her movements towards the pair.

Hearing the scraping of steel on wood, Solaris leaned his head into the hall and squinted to discern the source. Looked like Phoenix after the splicing of her soul, and suddenly he was confused. He would have to act or suffer consequences unknown so, quickly, he turns a swift punch into Martyr's chest, opens his palm after contact and fires a thin but powerfully dense and impactful blast of soul energy right into the girl's chest. It would be enough to blow a hole through her flesh and send her into the wall behind, if not completely -through- the wall and into the room held behind it.

Martyr's insides were blasted though, and she slammed into the wall. This, normally, would have been enough to set her on the path of curling and crying. Her wound was closing even as she sank down the wall, leaving a path of precious blood to her limp body. Hair covered her eyes and she was still for a while. Seconds, minutes, who was counting"

Her hand was killing her, though. In this, she found humor. Irony. Bitter, hilarious irony. Too much humor, in fact. Martyr's body was just blasted through with pure fragments of her father's soul, and yet, her hand was hurting. Martyr looked down at it, and the symbol on her hand, the sign of her curse was bruising and spreading up her wrist like an infectious disease. Honed teeth were displayed, and she started cackling. Her eyes were covered by her hair for a moment, as the laughter-accompanied with blood- hauntingly spilled from her lips.

Nazareth instantly rushed forward, blade slung behind her waist with both hands employed to the hilt, ready to strike, ready so sever. This segment of the mission, the goal as it were, was Martyr's to execute. Nazareth knew that Martyr would be up in a few minutes (or so she should, the Dominioness considered that members of the girl's family might be able to afflict her in different ways to cause more reprehensible damage) but she couldn't let this man dissect her as she took the time needed to remend her flesh.

Solaris stepped out of the hall to face the fleetfooted blonde. He smashes into the floorboards below with his right foot and, garnered with a little more energy just as the blow before, sends a roaring wave of torn-up boards and flame-like light tearing through the passageway towards Nazareth.

No where to run, time to think outside the box, or outside the hall in this case. To the right of the girl was a sealed door. Just as the swift wave of debris and roaring energy was close enough to nip her flesh from the heat of Solaris" vibrant soul, Nazareth, in a lightning bolt of a move, split the door completely in half with a swing of her blade and dove through the split passage to avoid the wave.

Martyr was already up. Her dislocated shoulder popped back into place and she continued to chuckle as she stared at her hand. "It hurts....It shouldn't compare...but oh god, it does.." Martyr said as if drunk with joy. She moved her palm to display the symbol, while looking up at him with golden eyes. The wide grin was spread over face like a plague, a maddening gin that seemed to take up her features. She moved for Solaris, staring at him with that empty, golden gaze.

The man was startled by his daughter's appeal to the damage; the Slanes were known as the best-blooded immortals in recent history, if not ever, but Solaris knew the his daughter should still be on the ground fighting for reparation of flesh and bone and tendon. The man backed up as the consignment of alien features were discovered. "Just what—-Just what is this! What in world have you done to yourself." The shock leaves and is replaced with understanding fury. "You fool. . you damn fool, you've no idea what it is you've subjected yourself to.?

Martyr laughed through his speech, and looked at him with squinting at him with wild yellow irises. She moved closer, and her blade was reborn on her arm. "I knowwwwww." The girl dragged out her words, and continued to look at him with a wicked bliss. "Now, I made a promise....So I'm going to need your heeeaaaarrrt." Martyr said, and moved closer. If he didn't react, she'd be swinging and sending a soul blast through her weapon, to slam into his chest. If she got him on the ground, it was all over.

To be continued. . .