It's a Slow Fire of Sorts: Part I

Running out of Time

The grip on her arm loosens. Ten-Ten hands her back her knife. "Surprised you didn't actually kill her," he says, readjusting his helmet so it fits properly on his head. "Thought I'd be cleaning up blood."

"Bigger things on my mind. V's Universal is out."

"That's not good."

"Yeah, but I've got it handled." Brunnhilde taps her ear, engaging the comm system. "Marks, you read me?" There's static, then a cough.

"I've almost got them," he says, and Brunnhilde pulls Topaz's keycard out of her armor. She quickly rattles off the number.

"How long for you to-"

"Five minutes."

"... Do it fast," she says. She mutes herself and places the card in Ten-Ten's hand. 701 is watching over her shoulder, still keeping up appearances. "Should give you access to the main cells and the ships up top," she explains. "The rest is up to you. Is there anyone even remotely interested in rioting?" Ten-Ten nods, the glint of his helmet blinding Brunnhilde's eyes as it falls forward.

"Yeah," he says. "There's a Kronan that seems a little too excited about starting a revolution and a goop guy with like... knives for arms." He shudders. "Some others, too, but the Kree aren't down there." His voice is apologetically soft.

Brunnhilde rolls her eyes.

"Don't cry on me, dude. They're in D as well, she practically confirmed it." Ten-Ten immediately brightens, or at least, Brunnhilde thinks he does. Hard to tell with the flarking mask. He gives her a mock salute.

"Alright. I'll round the Gladiators up." He elbows 701 in the shoulder before he goes. "Meet you in hangar 11," and as he leaves for his post, 701 unlatches the ghulu prod from his holster. He exchanges both it and an obedience controller for Brunnhilde's rope.

"Can you do it?" he asks.

Brunnhilde doesn't need clarification.

She flicks the weapon on, ensuring the power is enough to break through Kree metal, but when the whites and blues of pure energy crackle in front of her eyes, she almost wishes it wasn't. Stop moping, Marks is whispering in her ear. You'll do it, and you'll learn to live with it. With painful, resolved acceptance, Brunnhilde clenches her jaw. She turns the prod off, connects it to her sheath, and shoves the controller into her pocket.

"In ten minutes, turn the whole system off except for the upper levels. Weaponize them and get everybody out. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good."

His eyes flash with something foreign. "Good luck," he says, scanning the Weapons table once more before glancing back at Brunnhilde with a determined nod. He gives her a salute as well. "I'll see you on the other side."

and then he's gone.

Brunnhilde has ten minutes to prepare for the inevitable. Ten minutes before she has to actually comprehend her role in all this, so she runs her fingers over the prod dangling from her belt and takes the back platforms to avoid any other distractions. She shimmies around a few drunk Scrappers, trying and failing to ignore the content of their conversations as she makes her way around the corner. After a few easy steps, the confirmation in her ear, "Code is 9184 until noon," and the press of a bright green button, she's on her way up.

"Thanks," she tells Marks. "I'll let you know when I have her."

He mutes himself.

She'd rather he didn't.