Apotheosis- A TGWDLM Fanfic

Chapter Two: Take Me Or Leave Me

Harriet sighed, taken aback. He'd left her. This wasn't the plan. Not at all. Not in twenty two years. At second glance, she noticed a note on the keyboard. She furrowed her brows and walked over to read it. He had better have one damned good excuse to leave her like this so close to realizing what she had thought was his life goal as much as it was hers. She was rather heartbroken. She picked up the note, sighed, and tried to be reasonable. Maybe he wasn't leaving her on a whim. Maybe he was just stuck.

Complications occurred. If I am not back by now, go on. The world is relying on you now.
Uncle Henry

Ah. Complications. She knew exactly what he meant. There was only one sort of complication that could cause him not to be there right now. She sighed, and realized that she was likely going to have to do this on her own. A very scary thought for her. Nonetheless, she would persevere. She knew that her Uncle would have prepared a set of weapons for her in case she ran into any trouble in pursuit of her goal. Their goal. So she headed to the weapons room to see what he had laid out. She found yet another note. She approached it almost shakily. These notes were the only thing she had of her Uncle Henry right now, and she missed him sorely. She could almost cry, reminiscing about the old days. But she didn't have time for tears. The best way to honour her Uncle now was in seeing their plan through to its completion. She read it very carefully.

Remember that the goal isn't to kill people; it's to save them. Take my shotgun. It's served me well and it will do the same for you. Take whatever else you deem necessary, and go out boldly. You are a formidable young lady, and I have all the confidence in the world that you will do just fine on your own.
Uncle Henry.

Harriet hadn't even noticed what was under the note. Her Uncle's shotgun. Passed down the line of Hidgens eccentrics for years. Apparently she was now in that number. She let a small bittersweet smile grace her lips as she picked it up, feeling along its ridges. Her Uncle had taught her to shoot on this gun. Now she may never see him again. But at least his legacy would live on, if only through the gun. She hadn't touched this gun in at least five years. She had her own for a while. She positioned it to shoot, letting it find that familiar little curve in her shoulder. It felt like it belonged. She knew she could very well survive with just this gun. She very carefully used the strap to sling it across her back. Still, there was no such thing as too careful, so she went over to the wall and picked up her set of custom daggers and throwing knives. She'd designed her clothes with spots to hide them, so she got to sticking them in her combat boots, her pants, around her waist, up her sleeves, and even in her hair. The knives had been her sixth birthday present, since she'd read a book on close combat and the usefulness of daggers, and she'd been begging her Uncle for them ever since. They still fit her hands perfectly. This room was absolutely full of memories, and Harriet was tempted to stay there reminiscing all day. Surely the world could wait for a day.

She was snapped back into reality as the high pitched screeching of the alarms system started to boom through the halls of their Doomsday mansion. She headed to the nearest security display and checked to see what was going on. Some girl, who appeared do be a barista of some sort, was attempting to break into the mansion. A futile attempt, really. It had been built to resist far more than baristas. There was something that intrigued her though. The frantic air she had about her... she wasn't one of them. Quite honestly Harriet was surprised. A simple barista outwitting an alien race? Unthinkable. Yet here she was.

"Come one, come on, you fucking piece of shit..." The barista began to mutter as she attempted to pick a lock.

An option appeared on the display to initiate the gun attack on the girl. Harriet hummed for a moment before declining it, and unlocking the door, making her way to the front, readying her shotgun. As she approached the door, she noticed the barista hadn't entered yet. Ah, yes, the disbelief might need to set in. She saw the door cautiously open, and the barista entered very slowly. She cocked her gun and pointed it dead at the girl's heart, staring her dead in the eyes for a brief moment before it became too much for her. She wanted to at least give the girl some glimpse of her authority in the situation. Harriet noticed two things looking into the barista's eyes; the first was that she was very, very frightened. Scared for her life. And the second was that she was very, very confused. Which made her start to wonder if this barista somehow knew her uncle.