Day 112: Fate’s a Bitch

Madison B., AKA Maddie B., AKA The Mad Bitch knocked on the door with the barrel of her pistol. When the peephole darkened, she fired. Everything that happened after that happened very quickly.

Through the new peephole she saw the costumed people rise from their card table. There were three men and two women. She figured the one she shot was a man but she didn’t know for sure. They were shouting the name, “Jackdaw!” which could have belonged to a man, or maybe not. Nobody paid much attention to the sidekicks, including Maddie.

She stepped to the side as someone rushed head-first through the door, blasting it to splinters. Knucklehead, she presumed. His head had that shape. She fired once for every knuckle to round out his skull. Mostly she just made a mess.

Then she ducked, and a beam of energy ripped through the wall where her neck used to be.

“Fucking Christ, they killed Knuck!” a woman shrieked. Another laser beam, red as a toaster element, carved through the room in an arc that barely missed Madison’s head.

Madison had to blink, so she did, and suddenly there was another woman in the room. The other woman was wearing an all-yellow costume, and she bent over Knucklehead’s corpse, saying, “No, no.”

When Maddie fired her remaining shots, the yellow woman wasn’t there. She was several steps to the side. And then she was in front of Madison, delivering a blow to Madison’s rib cage. Even Maddie’s precognition couldn’t prepare her for a speedster. She removed her sword–which was shaped something like an overlarge pair of scissors, but razor-sharp on the outside as well as the inside–and swung at the yellow woman, who was called Leggit.

Of course, Leggit dodged the sword, and dashed in for another attack. At this point Madison had dropped her pistol, and opened her scissor-sword wide. Leggit, quite unaware that the sword was capable of splitting open, ran herself right through the blade. Her legs kept running, somehow, even while her upper half hit the floor.

Snapping her scissor-sword shut and slashing away the blood, Maddie dove through the busted-open doorway. A laser passed over her, but it missed. Dog-ear was right where she guessed, his body folded in half like an impossible contortionist. Every time he folded himself, his body’s natural defense grew exponentially–or so Madison read in the dossier. Her employer specifically dog-eared that page. He was a hoot, that one.

She snipped off Dog-ear’s knees, where he wasn’t folded. His screams were muffled inside of himself as the rest of him kept folding. He wasn’t dead, but he was a turtle without legs, so Maddie ignored him.

Lasik tried launching another set of eye-beams, but his tears got in the way, so he couldn’t. He was too sensitive to be a superhero sidekick. They were all too sensitive. And too sloppy. Gathering to play cards, all in the same place, without their bosses knowing. Foolish. Lasik’s weapons were removed with the tips of the scissor-sword in one quick thrust.

One left. Minimalist. A shrinker. It was probably too much to hope Maddie stepped on her somewhere along the way. Maddie’s precognitive powers were limited to immediate situations, and generally only big deals. Minimalist, by definition, was a small deal.

A sting in Maddie’s wrist caused her to lose her grip on the scissor-sword. She all but punched herself in the gut to crush what was on her hand. A sting on her other wrist made her drop the sword completely. Minimalist targeted pressure points with deadly accuracy. And Madison, despite being the third Sister of Fate, couldn’t see it coming. But she could put herself in Minimalist’s tiny shoes and predict what she, Madison, would do with such a power.

In a whip-swift movement, she lifted her foot just barely off the ground, swept it back a little, and stomped. She felt the bones grinding under her heel. Thankfully Minimalist was going for Madison’s left achilles tendon, and not her right.

“God damn you,” came a muffled voice. “You fucking psychopath. You killed them all, didn’t you? Oh Heavenly God damn my Christing legs.”

Madison wiped her shoe off on the floorboard.

“Why don’t you come out and look for yourself,” she said. She was glad Dog-ear’s only power was defensive. He was folded into a tight square, but was seeping blood from the folds.

“Dog!” cried Lasik, who was curled in a fetal-position, clutching the places where his eyes were. “Are you still there, Dog?”

“Sicko,” Dog-ear called. “Oh thank God, man, fucking finish her off!”

“I can’t,” Lasik wept with bloody tears. “I can’t, Dog, I… You’ve gotta do it. Come on, man. You pathetic bastard. Oh, fuck… Stop being a shield for once and be a sword.”

How cheesy, Madison thought, her arms folded. These supers. Nothing but cheese sandwiches. She considered leaving the two of them to bleed out, but then remembered that these idiots had a habit of coming back with robot limbs and stupid shit like that.

Then Dog-ear gave a muffled battle cry and unfolded his body and Madison unfolded her arms, even though she didn’t need them. She listened for the muffled voice as the layers peeled away and the shout got louder, and she prepared her foot to re-muffle the battle cry when she heard another battle cry behind her.

Clever, she thought. Call the shield a sword so I won’t pay attention to the real sword.

Too bad the man who picked up the scissor-sword was blind.

Instead of kicking Dog-ear, Madison swept her leg in a down-and-out arc, crushing Lasik’s kneecap and sending him sprawling–

–and plunging the scissor-sword into his newly-unfolded friend.

“Scissor beats paper,” said Maddie.

See? she thought. I can be cheesy too, motherfuckers.

Then she finished off the last of the sidekicks and went home to approve her payment.

 

 

Today’s three random prompt categories were, “An assassin of superheroes,” “A dog-eared page,” and, “Minimalist.”

I imagine Maddie B. as a Kill Bill, The Bride-esque character. But that probably came through. Massacring a roomful of superhero sidekicks would be the opening scene. Then the superhero revenge would come.

Now I just want to write her murder-happy stories as a comic book.

– H.

 

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