MF1.0 - 76 - Yield

‘I’m going to kill you.’ Were the first words Magnolia heard as a blow to the head roused her from her nap. She was pulled from bed and she felt a required uniform cover replace her tight sleeping top. The strong hand didn’t let her go as she was shifted away from her quarters to the gym. The combat gym was kept clean, as the rest of the Agency, by the mysterious forces that only existed when no-one else was in the room, but somehow, those forces never managed to remove the bloodstains. She stared at a few of the bloodstains as she was repeatedly thrown to the floor. He was angry - very, very angry this time. He wasn’t even going easy on her like he usually did - it didn’t matter though, it never mattered. As he threw her clear across the gym, she called on her hated ancestry and stablised enough to grab onto one of the punching bag chains. She swung herself upward and wrapped herself around the chain. She required herself into her real clothes - she hated fighting in any of the standard uniforms - she liked the freedom of skirts and the utility of spiked-heel boots. He lifted his gun and for a moment she was worried he was going to shoot her. The outcome didn’t worry her, but the method - when it came down to it, she wanted him to take her life with his own hands, not from a distance. He shot at the chain and with the third shot it fell. She landed in a crouch and blocked a kick. A massive hand hauled her up by the hair, she tilted her head to look at him - there was nothing in his eyes except for hate. ‘I’m going to kill you,’ he growled as he wrapped his hands around her throat.

‘I’m going to kill you.’ She spun and fired on the agent again - the bullet struck him in the shoulder, but it didn’t even slow him down. The room only had one door in it, and he was blocking it, there were no windows, no escapes. She dropped the empty gun and ran at him - he easily blocked every one of her attacks. A sneer crossed his face - he was enjoying her weakness. A boot to the face propelled her across the room. She slid down the wall and spat blood. She was going to die, finally. He walked across the room, slowly, purposefully, as if he were inevitability itself. Agents killed criminals, and that’s all she was. She was going to die, and she was thankful. Another gun materialised in his hand. She looked up and locked her eyes onto his. ‘I yield.’ ‘I’m going to kill you.’ She didn’t fight, she didn’t scream, she didn’t beg, she simply nodded. There was no shot. ‘Name.’ he demanded. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He kicked her in the stomach. ‘Name.’ he demanded again. ‘Magnolia.’ ‘I’m going to kill you.’ At least a single shot would be kinder than most deaths that the streets promised. ‘But not today.’ ‘What?’ A strong hand hauled her to her feet. ‘I’m going to recruit you.’ Her feet were kicking - she couldn’t help it, the hangman’s dance. She clung to his hands and tried to pry them from her neck, but they failed to budge. That was it then, today was the day. On the night of the mirrorfall? Did I fail that badly? He shook her and a little more oxygen escaped her lungs. At least he was keeping his promise. She grabbed onto his right hand with both hands, enough to expel oxygen in the form of words. ‘I…’ He shook her again. I love you. Once, just once, she just needed to say it once. I love you. She couldn’t feel her feet, she couldn’t feel her legs. Everything except his face was distant. ‘I…’ Then she saw it. It was buried beneath all of the anger and apparent murderous intent, but it was there. The challenge. I love you.

‘I…loathe…you…’ She prayed it had been a challenge, and that she hadn’t wasted her last chance ever to disappoint him. ‘Good girl.’ His strong hands released her and she fell to the floor. A kick to the gut started her breathing again, if only out of instinct, but she was too weak to move. She heard him stomp away and she slipped into happy unconsciousness. Something soft touching her face woke her up. Huge googly eyes stared down at her as soft brown fur stroked her cheek. A plushie. She looked over and saw Merlin, he removed the plushie from her face and smiled. ‘I tried an anti-lullaby, but it didn’t work.’ She shook her head, noticing the pillow beneath it. ‘A what?’ ‘You sing lullabies to put people to sleep. You sing anti-lullabies to wake people up. It might have worked, except one of your esteemed colleagues told me to stop making dead cat noises.’ He adjusted his goggles. ‘I’ve seen dead cats, they don’t make noises.’ All of her bruises screamed for a hot shower, but sitting up was a necessary first step and she didn’t feel quite up to it yet. Merlin placed his face over hers. ‘And I couldn’t find a Prince Charming to help you out. They’re in suspiciously low quantities, maybe we need to keep some construct ones in the basement?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Just ask your boss first. What are you doing here anyway?’ He handed her a piece of crumpled paper. ‘I came up with a foolproof way of finding the mirror tonight.’ She unfolded the paper. ‘“Look at the sky”?’ she repeated. He shrugged and flopped to the floor beside her. ‘Using your eyes is usually best. Especially if they’re covered in vision-enhancing eyewear.’ ‘I don’t need goggles, Merlin, I can see just fine.’ He lifted his hand and a feather appeared in it. ’But I thought you were a diurnal bird, not a nocturnal one.’ ‘I like having my peripheral vision. You don’t want me to get hurt, do you?’ He rolled over and hugged her arm. ‘Never.’ ‘Good, then help me to the infirmary, I think I need stuff wrapped.’