#culturewars (![]() ![]() @ 2016-12-30 17:17:00 |
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Level 1: The Minister’s Office There are something strangely freeing about storming the halls of the Ministry while disguised as Bellatrix Lestrange. There was no need for hiding behind Death Eater masks, or for being on guard that someone in the Ministry was going to come after her. This was hers. Everything was hers, because she was Bellatrix Lestrange, and if she wanted it, she would have it, and anyone who would try to take whatever "it" was away from her would die. It was much easier to get into the Minister's office when looking like the unofficial Minister's wife. (Entering through the front door was a much simpler process than Marlene's earlier plan of trying to crawl through the maze of air vents.) "RODOLPHUS!" she yelled as she barged her way into his office and sat down on his desk. "We have a problem." "Yes, dear?" At his desk, Rodolphus didn't even look up. This was a normal occurrence, his wife barging into his office to yell about something or another, and it usually either ended with a nice lunch or her storming back out after sending the contents of his desk flying, depending on what mood Rodolphus was in. "Is this about Leslie? If he doesn't want to ring in the new year in our bed, we can always find something else to do." That... was not the response that Marlene had expected. The "this is a normal occurrence" attitude, absolutely, but the mention of them having a threesome with... "LESLIE?" she yelled, and reached for the closest item on his desk to smash against the wall. "Why would... why WOULDN'T he want to? Has he said something to you??" Marlene demanded. "Why is your mind going to Leslie?" At that, Rodolphus looked up sharply, rising to his feet and pointing his wand at his wife. It wasn't that Bellatrix was throwing things that alarmed him — no, that was normal. But her words were not right. "What do you mean, Bellatrix?" he asked slowly, distrusting. "We have spoken about this." Marlene disregarded the wand that was trained on her -- she'd seen the way that the two interacted with each other when emotions were running high back when she worked at the WFC -- and continued on. "I mean I don't want to talk about Leslie right now when Sirius has Evan and this all could have been EASILY AVOIDED if you'd just LET ME KILL HIM LAST MONTH." "What are you talking about, Evan has Sirius? What happened?" He stepped out from behind his desk, but still he didn't take his wand off her. Something didn't seem right. Eying her carefully, he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Bellatrix, what was the first thing you said after you killed my first wife?" How the hell was Marlene supposed to know that? What did murderers say to each other when they were coming down off their murder high? It his her almost as quickly as she questioned it, and she tried to push away the nauseous feeling that was building in her stomach the more that she thought about it. She was in character. She wasn't Marlene McKinnon right now. She was Bellatrix Lestrange, and needed to distract her husband while the others got to Barty Crouch. Continuing to act like the wand that was trained on her was nothing unusual, "Bellatrix" stalked forward, and shoved Rodolphus up against the wall to kiss him. Probably not for nearly as long, or as passionately as the real Bellatrix would of, but she still pulled away while giving Rodolphus a look that fell somewhere between "what a good memory!" and "why are you wasting my time with this??" "Happy?" she asked. Ah, that was right. Rodolphus' wand arm went down to his side and he wrapped his other around 'Bellatrix's' waist, pulling her toward him. "Almost," he grinned, pressing his lips to hers again. Alarm bells of THIS IS NOT WHAT I'D INTENDED were firing off in Marlene's head, but at least it had worked as the distraction that she'd hoped for. Rodolphus's guard was down, the others would've had the chance to get into place, and Marlene wasn't going to throw away her shot at vengeance. "We can pick this up later," she said as she pulled away and started toward the door, readying her own wand. "We have… as much fun as this would be, we have a mission to complete for our Dark Lord. I won't lose another one of His Knights to that human stain Sirius," she said, trying to somehow say the capital letters aloud. She turned back to Rodolphus abruptly. "Nevermind. You wait here. Avada Kedavra!" The curse ripped into the large mahogany bookshelf behind him, exploding into shreds of books and large splinters of wood. The room was engulfed in dust and somewhere in the background, the score began to play. Rodolphus could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he gripped his wand tightly as he brought up toward the woman in front of him. This wasn't Bellatrix. "Stop right there," he commanded. "Crucio!" Marlene had been winding up a second killing curse when Rodolphus's cruciatus curse hit instead. She dropped to her knees, and then onto her elbows as the spell ripped through her, every nerve burning and searing through her. Some logical part of her brain was still yelling at her to stay in character, don't scream, don't cry, this is just foreplay to them, you can get through this-- which was quickly drowned out when the screams and cries started, unable to be held back any longer. Dorcas threw a shield up over Marlene, though it wouldn’t do much if Rodolphus tried to use the killing curse on her. When she emerged, coming face to face with their attacker, she looked like someone who had long reached the end of their patience. “You probably got off on this, didn’t you? Fucking pervert.” A vibrant, red light shot out of her wand, aimed at his torso, and he dodged hard to the left. The spell ricocheted off the back wall, flying into his desk and making the paperwork he'd been working on burst into flame. The intrusion gave Marlene just enough time to recover from the curse and to roll out of the way of the spell, her hands still shaking from the after-effects of the cruciatus. That just made her grip her wand tighter, though, as she turned her attention back to Rodolphus. "Lamina!" she yelled, conjuring up a cloud full of knives and sending them flying straight at Rodolphus's face. He threw up his wand, casting a quick shield charm that slowed the knives so that they left only scratches, not breaking the skin. "Meadowes," he drawled, a stream of water pouring out of his wand and extinguishing the fire on his desk. "Did you come here to avenge your father's death? Because you're going to be disappointed." His wand flashed toward her, then toward his 'wife.' "Incendio!" he shouted, fire flying at each of them. Dorcas bit her tongue, and instead propelled the desk he extinguished to hit him square in the back. Several curses came out her wand, each more nasty than the next, but none yet unforgivable. “If anyone’s going to be disappointed tonight, it’ll be that cocksucker you call a leader.” While Dorcas's spells remained powerful without veering into the category of dark magic, Marlene figured if there was ever a time for her to break out the shadier spells that she'd learned, this was it. She cast an augamenti spell to douse the flames that were fired her way, then paid back Rodolphus's earlier Cruciatus curse with one of her own. She couldn't focus on bantering like she normally did in a fight. She just wanted Rodolphus to die. The desk hit him hard, throwing him toward one of the walls and pinning him in place just as Marlene's cruciatus hit him. It was strong, though not as strong as Bellatrix's were (more proof it was not his wife there), but luckily she couldn't hold it too long and Rodolphus had enough experience with the curse to be able to get his wits about him fairly quickly. Meadowes was the only one he could aim his wand at, from the way he was positioned between the desk and the wall, but he had a clear shot. "Igneus Liquidus!" he shouted, a ball of green acid going right toward her. Dorcas attempted to dodge it, but the acid struck her forearm and grazed her hair, feeling a lot like being burned with flame. She cursed vulgarly, recoiled for an instant, and decided she also wanted him to die. While he more than deserved a painful death, this would have to do. “Avada Kedavra!” If Rodolphus hadn't already been moving the desk away from him, he'd probably be a dead man. But the desk -- his desk, one he was fond of -- was hovering in front of him and took the spell, exploding into a million shards, throwing him backward, throwing Marlene backward into the wall with an "oomph." "Nice try, Meadowes," he growled, wasting no time in putting himself back on the offense by sending two more spells, one at each of them. "Depulso! Lamina" Marlene slashed away the spell aimed at her with a rushed Protego, shielding herself from Rodolphus's attack while trying to regain her bearings. Dorcas tried to evade the blades that in her direction, but it pierced the flesh below her collarbone and she fell to the ground. "Will you just bloody die already??" Marlene yelled, shoving herself away from the wall and diving toward Rodolphus's back to try to tackle him like some sort of rabid spidermonkey. "Have Harold memorialize this," she spat, winding up and punching him square in the face. His face felt hot suddenly and Rodolphus' nose started dripping blood. He swung his arms out, grabbing her by the collar and yanked her away. "Do not talk of me or my son ever again." Dorcas aimed her wand once more to disarm him in the most painful way possible. To cut the hand the held his weapon. “Your son’s going to grow up without a father,” she said, angered by the memory of her own dead father. “I killed a Lestrange once and I’d fucking do it again.” He'd have killed her then and there if he could. He'd have strangled her with his bare hands, if he could get them on her, and he would have enjoyed it. His vow of no more murders went out the window when those words came out of Dorcas Meadowes' mouth, but there was one problem: Dorcas Meadows was a better duelist than Rodolphus Lestrange. What he would have done went out the window when her spell hit his shoulder and his wand went flying out of his hand. He lunged for it, but soon realised he couldn't even feel that arm, not to mention use it, and for as enraged as he was, Rodolphus was still a reasonable man. He knew he couldn't win, not here and not now, and judging by the two people pointing wands at him, he was already lucky if he could escape with his life. Quick as he could he reached his other hand into his pocket, and a moment later he disappeared, followed by a scream of "Mother fucker!" from Marlene, along with a rage fit that could have easily rivaled one of Bellatrix's. Except with less murder. Level 7: The Cafeteria When Elsie arrived in the Ministry’s atrium, the mark on her arm was still burning against her skin but she paid it no mind as she stalked through the giant room, avoiding whatever ice she could. She threw a few curses into various duels she passed, but nothing caught her eye, so she continued on. Within a few minutes, her eyes landed on the chaos in the cafeteria — wizards tumbling end-over-end through the air as ghosts swept in and out of duels. Here, they needed her. Slashing her wand at the nearest witch she could find, Elsie sent a flaying curse straight at Eiri. Eiri let out a shriek when she felt the skin ripped from her shoulder, a hand hovering over the fiery pain left with the exposed skin. She’d wanted to run but she’d been eating and now there were ghosts and gravity problems and she hadn’t known where to go or what side to help - which side was winning? She couldn’t tell, this was awful! Spinning around to see a hooded figure come her direction, Eiri yelped and turned, immediately running into cafeteria chairs and nearly tripping over herself. “Please, don’t! I’m not with them, please!” she begged, toppling over a table that was in her way, wand gripped tightly, but knowing she was no duelist. “You’re not with them?” The Death Eater’s tone was skeptical as she advanced on the other witch, kicking chairs out of the way. She smirked behind her mask as someone running by stumbled over them and wound up sprawled out on the floor. Her attention drifted back to the woman in a similar position in front of her. “What matters is if you’re with us,” she said, holding her wand steady. “Prepared to kill some vigilantes for the cause?” “I don’t-” Eiri started, feeling the blood ooze from her shoulder and down her back as she looked up at the Death Eater in front of her through glasses crooked on her nose. She didn’t want to kill anyone! Especially not for their stupid cause! But you don’t just say no when a Death Eater has their wand pointed your way. “I don’t know how to kill anyone!” she said desperately. “Allow me to demonstrate,” Elsie said, lifting her wand to aim at the man a few feet from them only just stumbling back to his feet. “Avada Kedavra!” It was the flash of green more than anything that drew Emmeline’s attention through the chaos of the cafeteria. The signature flash of green and the Death Eater robes that usually accompanied it. She wasn’t going to be able to do anything for the man on the floor, but maybe she’d be able to stop there being a second. Besides, she was desperate for a fight. “Hey, asshole!” she shouted to get their attention, before aiming a bone shattering curse at the Death Eater. Elsie glanced up at the new voice just before the curse hit her, splintering the bones in her shoulder and leaving her arm hanging uselessly at her side. She could only afford to spare a single moment on pain and indignation before she volleyed back with a fireball from the end of her wand. Her gaze snapped to Eiri. “Now’s your chance.” Eiri’s panicked stare went from the body of the man who’d just been killed, to the vigilante, then back to the Death Eater, then back to the vigilante. “I…” She couldn’t. She didn’t know how to do the killing curse even if she wanted to which she did not in a million years and oh my god. Eiri scrambled to her feet with a whimper and lifted her wand in the general direction of the two witches. Oh god. Oh god. The fireball launched at the vigilante. There was no way to help her. “Confundo!” Eiri yelped, turning her wand on the Death Eater on the very last syllable. The fireball crashed into Emmeline’s shield, hasty and weaker than she would have liked but it did enough of the job. A few flames pushed through, burning at the sleeve of her jacket. She shot off a series of slashing hexes before turning her head, a quick look at the woman she didn’t particularly recognize but seemed obviously in over her head. “Run.” The Death Eater’s actions immediately slowed when Eiri’s spell hit, leaving her vulnerable to Emmeline’s. Two gashes opened up across her stomach and chest before she remembered how to cast a shield charm. “Not so —” Elsie’s brow furrowed behind her mask. “Fast?” “Whatever,” she muttered to herself before leveling a blasting curse at each of the women, packing nowhere near her usual punch on each. Eiri was tempted to follow the vigilante’s advice, but now she’d pissed off a Death Eater, she couldn’t just leave - they’d hunt her down! Her family! Her nephew! Mid-debate, the blaster hit Eiri square in the chest and she was slammed back into some more the tables and chairs once more, fairly sure a rib had cracked, but luckily no more than that. With a groan she began to get up again. If the woman wouldn’t listen to her, there was only so much Emmeline could do about it. She threw herself out of the way of the blast only to have a piece of table from where the blast did hit slam into her arm with a sickening crack. “That all you got?” she shouted before aiming a shot of electricity at the Death Eater. At least maybe she could keep the attention on herself. For a moment, Elsie couldn’t tell which of the two women were speaking, so she shouted to no one in particular, “No that’s not all I —” before Emmeline’s spell cut her off. Her muscles went rigid as electricity pulsed through her, and when it finally subsided, she fell panting to her knees. There wasn’t time to catch her breath before she took aim again. Or tried, since the pesky disorientation lingered. With haphazard precision, several bone-shattering curses shot from the end of Elsie’s wand. Moving slowly with the flayed shoulder and busted rib, Eiri had only just gotten to her feet when the bone shattering curses exploded around her. She breathlessly tried to duck behind another cafeteria table, but one of the curses managed to catch her in the torso and she let out a scream as she felt more ribs and her upper arm crack into pieces, falling to the ground. Tears falling down her cheeks with the pain, Eiri looked toward the vigilante. “Pl-please!” she begged the woman. She’d avoided everything the vigilantes had represented for months now, terrified it would get her killed, but now? She was terrified she was about to die anyway, shock slowly sweeping over her. She knew there wasn’t a heroic bone in her body, maybe the vigilante knew that, but she didn’t want to die. She really didn’t want to die! “Help?” she asked, though with her lungs having little support it came out as barely anything but a wheeze. Emmeline saw the other woman go down, faster than she could get to her. One of the bone-shattering curses grazed her hand as she moved, the bones in a few of her fingers splintering painfully, but she didn’t stop until she could throw herself between the Death Eater and Eiri. Why not, right? It wasn’t like she had that much to live for. Emmeline didn’t have the healing skills to do much for the woman on the ground, and she wasn’t going to be able to help her out of the Ministry with the Death Eater right there, so she quickly cast a protective ward around the space Eiri occupied — only strong enough to withstand a hit or two but it was something, at least. Then she spun around, aiming her wand at the Death Eater and casting a fireball of her own. Bewildered as she may have been, Elsie knew what to do when she saw a fireball heading toward her. But rather than cast a shield, she moved out of the way, allowing the fire to graze her robes and set them instantly alight. The damage to her body was minimal, but she wasted precious moments remembering the spell to extinguish them. By the time she turned back to the vigilante and the other woman, she’d lost any edge she might’ve had. So she went the brute route instead — one blasting curse after another, and a pegasus-shaped fiendfyre to round them off. “You have got to be fucking KIDDING ME!” Emmeline shouted as she jumped out of the way of the fiendfyre, only to jump into the path of debris from the blasts. Parts of a chair slammed into her, knocking the air out of her lungs as her knees hit the ground. There was a moment that was longer than she could probably afford before she sent what debris she could hurling at the Death Eater instead, following up with a disintegration curse that was probably more likely to hit the debris than Elsie. With a shriek, Elsie tried to duck the debris only to have it slam into her, sending her careening backward and straight into a no gravity zone. She flailed in mid-air as her feet came off the ground, thankfully steering herself out of the path of the vigilante’s second curse. It took some effort to right herself enough to see her opponent. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Elsie screamed at them, whipping her wand around as best she could and sending a bolt of lightning from in the women's’ general vicinity. The lightning barely missed her, whizzing by so close that she could feel her hair standing on end as it passed and distracting her enough that it took a moment to realize that the Death Eater’s feet weren’t on the ground anymore. Emmeline sent a series of ropes, hoping that the disorientation from the lack of gravity might let them hit, before adding in a summoning charm for the mask, almost as an afterthought. She hadn’t really expected it to work. There was a tiny moment as the recognition hit before Emmeline started to laugh. “Aww, Elsie, I’m so glad we could have this 06 reunion!” And then she aimed a severing charm straight for Elsie’s throat. Only barely having regained her bearings, Elsie attempted a mid-air backflip to dodge the vigilante’s ropes. It would’ve worked, too, if backflips without gravity weren’t about as efficient as trying to backflip in a vat of molasses. The ropes caught her ankles, tying her legs together as she twisted in the air. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of her own name that she realized what had happened. “Reunion?? Who the fuck are —” She cut herself off to cast a shield around her, stopping the severing charm before she could endure a repeat of her duel with Beth. Her frustration was leading her temper to its breaking point, and she was practically screaming as she tried again to ask, “WHO ARE YOU?” “The one you should’ve tried to kill instead of Henry,” Emmeline replied coolly, sending a spell to end the gravity issues around Elsie so that she would fall dramatically to the floor. “I wasn’t bluffing when I said I’d have no issues watching you bleed out.” But instead of sending another severing charm, she aimed a bolt of electricity. After falling to the floor in a heap of limbs and rope, Elsie had barely long enough to suck in a lungful of air before rolling out of the lightning bolt’s path. She struggled against the binds on her ankles and finally used a severing charm to free herself. Seconds later, she was back on her feet — limping, but on her feet nonetheless. “You,” she growled at Emmeline, the woman behind her all but forgotten. “You’re right that I should’ve killed you instead of him. At least he was funny. Better late than never, though.” And in that moment, she couldn’t have cared less about Bellatrix Lestrange. “Avada Kedavra!” Emmeline threw herself to the side and out of the path of the killing curse, heart thudding wildly in her chest as she did. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she’d dodged it by now, the adrenaline rush with a side of terror was always the same. “Nice try!” she shouted and then, after half a beat’s hesitation, she aimed a killing curse of her own. The flash of green from the end of the vigilante’s wand caught Elsie off guard. Vigilantes didn’t perform killing curses — or at least they hadn’t before a handful of ex-Aurors had joined them. But training kicked in and Elsie dropped to the floor again, ducking her head just under the spell’s path. With a dry swallow, she glared up at Emmeline’s glamoured face. “You will die,” she said, voice saturated with malice. Before she cast a bone-twisting curse at her former yearmate, she added, “Tell Benjy I said hi when you do.” The words stabbed at her but it was nothing compared to the pain of the bone-twisting curse hitting her arm, causing Emmeline to let out a scream through clenched teeth. But even through that, she was determined not to die by the hands of Elsie fucking Flint. Not today. Not ever. “Tell him yourself,” she managed, before aiming a series of slashing hexes. Elsie’s concentration focused on sustaining her curse made it difficult to deflect Emmeline’s hexes. Two of them struck her, opening deep gashes in her shoulder. “I think you’ll see him first,” she said before using a levitation charm to fling a table Emmeline and Eiri’s direction. Eiri had taken to hiding amongst the rubble, crouched low and hands over her head for the majority of the duel until now. She was hoping the vigilante would win at this rate (and was mildly horrified and impressed with the killing curse she’d used) - she didn’t recognise the Death Eater when her mask was ripped off, but Eiri didn’t particularly care - she just wanted out but everything hurt too much to move. It wasn’t until the table flew their direction that forced Eiri into action once more. She raised her wand to try and knock the table out of the way, and while her spell connected, it sent it spiraling end over end instead. In a panic, she levied a blaster, shattering it into pieces - which were almost as dangerous as shards rained over them. Emmeline’s shield helped disintegrate the smaller bits, but a larger sharp chunk dug into her exposed shoulder causing it to POP as wood dug into the tissue and she cried out again. Throwing up her own shield against the shards, Eiri’s cry brought Emmeline’s attention back to the other woman on the ground. She aimed her wand, directing the shards of table back towards Elsie in a whirlwind of debris before following up with a wild series of spells — stunners, slashes, and a blast for good measure. She just needed Elsie to retreat. Or die, preferably. But dying wasn't in the cards for Elsie, so she cast a shield around herself as she clambered to her feet. It held off the worst of the barrage, but it took everything she had left. She was outnumbered and every muscle in her body ached with the effort it's taken to get as far as she had. It was just as she readied to cast a final curse that the mark on her arm burned again. Sparing the two women a final glance, Elsie took hold of the portkey in her pocket and disappeared on the spot. There was a beat as Emmeline stared at the space Elsie had been in, both annoyed that she was gone but also the tiniest bit relieved. Turning, she made her way back over to Eiri and knelt down beside her. “Hey,” she said, “let’s get you out of here before another one shows up, yeah?” With a whimper, Eiri looked up at Emmeline and nodded with a sniffle. “Yes, yes, please, thank - ah.” Her whole body revolted when she lifted her arm to take the vigilantes offered aid, and she had to recoil, catching her breath. “Sorry - thank you,” she said quickly, gripping the other woman’s arm tightly. “Thank you so much.” After another deep breath, Eiri forced herself to grit her teeth and yank herself at least up to her knees. “My brother’s a healer,” she sobbed nonsensically, now that the adrenaline was starting to be replaced with the surges of pain all her broken bones shot through her. “It hurts oh my god, I don’t know what to do-” she began to panic, feeling more and more light-headed by the minute. “Just breathe, babe,” Emmeline said quietly, activating the portkey she had on hand. She couldn’t do shit to help heal her, but at least she could get her to someone who could. Level 8: The Atrium When the call had come from the Dark Lord, Avery had been up in the DMAC offices working late. His Mark burned alerting him to trouble within the Ministry, and at once he was on his feet and headed towards the Atrium where he figured, rightfully, that any such incursion would begin. A flick of his wand while he was on the way transfigured his attire into the proper regalia, and he fixed his mask The lift deposited him on the main entry hall, and he strode out wand at the ready. The problem was large as he could plainly see. Vigilantes. Again. Always. Avery’s wand flashed and sliced, and two tendrils of black light were directed at an individual he knew to be out of place. While not one to show mercy to begin with the Dark Lord’s command was clear: No more benevolence. The Death Eater’s foot slid to the side throwing his aim off, and the dark magic he’d been weaving slammed into a wall instead and left a deep, charred, and serrated gash. Amelia spun, her glamour flickering with the crackle of magic around them, her skin darkening and hair turning from blonde to black. She’d have to be better at that, eventually, but for now the disguise had served its purpose, and with only the briefest of consideration for the last time she’d fought a Death Eater, she was poised to duel once more. Shields going up around her almost instinctively, Amelia then shot off some rapid fire stunners, hoping to use the Death Eater’s imbalance against him, non-wand hand reaching out to grab her friend’s wrist to bring him to attention without yelling his name. Avery wasn’t the greatest of duelists, but he was no slouch even as he regained his balance. The shield shimmered in front of him catching the stunners, and he shot back rapidly with two spiraling tendrils of fire intent on wrapping themselves around the duo. And then he realized. Bones. He reached up and pulled away his mask to make it dissolve. She ought to know who was going to end her life. For Barty, perhaps he could have stated, but that would have been a lie: it was for his own pleasure. Broderick had responded to Amelia’s touch in an instant, head whipping around to spot whatever disturbance she had. It was just in time to catch most of the ropes of fire with a shield charm, and in time to see Reginald Avery’s well missed face. Broderick hissed, his shift in focus making him sloppy enough to miss the final whip of the fire, the flames licking through the sleeve of his shirt to brand his skin. He practically growled, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. Fuck this, he discarded his glamours in kind. “Sir,” he sent a bolt of electricity rocketing towards Avery’s chest. The bolt split apart at the wave of the Death Eater’s wand and splattered static into the area around him every which way. “Ah. I see you did bring your pet mudblood.” The rest of Amelia’s glamours had fallen off by the time she’d ducked from the second whip of fire, it coming close enough for her to feel the heat radiate inches from her shoulder. “I wouldn’t expect you of all people-” Amelia growled back, winding up another blaster, stepping forward as the anger of seeing Reginald Avery in front of her caused her to nearly shake. “- to understand someone being a true friend.” She knew it was petty, but Avery infuriated her. She felt furious and nauseous and it took all her willpower to remember her duelling, remember Moody and Nico and Al’s lessons. She couldn’t just leap at him like she wanted to. “Volnero!” she spat instead. And the Death Eater? At Amelia’s words, Avery shook his head and chuckled. Even if the fighting in the atrium made it too chaotic to hear the amusement, Avery’s expression even from a distance was as smug as ever. Accurate though the slashing curse was it too faded into nothing as the man’s wand wove through air with practiced ease. “Spare me your friendship tirade. You want a fight?” He glanced to his left arm where his mark had burned not long before. They were all here. His fellow Knights. The vigilantes had blundered; they’d brought themselves into a fight they couldn’t win. His teeth flashed in a predatory grin as he raised his wand: “Let’s see if you last longer than Anita.” When the Death Eater’s wand came down it was pointed at the floor, and the quake rumbled outwards in a line from him towards his opponents. Tiles and flooring wrenched free as the magic tore towards them leaving a shallow trench. “Disseco Decorio! Confringo!” The spells spat from the man’s wand as he slowly walked forward towards the vigilantes. The floor rumbled and Broderick’s hand automatically flew out to grasp for Amelia in an effort to steady them both. But as the ground beneath them shifted away, Broderick stumbled down to one knee, wincing when bone hit jagged tile. The flaying curse caught the side of his neck, tearing a shallow strip that bubbled with blood almost instantaneously. A lock of Broderick’s hair tragically went with it. Such a dramatic wanker. The sudden change in height was fortunate as the blasting curse slammed into an upended piece of flooring that exploded around Broderick and Amelia in a show of rubble and mosaic. Broderick’s shield was already up, catching the shower easily. “Does he hear the Imperial march playing?” Broderick scoffed to Amelia, moving forward to take advantage of their new position. Jesus fucking Christ, give the man a cape for that ego. “Shut your mouth, you inconsequential gobshite --defodio,” Broderick roared, pointing directly at the ground beneath Reginald. “Deprimo!” Amelia was forced to let Broderick’s hand go as the rubble knocked into her side, her own shield catching only some of it, the rest spreading cuts across her arms and she knew she’d have some black and blue coloring under her skin in an hour. Still, she managed to recover and threw out her wand in time with Broderick’s, this time favoring action over any kind of retort. “Uncus Electrica!” she called out, both of their spells arcing toward the Death Eater simultaneously. The Obliviator’s spell was targeted downwards, at Avery’s feet and underneath his shield, caught him by surprise. The smug satisfaction disappeared the instant he realized it wasn’t a miss on Bode’s part; the floor sunk downwards with the man catching his knee painfully on the jagged lip as he fell downwards, ripping into his flesh and kneecap. His waist now level with the rest of the atrium, the paralysis hex arced up his left side and shoulder causing them to slacken and hang. Uselessly, if temporarily. All pretense of amusement had disappeared from the Death Eater at the mixture of feeling the sharp pangs of his ruined knee and nothing across half his upper body. His expression had become twisted, contorted with rage that was often reserved for his worst moments behind the very mask he’d removed. He sent a funnel of gale winds that swept up debris in its’ path towards his former employee with one twirling of his wand, and then focused on the woman. A bone-breaker at first, and then his wand slashed — William Rosier deserved justice —“Lamina!” Amelia had thrown another shield Broderick’s way instead of herself - a mistake, apparently, because she felt her left arm crack with Avery’s first curse. Just as she was crying out in pain - trying to put up another shield and only somewhat succeeding - she felt the sharp ache through her gut. Looking down, there was one magically conjured dagger in her stomach, and one in her thigh. Face paling and eyes wide, Amelia’s knees buckled as she desperately grabbed at one of the hilts, it quickly becoming slick with her blood, and she was down. For a brief moment, she thought it would be fitting for her to die the way she had killed Barty’s daughter. Broderick had another shield ready when the cyclone approached, but hesitated briefly in confusion when the debris ricocheted away from him without his assistance. It was only then that he saw Amelia collapse, blood beginning to pool on the floor. “Amelia!” was torn out of him in an anguished shout, the fear rolling over into unimaginable fury that Avery might be responsible for her death as well. No. Amelia’s death wasn't even a possibility that Broderick would entertain. He simply wouldn't consider it. But even as he made to step forward, reach her, he was aware that Avery’s own calculating eyes watched in the chasm between them. This wasn't about bookshelves. Broderick would kill him. Teeth gritted hard enough to crack, Broderick raised his wand, steadily marching forward.“Confringo! Ossisquasso!” The spells caught Avery as he was levitating himself — his knee shredded and useless — out of the pit Bode had put him into. The blasting curse impacted his paralyzed side, surely breaking or at least bruising ribs although he couldn’t feel it. The nerves in his leg were already blazing, and the way his shin shattered, bone fragments cutting through his flesh drew a guttural yelp. But Avery endured. He’d survived much worse; had received tutelage from the Dark Lord personally. There was nothing a mudblood could throw at him that would stop him. He believed that without doubt. His elm wood wand, once a pristine specimen, cut violently through the air: the black magic that erupted was dark in essence, absorbing and refracting light at odd angles as it streaked outwards. It came too quickly, erratically, its trajectory too unpredictable to properly shield from, and Broderick cursed, lunging to the side. His momentum was too great, in the process of sidestepping the curse, Broderick overcompensated on the ice. He went down hard, an injury that would have been inconsequential if not for the jagged edges of tile that erupted from the floor. With a cry of pain, Broderick’s knee slammed into the tile, dislocating his kneecap and sending his wand flying with a clatter. Fuck. Spying his opponent prone, the Death Eater raised his wand once more and willed himself to ignore his own pain. “Pathetic.” Broderick managed a derisive snort, his attempt at nonchalance ruined by a pained grimace when he tried to shift. He wouldn't be moving anywhere, not without completely tearing what was left of the tendons connected to his damaged knee. He couldn't even see his wand. Amelia was lying in a pool of blood behind him somewhere and Broderick realized, with a measured calmness, that he may die here. It was more the fact that it would give Avery satisfaction rather than the fact that he would actually die, that pissed Broderick off the most. What he wouldn't give to smash a teacup in his face. He tipped his chin, defiant to the very end. “I agree, you’re an utter embarrassment,” he drawled. A split second decision sparked by Broderick’s sass changed Avery’s idea from ending the man with the Killing Curse to something much sinister. There were things worse than death, after all. “I hope you enjoy your ignorance of magic, Broderick. Be mindful of the muggles.” Or perhaps he’d keep him as his own personal pet mudblood, memoryless and all. He flourished his wand, intent on violating the man’s mind. “Obliviate!” “NO!” and a slab of extra slick, sparkling ice shot upward from their broken battlefield, directly into the path of the Death Eater’s spell causing it to ricochet right back. Amelia had hardly heard the exchange between the men, desperately doing what healing she could to close her wounds and now she was weakly standing to the side of them both, broken arm clutched to her stomach, wand out and holding the ice in the air. She’d assumed Killing Curse when Avery had lifted his wand, knowing a magical shield would do no good, and lifted the first thing she could into its path. The shimmer from Avery’s wand had barely moved when the ice sprung up not a foot in front of him. It all happened in the blink of an eye. One quick, relatively simple action Reginald Avery would never have time to commit to memory. Obliviation was a precise, delicate art not made to mix with other magics or interferences. As quickly as it was cast the memory charm impacted the barricade cracking the ice with its intensity even as it refracted and reflected off the shiny, magically created ice back from whence it came. With a searing pain reverberating in his skull that marked the haphazard raiding of decades worth of memories he’d intended instead for his victim, the Death Eater screamed in anguish as he fell backwards to land on his rear. His wand slipped from his hand during his fall, hit the floor, and rolled a few feet away. Avery’s brown eyes were glazed and clouded, giving him an addled appearance, as he sat and stared forward past his opponents to some point distant. Broderick sat there, gaze unmoving from Avery’s prone form, admittedly stunned when the eyes staring past him were barely lucid. Not quite sure what had happened, the Obliviator, in all his experience, could nonetheless guess. The enormity of what had nearly been taken from him, what had been taken from Avery, left the former Deputy Head uncharacteristically shaken. Reginald Avery was a talented wizard and did nothing by halves. “Amelia,” Broderick called out as she strode closer, wand extended. Relief that she was alive was a powerful thing, but Broderick’s eyes never strayed from Reginald’s. “Amelia.” The former prosecutor barely heard him, for as concerned as she was about Broderick’s well-being, she had Reginald Avery in front of her at last, seemingly stunned into inaction, and her heart thudded in her ears. He’d killed them. Anita. Annalise and Oliver. He’d killed them for nothing, and he’d taunted her about it ever since. Threatened her. She straightened from her limp, and only stopped her approach when her wand tip pressed against his throat, not realising how heavy she was breathing, or how much blood she might be missing at this point. “You’ve lost,” she growled at him, voice low, but the anger there was no longer barely contained. She felt it through every nerve in her body. “Amelia,” Broderick’s voice was sharper this time, cutting across the din. He winced, struggling to stand, but finding the movement too painful. “He’s been obliviated Amelia, whatever you just did, whatever that was, his spell must have backfired.” He recognized the signs all too well, but this -- the injury to the mind must be immense. Far be it for Broderick to prevent Reginald Avery from getting the punishment he deserved, to intervene in Amelia exacting revenge for all he’d taken from her. But the man who had just tried to kill them no longer appeared to be there. Nostrils flaring as she processed this information, the tip of Amelia’s wand pressed harder into the man’s neck, just under the jawbone. “He deserves to die,” she said quietly, glaring, furious at the idea that he might now forget why she had him at her mercy. Furious that he might not remember what he had done. What he deserved. That she had beaten him. She knew Broderick wouldn’t stop her. He wouldn’t even judge her. No one who mattered would. Her jaw tightened, vaguely remembering her promise to Marlene - her declaration that every human being deserved a trial, her arguments with Barty over the executions and the tribunals and how it had hurt so much to have the laws she held so dear upended and twisted to serve these monsters. And if they were monsters did they really have the rights of human beings anymore? Amelia took a slow breath, then another, feeling a little light-headed. Finally, with the fights escalating around them, she knew she had to make a decision, so she did. She pulled back her wand, and with a clenched fist, cast the last spell she hoped she’d ever need to on Reginald Fucking Avery. “Vinculumus.” Broderick watched the chains wrap around Avery’s wrists, the man docile, absent, as they did. It was an unsettling sight to behold, an inadequate end to years of torment and cruelty. Or, Broderick considered warily, staring into the glassy gaze of his former boss, perhaps this was exactly the fate he deserved. He deserves to die, Amelia’s fury was visceral and Broderick acknowledged that in this, Reginald Avery may have stolen more from her too. Setting his jaw, Broderick forced himself to look away. “Amelia,” he winced, trying to stand, but failing. He extended his hand, all too aware that she was losing colour quickly. He’d seen the blood and now that this was finished, he was anxious to make sure she was alright. This time, she turned, face softening immediately when taking in Broderick’s injury and reached to help him up, barely managing to stay standing herself. She threw what small healing charms she could at his knee and at the bleeding from his neck - the urgency of the situation calling for efficiency over gentleness. Even so, she squeezed his arm gratefully. “Come on,” she told him quietly. He brought an arm around her shoulders and held her close. As the arresting chains finished spiraling and wrapping around his wrists and body, Reginald's tattered mind flashed one of the few memories he could process. The halls of Hogwarts, a group of friends. His eyes still distant, the man's lips parted, and he spoke briefly, confused before falling silent once more. "Tom? Where's Tom— Will?" Level 2: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement Swatting an owl away from his head, Walden gazed around the DMLE offices and tried to plan his next move. It was a bit difficult considering the department was in the throes of chaos, but he wasn’t about to give up just because a few chairs seemed to be running amok. Lifting his arm once again, he knocked an owl that had been in front of his face down to the floor and that was when saw the other man. Robards. Both anger and excitement started to build inside of him as he stared the former Auror down through the frenzy and beneath his mask, the Death Eater smiled. It was interesting how the desks weren't particularly keen on attacking those former owners of theirs which hadn't gone dark side. Gawain was certain his had just galloped past him, only to flatten a swarm of stools that had been coming towards him with weird intent. Was one meant to thank their former desk for stepping in to stop an aggressive horde of furniture? With a shake of his head, the former Auror sidestepped shards of wood, a spell from the other side of the room ricocheting harmlessly against the shield charm which surrounded him. He looked up, seeking a target, and cool recognition ribboned up the length of his spine as he realised he'd found one. Walden Macnair. Again. Finally. A delightful rush of adrenaline surged through him as the other man finally took notice of his presence. Lifting his free hand, he gave Gawain a cheeky little wave that one would usually reserve for greeting an old friend. Walden weirdly did consider him an old something, so in his twisted mind it wasn’t exactly out of place. “Hello, Auror Robards!” he called from across the room. “So lovely to see you again!” Without pausing, he raised his wand and sent a flaying curse hurdling toward Gawain. Gawain didn't hesitate, not unfazed by how this had suddenly become desperately, painfully personal, but galvanized by it. Walden Macnair had destroyed his family, destroyed his home, been the cause of Ludo's permanent injuries -- yes, it was lovely to see this odious little monster again. The sort of lovely that set his teeth on edge and brought his senses to screeching attention. A jerk of his wand brought one of the wayward stools flying into the curse's path, and as it shattered on impact, Gawain strode forward, whipping out a cord of white-hot heat to lasso around Macnair's neck. The look on Gawain’s face was simply priceless to the Death Eater and he initially let out a laugh, though it was quickly cut off by the appearance of the loop around his neck. As it tightened and began to burn through the fabric of his robe, he let out a few coughs as he gasped for air. He then lifted his wandless hand up and took hold of the cord, grimacing at the heat as it began to burn the flesh of the palm of his hand. Even through his mask, Walden could smell the sickeningly sweet smell of his own burnt skin as he gave the cord a strong tug away from him. But Gawain tugged first, intending to bring Walden stumbling closer, two steps of his own eating what space remained between them. Walden got three syllables -- "Hi, fucker" -- before receiving a fist to the exposed part of the Death Eater's neck. He coughed and sputtered a few times as the punch to the neck took him by surprise. Gone was any of the Death Eater’s cheeky confidence and for the first time Walden felt like he might actually not make it out of the fight. So still slightly disoriented, he did the only thing he could think of in order to get Gawain away from him: he raised his leg and attempted to knee him in the crouch. Always an effective move. Gawain toppled down to one knee, grimacing as deep-seated nausea radiated out across his body… but like hell was he letting go of Walden. With his fingers white-knuckled around his wand, he gave a final yank, tightening the cord around the Death Eater's neck, before loosening that spell so that he could hurl himself forward at Walden's legs to then topple him to the ground. The sudden loss of breath from the cord was just enough to distract Walden and he fell to the floor with little to no effort. Quickly, he managed to remove the loop from his neck, burning his hands even more in the process. Then wasting not time he pulled back his arm and punched Gawain in the first body part his fist could find. He caught the former Auror straight in the cheek, and Gawain's head snapped back from impact, which caused Walden to let out a loud laugh. “Now get the fuck off me,” he growled as he tried to use his other hand to aim his wand toward the other man. Hand to hand combat wasn’t his forte and he needed the aid of his wand to do any real damage. "Say please," was Gawain's response, a tight grunt of effort that prefaced his elbow digging right into Macnair's solar plexus. His own wand was raised, not for a shield charm, but for the emergence of a ribbon of chains which erupted from its tip as he cast a Vincumulus. Gasping for air, Walden arm flailed about trying to strike Gawain once again, but the only thing it succeeded in doing was wrapping itself in the chains from the charm. He couldn’t use his wand, but it dawned on him he might be able to use the chains. Growling, he continued his attempted flogging of the former Auror, except this time heavy metal chains whipped around with the arm. “Just give up already and I’ll make sure your death is somewhat quick!” The leg that Walden had taken from him once before caught the brunt of impact. Gawain fell back with a hiss of pain he didn't bother to stifle, anger thickening across his expression as he stared at Walden. "Yeah, right," he ground out, finding it hard to believe that the man who had tormented him for a year now was going to do anything quickly when it came to ending his life. Or attempting to. Without waiting for the Death Eater's response, Gawain directed the chains with a flick of his wand, wanting to snap Walden's arm out of socket by sending the heavy iron links zooming at a sharp angle away from him. "Give up, Walden." The chains did just as Gawain had intended and the Death Eater let out a yelp of pain as his arm was dislocated, which rendered it useless. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” he teased before casting a silent bone-shattering curse with his wand burnt wand hand. And the shoulder of his non-dominant side crunched loudly -- fitting, really; all part of the bloody theme with this one. The anger was clear on Gawain's face, even through the pain currently creasing his expression. Destroyed his family, destroyed his home, been the cause of Ludo's permanent injuries… and he had the nerve to ask what did I do? Drawing in a shaky breath, Gawain -- his hand tight on his wand -- jerked the chains roughly to the side so that Walden was carried with them through the pressure of his dislocated arm, which caused the Death Eater to finally let out a proper scream. He rocked forward on his knee, casting a rapid gaze across the fray that had consumed the DMLE. A letter opener with a polished mahogany handle was dancing across what had been the secretaries' filing cabinet, and it didn't stop even as Gawain duplicated it again -- and then again, and again -- before directing them straight at Walden in a swift and dangerous arch across the air. Not lethal, but meant to cut and wiggle through his flesh as they pinned him down to the floor. He hadn’t been expecting that particular maneuver from Gawain and the new attack left him no time to even attempt a counterstrike. As the letter openers because to carefully twist down through his torso, Walden withered in an undignified manner as the sharp points tore through his skin, muscles, and eventually started to make their way toward his internal organs. One of the makeshift weapons finally managed to pierce through his stomach at the same moment the mark on his arm began to appear. Glancing down, the Death Eater mad a sudden and quick move with his hand toward his neck and in an instant he was gone along with the letter openers. "-- fucking. No." A yell of frustration, this, as Gawain fell forward, as though trying to physically keep Walden bloody Macnair here by wrapping his arm around his body and holding tight. But the Death Eater was gone, whisked away from defeat through what must have been a portkey, leaving Gawain shaking with adrenaline and rage and black, black hatred that seemed to fill his mouth with acid. Then a wayward curse arched overhead, shaking him back into the present as he reinforced his shield charm. With a steadying breath, he took cover behind a desk that had been half destroyed, a basic first aid spell stabilising his shoulder so that he could assess the field. Were the Death Eaters… fleeing? Something in his chest twisted as he realised: yes. |