Miles’ Harper
The message simply read:
“UNF standing blue, assist as able.”
Miles looked up from the cipher and caught Angeline’s cool grey eyes observing him. “Snowflake has issued a requirement to assist the United Neopian Federation in its current endeavours. Not much we can do about it here but this is a general order.”
“Who said we are to take orders from you?” Angeline asked pointedly. This was the first opportunity she had had to question him in the shelter of their safe house. He wished she had asked this question privately. Each member of the Nodo that were otherwise divesting themselves of equipment and returning items to the walls of the converted cargo container that they now called home. All turned their faces to take in his reply.
“Since Snowflake has not confirmed it really is up to you all to accept me as lead or not. What I will say is this. I have worked with each of the Sisters, learned from them, you will do well to benefit from that experience. Do you want to retain lead here Angeline?”
Angeline smiled. “This world is cursed, our posting here punishment. Why would I relinquish the whip to a godless man?”
Miles smiled inwardly at Angeline’s assumption of intent. "I’ve seen Snowflake discipline those that fall short. She finds ways to give them what they think they want, so that when they realise what they really need they know that that too is within her power. “It’s a test of character Angeline, do you really need to be in charge here?”
“Test’s of faith are in my blood, the question is Tyro, are they in yours.” With that she raised her own Cylable and emitted a raw wording blast that took every inch of instinct to avoid. The equipment placed in the wall behind him disintegrated. In that wide-eyed moment he realised that Angeline’s instant of hesitation in handing him the Cylable during the mission had been a ruse. He had it to hand, he could use it in his defence, but had she tampered with it?
With no time to equivocate he closed the gap between them, avoiding her aim. Prepared, she directed a blow to his throat. He blocked and countered with a edge strike to her own. If the larynx is crushed the Cylable’s operation would be severely impeded.
The others in the room dashed and ducked away from their clashing bodies and the aim of the active Cylable. He had the reach on her, he was taller and stronger, but Geana had taught him not to assume he was faster, and Angeline’s glittering grey eyes were a clear reminder of those past failures.
He snatched her off hand wrist, twisted to the side, slipped behind her and wrapped his hand over her mouth. The reverse headbutt was painful and unexpected. Worse, his eyes teared from the pain of a suspected broken nose, his blood flowed freely down his chin.
He felt her twist left to face him in his momentarily loosened grip but blurred eyes could not define her aim.
Shut this down now! His instincts screamed. His left hand tightened on her thin wrist, pulled her arm bodily across chest, he felt her spin off balance so that when the upper cut from his right hand landed it was against the full weight of her own body. The cross blow was clumsy, an embarrassment to his training, but sufficient.
The opposition collapsed.
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