Mari was worried about Spork.
That was becoming increasingly common these days, and with it her worry grew. The last time she’d died they’d kept her under house arrest for several days, doing everything in their power to keep her resting and by their side. If there was a window in the bathroom she was pretty sure they would’ve made her piss with the door open.
She’d died again last night. A job gone wrong, her own hubris had led her to fall into a rhythm. That was dangerous when there were so many unknowns, and one had apparently punched a hole clean through her chest, if her damaged outfit had been any indication.
She’d made sure that after the last death to enable the resurrection timer in Miku, that way Spork would be able to keep themself safe and alive until she came back and they could regroup. That was the plan at least. When Mari had come to, she’d been surrounded by dozens of bodies in various states of dismemberment, some practically pulverized, and a gore-soaked Spork dragging her to her feet. They’d lost their helmet at some point, and their blank gaze sent a twinge through her gut as they stiffly informed her it was time to go.
Mari hadn’t argued, and as they made their way back home she'd watched all the energy drain out of them, leaving a trail in their wake. It was usual for Spork to be a bit worn out after a job, but by the time she pushed open the front door, she was pretending not to notice them swaying with each step. Nor did she notice them struggling to stay upright as she helped them out of their clothes. She didn’t mind cleaning them up, but the comparisons her mind drew between the Spork before her and the one who had showed up on her doorstep booze-soaked with a dead battery only deepened her concern.
Spork practically fell into bed, barely waiting for Mari to pull a tank top over their head and yank back the covers before almost collapsing onto the mattress. She could’ve sworn that they’d passed out as soon as their head hit the pillow. She was a little envious, already feeling the weariness seeping into her bones. But the job wasn’t finished. Not yet, at least. And once Spork’s snores overpowered the idle hum of the fan they seemed to have constantly running, Mari slipped out of their room and out of the apartment. She knew it was risky returning to the scene of the crime, but she had to wipe any footage left on the cameras.
After she made her own copy, that is. There was something nagging at her about the whole situation, and Mari needed to know what had happened while she was dead. She wouldn’t watch it here, though. Every second she stayed in this place was another chance for her to be spotted, another chance the police would show up and ask questions. She made her way back through the warehouse, back to where she’d come back to life. This was where the majority of the carnage was, spread in a rough circle around her death site. Spork had been a wall holding back what seemed like an army of mercenaries. There shouldn’t have been this many held in reserve, especially not for an operation like this.
At last she found what she was looking for, half-buried in a pile of collapsed crates. Smeared with blood and slightly cracked on one side, Shiba’s helmet stared lifelessly to the side. Mari picked it up, giving it a once over as she made her way back towards the exit. She’d have to get this fixed up for them. Maybe after she watched the footage tomorrow.
Mari wasn’t sure what she had expected. Spork was never one to take things slow, even when injured. Hell, they’d tried to head to the gym only a couple days after she’d had to dig a bullet out of their thigh, insisting that
‘Leg day waits for no one’. But considering the state they’d been in less than twelve hours ago, she’d expected them to be moving a little slower, perhaps taking the day to lounge in bed and order copious amounts of delivery.
Instead, Spork was bouncing around with somehow more energy than usual. A couple times when she’d tried to gently breach the subject of the debriefing the previous night’s events, they’d brushed her off with a
‘Debrief these nuts lmao’. At first, Mari thought it may have been for her benefit. The last time she’d died they’d almost coddled her, and perhaps this was their alternate attempt at doing that.
That theory was quickly disproven when Spork told her they were going out bar-hopping with their drinking buddy, Sam. She’d tried to convince them to stay in for the night, maybe watch a movie together, but they were insistent that they were going out. Knowing a losing battle when she saw one, Mari relented, and wished them a fun evening.
Once they’d left, Mari pulled out the damaged helmet and began to work on it, peeling apart the cracked areas to see if there was any damage to the internals. She didn’t get very far before resorting to idly picking at it, worry mangling her concentration. Something was wrong. Spork was a creature of habit. Chaotic habit, yes, but still habit. And for them to go out without her, without even a single word of concern about her wellbeing so soon after her previous death and their vastly different reaction, left her with a sickly, slimy feeling. What had happened while she was out?
Luckily, she had a way to find out. A few minutes later, Mari had the footage pulled up, scrubbing through until she found their entrance, their assault, and her subsequent death. What followed was nothing short of carnage. She watched as Spork fought with brutal, cataclysmic efficiency. Their howls of rage crackled through where the cameras managed to pick it up, and Mari looked on in horror as Spork not only took out the guards, but dismembered their resurrected corpses. She’d seen them fight before, but it was never this intense, this violent, as if each blow contained the full wrath of a god.
An urgent beeping ripped her attention away from the screen, and Mari paused the footage as she glanced down at her phone. She’d set alerts for Spork’s biometric data, and the notifications she’d gotten dropped an iron ball into her stomach.
[Alert: Elevated heart rate]
[Alert: Elevated blood pressure]
[Alert: Augmentation power consumption greater than baseline]
[Alert: Sustained increased augmentation power consumption]
Cursing herself for not being able to move faster, Mari double-checked Spork’s location before grabbing her gun and a jacket. They were in trouble, and she needed to be there yesterday.
The car had dropped her off farther than she’d liked, but Mari broke into a jog as soon as her feet touched the ground. Her phone rang, Spork’s latest ringtone of choice jangling out of her pocket. She answered it before the second ring was even finished.
“Almost there.” She barked before hanging up and shoving the phone back into her pocket. She rounded a corner and screeched to a halt, eyes darting around to quickly take in the three figures. A man off to the side, crumpled, bloody, breathing. Spork, on the ground, breath heavy, blood streaming down their face. And standing above them, a red-haired woman holding a phone.
The gun was in Mari’s hand before she even had to think about it, the dial cranked to maximum power.
“Get the fuck away from them!” She called, venom filling her words and overflowing, spilling onto the ground below. Her gun was leveled at the woman’s chest, at this range it’d be pretty fucking hard for her to miss.
“Drop the phone, step back, and you might live to see the sunrise.”
Mari took a step forward, finger tightening on the trigger. If she even made a move towards them, Mari wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She’d done it for less, for the simple fact that they were a problem to be solved. For the indelible sin of attacking her best friend, there was only one sentence, and she would gladly serve as judge, jury, and executioner.
