|Fan-made Characters||Citrine Motacill|
Description: Colour cannot evade it's past.
Caution: Strong language is present in this fanfic.
A Choice of Paint
Two shadowed figures watched the girl from their dark alley. Citrine was unaware she was being watched. She walked into the shop, a regular customer for paint. One of the men spoke to the other.
"That's her, I'd recognise that bitch anywhere. Make the contract. Her or that smartass brother."
He turned to his companion, passing him a phone. Walking off down the alley, he called over his shoulder.
"Make sure it get done, whatever price they need."
Aile Cassée drifted down towards the building, Noir resting against the back of the seat the AK-130 was piloting from. From the window she could see the multicoloured airjet tucked in a courtyard, musing how these young individuals have managed to steal that thing. She directed her pilot to the small access way into the courtyard, her large airjet filling the street beside it. Quickly walking from the cockpit, Noir hit the button for the door. As she came close to the ground, the confident woman dropped to thr street. The Aile Cassée lifted up away from her, moving to a safe distance. Noir walked down the little access way, into the courtyard beyond. Her target stood waiting, his armour ready and the airjet open.
"I know who you are." Trystin said as Noir appeared.
Smiling at him, a slight bow was given.
"It seems my reputation precedes me. How about you make this easy, I cause you grievous bodily harm, and your sister doesn't receive a scratch. Sounds fair no? I get paid, your sister stays rather healthy."
He visibly hesitated, clearly considering her words. Noir didn't think for a moment that he was, flexing her right hand to ready Phantom Limb. The movement must have been seen by Trystin, as he immediately ran into his airjet. She didn't bother to follow, knowng how quickly one could get going with preparation. She signaled her AK-130 pilot, watching the psychedelic airjet rise out of the courtyard. Her's replaced it in a moment, the door open for her. Jumping in, she called out.
"Follow him, he'll lead us there."
Trystin raced Iris, Citrine was out getting paint, like she always did. If she already had someone after her, was he too late? He could see the shop. He powered down towards the street.
Shit. This is not good. Why now? And how do we get rid of them?
The airjet came at the gap fast, Trystin flared the engines hard at the last moment. He hit the ground, still a remarkably solid landing. Tearing himself out of the seat and running out the back, hurrying to open the door and jump out. He leapt out into the street, right next to the shop. He shoved his way in, quickly scanning the room for Citrine. Though he could not see her, the two metre long form of Perish was hard to miss. He ran through the rows of paint.
"Citrine, we need to go. Now"
As she came within view, he saw the tins she was carrying.
"Leave the paint. We can't take it."
As he said this, Citrine gave him a look. He only used her full name when he was being serious, but he had never told her she couldn't take paint with her. She immediately went to the counter, placing the tins on top.
"Can you hold onto these for me. I have to go. Thank you"
The attendant smiled at her, happy to help their best customer. Trystin quickly walked out with her, getting back into their treasured vehicle. As he entered the cockpit, he turned to his sister.
"Take your seat, we might need you to."
Knowing him well, she took his advice. Sitting in her special seat, she placed Perish into it's holster. Her armoured brother jumped into the pilots seat. As he fired up the engines, he saw a sight he didn't want. Their hunter was back. And her airjet was bigger.
When Wings Break
Citrine held her seat tightly. She wasn't bothered by how she was being thrown about, but more so that her brother couldn't shake whoever was following them. He was the best pilot, and Citrine knew of no one that was close.
Brother. Why are we fighting? What have we done to deserve this?
Another jolt shook her thoughts from her. Leaning forwards in her seat, she yelled a question to Trystin.
"Do I need to do anything? They're still on us right?"
His voice called back in a moment.
"Use the special rounds!"
Her eyes lit up. Citrine had wanted to use these for ages, but nothing had been worth it. The happiness dulled. Was it worth it if she used it against other people? She kicked the left foot rest, the seat sliding over to the respective door as it opened. She clipped Perish onto the buckles just before the seat twisted to give her the best view outside Iris. Grabbing one of the special rounds from the container under her sniping position, she loaded it into the breach. Pushing the bolt forwards, Citrine raised Perish to her shoulder. Her training kicked in.
Airjet. Weakpoint, engines. Specifically, air intakes. Windshield, possible, but likely reinforced.
As their pursuers were studied under her scope, she realised something. It had four engines.
What? How? Never mind, four major weakpoints. Tail engines, most likely harder to hit. Main engines, easier target, but possibly tougher.
As she lined up her shot, her finger slowly pulled at the trigger. Citrine squeezed off her first round, hitting the rear engine, but missing the intake. She stuck her tounge out, annoyed that she didn't make the shot. Taking her time, she lined up the shot again. Letting out a long breath, the trigger was squeezed once more. As the recoil knocked her back in the seat, Citrine noticed a slight adjustment as she fired the shot.
No way. No one could react like that, not like this.
The scope shifted to the cockpit, and the sight of two AK-130's greeted her. She quickly put Perish in it's holster, kicking the foot rests to bring her back inside.
Trystin banked Iris, not hard enough to throw Citrine off a shot if she was aiming one but enough to get out of the return fire. His sister appeared next to him. He didn't turn, instead pulling a tighter manoeuvre knowing she was braced. Leaning up to his ear, she gave him her information.
"They have an android pilot! A good one!"
He thought this through. An android meant few mistakes, but perhaps no inventive flying. His options were still few.
"Keep shooting! It might only distract them but it's good enough!"
She moved away, and Trystin suddenly had doubts about what they would do. He knew Iris was faster than what was following, but in order to avoid being shot down he had to weave about. A stab of fear went through him as he heard the gunfire. He got distracted. A small explosion sounded from the left, and Iris suddenly had much more power on one side. Quickly pulling back the throttle, he threw a glance out the left side. His heart turned to ice. The engine was badly damaged, but something much worse greeted him.
Citrine was falling down towards the forest below, without Perish.
Continued with Colour's Fall.