Iron Queen

As soon as she entered the room she shut the door, turned the lock twice by swishing her left hand twice over the scanner and bolted it. Bolts were illegal, but she had one installed several years ago, after  Nicholas had shown her how easily anyone could crack the lock code nowadays.


Roman was close. Calling Mr. would not help, not after everything she had said to him the last time they spoke. Catching her breath she looked around the room for something heavy to place on the door. That old armoire in the corner was too much for her. The desk!  A loud thump made her jump, so she rushed behind the desk and started to move it. While she was pushing it, she could see a small pool of blood on the floor by the door where she had been standing. A drop of blood slid down her cheek, falling on big metal scissors and glistening on the smooth surface of the desk. 

She didn’t feel any discomfort, but when she traced her fingers across her head she could feel a small indentation at the back of her skull. With the bloody hand she reached for her cell phone and dialed Nicholas. The number was busy. Roman was able to crack open the door and slide his hand inside the room, scraping the wall. She had no plasma ammo to actually hurt him, so she went for the scissors and stabbed him, knowing it would take only a few seconds now, to completely remove them. She considered her options. 

The vents were too small. She was on the 77^th floor, jumping was not an option. She had to go for the armoire. She took a deep breath and with all of her strength tried to move it. It wouldn’t budge. She tried again. Her hands were slipping and then out of nowhere, a surge of power, coursed through her body and she lifted it, holding it in her hands like a baby. She thought of adrenaline and mother saving children from under cars on fire. She managed to place the armoire on top of the desk, when a loud blast to the door threw her backwards. Roman was smiling.

For a second he just looked at her. She embraced her death as something that was inevitable now, closed her eyes and waited. She heard the first shot but there was no pain. I’m already dead, she thought. A smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. Just kill me already! Her palms were getting hotter, the warmth spreading from her palms to her chest, her stomach and legs, ultimately heading for her head where the hotness emanating inside her body made her open her eyes. As she did that, Roman was falling down to his knees, bowing his head.

“Queen,” he said. “You have returned.”