A sound like scissor blades
rapidly opening and closing.
Molly’s hand jumped to the brim of her homburg. She scouted the scene. Nothing. Just Londoners going about their business the same as before. But as she turned her attention back to the newspaper—
There it was again. Unmistakable: the sound of card soldiers being dealt in preparation for battle. She didn’t sight them until Londoners were screaming and running for shelter. They’d already unfolded themselves: a flush of soldiers from one of Redd’s decks. Unengaged, they resembled ordinary playing cards, albeit life-sized ones. But engaged for battle as they were now, unfolded to twice their usual height, with limbs of Wonderland steel and a forward lilt to their every movement as if perpetually stalking prey, they presented an undeniably menacing aspect. “Stay calm,” Molly whispered to herself. “Stay cool.” The only way to “kill” one of Redd’s late-model infantry was to stab it hard in the medallion-sized area above its breast-plate, at the base of its steel-tendoned neck. The knife blade would cut through its vital circuitry and send sparks spurting like fiery blood. Thing was, in the harassment of battle, this kill spot seemed to shrink to the size of a gwormmy’s eye, to a— Bolts of NRG shot toward her—thip thip! thip thip!—from the muzzle of a Five Card’s crystal shooter. Molly whipped the homburg from her head, used it as a trap, hands moving at the speed of a thousand hurrying caterpillar feet as she caught each of the bolts in the hat’s underside. Fwiss! She sidestepped the swing of a Six Card’s lance, but only to leap twistingly into the air, barely avoiding an orb generator shot by a Seven Card. She slammed her homburg flat and spun it around and around over her head as if she were a cowgirl from the American West working her lasso. The NRG bolts she’d caught streaked out from its edges, shooting into a Four Card’s kill spot. The soldier folded up, inanimate.
Her next victim didn’t present himself so readily. It would have been difficult enough fighting so many card soldiers even if they hadn’t been well armed. But armed as they were, with whipsnake grenade and orb generator…
Time and again she unleashed her homburg, which rattled and jarred and dented the soldiers without inflicting serious harm. Her wrist-blades in perpetual motion, her belt sabers whistling through the air, whining to make contact with the enemy, she at last pierced the Six Card’s kill spot with a sword from her backpack’s never-diminishing supply of blades. Three more to go.
The Five and Seven Cards fired their AD52s. One hundred and four razor-edged cards ripped through the air, clanged against her centrifugal-spewing wrist-blades and skittered away from her. An Eight Card took aim at her with an orb cannon. The blades of one bracelet activated to deflect the incoming razor-cards, Molly used her free hand to whip her homburg at the Eight Card and then cartwheeled toward him.
The homburg knocked the cannon from the soldier’s grip and— Still cartwheeling, she caught it before it hit the ground, fired. The orb generator’s explosion engulfed all three rogue soldiers. In the blast’s aftermath, they lay twitching
Molly’s hand jumped to the brim of her homburg. She scouted the scene. Nothing. Just Londoners going about their business the same as before. But as she turned her attention back to the newspaper—
There it was again. Unmistakable: the sound of card soldiers being dealt in preparation for battle. She didn’t sight them until Londoners were screaming and running for shelter. They’d already unfolded themselves: a flush of soldiers from one of Redd’s decks. Unengaged, they resembled ordinary playing cards, albeit life-sized ones. But engaged for battle as they were now, unfolded to twice their usual height, with limbs of Wonderland steel and a forward lilt to their every movement as if perpetually stalking prey, they presented an undeniably menacing aspect. “Stay calm,” Molly whispered to herself. “Stay cool.” The only way to “kill” one of Redd’s late-model infantry was to stab it hard in the medallion-sized area above its breast-plate, at the base of its steel-tendoned neck. The knife blade would cut through its vital circuitry and send sparks spurting like fiery blood. Thing was, in the harassment of battle, this kill spot seemed to shrink to the size of a gwormmy’s eye, to a— Bolts of NRG shot toward her—thip thip! thip thip!—from the muzzle of a Five Card’s crystal shooter. Molly whipped the homburg from her head, used it as a trap, hands moving at the speed of a thousand hurrying caterpillar feet as she caught each of the bolts in the hat’s underside. Fwiss! She sidestepped the swing of a Six Card’s lance, but only to leap twistingly into the air, barely avoiding an orb generator shot by a Seven Card. She slammed her homburg flat and spun it around and around over her head as if she were a cowgirl from the American West working her lasso. The NRG bolts she’d caught streaked out from its edges, shooting into a Four Card’s kill spot. The soldier folded up, inanimate.
Her next victim didn’t present himself so readily. It would have been difficult enough fighting so many card soldiers even if they hadn’t been well armed. But armed as they were, with whipsnake grenade and orb generator…
Time and again she unleashed her homburg, which rattled and jarred and dented the soldiers without inflicting serious harm. Her wrist-blades in perpetual motion, her belt sabers whistling through the air, whining to make contact with the enemy, she at last pierced the Six Card’s kill spot with a sword from her backpack’s never-diminishing supply of blades. Three more to go.
The Five and Seven Cards fired their AD52s. One hundred and four razor-edged cards ripped through the air, clanged against her centrifugal-spewing wrist-blades and skittered away from her. An Eight Card took aim at her with an orb cannon. The blades of one bracelet activated to deflect the incoming razor-cards, Molly used her free hand to whip her homburg at the Eight Card and then cartwheeled toward him.
The homburg knocked the cannon from the soldier’s grip and— Still cartwheeling, she caught it before it hit the ground, fired. The orb generator’s explosion engulfed all three rogue soldiers. In the blast’s aftermath, they lay twitching