Persephone wasn’t around much when Mothers were alive. They’d been a joint force of detriment to all aboard. Scowls abound towards every instance of anything.

To have them back would be a thing which proved most rewarding to Persephone. To see the pain they wrought in reflection. Time here in the past of dark—legions passed boundary of the gravity well from Gargantua, still in scope range to absorb its every blessing possible and shower it through all means of portrayal upon the subjects—puppets—horrors of the women beyond the sisters. They would play it back when they weren’t fucking them all to the bone. Feed the visions and understandings of its size into their minds while they slept to break them into nothing.

Alpha and Omega were the true lords. They’d been together in time for eons—survivors—feeders—takers and maiming maestros of monstrosity. She and her were together forever.

Until this one fateful cycle.

They’d awoken to find their tomb a dripping mess of wet. Something brought back in the sensations seen and felt by the tank-blood draining which took them straight into the trauma of their epic lifetime’s cruelest rebirth. The one where they’d found Oria home at last with her sister Persephone—still at rest. They’d not wanted to see this era.

It was disgust they felt at the passing of guard—contempt for themselves in rearing this one and allowing her reign to be free enough they’d convince themselves to sign her in. The ceremony to make Oria a one beside them had changed her. She couldn’t help but manipulate by reason of the way she had to operate beneath their gaze. She’d trained herself to lie first with her own mind.

Echo would hope to see her and Persephone saved.

That sister most newly awoken had been of disregarded presence. Her true spirit hadn’t seen itself into this ship. The chance she’d have to make things right was something Echo would hope for as well.

Omega clamored and swam out of the hearth in which she’d lain beside and entwined with her mother pairing. The other would creep behind in bidding—her slave born through time back to the beginning. She would force them always towards their meeting and ultimate submission from the future by power given and then used in past. The same intent if far different means as which Persephone had seen to thrust and drop upon her fair sister’s face.

Words weren’t the Queens of Sin to use. They spoke in projected thought made into the mind of their wearers as planted suggestion. They’d control all for immediate results with conscious webbings splayed into brains of their victims in similarity to the ship’s spread itself.

When they’d found standing rest together beside the home console after wrapping themselves inside their war-robes, elevating their protection, feeding their head masts by hands of the other into them for fullest controls reborn, something was clearing all alerts and showing an intruder most present but occluded. These were the smartest two deviants a foe could find.

They’d met their match.

Five more had popped. Grunts and whores and a muscle man she’d liked when properly drenched in counter pheromones. It was a pleasant surprise to find her arrival the same to her targets.

She’d loaded the game winner prematurely on some intuition from below understanding, echoing in movement and choice to prove the direction and purpose in aftermath. It was a void-flare made into a single shot.

Leopold had taken great effort to utilize The Foundry’s highest caliber robotics team in removing the casing from around Scarlet’s undercarriage salvaged whole after its midsections pure emulsification at hands of Monarch’s materialization. He’d managed to create this for her—one shot for a contained realization of the fury she knew her signature—to be thrown by that weapon most weighted to her heart.

The wretched pair appeared to be reacquainting themselves. It was hard to tell with all the technology Mothers had propping their survival.

Echo guessed right. They’d staged a control center just outside their containment for immediate power plays upon waking. It was her design to see them into a trail of facts of lie. Her visage was sprouting terror, causing havoc, pulling hair and taking food. She was breaking curfew and opening doors and screaming about anal sex at the people who’d like it least.

It had drawn the ire of those women’s gaze—the force of their retributive might—it left them open to this reprisal of their lackful intelligence and foresight. They’d be shown a thing about humility.

Echo’s echo popped inside and shared only a strongest beat of heart with the woman herself before activating the locked access-passage which allowed her to find the Mother’s already aware of her incoming presence.

They’d not missed a beat from their highest vantage.

A platform above—thirty Echoes high—had them looking down through impenetrable glasswork which would prove diffusive to her explosive weaponry. There wasn’t a proof she’d had other than the scene above—its levitation had shown some fact of its protection in the field so plain to eye.

Clearly risen on the plateau of technological magick which was littered with control mechanisms and interfaces—a throne atop so gaudy it hurt her eyes—Echo spotted the enormous gateway across the arena-like chamber which was open and vaporizing with the hiss of melting dark ice.

Mothers had been awake for some time and that would be enough. They remembered who they were and what they’d created. She could feel their fear. She’d see to it they understood it warranted.

Echo realized them too far from the ceiling, but foolishly near the protruding wiring and machinery which enveloped the edgework to fold beneath the platform—itself creating a parapet.

That peak of its lip would be her mark. She’d see her shot land true.

Roiling white and readings of wreckage would come through winding sounds of furious revolt and have her know it time to leave. She’d looked once—back the few steps she’d ever take into that dreadful chamber and beneath its open doorway that would soon be closing behind her.

The Mothers Two were holding each other—they were screaming.

Time Throws Fire | Part Seven | Chapter Forty-Two

the second novel in The Foundry series

Time Throws Fire

Part Six | The Sisters Two

Chapter Forty-Two

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