The Coup :: THE SHADOW

        The darkness of the den was perfect. You can’t see a thing inside. The lights are dead—the breaker in the basement having been torn from the wall. Nothing works in the house.
        They had made sure to secure the scramblers to battery operated back-up systems. When the breaker died, the scramblers came on. A small feat of ingenuity, to say the least. Though not one she herself claimed.
        White armour reflects the moonlight cascading through the open windows of the hallways. The staff is secure in their rooms. Though not one sleeps. They knew this would happen. They were told no more than three hours ago. They discovered just how much she does care for all of them. They will never be able to repay her.
        The flashlights, strapped to white-armoured forearms, blink and die. Any and all electric-operated devices have no use in this place now. The scramblers are more advanced than anyone truly knows.
        They step into the den. Three of them. Their footsteps are heavy as they cross here and there, searching the darkness. They are not used to the dark. They fear it, in fact. The Enemy Unidentified thrives in the darkness.
        Their voices whisper to each other. Hurried and short words. They want to get out. But they can’t until their target is acquired. That’s the term they use.
        Off in the corner of the room, she stands and listens. They pass by her within nothing more than two feet. She smiles as they tread about the room quickly. She knows they’re scared. She can hear it in their voices. And that fact alone makes her smile even more as she watches them in the dark.
        The three leave the room. She waits a moment before following their stumbling strides. She can hear them knocking into furniture and toppling various objects. This is her domain, after all.
        As she expected, they move upstairs. Eight of them. The full crew. They move into the bedrooms, waking the already woken staff. They pull their captives to the windows, inspecting them for their targets.
        Finally the head of staff is found. She directs them to the main bedroom. They step inside, all eight of them. The head of staff is ordered back to her bedroom. She goes willingly.
        From the hallway, the following shadow is silent. She waits, crouched against the wall. She waits for that one step. For that one moment. Her breathing is calm and casual. You would think she waits for the bus on the street corner, and not what she—
        The hallway explodes in a blast of white light. Closely followed by a thick cloud of smoke, and then orange red light flickering over everything.
        The one step happened. And the room met its ill fate.
        The staff goes screaming from their respective rooms. All rush downstairs. One white-armoured figure stumbles from the room—completely engulfed in flames.
        The head of staff watches the figure fall to the floor. She says nothing, joining her Mistress and moving downstairs in a perfect calm.
        Other figures in white come crashing into the house. They rush about collecting the panicked staff, while other white figures rush upstairs to the master suite.
        “Thank you,” says the Shadow to her head of staff.
        “Be safe,” replies the other woman.
        The Shadow smiles softly before slipping into the gardens, disappearing from all existence. She turns, briefly, to watch the flames explode from her bedroom. The price of sacrifice, she thinks with a smile.