Each breath sent new slashing pain through her chest. Shards of broken glass slicing her apart from the inside. Kirche’s vision was fading, her head swam with hollow, ringing thoughts. She couldn’t feel her feet under her, just vaguely aware of slow steps towards the sealed shutters of the gatehouse. She could feel it more than she could hear it, the soft, staticky bubbling of air through blood from the spike in her chest. Silver was right, the blade had hit her lung, the end stop after it had ripped through her forearm like a bullet. She didn’t give any thought to how bad the damage there would be, the arm simply cold and numb despite the warm blood soaking it.
Humiliated. She’d been humiliated in front of her team, by the very beasts she’d short-term sworn to destroy. Regret washed through her, all the mistakes she’d made. All the bad deals and decisions, chiefly over the last few years, and especially tonight. Maybe if she never chose to side with King, she never chose to abandon the path of the demon hunter, never chose to betray Soune, she wouldn’t be dying now. Not that it really mattered, it was in the algorithmic providence of the Presence now. She made it far enough forward, falling on her good side against the gatehouse.
“Help…Help me…” She winced out weakly, dredging up what strength she could to throw her hand against the window in desperate bangs. “Please…help.”
“It’s already on its way…not that you deserve it.” An old, cracked voice came from beside the gatehouse. On the shadowed side, opposite the roller fence, the old woman stood with crossed arms, glaring at Kirche. A middle aged man was beside her, watching Gress and Soune. His hand nervously trembled against a holstered pistol.
“Why…why watch? Help.” Kirche squeaked out, vision narrowing and growing blurry. She didn’t even realise she was slowly sliding down against the concrete block.
“Why would we? You picked the fight.” Cold dismissal was clear in the woman’s tone. “You are responsible for this.”
“Monster…it’s…a monster.” Kirche murmured out before unconsciousness took her.
“We know.” Eleanor said, hands clenching. “But he’s our monster.”
“We should break it up, he’s getting hurt.” Dave remarked, hand clenching the grip of his pistol.
“Not yet…If Gress can keep himself in check, it’ll be good evidence for later, to keep the Shoulders off our backs. Or give us a weapon.”
“...El.” Dave tightly responded. “That’s a hell of a gamble.”
“Maybe. But-” She glared at the unconscious woman against her gatehouse, low breaths rattling in the night air. “-we’re running out of options.”
Dave nervously checked his watch, then over his shoulder, then back to watching Gress try to keep up with the white haired woman. An action he repeated again and again, his senior was worryingly steady and cold beside him. The only sign Eleanor was similarly shaken by Gress losing the fight was the trembling of her hands against her arms.
Gress roared, throwing a wild blow straight towards Soune, claws outstretched. She slipped to the side and caught him by the wrist. A cold static ran up her arm from the contact, every instinct roaring to not touch the anomalous flesh. She gritted through it, locking his arm and focusing on the odd skin.
“Not a tattoo then…” She murmured, rubbing a thumb along the material. It was molten glass, smooth and glossy under her hand but pliable, albeit firmer than regular skin. The arm was heavy too, far heavier than his gaunt frame would seem.
“Let go!” Gress tried to strike with his free arm, it was awkwardly thrown and without leverage, landing shallow and harmless against Soune’s firm side. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, releasing the arm and following through with a braced elbow blow to Gress’ chest. It sent him back, reeling and gasping.
“Not too good in a fistfight huh?” Soune shook off the bizarre feeling of the flesh, resetting her stance and facing the staggered man. “And I’m a fair bit faster than Tonio. Bad luck for you.” She hopped forward, throwing a pair of quick, tight jabs at the man. He clumsily raised both arms to block, Soune had to stop herself from slamming a strong hook into his exposed side, wanting to experiment further. She slipped forward and low, sticking to his blind areas.
Gress’ arms were ringing from the jabs alone, he figured she wouldn’t be as strong as the larger man, but it was closer than he’d have guessed. Much closer than he hoped. She was fast too, damned fast. He parted his arms, seeing nothing but the hull of the vehicle several steps away. She barged into him from behind, sending him crashing into the Mover.
Soune didn’t follow up on the charge, watching to see how Gress recovered. She caught herself hesitating, and questioned why. She was trained to fight and win, to do so as quickly as possible. Even more than that, her teammates were injured because of him, quite probably dying. She should’ve hated him for the demon he was, killed him out of convenience and revenge.
But she was waiting, waiting for him to act, encouraging him to act. She wanted to figure out what he was doing, how he was doing it.
It clicked with a smile - he was a puzzle.
She liked puzzles.
He braced against the machine, glaring at her. That arm, that corrupted left arm, its claws tensed and gripped into the vehicle’s side. The metal didn’t shear under them, it simply peeled away, fractured at the edges. The curls of sheet metal that had been cut off fell flatly to the ground, seemingly through his arm.
“Doesn’t seem like you struggle with metal or anything like that…” Soune noted, watching the effects of Gress’ arm more than his golden stare. “Rock either…”
“I’m not for you to study damnit!” He roared again, the lines across his skin matched the trembling of his body. He pulled away from the machine, leaving deep claw marks in the hull. Soune swiftly pulled the broken blade from her belt, throwing it at the Splinter before he could start charging at her again. It disappeared in front of him, and gave Soune a clearer look at the holes.
It was a crack in space, leading to cosmic nothingness. The opening itself was only about the size of a fist, but the silvery cracks in the air spread out further. Keyly, there was the crackling again. That noise of reality popping and shattering, then snapping shut.
“There it is, that noise again…That’s the holes, isn’t it?” Soune bounced her leg in thought, ignoring the ghastly shock on Gress’ face. Her realisation came with a smirk.
“Knowing how it works won’t help!” Gress spat, a pair of cracks snapped out beside him. They were nigh-invisible, flat and parallel to Soune’s vision, just a sliver of light across space. The blade hilt fell through one, disappeared into another, then looped. Again, faster, then again, even faster.
Soune huffed a laugh.
“You’ve really got it figured out, huh?” Soune beamed, fascinated at the application of the portals. It took Gress aback, he’d gotten used to reactions of horror, disgust and panic at his abilities.
Amazement was a new one.
The stunned reaction gave Soune time to run back in and swing wide. He backstepped the blow in a panic, the falling hilt slammed hard against the dirt. Silver eyes flicked to it, the holes were gone. A range limit?
Gress eyed the woman who was so happily disassembling him, the satisfied smile on her face sending an odd wave of emotion through him. Fear piped up above the others.
“What’s next?” Soune bounced up straight and turned to him with a sharp smirk, it made him backpedal away from the vehicle, not wanting to get pincered against it. “The bullets!” Soune realised, looking around for her pistol. Glacial ice sparked through him.
“STOP!” Gress shouted, snapping Soune out of her puzzled wonder. “No guns…Please.” She cocked her head at him, beckoning the answer. “...If I tell you why, don’t involve the gun.”
Soune turned away from her discarded pistol, kicking it behind her. She raised her tight stance again with a nod.
“...It’s automatic with bullets, or anything that’s a real danger…Reflects right back where it came from, or at whatever else poses a threat.” Gress turned towards Razgrith’s raggedly breathing body. “Scirocco knew that.” He added in a hiss.
“Alright…no guns then.” Soune assured. Gress shaked out a breath of relief, returning a small nod of appreciation.
“I’ll deal with Scirocco later…” She added, risking a glance over to Razgrith. “But we’re not done yet, come on!” She barked, pulling Gress back to her eyes. “You’re not out of tricks yet, right?” Gress shifted uncomfortably at her provocation, she was enjoying this too much. He waited for her to start moving forward again, a tentative step that broke into a dash.
He watched her get closer, tracked her speed as best he could, then ducked low to fling a handful of dust and gravel towards her. Soune halted hard mid-step, shutting her arms in front of her face. The dust flew harmlessly against her guard but the gravel - her eyes went wide in realisation, dodging to the side before a spread of accelerated gravel whizzed past her. “Not bad…” She said, looking back in time to see the several small holes snap shut.
The Splinter slammed his foot down, cracks fractured out, then widened into gaps. Soune watched the hole open, furrowing her brow as the image cleared, stars and clouds in the jagged portal. Gress stepped forward, calmly falling through the gap. Soune listened, waiting for the telltale sounds, the thin panes of space cracking away. A pause, a stressed creak, then a snap above her.
She sidestepped away, the rush of air from Gress’ claws slicing downwards brushed her ear. A few strands of white hair flew away, shaved by the space shearing cracks. Gress landed poorly, not absorbing the shock at all. He struggled to keep his breaths restrained.
He didn’t just fall, he shot downwards. The movement didn’t add up. “...gives you a bit of momentum, does it?” Soune noted, thinking back to the accelerating loops. Gress was struggling to rise on shaking legs. Soune gave him a moment, then aimed a kick at his side. He fell into a desperate roll, barely ducking the blow.
Soune stepped back, resetting her stance and bouncing lightly, her opponent rose, heaving uneven breaths. She took the moment to turn the puzzle over in her head. The holes - no, portals - those were simple enough to wrap her head around. They could make falling loops too, and build up dangerous speeds. She needed to see the claws more, but the sound - glass. That’s what it reminded her of.
Fracturing, shattering, scraping glass. The thin pane of space being broken and manipulated, that was the tell.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Gress gasped, seeing the focused smile on her face.
“Aren’t you?” Soune mirrored, then sighed out a wider, softer smile. “You’re really interesting, you know that?”
Gress stiffened, shocked by the remark. “What?”
“Kirche told me Splinters could do weird shit, they all had abilities, I figured it’d be like the creepy things she could do. Blood and fire and all that. But you, you’ve got a hell of a trick, and you’re damn clever with it.” Soune rolled her arms loose, opening her stance a bit. “You should be wiping the floor with me though, not holding back are you?”
Gress swallowed a tightness in his throat and a flush in his cheeks, shutting down the rising purring in his arm that agreed with the woman’s latter statement. The faint glimmer that appeared in forlorn eyes was snuffed out. He glared at her, low and tired.
“Stop that. Stop… trying to figure out more. I’m not a plaything, and I’m not holding back, I just don’t like fighting. Full Stop.” He said flatly, though the faint shimmering of his marks told a different story. The lines that spread out from the side of his lips parted off at a sneering angle along his jaw, while his proper facial features were downturned, locked and tight. The conflicting sight dropped Soune’s smirk.
“...Fair.” A jarring reminder this was a fight, not a physically demanding puzzle. Eventually she had to stop playing, had to win. “Alright, final round.”
“Agreed.” Gress nodded, lowering himself steadily. His stance was changing, it was no longer the flawed approximation of a normal fighter. He leant into the damned arm, no care for a tight or quick guard, just crackling claws flexing and ready to lash out. The ferocity of it masked his fatigue well.
Soune ran in first, aiming to end it quickly. A fissure appeared in front of her, stopping her mid step as it splintered open. This time she could see through it, much clearer much faster. Its other side opened in front of Gress. He was raising his arm for a strike, but she was faster. Soune smirked, and flicked a straight punch towards the gap.
Her knuckles roared with the impact. Her punch had hit fast and flat against the portal. It was a stupid mistake, assuming the rules of his portals would work for her too. The hole had shattered outwards with the impact into shards, then recollected beside her outstretched arm. Gress’ arm, unstopped by the reality gap, reached through and twisted a slash at her. She moved it away, not fast enough to avoid the clawtips scratching two red lines into her forearm.
The deep sting of her knuckles deafened the pain of the cuts. Her other arm twisted forward locking around Gress’ retreating wrist. She heaved him back with a roar of effort. The fissure shattered open with a loud ring, vibrating the soft tissue of Soune’s inner ear. Gress was pulled hard to the ground in front of her, Soune released his arm, clasping her ears.
“Oww…” They groaned in unison, Soune came to her senses first, seeing the fissure repair behind Gress.
The Splinter was floored, wheezing and winded. He’d hit the ground chest first and hard, damned hard. He crawled up into a kneel, one arm holding him up while the other crossed over his heaving chest. Soune shook her head clear, recentering on the struggling man.
“So, only you can pass through it?” Soune asked with a renewed, satisfied smirk while shaking off her knuckles.
Gress didn’t answer, deafened by exhaustion, barely managing to force himself upright. His breathing was shaky and uneven, struggling to catch his breath after having it slammed out of him, hyperventilating out of desperation. Inversely, Soune was steady as ever, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
“You really don’t know how to fight, huh?” She noted, lowering her tone. She noticed the din of people getting closer, approaching the gate. She desperately hoped they were here for her team and not to back Gress up.
“Not really…” A sheepish, strained admission at this point. “But if we keep going, you’re gonna get hurt.” Soune laughed, not buying the bluff.
“Let’s wrap it up then.”
You’re losing.
She’ll kill you.
Gress seemed out of it for a moment, shaking something unseen off. “Go away…” He muttered.
Give yourself to me.
“It’s a bit late for that.” Soune cut in, slowly stepping towards him, fists ready.
“Not you…” Gress murmured again, snapping back to reality in time to barely head slip a straight punch. He swung a wide, clawing strike back towards her on the inhale, slow and powerless. Soune pincered the blow between her knee and elbow, feeling a sickly satisfying, albeit hollow crunch. Gress recoiled with a bark, Soune saw a flicker of unreal cracks stemming from where she slammed the corrupted arm.
There was a flicker of something else, something wrapped around his arm. A rough, larger shape that the cracks followed in fleeting sparks. They fizzled out near his head, where gold eyes glowed stronger and colder, where the lines at his mouth started to split and expose glimmering sharpness. It all sent a primal sense through her, a sense her body reacted to before her mind did, meeting it by rushing forward and striking at his exposed body.
Fear.
Fear that she squashed in a flashing strike.
The right hook connected in the worst way possible. On Gress’ recoil, on his softening exhale, on the unguarded moment of recovery. Soune’s fist slammed into the soft side of his body. The shock delivered right into his kidney, with no layer of fat or muscle to insulate it. Gress buckled instantly, hacking and coughing up stomach acid as he clutched himself, doubling over.
Fear still fresh in her, Soune reared back for a blow towards the back of the man’s head, a strike that was powered by survival instinct and aimed by training. The soft spot at the nape of his neck. The clicking of metal beside her halted it. Unmistakable, the hammers on handguns being pulled back.
“That’s enough!” A middle-aged man wearing a ragged, blue uniform aimed at Soune shakily. The old woman beside him more expertly aimed her identical weapon. “Get away from him!” The man barked, voice breaking. Soune stood frozen, the instincts aiming her towards Gress not quite worn off.
“No…no guns.” Gress groaned out, staring up at the two guards. “Never…”
“Shut up, Gress! And stay there, stay down!” The man stammered.
“Davey…” The old woman gently placed her hand on his arms, encouraging the man to lower his weapon. Soune still didn’t move, chest moving slowly, assessing the situation, realising the old guard still had her pistol levelled at her. “Relax, they’ve stopped.” She stared at Soune, cold and forceful. “Right?”
Soune took the moment to look past them, at the dozen or so townspeople that were flocking around her team. Raz and Kirche were already on stretchers, an old man between them barking orders. Scirocco was up shambling between them all clutching his head. A few others were struggling to take off Antonio’s armour, something that needed either Raz or Soune to unclasp the unique connections. She could help with that, help save him. She stepped to face them slightly. She was too shaken by adrenaline to think clearly, not realising the mistake she was making.
“The big one, his armo-'' She was interrupted by the crack of a pistol. The gasping guard had snapped his weapon back up and fired towards her chest.
…
Shit.
That’s it then.
Soune looked down, expecting to see red leaking into her dark shirt as a last, sullen sight. Instead, there was a slivered hole of unreality. Cosmos stared back at her, specks of stars amongst void-space. Dave dropped his gun, howling as he clutched his thigh.
“Idiot!” Eleanor screamed at him, turning to yell out to the gathered townspeople “Davey’s hit! In the leg!”
Soune breathed shallow, the shock of near-death slowing her thoughts. Silver eyes turned to the side, then downwards. Gress was on his knees, still leaned over, clutching at his stomach with spittle and acid dripping from his mouth. An unsteady claw was pointed at her, where the hole was. He glared at Soune, then to the injured man.
“No guns…” He croaked out, A cold gold stare bared into the dropped weapon.
Scirocco had been stirred awake by the rumbling noise of townspeople leaking from the opened gate. They flitted about in a panic, unorganised riffraff. He pulled his hand away from his head, sticky with cold blood. He clicked his tongue, all these mud people running around the rest of King’s contractors, the lesser ones, useless swine that couldn’t even get the job done. Ignoring him.
“Hey, are you okay?” A panicked girl asked, kneeling beside him. He glared at her, a dirty, small girl. So much lower than him, asking if he was okay, like she was better than him. He tried to spit at her, it caught on his chapped lips and splattered across his chin. The girl backed away, disgusted at him, she scrambled away towards something else.
Trash.
All this trash around him.
He could smell them, taste them, the dirty flavour of iron. His head killed. He needed a drink. Needed pills. Something. Scirocco raised himself on shaky legs, shambling towards a group with a medical bag beside them. They were crowded around the smallest freak, pleading with them to live. Pointless, what did it matter, the best benefit from this was whatever bonus Garum had planned for the death of King’s men was securely pocketed.
“Hey, gimme something.” He tried to say to the group, standing behind them. It came out as a drawled, slurred mess.
“Gim’ Shometh-” He went unnoticed, the audacity.
“Fuck, I don’t know what to do…” One of them panicked.
“Just keep the wound plugged! Nothing major’s clipped, I think.”
“Hey! Gimm-me Somthin’!” Scirocco barked again, one of them snapped his head around, blood on his hands and face.
“Fuck off! You’re up and moving, go help the others!” The lowlife snapped at him, anger boiled in Scirocco, boiling over and dripping red to the ground. The red rage sent panic into the person, making them look away from Scirocco and back to the fading Razgrith.
“Trrassh.” Scirocco slurred. He didn’t need them, he was fine, tough and fine. He’d survive, what’d it matter about the others. He just needed to sit down for a bit, he looked towards the vehicle they arrived in, now dented and damaged. He took an unsteady step forward, then another, then his dusty shoe clacked against something heavy.
Razgriths pistol was discarded in the dirt, Scirocco smirked, these morons didn’t even take the chance to pocket the valuables from the dead idiots. He shakily leaned down to pick it up and tuck it into his belt. It was a nice, heavy piece. Scirocco decided he’d keep it, call it a keepsake of old friends, he chuckled at the thought as he continued to shamble back to the vehicle.
“Oi! You! You were with this guy right? How do we get his armour off?” One of the dirty, muddy town scum grabbed him, Scirocco pawed at the gun, should’ve shot this scumbag for daring to touch him. “Damnit, this ones bad too, he’s moving at least.” She released him for a moment, rummaging in a similar bag to the others. “Here.” A quick, sharp shot pierced into Scirocco’s arm.
A lovely cocktail of painkillers, adrenaline and stimulants shocked him to life. Scirocco shook his head, able to focus on the lowlife grabbing his shoulders, shaking him. He slapped her hands away. She backed away with hands up.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” Scirocco warned, a pistol shot cracked out in the night air. It wasn’t him, he hoped. Pistol still untouched in his belt, a quick sharp breath of relief, he looked towards the noise. A moment of elation upon seeing the grounded Splinter, Argent had done it. She’d managed to shoot him, he wasn’t invincible.
In his concussed, drug-stimmed mind, there was simply no other explanation. The Splinter had hurt the guard, sure, the old hag screamed something too, but whatever defence reflected the bullets was gone. Sure he couldn’t see the pistol in Soune’s hand, but he’d seen what the Splinter could do, and knew how little King’s scum were really capable of.
That was it, the only explanation.
Scirocco huffed a laugh, remembering the new pistol at his hip. She was just too stupid to have gone for the kill shot yet, what else did he expect from a mangy mutt, left it up for the taking though.
The victory was his. The good graces of King and Seere up for grabs, and a few of the other fucks had gotten themselves killed too. And if another bullet found its way into Soune, well, what a shame.
“What a day…” Scirocco whispered to himself, a trickle of blood staining his smile.
