The Shadow's Blood

"You gonna…" Armsmaster began as he looked up from Lung's body, now encased in a steel cage, only to trail off as his visor-covered gaze seemed to meet mine. His mouth opened again as his head shifted to take in the teddy bear still held within my arm.

"You're not Parian," he said, slowly. Who was Parian, and why would they be fighting Lung? "You're…"

He trailed off. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond.

My lips opened, although my mouth didn't really. After a moment, they closed again. I wanted to say something, and I didn't, and so, I instead looked at the flames still burning on the street. I thought about looking at the melting asphalt, or the smashed car, or the broken windows of the nearby office building, but my eyes didn't stray.

"You're a new face," I thought he said, his gaze still fixed on me. I wished he'd fix it somewhere else. I wanted to shrink. My knees felt strange.

My eyes finally moved from the fire and onto Lung. He was just… laying there, still and serene, the firelight flickering across the burnt tatters that were left of his clothing, and across the skin beneath them.

My feet slowly pulled me towards him.

"What is your name?" asked Armsmaster, shifting as I approached. I thought he might reach for his halberd, but he did not.

My pace slowed. I shrugged. I felt myself look away. "Hermione, I guess."

Armsmaster nodded. I heard him mutter something, maybe not to me, quiet against bangs sounding somewhere a few blocks away. He didn't seem to notice the sounds.

I started walking, again, almost convincing myself Lung's body was growing... I had to see him. I had to. I could feel safe, then, I told myself. I could…

He was still so very big, even unconscious, even with his powers no longer active. Tall…

"Do you need a hospital, Hermione?" Arsmaster asked, slowly, and a bit too gently. I heard small clinks of armor as his footsteps approached behind me.

I circled the cage. It didn't reach a foot off the ground, and left only room for the rise and fall of Lung's chest as he breathed. He was still breathing, I realized, and there was an empty space in my chest where a thought or feeling should have been at the realization.

"He won't rise," said Armsmaster. "You are safe, Hermione."

Again, his voice was too quiet. Too gentle. He's Armsmaster. He shouldn't know how to do gentle.

He didn't stop me as I knelt down beside Lung. He didn't even stop me as I poked my wand up his chin, through which was punctured an almost inch-wide hole. It was still bleeding, although only gently.

"He was too big," said Armsmaster, somewhere behind me, as I watched the blood coat the surface of the wand. "The tranquilizers had to be administered into his brain. The chin was the most effective avenue to reach it. Look."

I heard him messing with the Halberd. He was somewhere in front of me, now, instead of somewhere behind. Instead of looking up, I found myself sitting on the ground beside Lung, staring somewhere past his body. The night air might have felt nice. The explosions had quieted, whatever they had been.

Armsmaster drew in a breath as the wand slid out from Lung's chin and dropped to my side.

My breathing was slow.

A hand touched my shoulder. I threw it off. It tried again.

"The Dallons—" he began, then lowered his voice, and began again. "The Dallons were worried about you."

Yes, I was sure Amy Dallon was quite worried. The snide thought was almost worth speaking, but instead, I felt myself crying. I didn't know why. You'd probably know why. My arm squeezed more tightly around the teddy bear. I felt its bottom scrape against the ground. It sat nearly as tall as me.

I'd expected to feel relief. It would be a valid reason to cry. But instead…

"They said you thought Lung would kill you," he said, his voice as if he was explaining a logic problem. "He won't be able to do that, now."

Why couldn't he shut up?

At some point, I realized, Armsmaster must have grown tired of my unwillingness to move, as he was now carrying my body towards his motorcycle.

Or, maybe I had realized it earlier. Maybe even before he'd picked me up. Maybe I just hadn't wanted to move, and had let him carry me. I didn't know.

He placed me upon the seat, and made to grab something, perhaps to help buckle me in. But I didn't want to go with him. And, for a moment, I felt encouraged, as there was something I knew I didn't want.

I slid off the bike.

"Hermione," said Armsmaster, but I wasn't listening. My footsteps became more hurried as I dashed away.

I wanted to laugh. He couldn't follow me, even if he wanted to. After all, he had to tend to Lung.

And laugh I did.

The smell of smoke had been growing stronger, although I'd thought I'd left the fires behind. My eyes searched for orange light; my skin checked for traces of heat. I found neither.

I ducked into an alleyway, not wanting to stay on the main streets for more than the block I already had. Out of that alleyway, and into another, and then another. Somewhere, I ended up on a big street again. Seventh Street, maybe. Some of the buildings looked familiar. Just a bit too tall for the Docks proper; just a bit too short for downtown.

The smell of smoke grew only stronger. I should have left it. But I didn't want to. There was a spark of curiosity, and so enthused was I by the spark, and by the desire to chase it, that I didn't have the heart to think better. After all, there were still no traces of fire, nor were there sounds of violence, and if I saw or heard any, I reasoned, I could always turn around. Besides, it wasn't like I had anywhere to be, so anything was as good as the next, really.

I crossed an alley and the smell lessened, so I doubled back and entered.

The alley went right behind a building, and zig-zagged behind another, leaving me, I thought, less than three blocks away from where I'd started. I almost left, not really wanting to run into anyone, again, and I would have, until my gaze was caught.

I saw the wreckage before the blood: the charred and cracked brick and the torn apart dumpsters strewn across the alley made it resemble a scene from a war movie. Even the ground was unsteady, filled with rubble and pitted with holes.

And then there was the blood. A pool of it, expanding away from two bodies across one another.

First, I saw the man. He wore a black bodysuit and a demonic mask. Through each eye was a crossbow bolt. The blood trailed down from his eye sockets, down along his body, which was pinned to the wall by another several bolts, from which came more blood, which was slowly pooling upon the ground.

He was almost certainly dead. I felt myself swallow, thickly.

And then I saw her, across from him: a figure barely propped against the wall. Half her mask laid upon the ground next to her, a shattered mess. The other half hung from a strap that went somewhere behind her ear.

I knew her face.

It had haunted me daily for the past year and a half, second only to my former friend's, and I hated it. I wanted to hate it. I should have hated it. And I thought, for a moment, that I didn't hate it because I still wasn't feeling, and then, I realized that I was wrong: I definitely was feeling.

Only, instead of hate, I was feeling panic. For however I'd been the past few days, the past few weeks, the past few months, however long it had been, I still couldn't let someone die, not even her, not when I could stop it. And I could stop it. I had to. She was still breathing.

I rushed towards her. A chunk was missing from her side. It didn't look good, and I didn't know what to do. I wish you were here, you always— I had to do something! I nearly waved my wand before remembering, as much as I might pretend otherwise, as much as I might need otherwise, that magic—

The wand clattered to the ground as I tried to find something with which to stop the bleeding. I spun and stumbled towards the man, who I assumed was Oni Lee.

I tried to rip his clothing, but it wouldn't tear. Stupid! Stupid, Taylor! I grabbed one of his knives, and tore into his clothing, accidentally tearing into him a bit, as well. The knife caught in his skin.

It took too many tries, and the strip I got was barely a strip. I didn't even know what to do with it, but I tried to get it onto Sophia, before realizing I needed something under it, too.

I tore off more of Oni Lee's outfit, and more, and rolled it into something and pushed it at Sophia's side.

She moaned, and I almost let go. Was she awake? My eyes darted to the crossbow by her side, but her hands didn't move towards it.

There was an odd bulge by her side. A phone? I tried to get it from whatever was holding it, but I couldn't work the pocket. It had a button, and the button kept slipping through the fingers of my hand, and my other hand was still holding the cloth to her side, and I didn't even know if I was doing it right, and the bear was across the alley where I'd dropped it, and what did the bear matter, and—

I took a deep breath in. Swapped hands. Picked up the knife. Cut out the phone.

How did one… There was a button. It turned on. Its light was too bright—

It wanted a passcode. Passcode? But— But there was a button labeled "Emergency."

I tapped it, and it immediately dialed.

"Help," I said, before the person on the other end could answer. "She's dying, she's— she's bleeding, and I think Oni Lee got her, and do I hold this up to the blood, I don't—"

The voice on the other end was saying something, but I couldn't hear it. I couldn't even hold the phone right to hear it if I wanted. It dropped from my hand as I kept rambling.

"I think, I don't know where we are, somewhere near Lung was, I just talked with Armsmaster, he should still be nearby, just send someone, please, just—"

The voice was still trying to say something, in a voice that was far too calm. She was dying, and I couldn't do anything, I was useless, I— and—

Sophia groaned, again, and coughed a wet, unpleasant cough. Did I need to check her pulse? To—

I felt something strange: an odd feeling I couldn't identify, either fear or delight. Then, I heard something slam into the ground behind me.

My gaze couldn't leave Sophia's side, even as I heard feet rushing towards me. I was certain I would soon be joining Sophia. Someone from ABB was probably here to finish the job, and, I was sure, they'd do it gloriously, perfectly, so perfectly…

A hand reached over me and touched Sophia's neck. Another pair of hands pulled me away. I tried to fight, but they were so strong, so comfortably strong, and I could see the muscles on her arms and they were beau—

Amy. It was her hand on Sophia's neck. Her face was focused, but with a vaguely unpleasant look about it, as if she'd been, somehow, interrupted.

Someone was speaking into my ear. I wasn't sure what they were saying. My heart was beating too fast, and all I could hear in my ears was the thump thump of its rhythm.

Slowly, the voice came into focus. "Breathe," it said. "In… out…"

The voice turned away from my ear. "Amy, how do you tell if it's hyperventilation or anxiety? And how do you breathe if it's hyperventilation? And what is hyp— oh, forget it."

Her voice turned back to me. "In… two… three… four… hold… two… three… four… five… six… out… two… three…"

I felt my breath slowly coming back.

"I… I tried to save her," I whispered.

"You did save her," whispered the voice in my ear. Vicky, I thought. It sounded familiar. "Amy will have her fixed in just a minute. Two tops. We came because the PRT alert, and they called us because of you."

"I… I don't understand," I whispered. "I tried to save her."

Vicky may not have known what to say, as she didn't say anything. She only shushed me.

"I… I hated her, and I…"

Her shushing only grew more insistent. She pulled me more tightly into her arms.

"It doesn't matter," she said, and I flinched, only for her arms to still me, again, though they fit around me oddly, as if she was trying to both surround me and not suffocate me, and was unsure where to leave the balance.

She took a breath, just slightly too sharp, and spoke again. "You helped her anyway. That matters," she emphasized.

My breathing still felt unstable, my inhalations coming in short gasps, my exhalations shaking and uneven. "In… two… three…" she continued.

I saw a movement ahead of me. It shuffled around. My eyes focused, slowly, and I saw Amy.

She picked up the bear. I'd thought it'd been across the alley, but somehow, it had been soaked in blood. Amy frowned at it slightly, before touching the blood, and it all seemed to tear itself away. Her hand brushed over it, and all manner of gunk seemed to collect within her palm, before it followed the blood to the ground.

Briefly, she hugged the bear to her. Then, spotting my gaze, she pulled it away.

She looked anywhere other than at me. Her eyes caught my wand.

For a moment, I thought she was going to snap it. Maybe she thought so, too.

Instead, she picked it up, the blood flowing off it much as it had the bear. It was still left stained red. Amy grimaced at it.

She shuffled over, her eyes somewhere above mine. Looking at her sister, I supposed.

Finally, she shoved the bear and wand in my face.

"Couldn't get all the blood out of the stick," she said, her voice gruff. "Only the alive parts. It's safe enough, though."

I wondered if 'alive parts' included viruses. But if it didn't, I didn't see how she'd call it safe enough.

It didn't matter, anyway, as my hands had already taken both bear and wand. The bear hung oddly from my hand, oversized as it was, and I didn't want it to touch the ground and get blood on it again. But my arm strained, and I couldn't keep it held aloft.

Vicky's arm grasped mine and she guided it down, whispering "it's fine, it's fine." At some point, she must have pulled me away from the blood.

"Is… is Sophia—"

"Shadow Stalker is fine," said Vicky, firmly. "Isn't she?" she asked Amy, rather less firm.

"She won't wake for a couple hours. We'll need to wait for the paramedics…"

She trailed off as sirens approached. An ambulance pulled up to the alley, and paramedics stepped out. One went to Sophia. One headed towards Vicky and I.

I was led out the alley. I was asked questions. I may have answered. The paramedic may have wanted me to go with them, but I didn't want to, and Vicky said something and he backed off. He did insist I wipe myself down with some antibacterial wipes, and Vicky did it for me.

And soon, it was over. Others might have come. Maybe some PRT agents. Someone named Melinda. She had pretty eyes. I wished she'd stayed.

Vicky began asking me inane questions. How many red things could I see? How many orange things? Did the ground press up into me? Or did I press down into it? I didn't understand. She kept asking the questions. I started answering.

Three ambulance tail lights. A red sign. Red bricks. Red bloodstains. Two blinking orange lights. A traffic cone. A logo. I could feel the ground pressing into my feet.

We came out onto the street. It was surprisingly busy, for this time of night. Dozens of cars waited patiently at the nearby light. I was glad Vicky didn't ask me to count red things, again: there'd be far too many.

"Have dinner with us," said Vicky, suddenly.

"What?" exclaimed Amy. Her mouth hung open, her face stuck somewhere between shock and, I thought, disgust.

"Well, I doubt she'd be willing to come with us and get cleaned up properly," said Vicky, her voice one of someone trying to be reasonable. I didn't think she'd really answered the question Amy had not quite been asking. "But I figured she could eat something."

Could I? I hadn't really had much of anything for lunch. Not really anything for breakfast, either.

"Please?" asked Vicky, the word leaving her in a short excited burst, a radiant smile spread across her face. She looked at me, and then looked pointedly at Amy, nodded towards me, and finally shifted her gaze back to me.

Amy's eyes rolled slightly, in that way one does if they don't feel up to putting in the effort. "Please," said Amy, her voice flat.

Vicky's smile broadened more. I felt like I wanted to say yes, and so enthused was I by that feeling… I couldn't say no. And besides, I thought, you'd… I considered. What would you want?

"What would be open this late?" I asked.

Vicky blinked. Her smile dipped for only a second as her face flashed confusion, before it returned. "Oh! The sunset just happened, like, an hour ago. There's a Thai place downtown. It's just, like, five or six blocks away. Maybe seven. I think it would make a nice walk, don't you? You don't have to talk if you don't want to, you know. I can talk!"

I blinked.

I went to dinner.