A/N: Quick note reminding everyone about the M-rating due to violence and bad language.

"Live to Fight Another Day"

She was held in his arms for some time, letting the choking sobs of grief claw their way out of her throat, but throughout every minute that she cried, he held her closely and tightly. It was a strange embrace, she noted after the fact, as it felt like he was holding back. It wasn't a hug of someone who disliked her, or someone who was uncomfortable with physical contact and therefore would respond somewhat awkwardly to the offer of an embrace.

No, this was the hold of someone who was scared they would break something, as though they held in their hands a precious glass sculpture, one that would shatter upon the slightest touch.

Initially, she thought it was a reflection upon her, like her fiery, feisty soul was something to be bubble-wrapped and kept on a pedestal away from prying eyes and touching hands…but as she later found out, it was not the case. Where Jack Frost had the ability to create and manipulate ice and harness the wind to fly like a bird, and Pitch Black could manipulate the darkness within into powerful constructs of black sand – and as she found out earlier, create literal night-mares so he could join Frost and Night Fury in the sky – Kristoff's gift was less ostentatious than a blizzard or a sand storm and more subtle, but every bit as life-changing.

She came face-to-face with his gift when, in a moment of proving that he was one of them, with one hand he lifted the ten ton Draugr-class drop-ship as though it was a couch and there was something under it that he misplaced. She learned that he had to be very conscious of how he touched, pushed, pulled, or even held something, in case he irrevocably damaged or destroyed it. He had to treat every door handle like it was an empty eggshell, every hand-shake like brittle glass…and every person like they would shatter under the slightest touch.

She learned that his skill in control and restraint was something learned over a long time, in his three years as a Ghost and the time before then. He mentioned that he once got mildly irritated when a clone pushed a stun-rifle into his chest to goad him, so with one swift movement he gripped the barrel of the rifle, crushed it like it was paper and then punched the hapless soldier's head clean off. It scared her, if she were to be honest, but something in the way he held her spoke to her mind and heart, that he would never hurt her.

Of all the men that she had met a few hours ago, it was to him that she felt connected the most, especially when he fought her corner about twenty minutes after her grief-stricken sobs had ceased. She heard every word of the hushed conversation between the three Ghosts, but kept quiet. She was still coming to terms with the ordeal, after all.

"Harvester, I need a minute." Pitch hissed, nodding towards the cockpit where he and Frost were still piloting the drop-ship to, as far as Anna was concerned, an unknown destination. All she could really see was the sky, and how the black was giving way to deep, rich purple as the sun began its inexorable daily duty as the caretaker of the heavens.

"I'll be right back," he muttered, his warm smile lingering as he rose from the personnel bench and walked to the cockpit, "what's the matter, Pitch?"

"The matter is her surname. I didn't think anything of it at first, but it just hit me – Snowfield…as in House Snowfield. Does it ring any bells, o glorious leader?"

Anna caught Kristoff shrug out of the corner of her eye, and she knew what was coming. She was fully aware of what her parents, as scientists, had been doing in the three or four years prior to their deaths, and how it would affect the abnormal population, tiny as it was.

"Yeah, her parents came up with the abnormality suppression vaccine. Why?"

"She is the daughter of the very people who have given Unity a way of suppressing our gifts, our way of life, and we're taking her to the Star…to our home? Are you insane?" the taller, black-haired Ghost hissed, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. Naturally, Anna felt quite offended at that and judging by the rather reprimanding snarl from the white-haired man, so did he.

"It doesn't matter if she's a member of House Snowfield, House Larsen or House Party. It doesn't matter if her parents created a nuke that could wipe out the world in one hit. She's one of us, which means we treat her with every damn bit of respect that we would treat any other abnormal, Snowfield or not. We protect her, we teach her, and we look after her. It's as simple as that."

"But-" Pitch tried to protest, but Kristoff interrupted as though he wasn't speaking anyway.

"Frost is right, and you know it. You're outvoted, Kozmotis."

The once-protesting man fell silent, though he still wore the scowl of defeat – but in that moment, Anna felt grateful for the two Ghosts that fought her corner against one of their own. For better or worse, she was a part of something now, something bigger than herself, and though she was forced to leave her old life behind…maybe, just maybe, her new life would be worth living.

However, her first step would be to get her feet on solid ground…and that moment was fast approaching.

"Hey," she called out, her eyes fixed on the back of Kristoff's shaggy blonde head, "where are we going, anyway?"

All three men turned toward her, and with his head just above the pilot's seat Frost wore a wide smirk of promise and anticipation, like he had a surprise behind his back and was just waiting to unveil it, and with two fingers he beckoned her over to them.

"The Guardian Star. She's our base of operations…and a home for any abnormal that needs it."

"Where is it…I mean, she?" she asked, navigating the way to the cockpit with both hands holding on to the ceiling rigging to keep herself steady.

"Right over there," he said fondly, then his tone changed as he spoke into his headset, "Guardian Star, this is the Yeti, requesting permission to land…"

"Yeti, this is the Star. Permission granted. Food's warm and beds made. Come on home." was the crackled buoyant reply over the radio attached to Frost's utility vest.

He pointed to his left as he banked the drop-ship, and as she leaned over the pilot's chair she gasped quietly as she saw what her new home would be.

Carving a lazy line through the Atlantic Ocean below, like a huge steel grey water-borne creature, was an old Nimitz-class U.S. Navy aircraft carrier, a relic of the Third World War, thought decommissioned long ago after the rise of Unity. Evidently, like the abnormals themselves, the Star was not so easily quelled.

"Welcome to your new home." Kristoff spoke behind her as he placed a gentle hand upon her right shoulder, the words inflected in such a way that could only mean he was wearing a smile…and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anna nursed the warm sensation of belonging to a family…

…and coming home.

Location: Briefing Room, Guardian Star
Date: Same Day
Time: 20:55

Even though the video screens meant that he was only a vicarious part of the battle, Kristoff knew by the way that Jack and Pitch looked at each other through their goggles that his words had struck a chord of fear within the Ghosts. Pitch had taken cover behind the corner of one the barracks buildings, while Jack was perched on the roof of the warehouse itself, and the understanding of those words had caused them to cease shooting in stomach-churning realisation. Pitch was the first to recover, taking down two clone troops with accurate head shots, but it took a few stray pulse bolts narrowly missing Jack's head for him to come back to reality.

"Okay. Valkyries are coming. No problem." Jack muttered over the com-line, though Kristoff wasn't sure whether it was less of a self-strengthening statement or words of confidence.

"What do you want us to do, Harvester?" Pitch asked, and Kristoff watched as the black-haired Ghost retreated behind cover, pressed the power-cell release button just above the trigger, pulled out a clear glass rectangle and slid a dimly glowing orange one in its place.

"Streak and Flynn need time to load up the Fairy. The rest of Scout Team Red is inbound to provide support. I need you all to buy time for them to finish. We need those fuel cells, and as you're fighting clones...lethal force."

"Got it," said Jack in bright acknowledgement, the prospect of a plan giving him some focus, "Pitch, are you up to a bit of gratuitous violence on these jokers?"

"Always." said his cohort, and to emphasise the point for those watching at home, the screen showed his left hand darting out to guide a sharp sand-tendril into the ribcage of a hapless clone, lifted him off the ground, and then used him to bludgeon his squad-mates into submission.

"Night Fury, I need you to do something you're not going to like." Kristoff spoke in a voice that danced between commanding and apologetic as his eyes flicked to the green-hued screen belonging to the team's air support.

"…and that is?"

"Blow those Valkyries to hell and back."

"…I'm scared," Night Fury sarcastically replied over the comms, "hold me, Toothless!"

The Valkyries' Hela-class drop-ship Valhalla felt, as it always did, vastly superior to the Draugr-class ships that Elsa learnt to pilot two years ago. It boasted increased manoeuvrability, speed and above all, two rotary pulse cannons attached to the main fuselage. It was lighter, easier to handle, and definitely a vessel of war.

The increased agility was about to save their lives.

"We're three minutes out. Valkyries, suit up." Elsa ordered, her eyes fixed upon the distant battle. Even from several miles away, she could see where the communications tower burned like a signal to the gods, and miniscule flashes of blue denoting a fierce battle was taking place…

…and in the midst of that battle was her target.

"What's the plan, Snow Queen?"

Elsa didn't even incline her head to acknowledge Rapunzel's question, mechanically distorted behind the intimidating mask that she and the entire Valkyrie team wore. In fact, their entire uniform was designed to threaten and unnerve - with state-of-the-art specialist body armour that hugged the body for mobility in hand-to-hand combat, wrap-around combat masks that sported technologically advanced goggles and rebreather units for toxic atmospheres, and a three quarter length leather trench coat with an attached hood, all in jet black, they looked every inch the warriors designed to inspire fear.

"We'll land outside the south gate, make our way into the depot, find the Ghosts and incapacitate them. Non-lethal only, but don't be afraid to beat them into submission if that's what it takes."

"Yer really goin' after this Frost laddie, aren't ye?" Merida's distorted voice appeared, the question falling on deaf ears, no words leaving the lips of the Snow Queen.

"Yeah, Bear. She…hang on…what's that?" Rapunzel began, but trailed off as she pointed out of the cockpit screen. Elsa's eyes followed her team-mate's finger, and they rested upon a soft but bright blue glow coming towards them. She narrowed her eyes to thin slits as the light came closer…

…a narrowing that became a widening of horrified realisation.

"Hold on!" she yelled, and sharply wrenched the control column to the right. The Valhalla responded quickly, banking right to avoid a blisteringly fast torpedo of blue fire as it shot past the cockpit, illuminating the interior in a split-second flash of light. The ship violently shuddered as the torpedo of fire clipped the port fuselage, the wailing siren and the Valhalla's diagnostic A.I.'s feminine, good-natured utters of "pulse cannons…offline" indicating the damage that a single glancing hit could do.

Of course, the drop-ship following them wasn't so lucky, and as the other three Valkyries rushed to the port side to peer out into the sky, they were shocked to see its fuselage completely disintegrate in a deafening explosion, thankfully muffled by the metal hull around them.

"Holy shit…" Merida gasped, and then pointed out of the porthole window, "holy shit! Look!"

All eyes except Elsa's followed Merida's finger as it gestured at the left dropship…

…on top of which a jet black winged creature was perched, illuminated by the ethereal light of a full moon and a blue glow tracing along its spine and head, its claws gripping into the metal with such force that holes had been gouged into the fuselage. It let loose an ear-splitting shriek before it darted its head forward, clamped its jaws around the starboard composite wing and effortlessly tore it from the main body, then shot off into the night under a hail of red pulse cannon fire from the other ship, leaving its victim to spiral helplessly to the ground.

All Elsa could hear over the com-line was screaming as the clones fell to their fiery deaths.

"Fuck me…" Merida murmured, "we really need tae take these guys down. Come on, lasses. Let's get ready…hey, Viking? Are ye alright? Earth to Viking, can ye come in please?"

"Huh…wha…" Astrid muttered, barely registering the question, then re-asserting herself as she slowly turned her head from the porthole and met Merida's masked gaze, "oh, yeah. I'm fine. It's just…that thing is scary."

"If the Viking is spooked," Elsa coldly spoke over the mask's com-line, "when we land in one minute, she can stay here and hide."

"Fuck you, Snow Queen." Astrid hissed in an indignant retort, silently noting to herself to never mention what she saw.

In addition to watching the creature easily tear apart a state-of-the-art drop-ship, she also saw its rider. The silent Ghost, his face covered by a mask and goggles, his medium-length hair whipping dangerously with the air rushing past him.

He was looking right at her.

The unnerving sensation had to be, and was, quickly put aside by the brash Valkyrie as with her typical cold voice and the accompanying descent of the drop-ship, Elsa announced they had thirty seconds before they were joining the fray.

Part of her hoped she would meet this rider on the battlefield, the rest of her wasn't so sure.

"Ever get the feeling somebody doesn't like you?"

No matter the situation, no matter how close the threat of capture or death, Jack's sardonic and dry wit was always present, even to the point of inconvenient annoyance. Huddled behind a small chest-high wall of solid ice that Jack created for cover in the centre of the depot, stun bolts zipping overhead from all directions, the situation was feeling less like a close victory and more like a last stand. Nevertheless he was sure to provide morbid humour, even if it did earn a somewhat acidic retort from Pitch.

"No-one likes you, Frost." the taller Ghost scoffed as he raised the rifle above cover and popped off a few blind shots.

"That hurts," Jack deadpanned, placing a hand over his heart in mock offence, "seriously, you wound me."

Pitch laughed, ducking a little when a stray bolt came a little too close for comfort over the increasingly damaged wall of ice.

"If it's any consolation," Pitch smirked behind his mask, "I dislike you the least."

"Awww. That makes me feel so fluffy inside. Serious bromance going on here!" Jack pretended to swoon with the back of his right hand against his head, which then instantly went to his staff to jab it into the neck of a clone that peered over the wall of ice, letting loose a storm of icy lightning into the victim's body.

"Fuck off, Frost. Anyway, remember that pact we made in Mexico?"

"What, bros before hos?" Jack looked genuinely confused as he spoke.

"No, you spoon, the other one." Pitch rolled his eyes.

"Oh…"

Jack's goggled gaze flicked down to the energy pistol resting in Pitch's right hand which, like his own sidearm, was running low on power and only had enough for a few shots. Instead of a line of shimmering blue that cut along the side of the barrel, it was glowing red – which indicated the kill setting, and he was greeted with the memories of the last time he heard Pitch talk in such a way. Four years ago, shortly before a seek-and-destroy mission, Pitch turned to Jack and explained that he would rather die than be captured alive and experimented on by Unity, so if it looked like there was no hope…he was going to set his pistol to the kill setting and shoot himself in the head. He considered capture as dishonourable; therefore it was a case of death before dishonour. At the time, Jack wholeheartedly agreed.

"Yeah…why not. I always wanted to go out with a bang or in this case, pew." he shrugged, setting his own sidearm to kill mode.

Pitch nodded respectfully before quickly darting his head above and back down the dwindling ice wall.

"Well, that moment may come sooner than you think. I count at least forty, and they're all advancing this way. We can't count on Team Red arriving in time. We'll take down as many as we can…but save the last shot, remember?"

Jack nodded, and his hands gripped his staff and the pistol that little bit tighter.

"On three," he said with sober intent, "we take down as many as we can, then…you know. One..."

"Don't do it!" yelled Anna over the com-line.

Pitch shuffled from his slumped position against the wall, ready to dart up and let fly with red bolts of death.

"…two…"

They didn't get to three, as with a deafening buzzing that sounded almost like a feral roar to the ears of the two pinned Ghosts, Scout Team Red's hover jeep rounded the makeshift ice cover, with what would have been called a 'handbrake turn' over a century ago. Jack poked his head above the wall, surprised and amazed to see the vehicle block the Ghosts from any further volleys of stun-bolt fire while one of the team opened a can of whoop-ass on the troopers with the rotary pulse cannon mounted on the back, scavenged from the wreckage of a crashed Hela-class dropship three months ago. They could hear the anguished yells of the unfortunate troopers that didn't reach cover in time before the blisteringly fast salvo of red tore into them, and the overwhelming feeling in Jack's chest was pure relief.

"Sonofa…"

The rest of the team slid out from the five-man vehicle, two of them taking cover behind its chassis while the third tossed some extra power cells to the beleaguered Ghosts.

"Name's Sneak. Heard you guys needed a hand, so your boss sent us. You gonna sit there gawpin', or are you gonna start shootin'?" he grinned challengingly. Pitch's look of almost disappointed surprise swiftly changed to malevolent excitement, and without a word he picked up his rifle, slid a fresh cell into the slot and vaulted the wall to add his violence to the battle.

"Harvester,"Jack said in an almost cheering voice, pressing two fingers to his right ear, "for that, I'm sorry for this afternoon!"

"No you're not," came the customary smooth, deep voice in his ear, "but if you manage to make it out in one piece, we'll call it even. Streak, how's the loading? We're running out of time, the Valkyries just landed!"

"We've got two thirds of them loaded onto the Fairy!"

"That'll have to do! Take off and get your ass to the depot, it's time we left!"

In a split second, Jack entertained the idea that they might just make it out alive. With Team Red providing suppressive fire against the myriad clones, and Pitch gleefully taking down trooper after trooper like it was some sort of game, combined with the fact that the Fairy would soon be on her way to exfiltrate them, it looked like they might just win.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

As he tapped Pitch's shoulder, prompting the taller man to move from the other side of the jeep to the corner of the cafeteria building for a better vantage point, Jack heard a metallic thunk echo from somewhere to his left. Curious but feeling a flash of fear, his eyes roamed around the back of the jeep for the source…and he found it.

An arrow embedded in the floor.

And it was beeping.

Jack's reaction was reflexive and instantaneous. He grabbed the gunner by the back of his camouflage jacket and yanked him off, simultaneously roaring "Take cover!" to anyone that could possibly hear and almost as soon as they both hit the ground, his ability to manipulate ice instinctively rose to the challenge, as without his control a shield of ice rapidly spread from the ground over their bodies to protect them. It wasn't the first time his powers had saved his life, and it wouldn't be the last.

His reaction saved his life and that of the gunner, as before the shield was even halfway complete the jeep burst into fiery light, a deafening explosion heralding the end of its existence. Jack was only vaguely aware of the force of the blast ripping shards of ice from the half-built construct and catapulting them several yards over them, and the anguished yells of shock and anger from the rest of the team. Mercifully, the presence of his mask over his ears as well as the shield had mitigated some of the sonic force of the blast, but it still sounded like a drummer was going to town on a church bell.

"Frost! Frost!" came the yells of Harvester in his earpiece, the voice helping anchor his mind to the here and now, "are you okay?!"

"Yeah…" he found himself mumbling, though his mind didn't give his mouth clearance to do so, "I'm…peachy…"

In his disorientation, though, he felt the strangest of sensations inside him to add to the fear and adrenaline. It was a chill in the air and within, like someone had reached into his being and started to resonate with his gifts, making them react agitatedly like sand in an earthquake. As he staggered to his feet, oblivious to the blue bolts of energy zipping every which way, he blinked a few times and shook his head in an attempt to snap himself back to reality.

It was lucky that he did, because his eyes soon fell upon someone who he really hoped he wouldn't have to face. Rounding the burning wreck of the jeep, its charred husk cast upside down a yard or two away, a Valkyrie approached with all the confidence and single-minded vengeance in the world. He could easily tell she was a woman, by the shape of her hips and how they moved with each step. Part of him wondered if, under that intimidating mask, she was hot…but it was a thought that immediately scarpered upon the sight of her right arm reaching behind her back and drawing out a one-handed shimmering sword. He had never actually seen a Valkyrie before in all their black hooded glory; he had only ever heard the final transmissions of those unfortunate souls they had captured.

"Streak," he muttered into his mask, as he gestured to the scout to run, "please tell me the Fairy is on its way…"

"Just taking off! Hold on!"

Jack nodded and was just about to pick up his staff when Hiro's voice joined the cacophony of noise around him.

"Dude, why don't you just shoot her?"

He smirked with understanding, and with a speed rivalling that of ancient duelling cowboys he pulled his pistol from the holster, flicked the setting to 'stun', levelled it at the Valkyrie's torso and fired shot after shot after shot, nearly emptying the clip. He knew that only four shots were needed to cause irrevocable damage, but in his mind it was either him or her.

There was only one problem, though…none of them had any effect. The force of each bolt impacted her body and forced her to stagger back a few steps, but each hit of the blue torpedoes merely dissipated along her armour and spread around to her back, the blue glow dwindling with each second. Jack felt his stomach lurch with the newfound knowledge that the Ghosts' mortal enemies were impervious to stun-bolts…and probably to the red kill-bolts too.

She laughed. It was a mechanically distorted, challenging laugh and made that chill in his body all the sharper.

"Okay…" Jack heard Kristoff mutter through his earpiece, "…that's new. Can you hold her off?"

Jack tossed the useless pistol aside with an irritated grunt, his goggled gaze fixed on the Valkyrie as she recovered from the eight shots that impacted her chest, spun her sword with a taunting flourish and resumed her strides towards him. With a galvanising breath, he darted down to pick up his staff, whirled it around his body in a display of defensive aggression then finished in his ready position, the left side of his body temptingly vulnerable while the right side hid the staff along his arm. Hiccup once called it the 'come at me bro' pose, especially when he did what he always did, which was use his left hand to challengingly beckon the Valkyrie towards him.

It worked. With a yell, she rushed at him, swinging her sword with both hands in a diagonal arc from her right shoulder aiming for his leg. Instantly, he pivoted to the right and swung the staff to parry the strike, then revolved again with a counter-attack, using the momentum of his spin to fuel a strike into the side of her hooded head, causing her to stagger to the right and hiss in pain. Jack smirked with a little schadenfreude at his flawless counter, reflecting on how he liked to fight in close combat. Tease. Toy with. Offer vulnerability and then snatch it away.

They circled each other, oblivious to the firefight going on around them, only aware of each other's presence and the tunnel vision that came with it. He quickly flicked his eyes down to her breastplate and just about caught a few letters of a rank and a call sign – Val- and Sno-.

She struck again, this time with greater speed and force. Jack barely blocked the first two horizontal swings at his head, and leapt back to avoid the third aimed at his stomach. He knew that she had the edge with her sharpened blade, that while he could cause a few bruises and fractures and most likely irritate the hell out of her, a single strike with raw power from the Valkyrie could cause him severe injury. So, dropping his hands to the lower half of his staff, he resolved to keep her at range.

And it worked, for a time. His parries and counter-attacks were lightning fast, if she swung left, he would parry it away and tag her in the leg, returning the end of the staff to its defensive position with almost instantaneous speed. She lunged with the blade tip pointed at his heart, a strike that he sidestepped, batted the sword down and followed up with a swing at her face, which she agilely ducked, and a swing at the back of her legs, which she jumped over. She spun on the spot and aimed a swing in a huge arc around her body, aiming for any place she could hit which Jack dodged with a rather impressive butterfly kick – something wholly unnecessary, but he always liked to show off.

She responded in kind, and Jack wondered who the hell trained her as he evaded every kick, because she was fluid, relentlessly aggressive, and good. Pivoting on the balls of her left foot and pushing the sword into the ground for extra stability, she aimed a rage-fuelled spinning hook kick to his head, his well-timed duck forcing her to carry the momentum into a reverse sweep kick to try and knock the agile Ghost on his ass – and as he jumped to avoid that attack, she swiftly rose to her feet, pulled the sword from the ground and fuelled all her strength into a horizontal left swing at his abdomen, something that he narrowly avoided with a nearly mistimed backwards lurch. To his pleasure, he could hear her snarls of frustration with each failed strike.

He was barely aware of Pitch rushing past him toward a bright light and a deafening buzzing sound, the scuffle with the woman rendering him oblivious to all else.

"Hey," he began his usual trash talk as he backed away a few steps, "are you really a Valkyrie? I thought you ladies were better than this."

If he was intending to aggravate her, it worked. With a yell, she aimed swing after swing after swing at him, and Jack barely dodged, blocked or parried every one. With every strike she stepped forward, and Jack stepped back, and he knew that eventually, he would tire and she would not. So, he had to toy with her, tease her, make her run out of energy first.

That, and piss her off.

"So tell me," he teased, breathless with fatigue, ducking yet another swing then quickly parrying the following overhead strike, "you seem to have a real hard-on for us. Why is that?"

"You Ghosts killed my parents!" the distorted feminine voice shouted back, the accompanying swing impacting just that little bit harder. Her statement made sense in a way, it explained why she was so relentless, so precise, and why each strike felt like Anna's whenever she was pissed off with Kristoff, Kozmotis or both. It explained why every time he blocked her increasingly rapid attacks, the rising fear for his life resonated with his powers, causing little bolts of frost-like lightning to spark from each contact.

"Wait, what?" he gaped, and in that second of mild confusion he let his guard down. She took full advantage, manoeuvred to his left and swung the sword in a horizontal arc. Jack didn't dodge it quickly enough, and felt the tip of the blade cut right through the back of his vest and into his skin.

He always had a problem watching his six.

"Argh!" he hissed, his eyes clamping shut as a lightning strike of white hot pain shot through his body, his back arching reflexively, and was narrowly able to twist around and dodge the thrust aimed at his belly, but his slower reaction speed left him open to a boot into his chest. He fell backwards with the impact, his staff rolling out of reach. He was down, defenceless, something that the Valkyrie took full advantage of. He sensed her desire to be up close and personal as she sat astride him, drew the sword above her head, his blood still dripping from the tip…but then she hesitated, releasing one hand from the blade and moving it towards the underside of his mask.

He wasn't afraid to admit he was panicking at that moment – the fresh wound in his back screamed at him, the conduit for his offensive abilities too far out of reach, his head still rattling from how hard it hit the concrete ground…and the name of the swordswoman that so easily turned the tables on him – Valkyrie Leader Snow Queen.

"Let's see what you look like…" he heard her mutter, and closing his eyes, he braced himself for the end.

Three minutes ago, Pitch was having the time of his life. Almost as soon as they appeared, he was beset by two of the elite Valkyries in the fairly narrow space between the barracks and the cafeteria, both attacking from either side of him. One seemed to be hesitant and reluctant in her baton-wielded attacks, as though every figurative punch was pulled. The other Valkyrie fought brutally, almost as savagely as he did, yet without his customarily surgical precision. The strikes of her one-handed axe were strong and fast, but easily readable to a seasoned hand-to-hand combatant like Pitch who, unlike Jack, never held back.

He always questioned why his snow-haired ally rarely used his powers against anything that wasn't a clone, to which he received the reply of 'I've seen what happens when a family is left behind'.

However, as far as Pitch was concerned…clone or not, if you're standing between him and his goal you're fair game, especially the two Valkyries whose names he managed to glimpse in the brief pauses between their attacks – Viking and Goldilocks.

It seemed to be a game of who would strike first. Viking would surge forward then freeze, Pitch's momentary reaction to her attack allowing Goldilocks an opening with her twin batons – which as the Ghost found out to his pained anger and the numerous sore spots on his ribs, were charged with electricity – enough to hurt but not cause lasting damage…or kill. When Goldilocks attempted a swing at him he would dodge it, but it left him open to Viking – and the numerous cuts on his body from narrowly evading her axe were testament to both her accuracy and his agility.

Two against one were not good odds, however well-trained Pitch was, and it was no more evident in the sore bruises, electrically-twitching muscles and bleeding cuts across his chest and arms. He needed to put a stop to this. He was done fighting defensively. He was pissed off, and an angry Pitch was a dangerous, nearly sadistic Pitch.

This time, he offered weakness, he counter-feinted the feint. Goldilocks surged forward with both batons aimed at an exposed point on the right of his torso, and Viking followed it up with a downward swing to where she expected Pitch to move – to the left – but he didn't. Instead, he remained where he was…

…because he took pleasure from combat, especially the euphoric pain that was inherent to it.

The batons' tips connected with his chest and sent jolt after jolt of painful electricity through his bones, turning his heartbeat into a viciously fast thudding. With a pained but malevolent smirk he grabbed Goldilocks' arms so she was effectively pinned and aimed a kick into Viking's left side that sent her staggering into the concrete barracks. Taking advantage of the brief pause in combat he roughly twisted Goldilocks' hands away from his chest, the yelp of pain heralding the involuntary twitch that forced her to drop her weapons. He dropped to a crouch and swept a leg at the back of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground, the quick reversal of fortune justifying the screaming pain in his chest as he jerked to his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Viking yelled and swung her axe downwards with the intention of splitting his skull, a move that Pitch spectacularly countered by moving one step back, fluidly grabbing her arm with one hand and wrenching it behind her, keeping her bent double with the other, ignoring the snarling attempts of Viking to twist away from the position he held her in.

Of course, Pitch liked a good bit of fear in combat, and throughout their scuffle he could sense that Goldilocks was the weaker link, the one that had to fight but didn't want to. Mentally snaking a sand-tendril from his spine around her neck, it effortlessly lifted her from the ground, the pressure of the black sandy tendril merely serving to suspend rather than strangle. Her frantic struggles against it faltered as she seemed to understand what he was about to do, and tried to move her head away, to save herself from the sight of what was coming.

"Oh no, dear," he spoke with a breathless, wincing voice and a menacing smile, "don't look away just yet…"

…and with an almighty wrench he dislocated Viking's shoulder. He grinned as he heard the scream of anguished pain erupt from her mask, and contemptuously pushed her to the ground, taking a little too much perverse pleasure in the sounds of her agony.

"Did you just do what I think you did? Pitch, that was too far!" yelled Harvester over the line, prompting a disdainful roll of the eyes.

"No such thing." he muttered, and just as he turned to visit destruction upon the reinforcing clones, an arrow zipped past his head, missed his mask by mere millimetres and embedded itself in the barracks wall to his right. With incredulous eyes he glanced at the projectile, and as the sand tendril drew the helpless Valkyrie towards him, he turned his masked head towards her.

"Who the fuck uses a bow and arrow in this day and age?" he asked with incredulity as though in conversation with a friend, drinking in the sounds of struggling from behind her mask. It was when one of the scouts yelled "watch out for the warehouse roof!" that he spotted her, the third Valkyrie and the owner of that specific arrow, pulling another from a quiver on her back.

He mimicked her motion, his arm movements pretending to draw his own missile back from an imaginary bow – except an arrow of pure black sand materialised where a real projectile would be – and then pretended to let fly. The dark shaft shot off toward the ranged Valkyrie, and he noted with a wide smirk that she wasn't expecting him to return fire and therefore didn't dodge quickly enough. The 'arrow' impacted her shoulder and exploded into a small puff of black dust, the force causing her hands to jerk and drop her bow as she landed with her back on the roof.

"Right back at you with interest, you fascist bitch." he snarled, and contemptuously tossed Goldilocks a few yards away behind him like a rag doll, her body impacting the ground and rolling helplessly away.

"You know, these Valkyries aren't all they're cracked up to be." he muttered into the com-line, and was surprised to hear a response from Hiccup, albeit rushed and a little frantic.

"They're testing us, Pitch – that was close, good going there Toothless – I'm guessing if there's a next time we meet them, they'll know what to watch out for!"

"I sincerely hope there is," Pitch added, "because that was too-"

"Guys, I'm here! Frost is fighting one of those totalitarian bitches, he could use a hand!" Anna yelled over the com-line. Pitch grinned with anticipation as his legs kicked into action, ignoring the repeated protests of his cuts and bruises, toward the bright lights and the buzzing sound of the Fairy hovering in the wide space between the north gate and the frenetic battle, its nose pointed straight at Jack and the other Valkyrie, both completely ignorant of the metallic behemoth's existence.

He rushed past them, narrowly avoiding stray bolts of blue as he sprinted toward the rear exit ramp, passing Flynn who just that second disembarked wielding - to Pitch's fleeting confusion - a frying pan to join the fray. He shot his right hand out to grab one of the handles that help occupants board the ship, using his momentum to gracefully swing into the cargo hold and roughly collide with one of the crates of fuel cells, an 'oof' that escaped his mouth mingling with the metallic clinking of the shaken cylinders.

The orange glow that emanated from the first crate reinforced an already present idea, and with an excited chuckle he scrambled past the closest three crates and plucked one from the top of the first. With the cylinder nestled under his right arm, he navigated his way to the co-pilot's seat, enduring incredulous glances from the masked Anna as he sat down and bent to the right.

"What the hell are you doing? Jack needs help!" she hissed, watching as Eugene appeared like an intervening military angel and disarmed the hooded Valkyrie.

"He's going to get it." Pitch answered calmly, sliding the cylinder into a circular receptacle mounted on the dash just to the right of the co-pilot's control column, a few inches from the floor. The fuel cell easily slid in, followed by three mechanical clicks as the tabs moved into place to keep it secure. The once red lights around the receptacle flickered to green, indicating that power was being drawn from the newly added cell, and the three words that Pitch desperately wanted to hear graced his ears like the seductive voice of an artificially intelligent siren.

"Pulse cannons online."

"Outstanding." he crooned with his hands wrapped firmly around the control column, and once Eugene pulled Jack away from the front of the ship, he pulled the red trigger.

It happened too fast for Elsa to even register.

Sat astride the Ghost, the one known as Frost who she had intended to kill all along, she was seconds from avenging her parents. The curiosity that in all that time he had not used his powers against her had been compartmentalised at that point in favour of the here and now, where she prepared to drive the blade deep into his chest. He was defenceless, he was pinned.

He was hers.

She was so focused, so singularly bent on ending the white-haired man, so convinced that he was at her mercy that she allowed herself the opportunity to see what he looked like under that mask, so rather than pierce his heart with the blade, she held it with one hand where it was, while her other laced itself under his mask.

That moment cost the advantage, as in her distraction both now and over the past ten minutes, she failed to notice the arrival of the Ghosts' drop-ship, and the intervention of a brown-haired man dressed in olive-green camouflage.

The first thing she felt was the sharp pain of something metal impacting her sword-hand with a loud clang, knocking her blade well out of her reach. Hissing with pain, she let herself fall backwards to avoid another horizontal strike from a frying pan of all things, and drew her feet up from under her to aim both of her boots in a double-kick at the man's chest, indignant anger fuelling the blow. He staggered backwards, uttering a satisfyingly pained "unf" with the impact as she rolled to her right towards her discarded sword, taking full advantage of the momentary distance between them. As she scrambled to her feet while simultaneously picking up her weapon from the ground, she snarled with anger as she noticed the brown-haired man quickly yank Frost to his feet with one hand while protecting his chest with the other, both faces pointed directly at her as they backed away towards their drop-ship.

"Good timing, Flynn. Thanks." came Frost's deep, oddly attractive voice as he retrieved his staff, to which 'Flynn' merely responded with a friendly pat on his shoulder.

As quickly as she could possibly react, her right hand drew back her coat and reached for her holstered pistol, intending to stun them both with two quick shots and then finish them off with her blade…but a sound from the drop-ship sent a lightning strike of fear throughout her spine, draining the blood from her face just as she drew her pistol, the sound enough to hasten Flynn and Frost's retreat.

The rotary cannons on the Ghosts' ship were revving up, and they were pointed squarely at her.

Those things were designed to tear holes into enemy aircraft.

Adrenaline kicked in like the stampede of wild buffalo, and keeping her body low she sprinted across the depot as hard as she possibly could towards the first barracks, closely chased by the thousands of red bolts following her, each one charring the ground with a black mark. She wasn't sure how close they were to her feet; all she cared about was reaching cover before her body was torn apart by the anti-air pulse cannon fire…however, she did allow herself to blindly aim her pistol in the general direction of the drop-ship's starboard side, and felt a momentary flash of pleasure when she heard one of the two men yelp in surprise.

And reach cover she did, one bolt narrowly missing the back of her hood as she threw herself to the hard ground behind the concrete wall of the building, the red projectiles thudding into its corner like deadly, horizontal rain. She covered her head with her hands, and only when the constant thudding moved away did she unfurl her fingers and look up to find the red hail of death shoot across the depot, ripping into any clones too slow to find cover. One of them was literally torn apart by dozens of the large bolts, while others found themselves without a limb or two.

Chancing a quick glance around the corner, she allowed herself to smirk as she watched – with his arms hooked under the unconscious man's armpits – Frost dragging Flynn to the loading ramp of their ship.

Metallic whirring reached her ears, ceasing the deafeningly loud rain of death, and she ran from cover into the main depot just as the ship rose higher into the air and turned to leave. Adrenaline fuelling her legs, she sprinted after it as it finished its half-circle turn, but cursed as it slowly took off into the sky.

She cursed even more when she spotted Frost sticking his middle finger at her just before the exit ramp closed and sealed the ship, protectively hiding her prey from her.

"No!" she hissed, firing a few pointless stun-bolts at the back of the ship, each one harmlessly dissipating against its fuselage.

She was so close. So very near to achieving the vengeance for which she had trained for three years, and the Ghosts slipped away as they always did. She still had time, however. There was a chance that they could return to their own personal craft and follow the escaping Ghosts.

"Snow Queen to all Valkyries, report in." she hissed, watching her enemy disappear into the night sky.

"Bear here, still breathing. Jesus, that wasnae pleasant."

"Viking here, just about…my shoulder…that bastard dislocated it." Astrid hissed over the com-line, sounding like she was in a hell of a lot of pain.

"Goldilocks here. I'm coming, V. What happens now? Most of our clones are dead or…not in any shape to fight, put it that way."

"We return to the Valhalla and follow them." Elsa said commandingly, and as she tore her eyes from the sky and turned around to join her squad-mates, a thud of energy hit her shoulder, jerking it back with the impact. With an angry hiss, she looked up to find something she did not expect, but ultimately might prove useful.

Two men, dressed in the same olive green camouflage as the two other scouts she knocked out on her way to engage Frost, taking cover behind a wall of pure ice. She smiled to herself as she strode towards them, the blue bolts harmlessly dissolving against her energy-dissipating body armour, each failure garnering an increasingly fearful look in the unfortunate men's eyes.

She knew that once she incapacitated these scouts then returned to her ship, the Ghosts would be too far away to follow, so maybe these two gentlemen knew where they were going.

Maybe they didn't.

The Inquisitors would find out either way.

COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): 03:05:05:07:59

A/N:

Savage Pitch is savage.

A little explanation here: Anna's flashbacks are basically to serve as exposition for the Ghosts themselves, how she joined and trained to be one of them, what they do and how they do it. Their weapons (both old and current), all of the "historical" background that isn't specifically for the main plot. In a sense, they are the flashbacks to young Matt Murdock in the new Daredevil series, explaining how he became who he is.

That'll be the last bit of combat for a while - but as I said, Jelsa will happen, and it will be glorious and worth it (I hope).

The Immortal Shinigami posed a good point and it's one I'm going to address: this flashback was kind of long as I needed to set up in a sense, how the next chapter is going to flow (variations on the same landing, if you catch my drift). They won't all be that length.

For the Ghosts,

Furiyan