Abyssus
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ...Don't you just love cliffhangers? Also, I'm aware this is late. Going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, nothing serious, just general lethargy, I think... :(
...
Chapter Seven – Fight On
It took only half a second for him to right his vision, and as it cleared, Hope leapt back with a gasp, hurling the sharp piece of metal from his left hand, ignoring the dull ache that stabbed him in the stomach as he did so. His back was healing much better, he put less strain on it on a daily basis, but this sort of activity wasn't exactly doing him any favours. He looked around desperately, trying to see where Snow had gotten to. He hadn't seen the man in several minutes, what if he – a gurgling cry drew his attention back to the fight – his weapon had just slashed the throat of the soldier he'd thrown it at. Brutal, but he'd killed a fair share of people in his short life to survive, and if Snow was right, and these people were the cause of the explosion, they deserved to die. He darted forward, ducking into a painful roll to avoid a spray of bullets. "Damn stomach..." He grunted, pausing to regain his equilibrium as his entire world spun, and pain blossomed in his lower body. Once certain he wasn't about to fall over, he retrieved his piece of metal, crying out as two more soldiers were suddenly on top of him. Swinging his weapon like a sword, he took them both out, slicing the chest of the first and burying the end of the spike into the other. He could hear ragged gasps being torn from his body as he shook. This was not good.
Straight away, more troopers poured through the hole in the wall, and he scrambled up, horribly aware that his hands were covered in blood, as was his weapon, making it slippery. He could use a real one. Or maybe he could alter this one to be more useful. The train of thought was cut off as bullets sailed through the air, and a large figure he recognised came hurtling past him. "Snow!" Hope called, jumping back and ducking behind an inner wall – half blown to smithereens.
"Ah, shit, there you are!" The man ducked down and joined him, grasping his arm and giving it a light squeeze, apparently relieved to see he wasn't dead.
Hope grimaced. "We can't stay here!" He flinched and pressed his back against the wall as more bullets smashed into the wall next to him. He was well aware that he was trembling with fright, he hadn't had to fight in years, and he was out of practice. Besides, he'd hardly been brilliant at it in the first place. And he only had to istimed one move, and he'd be dead. The thought made him clench his fists and snarl in fury. No, he had not survived everything so far to die now, from a bullet wound. His thigh hurt, and his stomach was in agony.
"Yeah, think I'm working that one out about now." The older man shouted from across the room, and Hope looked out in time to see Snow kicking one guy in the face and smashing his fist into his nose. There was a savage expression on his face when the blond spun around, jumping down to where Hope was and taking his hand. "We can't fight them in this state, we're both exhausted, and injured. Think you can run?"
"I'm going to have to, aren't I?" With that, Snow took off, kicking down the back door and running out into the sunlight. It blinded Hope, and the boy winced, tugged along behind the older man. He gripped Snow's hand tightly as the pair ran through the cleared valley, painfully aware that they were out in the open and vulnerable. They both stumbled, and the crackle of automatic gunfire rang out behind them. Miraculously, it appeared to miss them, a good thing, as Hope doubted either would survive another hit. He could see the blood coating Snow's clothes, and knew with a sick sort of horror that he'd been shot through more than once. How was he running? How was he even standing? It almost made him think that perhaps there was a chance they hadn't lost their l'Cie capabilities in their entirety – how else would Snow be able to keep up? For that matter, how else would Hope himself have recovered so quickly from so life threatening an injury? He didn't have time to mull these thoughts over as the ground shuddered underneath them.
...
Something whizzed past the pair, and Snow immediately recognised it as a similar projectile to the ones the soldiers had fired at him mid-flight, on his way to Vallis. That seemed like so long ago. He cursed as it hit the ground a little way ahead of them and exploded, throwing them both to the floor. Snow rolled on top of his younger companion and grunted as he was showered in dirt, shrapnel, and goodness knew what else. Great, so now they were firing missiles at the pair, too? It just seemed like massive overkill! Someone was really, really determined to destroy them. Hope shoved him. "Get off me you idiot, don't just lie there and wait to get..." The younger boy trailed off, eyes widening a little.
"What...?"
"We've got to get somewhere safe. Now." Hope didn't continue, tugging the older man up. Snow's head swam as, suddenly, he was the one being pulled along. He struggled to make sense of his surroundings, and almost immediately, this made him panic. He wasn't used to not being in total control, and this feeling was dangerous. He'd experienced it once or twice before, but couldn't place exactly where. His ears rang from the explosion, and smoke billowed around them as Hope stumbled along in front of him. Smoke. Smoke was a good thing, right? It meant the soldiers behind them couldn't see them. "Hope...?" He coughed, uncertain as to the reason behind the boy's sudden urgency.
"You're a freaking mess, Snow..." The boy howled back from in front of him as the noise – around him, or was it just in his head? – reached a new crescendo, the ringing in his ears making his head pound with its inexhaustible relentlessness. He stumbled for what must have been the hundredth time, almost dragging the smaller boy down with him. The blonde man's vision swam, and the colours seemed to run into each other and meld as he swayed, feeling nauseous. This wasn't like him at all, now, was it...
More noise, and a curse from in front of him, and very suddenly, he was thrown to one side, and boulders the size of himself began to rain down around him. Now what? What, was the whole valley crumbling in on them now, as well? Disorientated, he felt rather than heard Hope's desperation and insistence that he move. He obeyed the boy's hissed commands, not even sure what they were, but hopeful that his body would just continue without his frazzled brain to guide him. He could feel his young companion struggle with his weight, and attempted to stand on his own two feet when he realised he was in fact, being dragged along. A muffled groan followed by a vicious bout of hacking coughs, and it was several seconds before Snow realised the noises were his own. He panicked, stumbling sideways, relying on Hope to keep him moving and...balanced.
...
It wasn't half a struggle supporting Snow. He was still nearly twice Hope's size, if not in height, certainly by weight, and every time the older man stumbled, he would pull on Hope's already screaming muscles. The youngster kept moving up the valley, trying to find some sort of gulley or pass they could hide out in. Their situation was becoming more and more helpless, as their ruthless pursuers did their utmost to destroy them both. Why, though? What was the point? Hope tried desperately to work it out even as the noise behind them faded. He continued to scramble away, thankful for the smokescreen and rocky barrier the soldiers had unwittingly provided them with when they'd blown up enough of the cliff to send it tumbling down almost on top of them. Hopefully they'd assume the pair had been buried amongst the rubble, and not give chase. He didn't know what more the exhausted pair could do if they did follow.
Hope yelped, half collapsing onto Snow as the other sank to the floor. The elder had finally run out of energy, it seemed, and despite how close the soldiers probably were, part of Hope could no longer be bothered to force him into action again. Several times in their run, he'd had to chivvy the elder along with barked commands, and, as if in a daze, Snow had complied. He simply pulled the dead weight that was Snow's body into a fissure that seared the valley wall in half. It was easily big enough to accommodate them – probably too much so – he thought, it would be awfully obvious to anyone walking past that this was where they were. But...it couldn't be helped. They'd either recover here, or die here. Morbid, but with sick, terrified realisation – true.
Tired green eyes glanced around, and as his head followed, his neck throbbed painfully. He'd probably strained it. He didn't think there was a muscle in his body he hadn't pulled or strained, no bone that wasn't broken, fractured or bruised. He felt physically and emotionally drained, and nausea swelled in his stomach. With a cry, he dry heaved, before actually vomiting onto the ground. Enough was enough, surely. He wanted to cry, but realised that such an activity would be counterproductive. Common sense overruled panic, and it was with some degree of bitter anger that he remembered exactly who had taught him about being calm in desperate situations. He hoped Lightning was alive. She had always been a great source of strength to him, and if she was gone...he would bring these bastards down himself. His head swam, and once again his consciousness wavered, threatening to pull him under once more.
Snow. Think of Snow.
He shook his head with a muffled groan as he opened his eyes and tried to focus on his motionless companion. Snow and Lightning. Snow needed his help, and Lightning had told him she believed in him. He had to trust her judgement. He had to, or he'd lose himself to utter despair. He hurt all over, but he was, at least, conscious, so he had to focus on his blond companion. The only movement he could detect was the rough, ragged rise and fall of the older man's chest, which was only slightly reassuring. As the boy tiredly pushed his hair from his face and tugged the now very squashed and beaten up rucksack out from underneath Snow, he fought the rising nausea as he rummaged around for the med kit, cursing when he found that it had come apart, and the bottom of the bag was littered with unrolled bandages and smashed bottles. A groan. Hope pulled out some of the pills from the bottom of the bag. There was no way for him to tell which ones were which. He knew the thin white ones were painkillers, Maker knew he'd taken enough of them in the last few days.
Frustrated, he flung the loose pills away, where they hit the valley wall and scattered. Hope plunged his hand back into the bag, only to cut it open on some of the loose shards of pill bottle glass. He cried out in frustration. This was ridiculous, not only was his head swimming and his eyes struggling to focus, he couldn't even get something out of a bag properly. He swayed on the spot, sucking clumsily on his cut finger. It occurred to him that his thigh was likely bleeding from where he'd been shot. Funny. How had he forgotten that? He glanced down, only for his head to swim even more at the sight that met him. Not as gruesome as a metal spike through his stomach, but torn flesh and steadily dripping blood was not a pretty sight to look at. Steeling himself and thanking the maker that it was only a flesh wound, he picked at the torn shreds of clothing around the injury, tugging them away from the sticky skin with yelps and winces. Ones he quickly muffled, terrified that they'd be discovered in their admittedly not particularly well thought out hiding spot.
He didn't think he even had the energy to stand up, let alone start fighting again.
...
Fang was utterly fed up of running into people who were trying to kill her. In their last incarnation, that was basically what she and Vanille had had to put up with right from the start, and it appeared that that was the case this time around too. And Fang was not amused. Turning her eyes skyward as she dispatched another hapless solider – a woman this time, by the sound of the choking scream – she groaned. "Would it kill you to give us a break? Just a little one?" From beside her, Vanille grabbed her arm.
"Lets go, Fang..." She murmured in that beautiful, musical voice of hers. Fang's frustration made itself known with a long-suffering sigh as she nodded. She tried not to think about the two dead women lying at her feet. Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed. Shaking her head, she and Vanille continued towards Vallis City, which, even from this distance, they could see was full of swarming soldiers. "We'll bypass it, right, Fang?" Vanille murmured. "We can't fight them all off down there."
"No. We'll head straight through to Vallis Media and up the valley there. As long as we're moving quickly, we can go straight past them, double back, and attempt to find out more with the relative cover of the valley. Out here, we're too in the open." And they left, heading up towards Vallis Media, an almost otherworldly silence descending upon them. There was little to say, after all, what with both of them being so preoccupied with their own thoughts, wondering why they were back, what it was for, and why someone was destroying the brand new incarnation of Pulse. Fang was well aware that Vanille's thoughts lingered on their friends from before, particularly Sazh and Hope...she'd always preferred Snow and Lightning, herself, but then, they were warriors, like her. They knew how to fight, and they knew how to risk their lives for the sake of others. She knew that all too well, she mused, glancing at Vanille, who was staring into space, although Fang was well aware that she was still on high alert. How the younger always managed to pull that dazed look off was utterly beyond her.
She found it excessively cute, however. And who was she kidding, she found Vanille cute in her entirety. This train of thought was cut off as quickly as it was idly reflected upon. She couldn't afford to hover over thoughts of Vanille, not when there was so much else to think of first. It was dangerous, and despite the fact that she was well aware the feelings were mutual, and that Vanille adored her a much as she adored the younger girl, they'd never had a spare moment to think about it together. Fang knew she probably needed to, but it wasn't something she was good at, and it wasn't as though Vanille would ever make the first move. Whilst she was sure of Vanille's feelings, she didn't think the younger was sure about Fang's. She never really paid enough attention. Unless she did, and – damnit she was back on this train of thought again. Luckily, Vanille herself shook it from Fang's mind when she spoke again.
"I wish we would find someone. Someone from Pulse." Her younger companion said softly, as they traversed the plains, keeping out of sight of the many patrols of soldiers. They were used to fighting, they both were, but the harsh reality of it was starting to sink into them both, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. They were killers. They'd fought their way across the plains, destroying everything in their path for a goal they weren't even sure they knew. Fang shook these morbid thoughts from her head, focussing on moving forwards. They had to find out what was going on, neither were capable of just idly sitting by while innocent people were dying. Unless there was no-one left. It was a chilling thought, and it didn't help Fang's conscience justify their slaughter as she hoped it would.
Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed.
...
Author's note: ...hard chapter to write. Sorry for the shortness – a part I ended up getting rid of took a chunk out of the word count, but it didn't fit very well, and the chapters are all planned out, so I couldn't really get away with writing more! Anyway, you've all been wonderful so far, despite the slow start. Thanks so much, don't forget to review! :P
Snow's part in this chapter was meant to be confusing. I was trying to convey his own utter bewilderment at that point, and ended up hunting down some good music to help me out. I hope it made a vague sort of sense. It was an addition I put in afterwards. Comments? :P
Next time: Snow finds he isn't as invincible as he thinks, and Fang and Vanille discover other survivors.
