A/N: First I want to apologize to all those who read the previous chapter 10. I'll admit that it sucked. This is not a redo, but an entire replacement. This is where I should have gone with the story in the first place. Looks like it is going to be a while for chapter 11, so please bare with me. I wont be putting up another chapter that I dont feel is absolutely ready ever again. Again, in case you were spared my previous chapter 10, Aimee, I found the term Seraphim when looking up the word Seraph in the dictionary after watching Matrix Reloaded. So as much as I would love to take credit for that term... Anyway, please read and enjoy!
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CH 10 Things We Cannot Change
As it turned out the flight was just as easy to get a hang of as putting on the armor was. The learned the limits of their armor quickly, paying little head to any injuries that they may incur, so they would be best prepared for the fights that lay ahead. Soon night began to fall and the couple decided it was time to return to their base camp in this area. Due to the lateness of the hour, they felt it would be alright to return to their property their on the outskirts without changing back into their civilian clothing.
After stuffing the clothes into the bags, the couple shouldered their bags and started back. The walk was quiet and relaxing after their long day of battle and experiments with the armor. Both were starting to feel the aches from their fight, but not even these could dull their feeling of triumph at their new means of fulfilling their dreams. As they made their way back, they became aware of a glow over the trees in the direction of the village that could not be explained away by the lamps the town employed.
With concern growing in her hear, Rinoa ran towards the village with Squall keeping step behind. They raced through the trees until they finally came to the edge of the wilderness and say the village set ablaze. Men were running trying to fend off the attackers. Groups of these attackers were making their way around the town with torches to light their paths and homes that they passed by. Screams of horror and pain were coming from every direction. In the distance, at the center of the village, a tall and well-armored man set upon a horse watching his men pillage the town.
One of the resisters was brought forward, in the flickering light Rinoa could see her grandfather, his face bruised and blood running freely down his temple. The attackers kicked his legs forcing the old man to kneel before their leader. The horse mounted man appeared to speak to her grandfather, but Rinoa could not make out the words from the distance they were at with all the wails of anguish resounding between them.
Without any warning, the armored man on the horse drew a sword and stabbed her grandfather through the heart. Rinoa's restraint cracked under the weight of yet another of her family was murdered in front of her. The scream of rage that ripped through her heart rent the air. The cry, so loud and mournful, so full of rage unleashed reached every coroner of the town and silenced every other cry. To the innocent the cry was a promise of redemption and salvation. The guilty heard the dark oaths of retribution spoken from the Holy Messengers that brought death on their wings.
Rinoa's blind rage pushed her further than any motivation had ever before in her life. She moved without concern to her own safety or even the safety of the villages. She didn't remember extending her wings, but extended they were as she literally flew through the village. Every attacker that dared bar her way was cut down where they stood. She was vengeance incarnate and would not be stopped by these petty thugs. These dogs following their master to war with the innocent would receive not pity.
Squall could not have stopped her, and would not have. She had lost her family right before her eyes. This was her fight. He would allow her to do what she must. Squall was not about to let her do it without the protection that he could provide, however. She was his life and his life was in pain. That would never do. The war cry he sent to the sky that day would be heard around the world whenever the Seraphim joined in battle. "The Angels of Death and Retribution have come! We have come for your souls!" At any other time Squall would have laughed at his own words, but now they seemed to fit the rage.
Squall set upon the attacking cowards nearest to him, gunblade in hand, raining destruction and death the likes these men had never seen before. The blood of the innocent had called for justice, and justice had come to extract its terrible price from the evildoers. Every swing of the gunblade, every pulsar ammo shot sent the guilty to the Hell they had earned through their actions.
To the villagers, it was as if the Gods of Heaven had sent their most terrible angles to battle the demons among them. No villager dared to move or even blink as the sight before them was forever etched in their memories. Young and old that day saw the madness of the eternal battle between those who would do and follow good, and those who supported the evils of this world. The silver, winged angles rained down upon their opponents in a brutal fashion. They turned aside few blows and would take rifle blasts full on without stopping. The blood of the guilty smeared across their 'skin' as the host of enemies fell before them.
Rinoa saw little of the people she killed in her rush for the armored man. He was all that mattered. His blood and no other would quench the fury in her heart. Would quell the scream on her lips. Would avenge those who had died at this man's hands. The group that gathered around her target fought fiercely, blows she never even saw fell upon her with utter abandon, but did nothing to stop her advance. She was the implacable foe that would not be stopped by their efforts.
The man upon the horse watched in fascination as this angel came for him. He had not moved since her cry had pierced the square. This was his fight, the fight that he had always dreamed of. The dreamed battle against a truly worthy opponent. She moved with a grace and speed that most could not have followed or appreciated. He was not most though. This fight filled him with an excitement that he had not felt in years. As he was thus transfixed, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
Another angel was dealing death to his men with calculated abandon. This angel of destruction, as obviously male as the one near him was obviously female, held a forbidding air about it. The woman's cry of pain gave a rationale to her actions. But the man said nothing; no cry came from his form. He was here for no other reason than to kill the guilty for their crimes. It was not personal and any level the armored leader could understand. It was as cold and calculated as any battle plan had to be in order to succeed. For some reason, this terrified the leader in a fashion that he had never feared before.
Before he could give anymore thought to the male angel, the female was upon him. He caught her attack, a well-aimed kick to his head, on his shield instead. The blow sent him flying from his horse and he crashed to the ground. He picked himself up with the speed he could muster with his heavy armor, covering him from head to toe. This was a fight that promised to be more interesting than any in his life and he would savor it while he could.
Rinoa didn't care about anything else now that she had reached her target. This man would soon be dead. That was all she thought of. That was all she wanted: his blood on her hands. They fought hand to hand, to close for the use of other weapons, every blow causing pain, every blow doing some damage. Rinoa was feeling the impacts just as much as she had with Squall earlier. Squall's confidence in her flashed through her tired limbs, giving them more strength for the onslaught, but it wasn't enough. She had worn herself out fighting Squall earlier that day and the dogs masquerading as humans earlier and it was beginning to show.
Squall's attention was drawn from his downed opponent by the sounds of battle coming from the center of the town square. He saw the blows that Rinoa was taking and his blood boiled. He felt a primal rage that he had never known before. The woman he loved was being beaten and he would not stand for it. The rage reached a peak when he saw the armored man lash out with his sword, catching Rinoa on the back; she had been spun around by a kick to her side mere moments before.
The armored man, caught up in his fight and exaltation as his opponent fell away from him, jerked at the inhuman howl that filled the night. The very air seemed to reverberate with the primal cry. The pitch rose and he grabbed his head, trying to shut out the sound. The armored man squeezed his eyes shut, the sounds resonating through the marrow of his bones. He only opened his eyes when he felt the armor cave around his stomach as he took flight from the terrific blow.
Squall could not see what he was doing. Not on any conscious level anyway. The only thing that mattered was hurting this man. That was all that Squall wanted. It was all he was going after. Gunblade long forgotten on his back, Squall lashed out with hand and foot. The man's armor was collapsing around his body with every blow. With a punch to the man's face, blood began to finally flow from this armored figure. The noses coming from Squall resembled nothing as much as a wolf killing its enemy for threatening the pack. The armored man stumbled back, unable to breath from where the armor was collapsed against his sides, not preventing any room for lungs to expand.
Squall leapt atop his enemy and began to punch its head repeatedly. Again and again the inhuman strength drove the helmet into its owner's face. The man had let out some type of yell, but the repeated punches and the now caved in helmet showed testament to why no more was heard. Still Squall did not stop. He couldn't stop himself. Every fiber within him demanded that he kept going. It wasn't until he heard the sweet sound of Rinoa's voice behind him, telling him that everything was ok, that she was okay, that he stopped the now useless beating.
Rinoa had been in pain when the blow fell across her back, dropping her to the ground and had nearly loss consciousness when she heard Squall's howl of rage. It struck her on an amazingly deep, primal level. She could feel the meaning in his howl as if he had shouted the words aloud. To here it was the sound of love. The love of a man that would not allow anything to hurt her while he was alive to prevent it. Griever, on her finger inside the gauntlets, had warmed in response to the sound.
When she looked up, she could see Squall pounding what had at one time been the enemy that had struck her down. Each time Squall's fist hand landed, the tolling of the gauntlet meeting the metal was a dirge for the un-mourned. Rinoa could see that in his current state, Squall could not tell that the battle was over. Thankfully the smoke from the burning houses prevented the townsfolk from seeing the result of Squall's fury.
The couple stood and looked around. The fires were burning, and all around them were the bodies of both attackers and the innocents. Now, however, the bodies of the attackers far outweighed the bodies of the innocents they had killed. A grim satisfaction set itself over the two avenging Seraphim. Rinoa crouched next to the dead body of her grandfather and collected him in her arms. Without turning to look at Squall, knowing on a new level that he would be there for her always, set off towards her grandparents home to find her grandmother.
Squall followed behind, knowing where she was headed, wanting to give Rinoa some time. Soon, he was set upon with request to help those still inside the burning buildings, which he readily did. These people had suffered enough. It was time to help them prevent any more tragedy within their lives. Squall moved from home to home, pulling people out that could not get out on their own. As he worked, the townspeople began to set up fire brigades to put out the flames. The work was exhausting, having down so much already, but Squall could not stop. He had to see this through. He had been sent to stop this from happening, but it had and he felt responsible.
Rinoa was happy to see her grandparents home still untouched by the fire and more so to see her grandmother inside the sitting room alive and well, watching over some of the local children. Without knocking, Rinoa entered the home. The children screamed as this strange silver skinned being entered carrying their elderly neighbor. Her grandmother rose, anger written on her face as she saw her dead husband. Rinoa knew she could not reveal herself to her grandmother at that moment. She knew that her grandmother would never know that it was Rinoa who brought the dead body of her husband to her.
Rinoa carefully brushed the button to extend her wings. She didn't know how they had become deactivated during her fight with the armored man, didn't know how they had even activated in the first place, but knew that this was the best way. At least her grandmother would have a partial amount of the truth.
Looks of anger and fright were replaced by awe and trepidation as the being before them revealed itself to be an angel. Then it spoke, addressing the elderly woman. "Mrs. Heartily, I am one of the Seraphim, I was sent to protect this place. I'm sorry to say that I failed to protect your husband. Please be of heart, he has been avenged. I must now return and assist with the fires." With that the Angel, the seraph, was gone from the home after laying the body reverently on the floor.
Tears ran down the old woman's face as she looked at her dead husband. Little did she know that mirrored tears of mourning were running down the enclosed face of her granddaughter as she made her way to Squall's side to help stop the fires. Looking directly at Rinoa, Squall whispered to Rinoa, confident she would hear him. "I love you Rinoa. I am here for you when you need me."
These simple words brought a measure of peace to her troubled heart, allowing her to focus on the task at hand. Saving the village from any further damage. Further back in her mind, Rinoa brooded on the murders of her mother and grandfather. Both had stood up and been cut down. Rinoa, too, felt the guilt of having not prevented this tragedy, but could only file this away as one of the many things that happened that she could not change.
She couldn't change what had happened. Rinoa would, however, work so that it never happened again.