A/N: Updating a bit early again because I'm not sure if I'll have time tomorrow (again).
Warning: Dark chapter. Allusions to torture. Nothing too graphic.
XXXXXXX
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Red Bullseye
Grimm were everywhere. They covered the streets, the buildings, and part of the sky, cloaking the City of Vale in writhing darkness. Yang slid beneath a Beowolf's pounce, shot a Beringel through the head, and grabbed a member of the White Fang before shooting them through a store window. The glass shattered and small, bug-like Grimm crawled out through the broken window like ants. Yang set them on fire and moved on, scouring the sea of black for a splash of red hair.
Instead she saw many colors as civilians fled the horde. Yang's steps had taken her further and further away from Beacon, out into the still-populated parts of Vale. While most fled the city in whatever vehicle they could find, a few civilians had taken up arms in the vein of household objects. Pans, knives, pitchforks, gardening tools, and what sounded like a chainsaw. They were more focused on getting others out than chasing the Grimm so Yang left them to it.
She propelled herself over a truck and landed on an Ursa fist-first. The Grimm exploded into a splatter of black gore and she shook its fading gunk from her hand. A Nevermore dove towards her but she shot it from the sky. Its body struck a building and plummeted into the streets below, landing on top of a car. A Beowolf snarled at her but a small stone hit it in the eye. It yelped and she took it down in a punch. She found her helper and was less surprised than she should be to find a young by with a slingshot.
As a shadow fell over him, Yang grabbed the boy and rolled under a truck. The Griffon landed on the vehicle with enough force that the windows shattered. The boy flinched in Yang's arm but remained quiet, clinging to her coat. Yang hushed him and gently unwound his fingers from the fabric.
"Watch this." she whispered and winked.
She rolled out. The Griffon only had time to blink at her before she fired into its open maw. Its body fell on the car and the alarm began blaring. Yang pulled the kid out from under the truck and took off at a run.
"Where are your parents?"
The kid shrugged. Yang punched a Creep and kicked a Beowolf's head off. The kid sat passively in her hold. He might be in shock and the closest hospital was on the other side of town. Before Yang could consider swearing in front of a child, he grasped her right arm, tracing the lines with his fingers.
"Your arm is a robot." he whispered.
"Sure is." Yang grunted, sending another Creep flying.
Ahead, a group of civilians were rushing to a van. The driver ushered them into the back before running to the left side. He spotted Yang and waved frantically at her.
"Hurry up!"
Yang gave the boy to an elderly woman, who murmured softly to him as she rocked him, and scanned the street. Among the swarm of writhing blackness and prowling Grimm, she did not spot any more people. None that were moving, anyway. She was about to tell the driver to leave when a high-pitched scream sent her running back down the street.
An Ursa crouched next to an overturned food stand, paw swiping under the twisted metal as a young voice shrieked. Yang landed on the Ursa's back and punched it in the back of its skull. The bone shattered under her fist and she shook it off as the Grimm crumpled beneath her. Yang crouched down to see a father and his daughter huddled under the cart, staring at her with wide eyes. There was no time for them to process they had been saved.
"There's an escape vehicle." Yang said. "Go."
The man grabbed his daughter and ran. The other civilians dragged them onto the van and it took off, tires squealing. Yang saw movement in the distance and blocked the shot that would have taken out one of the tires. A few childish shrieks sounded over the roar of the engines as a few of its younger occupants saw the shots hit the road around them.
Yang glared at the rifle wielding, bear-eared White Fang that dropped from the second story of one of the abandoned apartment buildings. The woman was unrepentant as she aimed at the van again, firing at it as it sped off.
Yang blocked each shot with her gauntlets, her anger mounting the longer she looked at that white-masked face. For a moment, she wondered if Blake knew this Faunus. Could this woman be one of Blake's old friends? Then Yang realized Blake would never be friends with someone who tried to murder children.
Her vision turned red. "Get out of my way."
The White Fang's Aura vanished in a flash of red beneath her fist. Yang shoved by her crumpled form and took off. She kept heading through the chaotic city streets, slowly and unintentionally running towards Beacon. She spotted Coco mowing down swaths of Nevermore with her gun but did not stop to greet Team CFVY's leader. She saw Dove stabbing a Beowolf but did not ask how he got there. She passed Huntsmen, civilians, Grimm, and White Fang alike, searching only for red.
Green found her instead, blasting a Griffon before it could land on her back. The Grimm crumpled behind her and her assistant twirled his flamethrower to rest it on his shoulder.
"Ms. Xiao Long!" Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck greeted her rapidly. "It is good to see you out fighting again." His sharp eyes scanned the empty street around her and a frown played at his lips. "Where is your team?"
"Around." Yang said shortly.
Oobleck's gaze softened. "I ran into your father. He told me what happened to Ms. Belladonna. My condol—"
"Have you seen Adam?" Yang interrupted.
Oobleck looked at her over his glasses. "I have not seen the White Fang's leader. Peter and Glynda are around here somewhere organizing the evacuation effort. Perhaps—"
The hairs on Yang's arm prickled. Around them, the Grimm collapsed, with a few Nevermore and Griffons plummeting from the sky. Yang did not waste time questioning their fall. She raced through the street, killing all the fallen Grimm as she passed. She had just shot the last Griffon when a Beowolf stirred, snarling as it rose onto his paws. Its eyes rolled back and it crumpled, and a second later a shot went through its skull.
"Take that you demons!" Lovino shouted, weapon rattling as his arm shook.
He fired and hit a Nevermore as it fell, but Yang had a feeling it was due to luck more than ability. She adjusted her assumption when he fired again and got a Griffon right in the eye, bringing it down. Lovino yelped as it hit the ground in front of him and slashed it with the edge of his shield, nearly decapitating the Grimm. Jett grabbed his arm before he could do it again, grin so wide it looked ready to split his face.
"See? I told you you could do it!"
Lovino shot him a look that somehow conveyed both anger and terror at the same time.
"Thank you for the assistance." Oobleck greeted them cordially, but Yang could see him looking them up and down, seeing everything from their weapons to the stability of their stances. "You aren't my students so I'm afraid we haven't met."
"I'm Alfred and Matthew's other brother." Jett said briefly.
Oobleck brightened. "You are? Oh, what an opportunity! If you have the time could you tell me what it was like living in the Wilds? I'm sure historians of the future would love to—"
"No offense, Prof, but this is not the time." Jett interjected quickly.
"It's Doctor." Oobleck corrected. "But you are correct." He raised his flamethrower and set a Beowolf alight. "Let me bring you up to speed. The Huntsmen are trying to clear a path for evacuations. However, I fear the Grimm's numbers are growing by the minute."
"There's an opening on the east side. You should tell them to focus there." Jett reported, eyes glowing green.
"How do you know, young man?" Oobleck asked.
Jett did not correct his assumption. "My Semblance lets me see through animals' eyes. There are a whole bunch of loose pets and birds around."
"Can you find Adam?" Yang demanded.
Jett hesitated. "Maybe."
Yang grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "Let's go."
"Don't leave me behind!" Lovino yelped and ran after them.
Oobleck watched them depart and faced the horde of Grimm, weapon in hand. He sighed. "Do not throw your life away, Ms. Xiao Long. The future is upon us, and I'd prefer you live to see it."
XXXXXXX
They had made it to the courtyard. As she spotted the broken Huntsmen statue just outside the school, Ruby could hardly believe it. It helped that Arthur, Weiss, and Winter indiscriminately blasted everything in their paths, clearing large swarms of Grimm or at least pushing them back.
Ruby dodged a Creep and nearly tripped over the Huntsman's fallen arm. It was crushed to dust under a Griffon's talons. Ruby shot the Grimm off the desecrated statue and looked ahead, breath catching in her throat.
Beacon tower was a mere shell of what it once was. The once proud Academy for Huntsmen was hollow and frail, left broken by the monsters it had been built to hold at bay. Most of the windows were shattered and the roof had more holes than an unfinished garden, yet stone stubbornly held onto its shape. Ruby could hear the wind whistling through the gaping cracks and holes. Seeing the skeleton that was once her school, she wondered if she touched it, would the whole building collapsed beneath her hand?
What would Blake think, if she were here to see what Beacon had become?
"Down!"
Francis grabbed Ruby and yanked her behind the base of the broken Huntsmen statue, crouching down and covering her red cloak with his body. The others ducked behind chunks of stone as a gigantic shadow passed over them.
The Grimm Dragon ignored the puny humans and glided until it landed on the tower. The Dragon clung to the side of the building and clambered up it. Chunks of glass and rubble rained down on the courtyard, leaving a layer of dust and debris. A large chunk of rock hit a Beowolf but the Dragon did not spare its dead kin a single thought. It settled on the tower with the ease of a creature used to its perch and released a thunderous roar.
"Oh, look. Tweety's back." Arthur growled.
Nora scowled and gripped her hammer, raising it.
Weiss grabbed the weapon and forced it down. "I don't think that can take it out."
"Then what can?" Nora hissed. "Even if we get the twins and come out, that thing will be waiting for us. Best to take care of it now while we have time."
"Alfred and Matthew don't have time." Weiss insisted. "We just need to get inside. The Dragon can't follow us into the building."
"Feliciano, can you make us all intangible?" Francis asked.
The Italian's wide eyes never left the gigantic beast. He silently shook his head, visibly shaking.
"As soon as we move the Dragon's going to swoop." Nora predicted. "We need to fight it."
Weiss's teeth ground audibly. "We need to—"
"Enough arguing." Jaune interrupted sharply. "JNPR will distract the Dragon."
Ruby's gaze snapped to him. "What— No. We're not separating."
Jaune did not look at her. He stared at the Grimm Dragon, watching as it settled atop the top with insolent apathy, as if Beacon tower was just another perch. "Nora's right. The Dragon needs to be taken care of or it'll just keep spawning Grimm. You get Alfred and Matthew out."
Pyrrha looked from the Grimm Dragon to him and nodded in agreement, adjusting her grip on her weapon. "We can do this."
Ruby's mouth went dry. "But—"
"I will assist them." Winter interrupted. She flicked her sword and glyphs appeared behind her. "Stop Salem."
Thousands of tiny white Nevermore swarmed the Grimm Dragon. It screeched and swatted at them, large eyes peering irritably down at the humans. Winter raised her sword as Jaune's white Aura surrounded her and slammed it into the ground. Ice spiked through the courtyard and up the tower, freezing the Dragon in place. Cracks instantly began forming across the glacier.
"Go." Winter commanded, and she and Team Juniper dove out of cover.
Even with all her reflexes, Ruby was the last to move as her own team followed across the courtyard. They slammed into the prowling Grimm and tore through them, ripping any apart that stood between them and their goal. JNPR and Winter fell back and Ruby glanced behind her, eyes locking with Jaune's. His stern gaze softened and he smiled at her, mouth moving in an inaudible promise.
"See you later."
Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, Ren, and Winter halted at the base of the tower.
Above them, the Grimm Dragon broke free of the ice and roared at the Huntsmen and Huntresses.
Ruby, Weiss, Arthur, Francis, Feliciano, and Penny had already passed through the broken door into Beacon.
XXXXXXX
Germany, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Finland, and Prussia sat silently in an airplane with an elite squad of American Marines, headed to the eastern coast of North Carolina. After hasty introductions— thank goodness this squad already knew about the existence of nations— the ride had passed with barely a word spoken between them.
The squad leader was none other than Agent Tarleton, who sat stiffly near the front, only moving to occasionally stare at his hands. A small net hooked to the wall of the aircraft rattled as the plane hit a bit of turbulence, but Germany ignored the sound in favor of Tarleton's ringing phone.
"Report." was Tarleton's greeting as he answered his phone. He listened a moment and eventually hung up, looking to the nations and his men.
"Target A is furthest away in the Rockies. Target B— our target— is by Maryland. Target C will hit DC in an hour." the American agent's gaze hardened. "We've got its location and Unit C's eta is twenty minutes." He glared at each of the soldiers and nations. "Remember why we're here. If the fighter jets do nothing, we might have to get these guys—" He nodded at the nations. "—up close and personal. Your duty is to mow down the lesser Grimm the Spawner creates and get the nations through. Don't be the reckless fool from the movies and think you can run up and stab the thing yourself. No stupid heroics, you hear me?"
A chorus of sharp "Yes sir"s rang throughout the hold. Germany saw one man grip his locket before tucking it back back into his uniform. The nation closed his eyes and silently exhaled, focusing on the mission ahead.
Unit C was Lithuania, Poland, Denmark, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein's group, the third unit out of the three to be accompanied by American forces. Germany hated splitting the Taskforce up but there was no other choice. Three Spawners were headed for America's capital, and although the B-team was on their way, they may not arrive in time. That left seventeen nations, the Marines, and America's other Armed Forces— mortal, Auraless, brave men and women— to stop the beasts, or at least hold them off until they figured out how to stop them. Germany remembered the harrowing fight with the Fox Spawner and internally shuddered.
"Has the president been evaced?" he asked.
"Him and most of the east coast." Tarleton's lips twisted into an unhappy smirk. "There's a Category 5 Hurricane Salem coming through. It's going to affect the whole region."
Germany almost had to shake his head at the name. Americans had the oddest sense of humor, even in the bleakest of times. "Do you think people will fall for that?"
"If they don't, they likely won't be alive to share." the agent said grimly.
"That won't stop them." Finland said quietly.
Thinking of the technology available today, Germany had to agree. The world is going to change after this fight. He was not sure he was ready.
But at least the nations' identities would be safe if they were seen. Tarleton had given each of them masks that covered most of their faces, hiding them.
If America were here he'd make a comment about superheroes, Germany mused. But we're not superheroes. Besides, these masks cover our whole faces, while those domino masks would do nothing to hide their identities… He paused and hid a grimace, which was rather redundant since he was wearing a mask. At least we don't have codenames.
Austria abruptly sat up, looking out the window. "Why are we not landing?"
Germany followed his gaze and saw they had passed over the coastline and over the water.
"Relax." Tarleton said dryly. "We're going over the Chesapeake to southern Maryland. The Spawner Grimm should pop up there."
"Pop up…?" Austria said faintly. His skin blanched. "It's a sea creature?"
"Weren't you listening?" Prussia asked scathingly. "Yes, it is a sea creature. Specifically it's a..."
He trailed off, jaw dropping as he gaped out the window. Germany followed his gaze, heart beating slightly faster as he looked down at the water. Below them, the waves rippled, and gigantic black tentacles stretched up from the depths, followed by humongous red eyes. A few planes flew around it, firing rapidly, but the tentacles flicked them from the sky, sending the burning wreckage crashing into the ocean. Rather than feel terror at the sight, Germany was dully not surprised.
"Of course it's a Kraken."
XXXXXXX
America lay on his back on the floor beside the altar in the Relic of Choice's chamber. His glazed gaze stubbornly followed the lines of the architecture and not on the movement he would see if he looked down. His right leg was spread out to the side, the fibula messily snapped and positioned at a purposely unnatural angle, while his left was bent at the knee with knives through his foot. His right arm was also pinned, while his left was free and allowed to feebly try to push Roman off of him. It was useless. The criminal may as well weigh a thousand tons for all America could move him.
Roman had— knowingly or unknowingly— taken a page from the ex-soldier's book and decided America's personal space was no consequence. In fact, space between them was nonexistent ever since Salem let Roman loose. If the criminal was not laying on top of America with his face mere inches from his victim's, he was mockingly leaning against America's bent leg and using his victim's knee as an arm rest as he carved pictures and slurs into America's chest, stomach, and thighs. No amount of feeble shoving could push Roman away. His attempts had only made the criminal laugh so America soon gave up, letting his hand fall limply to the ground.
Vale went silent long ago, and America did not blame her for retreating into the depths of his mind to escape reality. Almost every inch of his skin— that was not covered in cuts or bruises—had small cigar burns to fill in the untouched space. A new, sharp pain from icy metal joined the mass of ignited nerves that was his body and he shut his eyes. Tears gathered in his eyelashes and he muffled a pained gasp with his free hand. Roman finished cutting and pulled back, admiring America like his bloodied and broken body was an exquisite piece of art.
"That was a lot of work but damn it felt good." he sighed, voice slightly breathless. "I thought blowing up those airships was fun but this. Even when you choking on your blood and can barely move, you're so durable. Anyone else would be dead right now but you decided to stick around just to entertain little old me. Thanks, buddy. I almost love you for your unwillingness to die right yet." He smirked. "It lets me finally be free to do as I please. I don't even have to worry about killing you too quickly or any damage I cause."
A hand caressed America's face, deceptively gentle, and he closed his eyes again. He felt Roman's body shift and felt sharp metal touch his skin but kept his eyes shut, even as the man's returned weight made his body scream with pain. Smoke-scented breath tickled his cheek.
"Though I admit I'm a little disappointed." Roman whispered in his ear. "You didn't even scream for me. Couldn't you at least struggle a little bit? Or even wiggle. Just a little something to let me know you feel my knife. You don't even tense up around my blade anymore. It's not as fun when you lay there like you're already a corpse. And I'm still waiting for some begging. Come on, aren't you all about making dreams come true?" When America failed to move he grabbed his chin. "Oi, I'm talking to you."
America remained limp and unresponsive. In his mind's eye, he saw people fleeing from swarms of Grimm. Was that Vale or Washington DC? He could not tell. Their terror and grief were lances of pain through his heart, and when Roman snapped his left wrist and shattered his hand he barely felt it. The criminal huffed and let his broken arm fall back to the floor. He idly stabbed America in the side, adding yet another wound to the countless ones there, and yanked the sacrificial dagger back out. America did not react.
Roman grumbled in discontent. He briefly brushed the golden leaves of the Relic— even with all the puncture wounds and blood, they still were unblemished on America's skin— before his fingers slid around and traveled down America's back, ruthlessly jabbing every burn and stab-wound as they went. America felt Roman's fingers trail along his spine, leaving fire in their wake. His consciousness mercifully wavered and he had a moment to hope he was falling unconscious. He rejected that desire and his senses came back too quickly as Roman jabbed him in the thigh with his cigar. Roman hummed and tapped America's abdomen with the burning cigar, ignoring how he flinched.
"I almost got you whimpering." Roman mused out loud. "That's not good enough. So maybe I should switch things up a bit and try to leave my mark. Maybe leave a little something in..." He waved a finger vaguely in the air before laying it down. "...here." He traced circles on America's lower torso, right above the Relic's curve. Everywhere he touched him, he left burns and cuts behind. "I want to give you something for you to remember me by. Like you remember your artistic friend. I'm not as creative as him, so I'm not sure my messages would stick to your skin. If I left my cane stabbed in you, would you heal around it and keep on breathing or no?"
America could not respond even if he wanted to. Roman had already slashed his throat— though not as deeply as Emerald had to Canada— and he was pretty sure the sacrificial dagger had hit a lung, just missing his heart. His best guess as to why he was not dead was either the Relic of Choice was keeping him alive or his connection with his own nation was frantically working to keep him breathing as Vale's weakness tried to pull him into the afterlife. Possibly both. Either way, it left him in a strange state of limbo, unable to heal, but not yet able to die.
Like Mattie.
America forced himself not to think about Canada. He could not risk his desire to pass on like his twin being seen as another "choice." He was in pain, and he would die soon, but not yet. He wanted to live, because dying would bring everyone else down with him.
"Not that you're going to live much longer anyway." Roman added. "I admire your fortitude, but this is too much. I slit your throat. I stabbed you in the chest so many times I've lost count. I have reverently explored every inch of your body, and most of it is broken and bloody. I'd give you some scars like mine— maybe around the eyes and in that big mouth of yours— but you still haven't begged yet and I think I want your friends to recognize your pretty face." He paused mock-thoughtfully. "Oh, wait. They'll be dead before they find you."
America opened his eyes and stared past Roman. They snapped shut as Roman moved— piercing and icy and sharp and stop stop stop stop stop— and the tears slipped silently down his temples.
"Aww, did I scare you?" Roman crooned. "Here, let me make you feel better."
America braced himself and muffled a scream, biting through his lip. He did not let himself think about the pain or Roman. He did not allow himself to comprehend his situation and begin to desire death to escape it. A particularly bad attack— a King Taijitu had forced its way into a hospital— made him lurch in agony.
Roman laughed ecstatically. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Keep on writhing, Blue."
I want to live, America chanted, breath hitching as his body jerked in pain. I want to live. I want to live...
A particularly sharp pain ripped up his spine and his legs went mercifully— but too briefly—numb. Eventually Roman got off of him and stood up, leaving America trembling on the floor. There was no part of him left unhurt. Instead of cells, his body was made up of varying degrees of pain. When he tried and failed to curl in on himself he barely noticed the shocks of pain from his broken leg as he moved it. Roman idly watched him struggle as he pulled on his coat. He adjusted the sleeves, then studied the red stains on them critically. He shrugged.
"I took this off and still managed to get it dirty. That's the price for being up close and friendly with a bleeder, I guess." He looked to Salem. "I broke into the Vault but I just couldn't reach your Relic. Sorry, boss. I did my best."
"You did." Salem agreed. She glided over from where she had been watching the whole ordeal and glared coldly down at America. "Even after all that, you kept your desire to live. How… admirably irritating." She crouched next to him, not touching him, and her hand hovered over the Relic of Choice's leaves. "Perhaps, deep down, you enjoyed this encounter. Maybe you think you deserve it. After all, if you truly wanted Roman to stop, why did you not decide you wanted him to die?"
America's breath hitched. In his mind, Vale stirred.
Roman chuckled nervously. "Let's not give him any ideas, boss."
Salem said nothing. She rose to her feet and loomed over America. "You are going to die, Vale. You are already dead. What you have now is a shadow of life, because if not for the Relic inside you, you would have stopped breathing hours ago." She leaned forward, malicious and remorseless. "So give up, or I do believe Roman is willing to find more places to impale you."
"You bet I am." Roman said, knives in hand and teeth bared in a wide grin.
"She's right." Vale whispered, voice slurred and shaky like she was also in pain. "We're not going to make it at this rate. My capital is under attack. It's in ruins. If we didn't have the Relic we'd be dead. If I didn't have you I'd be long dead..."
A Nevermore flew through a building. The structure crumbled in on itself. Blood bubbled at America's mouth and his eyes fluttered, slowly shutting. He distantly heard Vale at the back of his mind, but it was almost like she was talking to him through water. Her words were distant and muffled.
"This is my fault. It's all my— No. It's Salem's fault. And Cinder's. And Atlas's. Not mine, or yours. Never yours. You weren't meant to be a part of this. You were taken from your world and drafted to be Remnant's savior. I can't undo that. I can't stop that. But I can stop you from falling with me."
A part of America tried to clamber back to consciousness, screaming at him as it realized what was going on, but Vale's capital building had been overrun by the Grimm, and he could feel himself fading. A bubble of panic broke through the distant haze and his chest heaved.
Vale, he thought weakly, barely able to coherently form the words. I don't want to die.
"I know. That's why I— That's why I have to—" Vale paused. "...I'm sorry, America." She took a shuddering breath, but when she spoke, there was no hesitation in her voice.
"Relic, I choose to die in order to sever my Kingdom's connection with America. I choose to use my remaining energy to supplant America's Aura."
The Relic of Choice glowed.
America screamed in agony as his insides turned to ash. The heat from the Relic pulsed outward through his every cell and seared his skin, leaving him paralyzed but conscious as he burned. The pain was so great he forgot. He forgot his name, his family, his friends and enemies. He forgot himself. Instead his world was pain, and pain was his whole world as the boiling crept back from his extremities and tore through his mind and soul, slipping into the cracks and wrenching it in two.
And then it stopped.
The painful power was still there. It still ripped through his soul. Except it was not his soul. At least, the piece that was cut out of him like an organ was not. Not anymore.
The shadows of the Relic's chamber deepened. America's vision wavered, glazing over, and he saw Vale. She stood elegantly in an expanse of golden light, brown hair neatly in place and skin kissed by the sun. Her brown eyes were warm as they locked with his, and she smiled, proud and almost joyful but with an undeniable hint of sorrow.
"Thank you for being my friend, America."
And then she was gone.
The golden light faded, and he was back in the chamber.
America's left arm twitched. His unbroken hand quivered, and balled into a fist. Slowly, he reached up and touched his chest, placing his hand over his steadily beating heart. A heart that no longer ached. In fact, only small parts of him stung as blue Aura with just hint of green flared over his skin. He watched it flicker over his hands and the green slowly disappeared. Panicked, he cast his mind out, seeking the source of the green.
Vale?
Silence.
Vale?!
Complete silence.
...Amber?
Absolute, unbroken silence.
Not of an annoyed head roommate who was giving him the cold shoulder. Not of a grumpy friend who was not in the mood to talk at the moment. But the silence of a mind that held only his own thoughts and soul. There was no one else in there. Not anymore.
America could still feel a distant connection with his people, but it was much too far to be a bond with anyone on Remnant. He was connected with his people. Only his people. Only his people, and no longer hers. Because—
Because...
Vale is dead.
Just like Mattie.
I'm alone.
America heard a groan to his left. Roman staggered back to his feet, hair windswept and jaw stiff with pain.
"That was a blast. Literally." he panted. He looked at America and did a double-take. "Why is Blue's left eye blue again?"
America howled in grief, and the chamber filled with blue lightning and flames.
XXXXXXX
A/N: I originally called this chapter "Seeing Red" but then canon did that so I changed the title, haha.
I edited this chapter a lot. I kept going back through that last section to tweak it. It was pretty hard finding a balance between "not too vague" and "not too descriptive". I think I got it. If any part was too vague, fill the blanks in with whatever tortures your mind can come up with I guess.
...I'm going to regret saying that, aren't I? Some of the things you guys come up with scares me, haha.
Still having the word switch/vanish problem. Whyyyyyyy? If you see any missing or out of place words, please tell me and I will fix it.
Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, etc!
See you next Friday!