The battle raged around them. Music from the fight arena still ringing and echoing up from the ring below. A boom shook the Underbelly from the foundations up.
Mama said
Fulfill the prophecy
Bullets slammed into Nike's barrier, blue rippling across its surface. She hissed at every single one. She wasn't Champion, she wasn't anyone's protector. Failure lurked in every corner now.
Be something greater
Go make a legacy
Alex and Tiny were shoved behind her, right against the pile of dead bodies. At the moment, it was the best she could manage. She was going to make sure they get out of this mess she had made.
Manifest destiny
Back in the days
Jaw set, she lifted her pistol and fired, taking out the careless and distracted. Anything to thin the herd a little for a safer and quicker exit later.
We wanted everything, wanted everything
The Reds were losing. She could see it. And if they fall, she would too. It didn't matter if she forced to do this, nobody would even allow her to explain. She was Nike of the Reds, she'd always be.
Teeth gritted, she surged from cover only to find herself being held back. "No!" Alex cried.
"I have to," she growled. "Otherwise, we all die."
A sharp yelp of pain rang out as Scars fell, clutching at his side, blood streaming from between his fingers. Tenner had pressed himself into the corner, hiding. Half his shots went wide, while the other half were hitting their own. Cutter was a bulldozer with his rifle. He stood front and centre, trusting luck to keep bullets off him as he sprayed slugs into every moving body. Krycek was the blue ghost darting all around. Ducking in and out of cover, his pistol pressed against an enemy's chest before firing a quick shot. Frank was laughing maniacally despite the situation. His shotgun boomed, and he staggered back with every recoil. The others fell like the expandable soldiers they were.
The Dowager's people were skilled and more heavily armoured than they were. What was Frank thinking? This was doomed to fail from the start. Gunfire forced them back into cover. Frank roared his fury as both sides traded bullets. Nike groaned, lungs heaving as red tinged sweat rolled down her face and collected at her chin. All she was trying to do was not to get shot.
"Nike! Fight!" Frank shouted. "Or nobody walks out of here alive!"
"You don't need her," Krycek growled through clenched teeth, biotics swirling around him. "I'm the better biotic. I'm superior to the girl who left me to die in a fire." His blonde hair floated weightlessly, caught in his mass effect field. He didn't bother waiting for a reply, he acted. In a burst of sheer power, throwing back everything not nailed to the ground back, he rushed into the elevator.
Screams erupted. Nike couldn't see what was happening inside, but scattered gunfire and flashes of blue rang out as the unmistakable sound of bodies being thrown against walls vibrated the air. Krycek's laughter preceded him as he staggered out, pistol clicking empty, blood trailing behind him. "Better than you, I survived the fire," he snarled, baring his teeth at her.
"Inside!" Cutter shouted, barreling his way into the Dowager's throne room.
Krycek followed, stumbling along, grinning from ear to ear despite looking worse for wear. Tenner hauled Scars to his feet. The surviving Reds followed quickly, leaving the dead behind like shedded skin, mere cruft to be discarded.
The staccato beats of a rifle going off was a counter point to the booms from Cutter's shotgun. Omni-grenades' louder explosions provided harsh dissonance to this symphony of death and destruction. The screams and cries formed the choir, their voices rose and fell in harmony.
This was a song Nike knew well. One that she had always added her signature tone to. She was good at this. The song of battle thrummed in her veins. Fighting, attacking and killing, they were all part of the same song she sang with her fists, gun and biotics.
But now she was the discordant note.
Nike stared at the blood trickling out of the elevator, the smears of blood left across the insides, crumpled bodies that lay still. They sickened her. For so long she had pulled wool over her own eyes, refusing to see the consequences of her actions. Stomach churning, her gorge rose and it took effort to keep from gagging.
"Nike," Tiny whimpered, it yanked her back to reality.
The elevator awaited them but who was to say more weren't waiting for them if they took the elevator down now. Alex and Tiny looked at her. Fear was a palpable thing that clung to them like a blanket. Still, it was a chance she had to take. To stay was death. "Stay close," she whispered.
The battle raged on inside the throne room. This was her chance.
"Not so fast," Frank growled, shotgun aimed at them. "I'm not done with you, Nike."
Nike could do nothing but watch as he grabbed Alex's arm, forcing her to move. Nike's jaw ached as she pushed Tiny back behind cover. "Stay here," she instructed, praying he was smart enough to get out of here as soon as he could. "Do not follow."
Tiny nodded, his eyes shiny with tears, lips trembling hard. He couched, his small frame completely dwarfed by the pile of stiffening corpses.
Frank didn't wait, shotgun jammed against Alex's back, forcing her to walk or risk getting blown apart. Nike growled, fuck was she going to allow him to use Alex as a living shield. She put herself in front of the pair. Grunting, her amp flared and a barrier formed quickly, enclosing around them. Frank grinned, satisfied.
"We can't let the others have all the fun, can we? I want to finish the old lady myself."
The Dowager, Ci Xi, was furious, her eyes blazing with a rage Nike had never seen before. She was always cool and calm, flaying with her tongue more than her fists, but this was a battle to the bitter end. The slums weren't big enough to hold two tigers. One would rise, the other crushed to ashes. Like a general, she barked orders. Her honour guard were comprised of heavily armoured mercs with equal firepower to boot. They were trained professionals unlike the Reds upstarts who had ambitions above their station.
Nike's barrier barely held against barrage of gunfire. "Get to cover!" she shouted. Alex tried to dive behind a concrete planter only to be held back by Frank. He swung his shotgun into action forcing her to keep the barrier up. "I can't hold this forever!" her voice cracked as her temples throbbed.
Pain was a thing with layers. There was the surface level when skin was bruised and scratched. This was easily ignored. Then, the deeper one, the kind that burrowed into flesh and bone. Her shoulder screamed whenever she moved. Every motion made acid lanced across the wound towards her chest, like a vice attempting to reach her heart. But passed a point, the agony too faded into a tingling numbness where sensations were kept at bay. Finally, there was a kind of agnoy, more akin to the torment of a soul than mere flesh and bone. This was her amp. It burnt, it seared, it sent electrical jolts into her brain, lighting it on fire. Every ounce of biotics she dredged from her core, the eezo nodes throughout her body shrieked in unison. This pain was transcendent.
Still Nike held on. Do not glitch, do not glitch.
Krycek roared. He injected himself with more Red Sand, syringe after syringe of the stuff. With each one, he flared brighter and stronger. "Discard me like I'm trash? Now you'd get what's coming for you!" he laughed. "I'm going to burn you down!"
The Dowager paled, hissing into her omni-tool, probably demanding for her biotics to be sent up.
"Your pet biotics are all dead," Frank crowed. "I made sure of it. You wouldn't think me stupid enough to face you with them at your beck and call."
Krycek surged forward, sending a biotic force that slammed the Dowager's guards into the wall, denting it in process. More than one crashed through the glass window and plummeted to the ring below. He closed the distance in a manner of seconds, fighting close quarters like how he was trained to. The rest of the Reds took the chance and emerged from cover, firing their weapons with glee.
Nike fell to her knees, barrier winking out. Throwing her hands out, she narrowly missed smashing her face onto the floor. Her limbs quivered with exhaustion and withdrawal.
"Get up!" Frank shouted, firing his shotgun.
She could do nothing but lay where she slumped on the floor. Her breath was coming shallow and slow as vision darkening by the second.
"Get up!" Alex screamed. "Please!"
Her eyes sagging shut as she whispered her apologies. Shadows surged up and dragged her down, down, down into the depths.
"Get up!" Frank yanked her to her feet, shoving her against the wall. A hand clamped down over her throat, it was the only thing that held her up. Nike choked and gasped for air, her fingernails scratching at his arm ineffectively.
A sharp prick stabbed into the back of her neck, a quick depression of the plunger, and it was like fire was injected into her. Nike's eyes snapped open. Though her limbs were still rubbery and weak, but they held her weight now. One arm braced against the wall, she pressed the other against her temples. Air heaved in and out of her lungs quick and shallow. Her heart thumping against her ribs like it was seeking to escape. Shaking her head to clear the remnants of darkness from the corner of her eyes, she straightened.
A high pitch scream filled the air.
Nike flinched. Krycek was glowing a blue so strong, it hurt to look at him.
"Look at me! Look at me! I'm the most powerful biotic in the world!" he shouted triumphantly. Empty syringes littered the floor at his feet. He was bleeding from multiple fresh prick marks on his neck.
Nike swallowed and stared with eyes widened. Krycek was laughing, and it didn't seemed like he was going to stop. How powerful could a biotic get with the help of Red Sand? Was there no limit? Even as a biotic, it was a terrifying thought. Everyone were edging away, even what was left of the Reds.
Horror was etched across Ci Xi's face, but it was quickly replaced with a sneer. "Boy, I don't think you know what you're doing."
Krycek surged forward, his pistol firing but none of the slugs made it passed the kinetic shield set up by the mercs. Frank was bellowing at Tenner to get to work hacking the shield as Cutter, Scars and the rest engaged with the mercs.
"Remember my name! Thomas Krycek, that's the only name you ever need to learn!" he screamed. "That's my—" His voice cut out in a croak, biotics fading instantly.
Nike was unable to take her eyes away. It was watching a train wreck happen right before her eyes. For a moment, her own troubles were forgotten.
Krycek fell to his knees, clawing at his throat as if he couldn't breathe, blood gushing from his nose. A scream so high pitched, it hurt Nike's ears, emitted from his throat. It turned into a wet gargle as blood dribbled from his mouth. Muscles clenched tight, his veins stood stark against almost bluish-purple skin. He doubled over vomiting and clutching at his chest, limbs jerking uncontrollably. The burn scar across his chest was raked to ribbons by his nails clawing against his chest. Without warning, he flared. His field was wide and oppressive as it pressed against Nike's own. She groaned under the pressure, falling to her knees. As quickly as it came, it withdrew like the receding tide in preparation for a tsunami. She gritted her teeth, throwing her barrier over Alex and inevitably Frank. Her shield went up in the nick of time as Krycek's biotics snapped out, quick and violent. Everyone had braced for impact expecting the worst, but the light and force washed over them lightly as if the energy was already spent.
When she struggled to her feet again, she saw Krycek's eyes were opened but staring at nothing in particular. The glaze over them was unmistakable. Krycek was dead.
The Dowager laughed in the wake of the sudden vacuum. "Your ace in the hole is dead. OD on the Red Sand formula. Oh my fucking god, Frank is that all you got? You got to do better than this."
Nike couldn't pull her eyes away. Blood was still oozing from his nose, his veins were stained a dark red, radiating from his neck down towards his heart. Is that what Red Sand will do to me? Her hand rubbed the back of her neck only to flinch away from the heat of her amp.
"Frank you are not the first usurper to this throne. You might be the closest, but you will not take this from me," the Dowager crowed. "What do you have but mere boys?"
A groan tugged at their attention. Scars slid down the wall he was leaning against, slumping to the ground. Hand pressed against his side, his face paler than before. A wet rasp rattled through his chest.
Not good…
Tenner cowered behind cover, whimpering and sobbing. His fingers were frozen stiff over his omni-tool. The stench of urine was almost overpowering.
Really, really bad…
Cutter braced himself against the nearest piece of furniture, his shirt more red than whatever was its original colour. Despite whittling down the Dowager's forces, the Reds wasn't in great shape either.
"Looks like your time had ran out," she announced as in poured a handful of heavily armed mercs. "This is it Frank, you're done."
Nike's heart sank. Her fate is irrevocable tied to the Reds. She glanced at Alex. Alex had wrenched herself free of Frank's grip, taking advantage of the distraction of the newcomers. Alex grabbed hold of her hand, fingernails digging grooves into her skin. Nike returned the squeeze as she bade her time, watching and waiting.
"No!" Frank shouted, "I will not be thwarted."
"Too late," the Dowager replied. She was a woman in control again. A quick jerk of her finger, she directed the mercs towards them.
One turned their shotgun in their direction and fired. Nike twisted her body trying, hoping to cover Alex's, dragging her barrier up. The blue crept over them slow, too slowly. No, come on! Faster! She knew the barrier wouldn't hold. It was paper thin. Red Sand could only do so much, and she had nothing left to give. Body fatigued, mind exhausted, soul weary. The shot scattered her barrier, ripping through it like it was wet paper. Alex screamed. Nike watched as a shot punched into her side, tearing through skin and flesh. Blood streaked across the wall and floor.
"No!" Nike cradled Alex against her chest as she sank to the floor. "Firecracker! Alex! No, no, no!"
Tears streamed unbidden from her eyes. They were supposed to get out, Tiny and Alex. They were supposed to stay safe, she was supposed to keep them safe. Flickers of Ross' and Emma's faces ashen and frozen over pressed against her mind.
Alex was bucking and screaming, clutching at her side. "It hurts, it fucking hurts," she whimpered and cried, hands tweaking. "I don't want to die, I don't want to die."
I've failed everyone.
Before Nike could keep pressure over Alex's wound, a hand yanked at her hair. She fell backwards, dropping Alex. Whirling, she found Frank gesturing wildly with a massive syringe in his hand. Before she could do anything, the needle stabbed into her neck. And all coherent thought faded.
Time warped. Nike had gone beyond the clarity that Red Sand could give, beyond the red haze when she was given too much. Her vision was a tunnel filled with memories flicking like wisps of light in utter darkness.
Screams and gunfire echoed in her mind. Voices that begged, voices that condemned, they blended into the chorus of battle. She stood stock still, trying to pull apart the tangled ball of voices. Was Alex's among them? It was a tapestry too tight to be unravel, overlapping and suffocating, impossible to differentiate one from the other.
Sparks of blue like gunfire flashed. A flicker of a face roaring in rage, teeth bared, blood streaming from a head wound. It was there one moment and gone the next. A gapping hole replacing all features.
Someone was screaming loud and long, a singular noise of utter pain. Her throat was raw, her breath ragged. Is it me? The thought drifted away before she could finish it. The pressure against her chest and head was immense. Breathing was impossible, thinking was futile. A hand closed over her lungs, fingers ground against her skull, squeezing tighter and tighter. She cried out. Relief was nowhere in sight.
Another flash, another face. This one she recognised. Terror gripped that pale face, it was one that had taunted and sneered, ogled and leered. She hated the face. Blue engulfed her vision, then wet red. The eyes were glazed over, the body limp. A life snuffed out, and she didn't even feel a thing. What is happening?
Consciousness ebbing and flowing like the tides. Blue and red filled her sight. Iron filled her nose. Pain engulfed her.
Awareness drifting, dragging her mind like flotsam. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, it was urgent. She must remember, but the rising tides of Red Sand dashed it against the rocks. It left her grasping at smoke and ashes.
A voice deeper than her own shouted in triumph. Grey eyes flashing, arms raised. "Run! You can run, but you can't hide!"
Breath shuddered through her frame, quick, shallow and wet. Ribs expanding and creaking with every effort, but there just wasn't enough air. Knees were pressed against the crimson sleeked floor, cuts and gashes marking every inch of skin, arms trembling to hold herself up. She closed her eyes, but blue was still all she saw.
"It's done. I've done it!"
She coughed, speckles of red splattered across her hands. Something wet trickled from her nose, gathering at her chin. Drop by drop, dripping onto the floor.
"The Reds will rebuild from the ashes of the Underbelly!"
A hand yanked her head up by her hair. Vision swimming, half blue and half red. She blinked. Eyes glazed over, sanity was returning in dribs and drabs. She was a sack slowly being filled with awareness once more. The hand tugged and pulled, her neck stretched and protested at the impossible angle the hand demanded.
"Nike girl, you're ever a pain at my side, but you've delivered again. How could I ever doubt you?"
The hand let go. Nike's head thumped against the floor unceremoniously. Spikes of pain washed over her as her cheek was pressed against a sticky, warm liquid. Head lolling, eyes roving across the scene. She found herself face to face with Krycek's death glazed eyes. Her stomach roiled. Frank planted one dirty boot on the Dowager's white sofa. He laughed, arms spread wide to an audience of one. Beyond that was blood and carnage. Red coated every conceivable surface. The walls and ceiling pock-marked by bullet holes. Bodies slumped over, half hidden behind cover. It didn't matter which side they belonged. Dead was dead.
Was that me? Did I do all that?
Her limbs were lead, everything ached right down to her fingertips. The pressure against her chest refused to relent. Even limp against the floor, her hands shook like a leaf in the wind. Her traitorous body was already craving for the next hit. Eyes squeezed shut, how she wished she could just drift away, but she couldn't, not while Frank was still raving.
Alex!
The name was a lightning bolt, waking up some deep well of energy in her. She propped herself up on her elbow, eyes frantically searching as her heart slammed against her ribs. There—Alex's messy black hair that made her looked so much like her younger self. Her chest clenched. The Firecracker's eyes were closed, face slack. Dead was dead.
No…
"Nike, you really did it. You were a goddess made of biotics," Frank went on.
Footsteps approached, she rotated her head to look. The burning ambitous in his eyes no longer hidden. He grinned even as he pressed his hand against his chest. Even the mighty leader of the Reds hadn't escaped the battle unscathed. A chuckle bubbled out of her mouth unbidden. Frank glared at her. "You have served your purpose," he drawled, his shotgun was levelled at her head.
Nike couldn't summon the energy to be scared as she stared at the muzzle. She had seen that same shotgun turning flesh and bones to jam.
At least it will be quick.
The muzzle shifted to Alex's limp body. "Maybe I should start with her?"
Nike didn't speak, she just watched. You can't hurt the dead. Dead is dead.
"You know that girl was screaming your name when you slice through friend and foe alike," he snorted.
She didn't remember. Everything was far away and hidden under a mist of red and blue.
"She thinks you will save her. I had to shut her up myself."
Anger reignited. Exhaustion curled away from the heat of her fury. Death wasn't something she was afraid of. It was a release from her guilt and failure, but fuck was she going to allow Frank to live.
"How about I turn her into mush before doing the same to you?"
Jaw tight, frantic eyes searched for something, anything to help her. There, something red, something sharp, lay in Krycek's pocket. Trembling hands shifting and moving towards it.
"Always the fighter." He grunted, lifting the shotgun to aim properly, sore muscles protesting.
She closed her hand around the syringe, revulsion and hatred swimming in her chest. Ignoring the scream in her body, she stabbed herself and depressed the plunger.
"Too late," he chuckled and pulled the trigger.
Nike froze, waiting for the boom, it never came. What did was a shot of adrenaline to her chest. Blue blazed to life again, flickering and spluttering like a flame in the wind. Teeth gritted, she surged forward, her fist a blue nova aimed at Frank's smirk.
Once, he screamed, blood spurted. Twice, he fell backwards, bone crunched. Thrice, his face caved, and he had no voice to utter his pain.
On and on, she lifted her fist only to bring it down harder and harder.
"Stop." The whisper was so soft she could barely hear it above the squelch of flesh against wet flesh, but her arm stilled. Her knuckles was too sore, skin too cut up to continue.
Nothing moved. The rasp from the ruined nose of Frank told her he was still alive, but she was alone in the ruined throne room, filled with the dead and dying.
I can't leave him alive.
She turned back to her task, left arm lifting, shoulder screaming at the motion only to be stopped by the voice once more. "Stop."
Scanning the room once more, this time she found a pair of eyes looking back at her.
"Alex!"
Alex had propped herself up against the wall, hands covering her wound. Lips pale, skin ashen but her eyes still carried a staggering amount of strength. "Let's go," she whispered. Like those two words took all her energy, her body began sliding back to the floor.
Nike rose, ignoring the way her heart slammed against her chest, the blood trickling from numerous wounds. She only had one thing in her mind.
Alex's alive!
Trembling arms and straining muscles, Nike scooped Alex up. Back bent, she shifted Alex onto her back. Alex wrapped arms around her neck loosely, barely having the strength to hold on.
"One shot and you're down, Firecracker?" she asked lightly, not betraying the heaviness in her chest.
"It hurts," Alex rasped against her neck. "You try it."
"I did."
"Fucking showoff."
Nike snorted, a smile tugging at her lips. "That's the Firecracker I know."
Rising to her feet took effort, but grunting and panting through the exertion, she did it. Step by slow step, she shuffled, picking her way carefully between bodies and limbs only to stop when a hand gripped her ankle.
It was Frank. "Where do you think you're going Nike? I own you." His voice was all nasally and raspy on account of his broken nose and cheekbones.
Lips curling, she growled. "No more, Frank. I quit."
"You can't quit the Reds. You only go out on death." His grip tightening.
Loathe as she was to jostle Alex, she renewed her grip on Alex before pulling at her core. Blue curled around Frank's shotgun and Nike tugged it from loose fingers up into the air, switching around so the muzzle was aimed at him.
He grinned. "It's empty."
"I know," she replied.
With a grunt, the shotgun slammed itself into his skull. His skull caved in like a watermelon, red squirting in all directions. Frank had no time to register his death. He stiffened and convulsed before going still for good this time.
She stared at the man who had changed the course of her life twice. Once when she was a child living on the streets, elevating her to the fighter she was now, and again when his ambitions outstripped his abilities, forcing her to take drastic measures.
The grip he had on her ankle went slack. Bending over, she rummaged through his pockets and found a couple of things and pocketed them. Alex whispered, "Is he dead?"
"Yes," her voice a croak, emotions threatening to form a lump in her throat. She couldn't put a finger on why she wanted to cry.
As she trudged out of the throne room, Tiny surged out from his hiding place. "You're alive!" he exclaimed, sobbing.
"Come on, let's go."
Tiny nodded and gripped the back of her shorts as tightly as he could. They rode the elevator down surrounded by the dead.
The lump in her throat solidified and tears streamed down her face as they walked out of the Underbelly. It wasn't just freedom. It felt like a noose had been taken off from her neck.
It was life.
Lyrics taken from High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco