Author's Note: It's been a long bit since my last chapter. Sorry! I'm going to post two today. Truthfully, I have been pretty busy lately, but I still have every intention of finishing the story.
I hope you guys are enjoying so far. Happy Thanksgiving!
Ellie whips around, delivering a roundhouse kick to the synthoid's jaw. It stumbles awkwardly for a second then collapses in a clatter of metal onto the steel floor. "Come on!" she shouts at the others.
The three skinnier proto-synthoids shift their feet uncertainly, eyeballing her. Then, as one they move in, swinging clumsily.
They may as well be drunks that don't know how to fight. Their limbs flail through the air as if in slow motion. Ellie dips her shoulder under one diagonal swing and leans under another. Knife in hand, she uppercuts the nearest one. It stumbles backward, falling.
The third one swings, too, but it only succeeds in hitting the back of the other. Not even having to dodge, Ellie coils her arm and rams her knife blade down into the spinal cord—or what would be a spine—of the nearer synthoid, severing its key pathways and sending it to the ground, inert.
The synthoid still on its feet flails at her without hesitation. Ellie just steps into it, their chests touching, its arms flopping uselessly against her sides and back. She draws from her left thigh with her free hand—the desert eagle—and leans back, placing the barrel into its ribcage area. She braces herself and pulls the trigger.
The gunblast is deafening, but the sound dampeners they installed in the comms pieces in her ear make it bearable. The robot's head explodes into a mess of computer chips and scrap metal and plastic.
The synthoid she knocked down is regaining its feet, but too slowly. She holsters the heavy pistol and almost in the same motion hurls the knife blade, which sinks to the hilt into the last synthoid's eye.
"Ellie!" Nat shouts.
Ellie notices the remaining elite synthoid is about to cut her in half with its arm laser. She steps lightly and pivots just in time to avoid the cutting vertical beam.
Nat is on the other side of the unit, a handrail between her and a deep shaft. She shoots her grapple into the unit's back. There's a vertical support beam in front of her. She steps around it, so the wire wraps around the beam.
"Do svidaniya," says Nat.
She retracts the grapple and braces herself, so the synthoid is yanked toward the beam. She releases the grapple and the synthoid careens past the beam and slams into the handrail, tumbling over it and into the abyss below.
That's the last of the units in view.
"Nice move," says Ellie honestly. She's still learning to use the grapple as a weapon. Or at all, really. "Do svidaniya?"
"Russian," says Nat. "Means 'seeya.'"
"How's it going down there, guys?" says Tony over comms. He sounds a bit stressed.
"Cleared another section," says Nat. "We're approaching the power station. Jarvis, you have coordinates for us yet?"
"Apologies, Ms. Romanov, but AIM has devoted considerable processing resources to this operation. They seem to have anticipated our interference. In perhaps two minutes' time I can provide them."
"Let's move, Ellie," says Widow. She strides off to the next set of automatic doors. Ellie's quick to follow in her wake. They start walking down a long steel corridor.
Every mission Ellie's been on, she's been with Nat—Black Widow, in the field. And every time, Nat's been dead sober, kind of like Abby on patrol. This is another level, though.
When they were alerted to a major AIM operation at the Ant Hill, her and the Avengers had been extracted with haste. Ellie's gear had been on the quinjet and she'd changed in flight. It seems AIM had suddenly rerouted much of their remaining 2-tachyon to this facility, one hitherto unknown to them. They knew they had to stop whatever AIM has planned.
The Avengers grade the threat level of their missions on the DEFCON scale, something Ellie was familiar with due her time in military school. All the missions she's flown so far have been DEFCON 5—least dangerous. As soon as Nat got eyes on Ellie today, she said this jumped straight to DEFCON 3.
"You haven't had much time in the field," said Nat in the quinjet that had picked Ellie up, "and I had my misgivings, but Steve overruled."
Ellie had blinked. Steve did…?
"I know you know what danger feels like, Ellie," said Nat. "I'm only going to say this once. New rules."
Nat had Ellie's full attention. She'd nodded.
"Rule one, you do what I say."
With the slightest hesitation, Ellie had nodded.
"Rule two, mission comes second only to your life and the lives of your team."
Ellie nodded again.
"Rule three, when in doubt, get out."
That was easy to remember.
Ellie's been honing her ability, intentional or no. It's always with her, after all. Even though she's behind her, Ellie can see Nat's facial expression. Her face is stone, her eyes shifting deftly between doorways, cameras, and notable infrastructure they pass, never lingering long. Her color is scarlet on the outside, with a bright, steely gray emanating from her form.
A distant explosion causes an extended rumble that Ellie can feel through her feet and legs. She halts for a second, but Nat doesn't and she gets back into step.
"Head straight, Ellie," says Nat. "We're reaching the critical point. What are we doing?"
"Cutting the power to stop whatever AIM's trying to do before it happens," says Ellie.
"That's right."
There's another explosion. Ellie glances up nervously.
"Eyes ahead, Ellie," says Nat. "AIM is armed to the teeth today, but you don't understand what kind of firepower they're dealing with up there."
The rest of the team had been sent on a diversionary frontal assault, supported by SHIELD troops, even. There's a full on battle raging overhead.
Ellie can't keep the edges of a frown off her face.
Nat glances at her instantly. "Even Kamala."
As if on cue, the comms open to Steve's voice, and in the background Ellie can hear Kamala growling loudly, followed by a huge crash. "AIM's dug in," says Steve, "but we're gaining ground. We have their full attention."
"Yeah," says Tony, grunting, his jets flaring in the background, "loving that."
"Keep it frosty, Tony," says Steve. Hulk primal roar sounds in the background, followed by the thunderous crunching of metal.
"You know Ice Man is one of my nicknames," says Tony. "Whoa! Still this is—wow, that's a lot of adaptoids. Evading!"
"Holy crap!" says Kamala.
Worry shoots through Ellie.
"Trust your team," says Nat. She's standing in front of a set of double doors leading into a large area, 9mm drawn. She looks untouched by the danger around them. But from what she's learned of Nat, it's probably an act.
Well, Ellie can do that, too.
She draws her gun. Nat gestures with her jaw to say you ready?
Ellie nods.
They lean in and the doors open. They raise their guns, scanning the perimeter, but there's no sign of any defenders.
The large room is filled with rows of machines making constant droning noises. Now and then, arcs of electricity jut from the antennae on top of them.
"Power routing station," says Nat, "we have to be close."
"Indeed," says Jarvis over comms, "I've secured two coordinates."
Nat raises her bracer an instant before Ellie. Ellie sees two auto-routes leading down parallel shafts to chambers several floors deeper underground.
"Will either do?" Nat asks.
"You'll need to disable both, I'm afraid," says Jarvis.
With the barest curl of her lips, Nat puts the holographic display away. She gestures to the right corner of the room, where one of the shafts is. "That one's yours."
Ellie blinks. They're going to separate?
Stairs on either side of them lead up to a catwalk that circles the upper level of the chamber. At the far end on the left side, a hydraulic door opens, and a live adaptoid walks through.
Ellie's eyes widen, turning toward it. "That's—"
Nat's arm falls across her chest. "Something I know how to deal with. Now go do your job, so I can do mine."
Ellie looks up in doubt for exactly one second. Nat's eyes do not give.
Rule one, you do what I say.
Ellie turns and sprints through the array of machines toward the shaft on the right.
The adaptoid roars a challenge in an eerie, symphonic drone.
"Come on, then!" she hears Nat shout.
A high-pitched thrum pierces Ellie's ears, accompanied by the sound of metal being chewed up by a concentrated energy beam.
Ellie arrives at the doors. "Jarvis!"
"At your side," comes his voice automatically. The doors part. "The car is above you."
Thick metal cables hang down the shaft in front of her. That's what her fingerless leather gloves are for.
Ellie jumps forward and grabs one of the cables, squeezing it to control her descent. After fifteen seconds or so, palms growing hot, she drops off onto the concrete base of the shaft. The waist-height doors in front of her open sharply. She rolls over the lip and onto her feet.
At this point she's deep underground. Even the heavy explosions at surface level are barely audible, and other than that, it's dead silent.
The lights are dimmer down here, but still enough to see clearly by. It's the same standard-fabbed steel architecture around her, but there are also large sections of the wall and roof that have been left as natural rock, suggesting this is at the fringe of the facility.
"What am I looking for, Jarvis?"
"Straight ahead, Ms. Coulsen. Do hurry, we do not know how long things will remain in our favor."
She runs through one larger room through a narrowed passage, and into another. This seems to be the dead end. There are pillars supporting the roof, and a variety of pallets and stacks of crates scattered about. It looks like junk storage, almost, but then Ellie sees the panel against the far wall of the room.
In addition to sensing around her and through surfaces, Ellie has discovered that she can detect when objects are conducting electricity. At first she thought she was imagining it, but eventually realized that indeed there was a subtle glow coming from the wires around her. The higher the wattage, the brighter the glow.
A small, unassuming panel is embedded into the back wall, but just under the surface of the concrete, hundreds of smaller cables connected to it are handling a hell of a lot of juice.
"A small panel in front of you—" Jarvis begins.
"I see it," says Ellie, moving forward.
"You do," Jarvis acknowledges.
She arrives at the panel and pops the cover plate open with her knife.
"If you would apply your nonconductive clippers to the wide band above the…"
But Ellie is no longer listening, because there's someone in the room with her.
He's stalking around the crates by the entrance, watching her. He must be a real skulk to have avoided her notice in the first place. She pretends she doesn't notice.
Silent on his feet, he draws a blade and hurls it at her.
She jerks her head to the side, and the knife whistles past, embedding itself into the concrete in front of her.
"Well, then," comes a deep voice with an undertone of satisfaction, "and I thought I'd cornered me a mouse."
Scowling, Ellie turns and faces him.
He's tall and well-muscled, wearing tactical gear and armor, but with bare arms. There are a variety of knives on his belt and a gun on his right thigh. He's got an emerald green cloak that obscures his face in shadow, but for his smiling, stubbled jaw.
"So what's your story?" he asks her. "Intern?"
Ellie says nothing and draws her 9mm.
As long as you work with us, Nat's voice comes back to her, you're not to kill unless given no other choice.
Still, a few bullets to his exposed arms would probably change his tune.
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he asks her. "Wow. They really tossed you in the big leagues." He takes a few steps toward her. "You sure you're not out of your depth? How close are you gonna let me—"
Ellie fires several rounds.
The first grazes his right arm and two impact his chest armor, scarcely moving him, and he dives to the right behind some boxes. Ellie keeps her gun trained. She tries to get a lock on him, but there are a lot of boxes between them confusing her senses.
Ellie creeps forward, gun raised, mind on her form. She does not want her next bullet to miss.
His head appears behind a box to her left, far closer than she expected—he's fast and quiet—and she jerks.
He fires his weapon and it misses, striking the wall behind her, but a fraction of a second later, the site of the bullet emits an ear piercing shriek.
"Agh!" Ellie grunts in pain. She staggers, tripping and landing on her right shoulder. She clutches one ear with her hand and buries the other in her shoulder.
He strides confidently out from his hiding position, seemingly unaffected by the terrible sound. Ellie's eyes are pinched shut in pain, but she can fully sense him.
He keeps his gun trained on her for a second, then lowers it. "A mouse after all." He draws a combat knife from his belt. "Disappointing."
Ellie doesn't have to fake the pain, but she does feign helplessness. He closes within ten feet of her. His gun hangs loosely in his hand by his side. This is going to be a tough shot.
He readies his knife and Ellie aims her pistol as best she can from the hip, and pulls the trigger.
The bullet strikes the top of his barrel, jerking his hand. He curses, and the gun flies from his grip and clatters across the concrete.
The sound finally stops. He doesn't go for his gun, but charges Ellie. She fires another shot from the hip and misses completely. The man kicks her hard in the hand, causing a yelp of pain and her gun to go flying across the room.
She tries to roll to her feet away from him, but he grabs her by the hair and yanks her back. She wheels and slams her elbow into the inside of his, breaking his grip on her hair and causing him to drop the knife. Still turning, she throws a straight into his jaw. He staggers back a half step, laughing.
"Now, I like that!" he shouts.
He closes in and throws some powerful punches. Ellie dodges a few and blocks some more, but he could wear her out that way. It's pointless to attack through his armor. She either needs to knife him or deliver some powerful blows to his head.
He grabs her wrist after a straight and yanks her arm down. She kicks hard into his knee, but he braces and takes it. Then she goes for a vicious front kick into his kneecap, but he yanks her arm down and bends and turns his leg, deflecting most of the blow. It lets her yank free and gain distance, though.
"The Russian rat trained you, didn't she?" he asks her. "No wonder I smelled a mouse."
There are boxes on all sides of them, but a loose ring for them to fight in. He's too close for her to go for her other gun.
He steps in and swings a wide kick that she dips under. Turning, he swings his other leg out and she ducks that, too, blocking a follow up punch. She punches his gut but it's as hard as she figured it'd be.
He tries to grab her and she evades him. She can't grapple with this dude, he's twice her size, and she doesn't have a tenth of Nat's judo training.
He advances again and throws some more punches that Ellie evades easily. Is he piecing her out? He feints a haymaker and instead swings his other arm back in a hammer fist that glances her cheekbone painfully. He moves in to try and grab her, and she moves in as well.
His arms go around her and she steps on top of his bent knee, pushing off to drive her other knee into his face. He twists, but it still impacts his cheek, and he growls angrily.
Her shin lands on his shoulder, and she goes to tumble over his head, but she feels his hands clasp over her belly. She loses her momentum and with powerful arms, he throws her mightily to the ground on her back.
The fall on the concrete is a painful shock, but she rolls. She tries to climb to her feet, but stumbles just enough that when he goes to backhand her, she can't get out of the way.
His hand hits her cheek with a loud crack and a bright flash of white, followed by searing pain. She snarls in hateful anger, but next thing she knows, he's wrapping his rippling arm around her neck.
Her eyes go wide and she grabs at his arm automatically. He grabs one of her arms with his free one and pins it behind her back. She kicks desperately at his ankles and knees, but he twists and blocks her attacks easily. Her right hand grasps at his face desperately. She feels a shooting pain as he bites her fingers. She cries out.
His elbow is tightening over her throat, it's getting difficult to breathe.
"Should have stuck with summer camp," he taunts. His arm cuts off her oxygen.
No time left.
She presses her foot to the floor behind his leg and juts her knee into his, buckling it. Simultaneously she throws her weight into one shoulder and they tumble forward onto the ground, him on top of her.
She gets half a breath and her left arm comes free, but his arm is still tucked around her throat. He laughs. "Now what was that supposed to—"
She twines her legs around his, securing them together. She's able to wrestle her right arm under her and braces her wrist with her left hand. She points her bracer upward and fires a grapple. The point digs into the natural stone roof, and she retracts it.
The mechanism strains against their combined weight, but braced against him, it succeeds in lifting them both off the ground. Several feet in the air, they spin and he loses grip on her. Ellie releases the grapple. Not needing her eyes, Ellie can see everything that's happening. Meanwhile, the man growls in anger and whips his limbs about.
She's able to grab his cloak and yank him toward her while they start to fall. He ends up underneath her. She sees her opening on instinct.
He's facing her, falling on his back. She again braces her right wrist with her left hand, and arranges her forearm so that when they land, it falls onto his exposed neck with all her weight.
His eyes bug out of his head as he makes a choked sound. She finds her way to her knees on top of him while he sucks in wheezing breaths. She rears back and with her full torso, drives a hard straight into his jaw.
His entire head rocks, his skull bouncing on the concrete, then his eyelids droop and he goes still, a long, thin breath rattling out of his crushed throat.
Then, the sound is only her panting.
"Fucking prick," she mutters. She climbs unsteadily to her feet, wiping the snot from her nose.
"A tremendous display," says Jarvis.
Ellie starts. She forgot he was here.
"However, AIM's primary operation is in effect, and your objective is our last chance to stop it."
Primary operation? Ellie automatically pulls up the display on her bracer.
A huge, circular chamber comes into view. The walls are covered in panels, lights blink furiously everywhere. There's no sound, but the machinery is generating so much power that she can see instruments vibrating. In the center of the room, between four large, extremely high-tech prongs of some sort, is a… a window. At least, the room is clearly in this facility, but through this window, she can see sunlight, an open dirt field.
Ellie's features slacken. "Jarvis?"
As she watches, heavily armored vehicles like the ones she saw in the AIM garage that first day start rumbling into view, into and through the window. Each time one does, lights around the room flare and the vibrations intensify.
"Jarvis, where does that go?"
"Ellie, we do not yet know. May I ask that you hurry—"
With that, Ellie snaps out of it and runs back to the panel. Hands trembling, she fumbles with her belt until she finds the nonconductive shears.
"Yes, the band with the orange, yellow and black—"
Ellie's already cutting. For all she knows if she touches the panel with bare skin, she'll die, but she muscles through the long band of wires as quickly as she can with the high-leverage shears. Loud, blinding sparks sound off intermittently right in front of her face, causing her to flinch, but she doesn't stop shearing. She cuts through the last cord and the room goes dark. There's a distant pop and boom, and the sound of heavy machinery winding down.
Ellie looks around. It's pitch black. "Jarvis?"
"I'm here. That did it, Ms. Coulsen, and not a moment too soon. I'm afraid AIM's ambition today was not clear…"
That's all she can make out, because his voice is fading away. It's strange, it doesn't cut out, it just gets quieter and quieter until she can hear nothing.
"Jarvis?" She pulls out her communicator. The light is still blinking, like it's on. She puts it back in. "Jarvis? Nat? Can anyone hear me?"
"They can't," comes a voice from above.
Ellie instinctively reaches for her right hip, but that gun is lost somewhere. She grabs her heavy pistol and readies it.
She senses around for the guy, but his unconscious form is still lying in the middle of the room.
"Thank you for shutting everything down," says the male voice. It seems to come from everywhere at once. "All that noise makes it so hard to concentrate down here."
"Who are you?" she asks. It's pitch black, but she searches the room with her senses.
"Just a wise, old man," says the voice.
Ellie begins to hone in on it. It's coming from far above, it—
Then she senses him. There's a figure, far above, sitting atop one of the rafters running near the high ceiling of the room. He's wearing a long coat, and he kicks his feet idly. The only thing she can see with her own eyes are two glints of light where his should be, like electric goggles of some sort. She can almost make out his face, but… there's something wrong with it.
"Oh? You've spied me in my own element? Curious. Still, you're clearly no psychic."
He kicks his feet off and falls the considerable distance, landing lightly on the floor. It doesn't make a sound. He starts walking toward her.
"Keep your distance," she warns. She braces her feet. "I've had enough fuckery for today."
He laughs. "There's such a thing as enough? But I jest. Know, though, that weapon will not avail you against me. None will, for all were fashioned, at one time or another, in my honor."
She decides to call his bluff. She fires a round into his shoulder.
The gun booms and her shoulders rock back, but the man doesn't so much as flinch or slow his approach. She sees the sparking flash of the bullet embedding itself into the concrete wall behind him.
Ellie blinks. She knows she didn't miss. She fires again, this time into his chest.
The room is instantaneously lit up by the gunblast. She sees a flash of red on him, but again, he is unmoved by the powerful round, which ricochets off the concrete floor in the distance.
"Mm…" he says, "you wouldn't hesitate to kill the foreign threat. I like that, that's a start."
As he draws nearer, stepping casually over her fallen enemy, she begins to pick up more details. His clothes are pristine, and very well made, but not of this time. They look like they might be from the nineteenth century or something. He's wearing a long leather trench coat with a high collar, as well as a brocaded vest and undershirt, and long trousers, with glossy, short leather boots. His hair is dark, and slicked back. His eyes glow, the only thing on him clearly visible, but she can't make out his goggles...
Ellie narrows her eyes. When what she's seeing becomes clear, her eyes go wide. She staggers back and fires another round haphazardly into his chest at less than fifteen feet. Unprepared this time, the force pushes her back forcefully against the wall, and she almost drops the gun.
He closes the distance until he's only about six feet away.
The… man has bright, painful red skin everywhere visible. He's got sharp, handsome features and elegant, narrow eyebrows. And his eyes… He's not wearing eyewear at all. His eyes have no pupils, only a powerful, yellow glow emanating from inside him as if from an inner furnace.
And his colors… she hadn't noticed them at first, but now she realizes it's only because they'd blended with his surroundings. A deeper, abyssal darkness emanates from every angle of his body, pouring out into the room around him. The effect is huge, as big as Thor's. The only deviation from the black is a narrow band of deep crimson wafting closely from his skin and clothes.
He wears a twisted smile that only deepens as she gets a better look at him.
"You seem impressed," he coos.
A whimper almost escapes Ellie's throat. His finery isn't so much as marred by a single one of her bullets. Still pressed against the wall behind her, she aims her gun anyway. "You stay the fuck away from me."
"Oh…" he says, as if wounded. "Always so fearful, your little kin. Don't you know it wounds me? It's only the lucky few that see me for what I am. Great Benefactor. Savior in fact, to your wayward, scrabbling kind."
A chill runs down Ellie's spine. Even the presence of this… this thing disturbs her.
"Who the fuck are you?" her confidence is belied by her trembling voice.
He's distracted for a moment. His eyes have drifted from hers, running down her cheek, his mind follows some train of thought absently. He snaps back to focus, and smiles again.
"Ah, of course, you must forgive me, Ellie. Sometimes I forget to drape myself with courtesy while visiting your realm. My name is Mephisto, Ruler of Hell, and Lord Eternal. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Ellie doesn't want to make his acquaintance, and she doesn't want to know how he knows her name. She just wants to get out of here with every fiber of her being, but he's blocking her way.
He adopts another distracted look. "You know, I admire how you dealt with your foe, back there. Dreadful chap. All action, no thought. Still, he had the advantage over you. But he was no match for your viciousness." He bites his lip. "Yes, one of my favorite fruits…"
The way he says the word 'viciousness' touches her chest in a way that makes her sick. Then she feels something move through her, something slithering. It's a disgusting feeling.
Mephisto's eyes widen, his lips curling into satisfaction. "There we are…"
"What the fuck are you doing to me?!" she shouts, gun shaking in her hands.
"Nothing you haven't allowed… Oh, and how can you blame me, there's a treasure trove here!"
Strange, grating sounds play in Ellie's mind, like poorly tuned strings. An acrid smell fills her nose. She grits her teeth, pressing a palm into her eye.
"Oh," he says in mock pity, "this is your tale? 'Tis tragic! You suffered greatly, didn't you? Loss after loss. And then, once you thought yourself safe, you were separated from your loved ones by a terrible misfortune. All at the hands of that false High Priestess Rappaccini. Oh, what will you do?"
"Leave me alone!" she cries desperately. The fear in her voice is becoming more and more obvious.
"Oh, Ellie, don't repel me, you'll only hurt yourself. What's more, I'm not done…" He maintains his distracted look, tilting his head this way and that, making queer gestures with his fingers. "Oh, and your home is harrowed, isn't it. Dear gods, the horror. I could take a lesson or two… oh, the fiendish creatures, denied their very own will, oh this is divine!"
"Get out of my head!" she shrieks.
"Mm…" he says lasciviously, "but you learned to defend yourself quickly, didn't you… Gods, and you do more than defend. Ha ha!"
Against Ellie's will, images of her past are flitting through her mind. Bare throats, red blades, and a hundred last looks of terror before she claims the life. She clenches her teeth until it hurts and squeezes her eyes shut. She growls through her teeth until she's practically yelling, but she can't make it stop.
"Oh, how many hapless ones have had their blood spilt by you? How many, whose names you never even knew... This is blessed, truly. You just don't see this anymore… And as reward, you retired to such an idyllic life? Are you sure this suits you? Well, I suppose if not, then what was it all for? All the pain? All the suffering, unto you and by your own hand…"
"Shut up…" she begs.
Mephisto's eyes continue searching, and suddenly widen. "And two of them with child, oh excellent!"
A spike of an old, familiar, burning feeling pushes up through her chest. She opens her eyes and locks them on his.
"But who could blame you?" he taunts dangerously. "It's only how you were taught, by your most beloved of all…"
She sucks in breaths through her teeth.
"All in the name of 'survival.' Well, that is a nice way to put it… I suppose Joel must have needed something with which to wipe his own blood-soaked hands."
The feeling blooms inside her.
"Stop now," she gutters, a purr of river-torrent rage under her words.
He seems nothing short of titillated by the threat. "But you said it best of all…" He speaks, and it actually comes out in her own voice. "'No one stood in Joel's way and lived to tell. It's pretty messed up, really. I always did admire that, though.'" Mephisto giggles, his pearly teeth show through his smile.
Ellie's lips peel back from hers.
"'And now it's me,'" he finishes.
Snarling like an animal, Ellie leaps at him, gun falling forgotten. She grasps at his collar, his throat, but instead she just falls right through him, landing hard on the cold stone floor.
She makes a sound in her throat, pulling herself up onto her elbows. How could she pass through him like he's not even real?
She senses him again and he's kneeling right in front of her. She tenses up, meeting his eyes.
"Ellie," he tsks, "like so many before you, you rail against your fate. Better not to rail against me. I'm the Great Benefactor, remember?" He raises two fingers into the air, a hellish orange glow appearing at their tips. Ellie feels a coil of fear. "I suspect we are going to do great things together, one day."
He lays his fingers on her forehead, and she feels a searing pain that cuts far deeper than skin.