The War of the Assassins
Part 10
Strife quickly turned on his heel and started to stride briskly towards where the dark aura was, only vaguely aware of Aerowyn and Virgil following him. There was a nauseating, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew who it was. He could recognize that aura in his sleep. It could only belong to one person.
"It's Diablo," Rag confirmed, speaking for the first time in an hour.
"Shit Rag!" Strife exclaimed, afraid, upset, and angry at how unaware he was of just how lonely he had truly felt until Rag had suddenly started talking to him again. He quickly pushed the unwanted rift that had developed between them aside. He needed her, and that was the unadorned truth. "About time you spoke up - I know it's Diablo - and I need your help."
"You always need my help," his Soul retorted sarcastically, her customary gruffness returning as if it had never left. She had apparently forgiven him for whatever offense he had committed against her.
Strife grinned weakly, but his heart wasn't in it. He could feel Diablo's aura now, a tangible, thick evil that radiated from all the Threads in the area, stronger and more malevolent than ever. His very presence disrupted the delicate balance of the Threads. It warped and twisted them, tangling them into unrecognizable black balls that would take hours of painstaking work to Cleanse and straighten out. Diablo was a walking disaster.
He took a few more quick steps until suddenly the aura located directly in front of Diablo hit him like a bolt spell. Strife froze in his tracks, fiercely telling himself that the senses he had honed throughout his years of training were wrong. "It can't be-"
"-Heero, damn it!" Rag completed for him angrily. She was just as frustrated as he was.
Aerowyn had noticed the dark blue aura also, and a sly grin crept across her pale face. "This will be interesting..." she remarked dryly, while raising an eloquent golden eyebrow at Strife.
He cursed fiercely as he felt Diablo's aura creeping ever closer to Heero's. Without wasting anymore time, Strife broke into a full sprint, using a spell to give him an extra boost. He had to make it to the pilot before Diablo managed to do anything to him. He just had to. He would consider what to do about his oath to destroy Odessa after he got Heero the hell out of there. The stupid kid seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble.
He sped down the street, ignoring the strange looks of the few confused civilians and the sounds of surprise from Aerowyn and Virgil. Diablo's aura became stronger and stronger and then suddenly, he was there. A black Paralyze spell was hurtling towards Heero, and Strife just barely managed to intercept it with Ragnarok, slicing cleanly through the Threads constructing the spell and causing it to disintegrate. Without missing a beat, Diablo charged at him while uttering an inhuman roar and Strife managed to block his fatal blow, their two Blades shuddering and sparking on impact.
"He's even stronger than last time!" shouted Rag, half-panicked.
Strife grimaced under the force of Diablo's strike and saw Heero raise his gun from the corner of his eye. "No-" he blurted as the pilot fired, the bullet singing through the air and heading straight for the back of Diablo's head.
Everything happened at once. Diablo spun in a blur of midnight blue hair and swung his Blade forcefully downwards, causing a powerful gust of wind that caught the bullet and sent it flying back towards Heero. It happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that even Heero was taken by surprise and could only watch helplessly while his own bullet betrayed him.
Strife reacted without thinking. There was absolutely no time to stop the bullet with a spell or with Rag, so he halted its deadly path with the only thing he could. A fiery burst of pain exploded from the flesh just below his right shoulder as the bullet slammed into it. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in pain as he collapsed to the ground, both Rag and Heero shouting his name with worry.
Strife clumsily propped himself up with his sword as Diablo stalked slowly towards him, an immensely satisfied smirk on his face. Heero stood in front of him, shielding him with the little protection that he could offer. "Stop," he commanded darkly, even though he very well knew that he could not possibly do anything. Diablo laughed and kept on walking, constructing a brutal Dark Tempest spell for the finishing touch.
Heero's bravery would've touched Strife in any other situation, but he definitely did not appreciate it at that particular moment. Whatever else happened, he could not let the innocent Gundam pilot die. There was already too much blood on his hands. "Run, Heero," Strife croaked, staggering to his feet and switching his hold on Rag to his left hand. He was equally skilled in both hands but now he could not manage a more powerful two-handed grip on his sword. Blood flowed freely from the bullet wound on his shoulder, and from the intensity of the pain, he knew that it had shattered bone.
Heero turned to face him, uncharacteristic worry etched in his face and swirling through his aura. "But this was my fault-"
"Just do it!" Strife shouted angrily, the aura around Rag bursting into a red-hot flame, perilously close to Heero's arm.
"Stupid stubborn boy," Rag muttered in annoyance, uneasily watching the advancing Diablo.
Heero recoiled and stared intensely at him for a few moments. "I am not a coward. I will not leave he who has saved my life to his death," he finally said quietly, his eyes flooded with determined compassion.
Strife grimaced. Diablo was only a few feet away - it was not the time for Heero to be noble. "Please Heero," he begged, reaching for the only weapon he possessed. "Relena is waiting for you - what would happen to her if she found out that you were dead?"
Heero's eyes softened at the mention of Relena's name. The fierce determination gradually faded from his aura and changed into reluctant acceptance. Strife saw with immense relief that he had won. The pilot had no reason to sacrifice his life for him - he had someone more precious to go back to. "I'm sorry," Heero said eventually as he turned to leave.
Apology accepted, Strife thought as he whirled to face Diablo, immediately raising his guard and wincing as he jarred his wounded arm.
"Too late, Strife!" Diablo laughed as he threw the immensely powerful Dark Tempest spell at him. It flew towards him at an incredible speed.
He desperately tried to raise a magic shield in time to block the spell. "It's too fast-" Strife blurted. He was going too slowly, hindered by his arm, and it was too large to slice through. Too late to run-
"Strife you have GOT to block it! You can't possibly take a spell of that magnitude in your condition!" Rag screamed at him, panicking.
It was too close - he was almost done with his shield - his arm was pulsing with pain - it was too late - the spell was so dark - he could feel its power as it roared towards him, a ferocious tempest of chaotic Thread-born wind. One last Thread to connect - just one more - he could feel the black wind start to tear at his flesh, whipping his hair about his face - he couldn't see - too late -
"Ragnarok!" Strife roared as the storm began to engulf him, his pathetic half-shield ripped to shreds.
The slicing pain, the oppressive dark, and the chaotic tempest ceased almost as soon as it had begun. Strife opened his eyes and looked in wonder at the dark green, tightly woven network of Threads shielding him from the spell raging furiously around him. No way...
"No one kills Strife while I'm still around," remarked Aerowyn lazily, leaning casually on her pulsing green Blade. Virgil stood a few feet behind her, the stony look on his face reflecting his obvious disapproval.
"I can't believe that she actually saved you," Rag said, shocked.
Strife shook his head. It was rather surprising, but he took the opportunity to heal himself instead of wondering if Aerowyn still had a thing for him. He would have to be back in working order by the time the storm blew itself out.
Diablo did not like being thwarted. "Aerowyn Silverlye...what a surprising change of heart - have you finally grown weary of that stupid redhead who follows you around?" he spat acidly, glaring balefully at the golden-haired woman.
"You better watch your mouth, Diablo," Virgil warned, his icy eyes flashing dangerously.
Aerowyn just laughed and replied, "He isn't important to me, but the money I'll get for making sure that Strife kills you is."
Now it was Diablo's turn to laugh as Virgil turn to face Aerowyn, crimson rage splotching his pale face. "Aerowyn-" he began, hurt and angry.
Strife grimaced as Aerowyn and Virgil started to argue while Diablo gleefully fanned the fire on the sidelines. Virgil may not have been the most intelligent of people, but he was still dangerous. Especially when he was angry. Pretty soon they'd be in a full-fledged battle. Well, at least they won't bother me anymore...
"You think he'd figure it out a little sooner," Rag muttered, annoyed.
"It wasn't wise of her to do that," Strife replied dryly, stretching his newly healed arm and watching the dark tempest raging around him carefully. As soon as it let up he would slice out of the magic shield and resume his battle with Diablo.
"And then what?" Rag asked him quietly. "You already know that you can't kill him, not while Odessa's still inside."
Strife scowled. He still hadn't decided what to do about that particular topic and he hated the subject. "What do you suggest I do then?" he retorted angrily.
Right as she began to reply, the storm abruptly stopped. Strife immediately sliced through the dark green Threads of the shield and raced towards where Diablo was refereeing the shouting match between Aerowyn and Virgil. He crept stealthily behind him and was about to attack when Diablo suddenly turned around.
"Not so fast," he sneered, unearthly fire burning deep within his black eyes. He immediately threw a ball of dark fire from his Blade and disappeared. Strife cursed as he sliced through the fireball and heightened all of his senses, trying to detect where Diablo had fled. Aerowyn and Virgil were now in a fight of their own, just as he had predicted. Virgil was raining huge icicles upon the ground and Aerowyn was taunting him while agilely avoiding every one.
"Behind you!" Rag suddenly shouted, diverting his attention from the two battling Assassins.
Strife felt Diablo's aura just as Rag warned him about it, and he turned in time to block the deadly blow aimed at his head. It was the beginning of a long and wearying battle, with Strife throwing various spells and blocking Diablo's, both exchanging earth-shattering blows with their respective Blades, and Rag coaching him all the way. But as the battle wore on, Strife felt himself gradually slipping. He was growing more and more tired, and every time he had a chance to end the fight and inflict a fatal blow, he found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Diablo noticed this and so taunted him by giving him even more blatantly obvious opportunities. Every time he had the chance, Strife almost killed him, instinctively following all of his training. But every time he stopped himself, remembering that Odessa was still in there, and he could almost hear her screaming for him to spare her life.
"You can't last much longer," Rag said worriedly as he just barely blocked another bone-shattering blow from Diablo, and obtained a large diagonal gash across his cheek in the process. Strife reeled and staggered away, trying to catch his breath. By now he had obtained a good number of cuts from Diablo's Blade, each one slowly poisoning him. He didn't have enough time to stop and cure himself so he fought doggedly on, becoming more and more sluggish with each blow. Diablo was just playing with him now, a malicious grin plastered on his face.
"You're slowing down, Strife," Diablo taunted, tirelessly pressing his attack. He didn't even have a single scratch, and was apparently enjoying the fight immensely.
"What should I do?" asked Strife desperately, fighting to stay alert and conscious. The combination of the long battle and Diablo's poison resulted in an overwhelming, oppressive weariness. It was an effort to stay awake, much less move his heavy, listless limbs quickly enough to avoid being injured and poisoned even further. Every cell in his body ached with pain and fatigue. It wouldn't be much longer until Diablo wearied of his game...
"Fuse me with him," Rag replied, and then added hurriedly, "Just HIM mind you. I can Fuse with Diablo and only Odessa will be left. All you have to do is heal her."
Strife narrowly dodged another spell and then began to furiously rage at her, "Are you INSANE?! You'll have to self-destruct if you Fuse with him to make sure he'll never come back - and that's only if you're able to take control of him so that you don't become another Diablo!"
"I can do it," Rag retorted, with feigned confidence. He could tell that under her cocky exterior she was really uncertain and afraid. Just like him.
"Out of the question, Rag," he said fiercely while swiftly constructing a Blaze spell. "There's no way I'm going to let you risk it. I'm not going to lose you." How could she even think about self-destructing? Didn't she know that he needed her more than anything?
Diablo sliced through his spell and charged at him, leaving his left side open as a blatant challenge. "No, Strife," Rag replied soberly to his unspoken thoughts. "You've already decided that you can live without me. As long as you have Odessa...it'll be better for you in the long run, remember?"
Strife reeled, shocked. She knew about that. Of course she knew about it. But it was still shocking to hear her say it herself. And she sounded sad, so infinitely sad. He'd rather hear her yell at him, bitter and angry, than to hear that weary sadness in her voice. She accepted it. And she was ready to sacrifice herself. For him.
"No-" he breathed, crushed with the knowledge of what she was about to do next. "Don't - Rag..."
"You can't stop me, Strife," Rag said quietly, determination lacing her voice and her aura turning brighter.
Strife stared blindly at Diablo racing towards him, too shocked to raise his guard. He couldn't stop her. He couldn't stop her. She was going to kill herself and he couldn't possibly stop her. He didn't have to key her in order for her to Fuse with someone. That was back when he was a Mercenary. Now he didn't even have to physically lift her himself and make the killing blow. She was strong enough to do it herself, but she had never undermined his authority before. None of that mattered now. Rag was going to kill herself. Kill herself. He had pictured her being stripped forcefully from him, after fighting for her valiantly. But he couldn't fight her. Not if she really wanted to self-destruct. He could only stand by and watch...oh God...
"Strife, I'm sorry it had to come to this...but it this is the only thing I can do for you now," she began gently.
"Ragnarok...please," he begged, the sky swirling dizzily around him. He was starting to succumb to the poison. Or was it just the shock? Or the utter helplessness he was feeling?
She apparently didn't hear him and continued with her quiet speech, "I was at first - angry - with you for choosing Odessa over me. But now I'm truly happy for you. You've found someone to live for. You finally understand that there are things more important in life than a sword. That it's not necessary to spend the rest of your days killing people unmercifully. That you don't have to sell your soul to earn a living. That you can FEEL - and be content, not like what your Sensei told you. I wanted you to know those things ever since you met Odessa." She turned brighter still, until she was too painful to directly look at. She was preparing to Fuse. "I knew you loved her you know - that she was the one. Ever since that first day..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Diablo came ever closer...
"Stop!" Strife yelled at her, desperation and fear growing inside of him. Her words had an eerie finality to them. "Rag, LISTEN to me! Stop this! You don't have to do this for me!" His eyes felt hot with sudden tears as he repeated brokenly, "You don't have to do this for me..."
"But I want to do this for you, Strife," Rag replied poignantly. There was an odd quality to her voice - and then Strife realized with numbing shock that she was crying. In all of the years that he had known her, she had been upset and angry, but he had never before felt her cry. It was almost unbearably painful. "Just - go on without me, okay? Search for your true Soul because I'm not it and never have been, no matter what you might believe. Live your life, no matter how much it'll hurt at first..." she choked, half-sobbing. She then paused and seemed to try to gain some control over herself. "And try to think with your brain instead of your balls," she added finally, laughing weakly through her tears.
Strife stared at her in utter desolation, his tears stinging the wounds on his face. "Ragnarok...don't leave me," he cried unsteadily, trying one last time to stop her. This couldn't be happening. It was just some awful nightmare. Rag would never cry. Rag would never leave him. Never.
"I'm sorry Strife..." she replied, starting to shake violently in his grip. She was rapidly gaining strength and turning the peculiar red-orange color that she always turned right before she Fused. "I - I love you," she stammered, her voice wavering with tears and with a note of tenderness that he had never heard from her before. She sounded so frightened...
It was at that instant that he knew that she was really going through with it and that it was too late to stop her.
"No - Rag! Wait! I-"
Suddenly, Diablo was there, right in front of him, and it was too late to tell her.
Too weak, hurt, and stunned to stop or fight her, Rag lifted herself in his hands and plunged herself into Diablo's unprotected left side. Diablo roared in pain and there was a blinding flash of crimson light as Rag began to Fuse with him. Strife winced at the light and let go of her, collapsing numbly to his knees. She stayed spitted in Diablo's shuddering side, absorbing the thick black darkness from Odessa's body. It pulsed in waves up and down her blade, and then began to become part of her blade itself. Black and red swirled on her silver surface, clashing and colliding violently together; Rag and Diablo viciously fighting for control of the sword. Finally, when Rag was mostly a crimson red, she withdrew herself from Odessa and began to glow brighter and brighter. Huge cracks gradually started to appear in her blade, slowly spreading outwards to reach even the very tip.
"Goodbye, Strife," Ragnarok whispered gently into his mind, sounding faint and distant. She then suddenly shattered into a burst of sky metal and scarlet light, exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces with a shrill metallic screech that sounded eerily close to a scream...
"RAGNAROK!!"
****************
Strife woke up, and instinctively reached for Rag, only to discover that she wasn't there. Perhaps he had misplaced her on accident, though he knew in his heart that it wasn't true. He still had to try, at least. "Rag..." he called desperately, waiting for her reply. Silence. Oppressive, thick, silence. "Ragnarok!" he shouted, more urgently. There was no reply. Strife began to feel frantically afraid - he had lost Rag. Impossible. But it was true, he couldn't feel her in his mind. There was a horrible empty space where Rag used to be. He was alone, utterly alone.
He abruptly sat up at the realization and flinched as he cut his hand on a small shard of silver sky metal. It had a faint red glow to it...what's this? The memories of what had happened suddenly flooded him, and he could once again hear his beloved Blade Soul screaming in pain...Ragnarok was dead. Dead.
"No. Rag...Rag," he choked, shaking violently. He would never talk to her or see her or be one with her again. And he had never told her...never told her. He had so many chances and he had never told her. "Rag - I love you. How could you leave me? I love you, damn it!" he shouted into the empty air, hoping that she'd answer him once she knew.
Silence.
The enormity of her death finally hit him as he curled into a fetal position on the cold, unyielding sidewalk and started to cry, feeling broken and lost and empty and above all, alone.
"How could you leave me?!"
As he started to calm down a bit, Strife felt a faint, familiar aura somewhere near him, but it was too dark to see exactly where it was. But he could feel it there, gently pulsing. It's Odessa...
He just barely dragged himself to his feet, his head pounding and the world swimming dizzily around him. He took one step and cried out as his legs gave out from under him. He collapsed once again to the ground, his body aching with pain, and his limbs heavy and useless. The poison from Diablo's Blade was still in his system, and was slowly overwhelming him. He could feel the black unconsciousness seeping across his mind. But he could feel Odessa too, gradually fading. He couldn't give up now - he had to try something to help her.
So Strife clumsily, painstakingly crawled in the direction of Odessa's aura, inch by inch. It seemed an eternity before he finally reached her, but suddenly, there she was, blood from the sword wound on her left side pooling around her body, staining her beautiful hair. She was so pale, glowing white in the faint moonlight. With the last of his strength, Strife managed to drag her with him to rest under a tree planted next the sidewalk. He cradled her tenderly, her head resting on his shoulder, and his arms wrapped around her waist, carefully avoiding her wound. Her breathing was dangerously shallow, and her pulse was slow and sluggish.
"Odessa, wake up," he said frantically, frightened by her cold stillness. She didn't reply. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" he shouted into her ear, hysterical with fear and grief. First Rag - and now this.
He could feel the fragile life fading from her...
Suddenly, he saw a metallic glint of silver light from the corner of his eye. There was a silhouette of a sword lying a foot away from him on the sidewalk - for a crazy instant he thought that it was Ragnarok. But as Strife gingerly picked it up, he realized that it was Odessa's Blade, now just a sword, lacking both Lumina and Diablo. He fervently tried to construct a Heal spell with it, though it lacked any magical properties. It didn't work. Perhaps he might've been able to do it if there was light and he was uninjured, but he was so tired, so desperate, and his hands so stiff with cold that he couldn't even get the correct Threads untangled. After many fruitless efforts, Strife threw the sword against the sidewalk in frustration, watching it slide into the street. It didn't matter what happened to it. It was just a sword.
Odessa was just barely breathing by this time, and she was still bleeding. Strife abruptly took off his black jacket, ignoring the cold slicing into his bare arms, and bound it tightly across her wound, watching in horror as blood started to slowly seep through it.
This is not good. "Help!" he shouted desperately into the empty street. "Somebody please help! I have someone injured here! Please..." Only his own echo and the biting wind answered him. There was not a soul outside within miles. Darkness, space and trees surrounded him, not business complexes or even houses. And he couldn't leave Odessa by herself, much less walk for help. Even Aerowyn and Virgil were nowhere to be found, probably already back on Lothos and telling the Baron about how he had broken an oath to the Daeminstirul. There was no one that could possibly help him now.
Odessa was dying...
He pulled her closer, trying to keep her warm. She was so cold, and so limp and fragile in his arms. He couldn't withstand the overwhelming grief and complete helplessness any longer. Strife buried his face into her hair and started to cry, his shoulders shaking with wracking sobs. Rag had sacrificed her life so that Odessa might live, and now that she had done so, Strife couldn't even do an absurdly simple thing like heal the girl. He had failed his Blade Soul miserably.
"I'm sorry Rag," he choked through his tears, pounding the sidewalk with his fist in frustration. "I tried to help her - I tried Rag...I'm sorry - I'm so sorry..."
***************
Strife woke up and blinked painfully at the diffused white light surrounding him. He was faintly aware of a strong aseptic, sterile smell and of stiff, starchy sheets covering his body.
"Welcome back, Strife," murmured a soft, musical voice. He couldn't see who it was - the world was just a big white blur, but he knew who had spoken to him, the voice sounded so familiar...
He abruptly sat up, wanting desperately to see who was there and flinched as he stretched old wounds on his bare chest.
"Careful, now," cooed the quietly feminine voice, trying to push him back down with a cool hand. Strife instinctively grabbed her wrist and stared, shocked, into the most beautiful violet eyes he had ever seen wavering unsteadily in his vision.
"Odessa..." he breathed, stunned, gripping her wrist so tightly that his knuckles turned white. It couldn't be true - it couldn't possibly be true. Tears welled unbidden in his eyes as he saw how frail and fragile she was, and yet still so stunningly beautiful. God was toying with him, punishing him for all of the lives he had ended. Odessa couldn't possibly be alive. He had seen her die. Felt her life bleed away. "You're dead..." he whispered unsteadily, swallowing his tears and trying desperately to wake himself from his horrible, horrible dream.
Her eyes filled with tears as she tremblingly traced the scar on his cheek with her other hand. Strife shivered at her cool, soothing touch. "You always say that when you see me - why can't you be normal and just say 'hello?" she managed to choke out, a weak smile on her face.
Strife laughed with overwhelming relief, realizing suddenly that the impossible was true. Odessa was alive - alive. They embraced each other tightly, ignoring their respective wounds and shedding a few happy tears. Strife marveled at how content, how utterly complete that he felt with her in his arms. She almost filled the void in his spirit that Rag had once occupied.
But that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered except that Odessa was all right. Strife sighed in content as she rested her head gently on his chest, her hair tickling his flesh. He stroked her face tenderly, feeling comforted and safe. Everything was going to be okay.
*******************
Virgil desperately constructed another Heal spell, trying to wake the battered, golden-haired woman. It didn't work. She remained still and cold, crimson blood trickling sluggishly down her face from the wound on her forehead. So still-
"Aerowyn," he called frantically, shaking her shoulders. She didn't answer and slid limply from his arms, her skin slick with blood. Virgil stared blankly at her stiff body for a few moments, the truth slowly sinking in.
Virgil roared in anger and frustration. She was dead. And that black-haired punk had killed her. Killed her.
Without wasting anymore time, Virgil tenderly placed Aerowyn's body under a tree. He cloaked the location and swiftly started to Slice, his vision tinted red with rage.
Strife was going to pay.
*******************
AN: I apologize to all of you out there who love Rag. Email me if you want a detailed explanation as to why I killed her. Anyhow, it's almost over folks. Probably just one more part and an Afterward. I'll be wrapping up all the loose ends and the cliffhanger above. Thanks! Cutlass317@aol.com