Makima could sense them coming. Closer and closer, the rumbles sounded. The roar of chainsaws was acute in the destruction happening above them. Whether she was ready or not, it was time to face the last obstacle to her plans. A decisive blow it must be, to ensure the best chance of victory.
"Doctor," she beckoned.
The scrawny figure snapped from his daydreaming, and answered, "Y-yes, ma'am?"
"Guard the subject. I have matters to attend to."
He took the hint sheltered within this vague statement and nodded.
"Of course, of course. Though, I must ask before you go—"
Golden eyes silently told him to shut up, and do as he was told. His question died on the spot, and he slumped back into his resting place, resigned to his fate. A good little pawn he was, even if she hadn't the same control over him as the others.
Makima then called upon her ethereal strength, raising her hands up to her bosom, and placing them together into a distinct T-shape. Here, she conjured the lifeforce that she fed upon, and willed herself to where she wished, vanishing in a blink of an eye.
Assured that she was not going to silence him again, the doctor grumbled to himself, "And here I thought I might get the chance to show the wonders of modern medicine—to put someone in a trance and bring them back out of it just as easily!"
The skinny man glanced down fondly to his practitioner's bag and reached into one of the pockets to pull out his source of gripe. A rectangular case which opened much like when turning the cover of a book, and inside this case was a single vial of blue liquid.
"An antidote, meant to counter the lasting effects of the numbing agent. I wonder now, if she plans to bring the subject back from the dead, or if she intends to keep them under this spell forever," the doctor wondered aloud, "I wish I could have asked her, before she left."
Thinking it to be a serious matter of discussion, he asked the unconscious soul strapped to the chair, "What do you think, dear; does she take pity on you, or are you already doomed to a fate worse than death?"
He was answered with silence.
It was destined to happen here, on the roof. Here, there was the smallest chance of surprise encounters, the best option for combat of any distance. Her contingent of reserves was drawn up by chains, the iron chain-links spanning the short distance between these puppets and their puppet master. It was here that Makima chose to meet Chainsaw Man, and once he finished making his way up to the top, he would find her standing opposite to the entrance, ready to finalize his bloodthirsty adventure.
The metal access door up to the roof crumpled from an unseen force, coming from the inside. It was blown off its hinges a second thereafter, and Makima eyed her challenger as he stepped into the light of day. The whirring of metal blades growled at the sight of her, and she smiled.
Hello, old friend.
The blades roared back in answer. Chainsaw Man charged forward, ready to slice her to pieces.
A chainsaw blade was swung horizontally towards Makima, but she dodged it easily, stepping out of reach and then curving around Chainsaw Man's straight angle of attack. He was predictable, up to a certain extent—there was always a method to madness. Though it would require a swift and decisive strike, it could be done.
She needed more security, more assuredness that she was in control of the fight. Her puppets were but a finite resource, and the little human was still defiant. Time was now against her.
She took a calculated risk, ducking from another wild swing of the blade, and rolled into position, her finger-gun lined up just as Chainsaw Man brought his other arm down to capitalize.
Bang.
The slayer of devils was sent flying. Again, Makima called—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Farther and farther, he went, 'till he was but a speck on the horizon. She had about five seconds before he closed the distance.
A motion was made with her hands, like the motions of a clock face, twisting clockwise and recited by a gentle hum.
The roar of the blades came quickly to her ears, but Makima was quicker—
Hold.
Time slowed, crawling to a standstill. Except it wasn't—very slowly, the raised blade-arm was being brought down to where she stood. It would take a while for it to touch her, and even longer before it tore through her flesh. Now was time to get her things in order.
She pulled herself into the empty vessel she left behind.
Kobeni narrowed her eyes once Makima stepped onto the level ground, shimmering with ripples of golden energy. The devil was translucent for a moment, as if she were but an elusive apparition like the ones Kobeni previously fought, but then solidified the next moment after. The devil's predatory gaze was locked to the human, staring blankly at her.
No words needed to be spoken. The silence did the talking for them.
It was Makima who made the first move; she began her advance on Kobeni at a walking pace, not even trying to raise her hands in defense.
Kobeni dug her heels and held her ground.
The devil kept her pace, closing the distance. It seemed as though a melee was what the devil sought, and Kobeni angled the knife at the ready. The distance between them shrank ever more.
They were separated by less than a handful of meters at most when Kobeni sprang forth, feigning a slash to the neck, intending to take out Makima's kneecaps. But it worried her when Makima did not bother to counterattack, and with the tendons severed and the center of balance removed, Control was still unfazed as she fell on her knees to the ground.
Kobeni dared to finish the fight quickly and aimed for the devil's heart. Again, Makima barely reacted to the blade being thrust into her chest, not a cry sounded when Kobeni twisted the knife for good measure.
It bothered the human very much, seeing her opponent not even try. It was too easy, way too damn easy—as if Makima wasn't there to begin with. Kobeni had seen the redhead fight before, had seen this devil take on their equivalents with the same stoic nature—but this stoicism was backed by great power and strength, that which was glaringly absent in this fight. It felt like she was dueling a Makima-shaped punching bag instead of the real deal.
"What are you...?" the human wondered aloud, in disbelief. She pulled the knife from its place in her opponent's chest cavity and thrust it back in again. It didn't elicit a reaction at all.
Kobeni tilted her head, now a bit curious. She eased her stance and edged closer to the lifeless mannequin.
"…what are you doing—?"
Golden eyes, dilated and unseeing, sharpened in the blink of an eye.
Kobeni hadn't the time to duck when Control's finger-gun was raised, and a Bang echoed from perfect lips. The concussive blast struck the human girl's raised left arm, sending it and the rest of her flying back.
Almost immediately after getting her feet on the ground, Kobeni rebounded and closed the distance, because she knew that any distance more than an arm's length invited trouble—
Bang.
Her speed and agility saved her from being swallowed by the second blast, and the human blindly charged the devil. The knife sliced the finger-gun off at the wrist, and another slash took the opposite arm at the elbow. Makima was uncaring, for her fatal wounds bound themselves back together, quick enough to meet Kobeni's frantic thrust of the knife towards the devil's heart.
A curled fist struck the blade, knocking it away and sending its user off balance. The follow-up punch caught Kobeni in the ribs, and she gasped terribly at the crunch of the impact.
Another swing of the knife tore through Makima's cheek, cleaving the flesh and nerves and exposing the devil's upper row of dentures. Another strike carved across her neck, and blood spilled from the gaping wound. Again, these wounds healed, and again Kobeni's follow-ups were blunted by Control's counterattacks. A vicious cycle of blows was exchanged, but only one of them was truly weathering this torrent of violence.
A fist nailed Kobeni in the face, and she recoiled. Her right arm—with which she wielded her knife—was seized and splintered into halves by a single motion, and Makima reeled in her prey.
With a cry of desperation, Kobeni hurled her other fist at the devil, and this arm was also deflected, and then snapped like a twig. Makima swept her legs out from underneath, and when using the downward momentum, the devil caught the knife that fell out of Kobeni's grasp in midair and plunged it down into the human's torso, piercing the flesh of the stomach.
"Agh—!"
Pain seized the poor human girl. The cold blade was burning her innards with its sharp touch, and Control now leaned over her so that she couldn't escape.
It was unavoidable, that you would lose to my bare hands. You are but a tiny, fickle little human, after all.
Kobeni attempted to speak but ended up coughing out blood. A pressure in one of her lungs spoke of a terrible fate.
How long will you keep this up? How much longer will it take for you to realize it's all for nothing?
Golden eyes looked down to her, cold and indifferent. And even though pain sung its chorus throughout her body, even when she had not the slightest chance, Kobeni drew her strength and defied the Devil of Control; she spat bloody mucus, and growled—
"Damn you."
The spit was more like spittle, spraying the Devil's face with red dots. Makima angled her eye down as if to assess the result of this crude gesture, then settled her gaze back. A slight, disappointed frown graced her features.
Pawns do not spit upon their superiors. They do not talk back, and they do not have courage. Pawns are pawns because they are inferior, and they know this to be true.
And yet, despite being aware of the futility of your actions, despite knowing you cannot win—you still deny your fate. You foolishly cling to false promises, brought about by the actions of other desperate fools.
A hand grasped the collar of her white button-up shirt and pulled her up. The shifting of the organs and the knife in her abdomen hurt so badly that she nearly blacked out from the pain, but even now Kobeni persevered. She could feel the blood coating her throat and dripping from her chin, but still she endured.
You are alone, Kobeni. No one is here to save you now—not your dead sister, not Himeno and the devil hunters, neither is Chainsaw Man going to come to your aid. I offered you multiple chances to surrender yourself, and spare yourself the pain, and torment—but you refused me every time. A miserable existence you have lived, and yet despite being offered the chance to forego your suffering and live a comfortable life as my servant, you still refused.
A dress shoe, spotless and polished, pressed itself onto the knife, and Kobeni squirmed in agony, tears falling despite her best efforts.
What compels you? You've had everything stripped of you; your family, your friendships, your hope and your will to live—but you're still defiant. It makes no sense to me.
The hand pulled her closer still, until their faces were but inches away.
Then, the Devil of Control asks of her—
Why?
It took some time before Kobeni could answer this question. Her head was swaying this way and that; she was losing consciousness due to blood loss. She could not move her broken arms, which hung limp at her sides. The knife buried in her gut was giving her all kinds of hell, an unending, godawful anguish that made speaking a monumental task. But she eventually answered the Devil of Control, and had the strength to look this triumphant devil in the eyes as she spoke.
"Because I know what it means to have courage. And you will never take that from me, no matter what you do. You can take my body, you can take my freedom, all that I have is yours—but you will never control me."
Makima frowned. A very cold, and very agitated frown.
…very well. You've made your choice.
A hand took the knife by the handle, and callously tore it from Kobeni's stomach. Blood poured onto her shirt and black dress pants, and her intestines spilled in slimy clumps from the gaping wound. Kobeni never dropped her defiant glare, even when Makima raised her arm and then brought the knife down—
A/N - I'm tempted to leave it here, as I felt this ending would have much more impact on the story overall. However, if you, as the reader, wish to have an ending that resolves all matters left unfinished, I'll attempt to write an epilogue to this chapter's events. Please note, I will be fulfilling my obligation to revising and rewriting sections previous, so the epilogue will not be as forthcoming if it is asked for.
I hope you enjoyed this work, for this is the goal of most good writers: to make stories that are worthwhile to read, that inspire others to build off of ideas and expound on what hasn't been. Leave a comment/review if you wish for an epilogue, or if you have concerns/critiques about this work. I wish you all the best. - MB