To Lyger 0: I assume you mean Greta. She is definitely not immune to going weak in the knees around the Knight!
As the heroes rose higher into the air and flew away, Lucie swallowed back bile, fighting her own nausea. How could she have failed so badly? When the Teutonic Knight and his companion had appeared out of the sky just down the street from her, she had taken it as a sign: after days – almost a week – of hiding in the forest to avoid detection, she had finally left it to search for her quarry, only for them to fall right into her lap. The moment she had spotted them, she had run in their direction, practicing what she would say over and over in her mind. The Knight had scared off that man, placed that woman in a taxi. Then, they had been just about to take off into the air once more, just as Lucie had reached them. She had run up to them and then she had just… frozen.
Anything she could try to say, any words she had practiced, all of it disappeared out of her mind. The Knight had simply looked at her, waiting for her to say something, but she hadn't said anything. His companion had told her to go to a homeless shelter – she didn't need a homeless shelter; she needed their help! But she had stood there dumbly, staring at them while they flew away. She had failed.
That had been her one chance! They had been right there! All she had needed to do was speak, and she could have gotten the help she needed! But she had been so scared and nervous that she had lost her nerve before she could even say a word. And now her one chance was flying away, turning to ride an air current toward the north. Even as she watched, the other hero's blue-and-grey suit started to blend into the dark, cloudy sky. The Knight's armor reflected the streetlights brilliantly, his white tabard standing out against the darkness, though he also began to fade into the distance as he ascended. Lucie's stomach clenched as she stared after them, her mouth open. With a herculean effort, she resisted the urge to punch the building next to her in frustration, even as the first sound of an anguished howl built in her throat. How could she have given up her prime opportunity to complete her mission? Would she ever see them again – this close? In a city this size, would she ever run into them again?
But she had completely lost her nerve, coming face to face with her people's historical adversary. How many times in the last thousand years had her people been driven from their homes by the Teutonic Knight? How many of her people had been murdered by him? They had simply wanted to live their lives in peace, to maintain their way of life, and they had been attacked and murdered and driven into hiding. What if it was the same today? What if she had told him her problem, asked him for help, and he had decided to "help" her by continuing what he had done in centuries past? What if her people's "deliverance" had been their destruction? She couldn't risk that.
But.
She had come all this way because she didn't see any other choice. No one else had the power to stop him, to prevent her people from making the gravest and costliest mistake in their history. If she had seen any other option, she would not have risked the long journey to Berlin, trailed all the way by his agents. She would not have approached the Teutonic Knight if she could have avoided it. She needed him – no one else. And after all this, she could not just give up and do nothing. If she did nothing, then he would draw her people out, innocent people would die, and her people would be slaughtered – probably by the Teutonic Knight himself.
If she spoke to him, then he might kill her people. If she said nothing, then he might kill her people all the same. Damned if she did; damned if she did not. There was only one possible salvation. If she spoke to him – if she could tell him the truth before anything else happened – then maybe she could prevent the needless slaughter. On both sides.
But for that to happen, she needed to speak to him. She could not give up.
While she had been standing there in the middle of the road, carrying on her internal debate, the heroes had drifted past the line of buildings, just out of her sight. Lucie's eyes widened, her stomach churning anxiously, and she turned in either direction, scanning the sky above her for any sign of them. But there was nothing. As she turned, however, her nose twitched. There was something… but what was it? She frowned, her brows furrowed in concentration, and paused for another moment before suddenly rushing forward in a sprint, racing down a narrow alley between two buildings. Bursting out onto the next street, she turned north and spotted, just barely visible as a slightly darker spot against the clouds, the forms of the Teutonic Knight and his companion, flying north at a leisurely pace. Gritting her teeth, she broke into a jog, all her focus on the two heroes as they flew above her, trying to keep pace with them from the ground. She could keep up easily for now, but how long would they fly before landing? How would she get their attention?
The two heroes led her north several blocks, roughly paralleling the edge of the park where she had spent her last week in the city sleeping. The light from below glinted off the Knight's armor, a beacon for her to follow, impelling her forward. Lucie's heart pounded in her chest after the last two weeks' exertion, coupled with the closeness of her objective. Her energy was starting to flag – so long without eating enough. All that was propelling her forward now was the figure of the Knight above her: so close, yet still out of reach.
She had to get to him. She needed to make him understand. She needed to convince him to help.
Suddenly, a distant sound carried on the wind, she heard a high-pitched howl. Her pace accelerated – were they so close? Her eyes darted to the left and to the right, searching for the source. The howling had not come from the park to her left. But where had it come from? Lucie strained her ears to pick up more of the howls, but the city around her was practically silent once more. But then, from an alleyway to her right, came the sound of snuffling, of clawed paws against pavement. She turned in that direction, just as she crossed in front of the alleyway. Yellow eyes flashed in the reflected streetlight. A large, lithe, grey figure leaped out of the darkness, teeth bared.