Between what Mifune knew and what Kid's contacts had shared with him, it wasn't a terrible plan, as suicidal plans went. Kid had scrounged up robes and masks, they had a map of the complex that, while not complete, was hopefully reliable, and the ADA had been able to convince his mystery contacts to help. They were taking a huge chance-trusting Mifune, trusting these spies, infiltrating the most dangerous organization to ever inhabit Death City, but if the others had second thoughts, they remained unspoken. Kid was on the sidelines, Mifune grimly determined, Black Star downright enthusiastic, and Maka unflappable. It was Soul alone who was brooding, his seemingly fixed scowl of displeasure hidden beneath the red demon mask he now wore. Maka had chosen an angel mask, and he found that absolutely fitting.
They were just outside the complex, a massive building that fronted a shipping operation, waiting to meet Kid's insiders. Two more people Soul didn't know. Two more people who might royally fuck them over. It was past 1:30 now. They'd better hurry or they were going to miss their golden fucking chance. Not a minute later, as his nerves were beginning to settle into his gut in a sickening ball, two figures emerged from the shadows.
"The symmetry of your mask is perfect," a moderately tall figure said in a low woman's timbre, sounding bored.
"But not as perfect as the number eight," Maka recited from under her angel mask.
"Ah, sis, it's them!" the shorter figure said happily, throwing off her own mask with speckled giraffe-like markings and throwing back the hood for good measure. Underneath was a perky looking blonde girl with bright blue eyes who appeared to be no older than 18. Soul thought she looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place why for the life of him. "Kiddo said you guys-"
"Patti," the taller girl hissed from behind her own classic tragedy mask. "Put that back on!"
"Aw, sis, if Kiddo says we can trust them-"
"No-now put the mask back on!"
Patti's shoulders slumped as she picked up and replaced the mask. "At least introduce yourself-it's only polite."
The taller woman shook her head and sighed almost fondly, then turned her attention back to the group. "Fine, I'm Liz. Who the hell are all of you?" She cocked one hand on a hip, an absurd gesture over the voluminous black robe.
They each offered their names, Soul and Maka as Eater and the Grigori beneath their devil and angel masks, and Star and Mifune as themselves behind a gold mask for the first and an angry red and white samurai mask for the second. The whole exchange had Soul feeling twitchy; they had so little time to waste.
"Anyway," Liz said, "We don't really have time to dawdle. We need to split into three groups, so since Mifune, Patti, and I know our way around, we'll each lead-"
"No," Soul interrupted quickly, feeling naked without the helmet even behind the mask-but he couldn't wear it and maintain the disguise. "The Grigori and I stay together."
"Your funeral." The woman half shrugged.
"We've seen the maps. We'll figure it out," Maka put in, and Soul couldn't help it, he was so grateful she'd agreed, even backed up staying with him, that he grabbed her hand and squeezed. That she squeezed back made the darkness seem just a little bit lighter around them.
"Suit yourselves," Liz said boredly. "Patti and I will go together then, and Mifune-"
"I'll go with you," Mifune interrupted.
"Why?" The suspicion in the tall woman's voice was palpable.
"Because while Mortimer might trust you, I don't. I won't risk Angela. I'd rather both of you were paired with one of us."
Liz remained silent, pulling at her robe sleeve without answering, before Patti tugged on her arm.
"Sis, you should do what he asks. They're the ones who have someone to lose."
"I have you to lose," Liz snapped.
"I'll be fine, sis! You know I can handle myself!" Patti said brightly.
"Patti, no. They can trust us or get the fuck out, but I'm not gonna-"
"But sis! You were willing to separate us before the other two decided to go it alone! Don't you trust me?" Her voice was imploring, earnest, like a child trying to wheedle a sweet from her mother, and Soul could practically hear the big round puppy dog eyes manifest in her voice. Apparently, it was a ploy that she knew would work, because Liz's shoulders slumped in defeat.
After another deep sigh, Liz said, "Fine, but only because I know you won't listen anyway and we really don't have time for this shit, and you better watch yourself, you got me?"
"Always do, sis!" the shorter girl said with a little laugh, and seeing them interact, the familiarity tickled at him again, though he still couldn't place it.
Then they were working out which pair would handle which potential holding place, the best routes to take, and a final meeting point. Maka distributed earpieces provided by Kid to the two who lacked them, and soon enough, they were moving through the gates into the building.
It was 1:45, cutting it close, but then, they needed to time their movement on top of the meeting if they were to have any chance. Get in, get out, that was the plan. It was a hell of a weak plan, really, but it was what they had to work with.
Five minutes later, they were wading through the press of humanity moving about the building. The place appeared to be a massive square structure from outside, industrial, nearly windowless; inside it was a maze. A portion was clearly sectioned off for the legitimate shipping front, but the rest was as convoluted as a spider's web, with countless paths and spaces, and while there was clearly a pattern, it was impossible to discern from within its clutches.
They carefully avoided the main meeting spot while trying to appear to be moving towards it, threading their way among the outer hallways, the other pairs splitting off in silence when they reached the fork that would take them towards the portion of the place they were supposed to scout, until Maka and Soul were left alone in the crowd.
As they moved through the throng, passing people as they went, one large man in a wolf mask stopped them with a guffaw. "Angel and demon? Because that's not the oldest cliche in the book," he said before moving the other way. It was a near thing-when the man had first grabbed his arm, Soul thought they'd been made and had been a hairsbreadth from attacking. He breathed a sigh of relief as they rounded a corner and reached a quiet, unoccupied hallway, smaller than those they had travelled to this point. They were getting closer.
The sections where Arachnophobia kept prisoners were all deep down convoluted pathways, and the path to their own destination led to a small space near the heart of the lion's den, as it were. It was marked 'storage', but Mifune had discovered otherwise when he last saw Angela, last requested a visitation.
Soul hoped it held no prisoners, hoped it would be the others who found the captives, because he just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He was exhausted again and felt vulnerable, exposed so deep into enemy territory, so far behind enemy lines, especially with so many of them gathered here now. Those numbers were the point, that relative anonymity, even if it made his skin crawl to be so utterly outnumbered.
They were close now, so close, and the updates on his earpiece told him the others were approaching their own target areas in turn. Another bend and they should reach a hallway with two doors, the left one the room they sought.
When they reached the hallway, also empty, he felt relief wash through him. Soul had expected some sort of guard detail if there were captives here, but they were met with no one, and he thought it likely that they would find no prisoners.
Then, a cacophony erupted suddenly in his earpiece, and Soul couldn't help but to stiffen.
"What's this now, peasants?" he heard Blake bellow in his ear, either having clicked on his own earpiece, or perhaps not having clicked it off after the last declaration of being near the target. "You dare to threaten the great Black Star?"
"Halt and drop your weapons, now!" an unfamiliar voice bellowed, and Black Star's only answer was a maniacal laugh, followed by similarly eerie giggles from Patti. Well, hell, this wasn't going well at all. They needed to hurry.
"Patti! They seem hell bent on keeping that big contraption safe-what say we spoil their little show with our own star appearance?"
"No, you two, stick to the plan-stick to the-" Liz's voice cut in, clearly panicked.
"Fuck yeah!" Patti yelled out, and then all Soul could hear was the clang, shouts, and scuffle of fighting.
Yeah, they definitely needed to hurry. He clicked off his earpiece, unable to take the sheer noise, and glanced at Maka, who had similarly paused, had similarly touched her head under her robe.
"We need to get out of here-let's check the damned room and leave," he said, working to keep his voice calm because this was not good.
"Which room?" Maka asked, voice strained.
"What do you-"
"Which room-because the map showed two doors in this corridor, and we're supposed to be looking in the right one, but there are three…"
"Shit," Soul swore, because she was right. Had they taken a wrong turn or…? "This the right hall?"
"I'm pretty sure," she said with a sigh. "We were careful." At least it remained empty. He supposed it could have been worse.
"Well, someone fucked up the map then." His voice showed his irritation. What a mess.
"I guess we check the door in the middle first?" Maka said, hesitant. "It would be to the right of the left door, and if that isn't it, we can always check the far right door."
"Yeah, whatever, better check something before this all goes to shit," he snapped, though none of his irritation was for her, so it was undeserved. He strode forward to throw open the middle door and step into a too dark room, Maka close on his heels. He couldn't see a thing, and neither could she, though her ability to sense souls would tell her if there were people.
"Anyone?"
"No," she said quietly as they stepped a few more feet in. "No one, it must be the wrong room, or they're keeping them somewhere else. Let's-"
And then there was a crash behind them and the room went pitch black, not even the light from the hall reaching them. And then it went bright, and Soul had to blink back tears of pain from his eyes. "Shit!" he swore again, prepared for anything.
As his eyes adjusted, he saw the room was tacky, black velvet on the walls, red upholstered couches against them, red and black tile, and a raised lacquer dais where an ornate chair of dark wood and red velvet sat looking like nothing so much as a throne. Standing at the edge of the dais was a tall woman, pale, with hair so dark it might have rivaled the pitchest night, and odd, wide, violet eyes. Her features were elegant, aristocratic even, and her face held an expression that could be termed nothing short of serene. She strode languidly to the chair and sat, arranging her tight, elegant black dress about her before her gaze was leveled on the two intruders.
"You don't belong here," she said evenly, her voice soft, rich, dangerous. "I know every mask my people wear-but I have never seen either of yours. Who are you?"
"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, at your service," Soul answered sardonically. "Who the hell are you?"
"Ah, you fancy yourself humorous. How droll. I am the Lady Arachne, and this is my web you have stumbled into so very willingly. I will repeat only once before you will be beyond answering-you must see any exit has been denied you-who are you?"
Soul glanced back, saw the reinforced steel where the door had been, and cursed. Loudly.
For her part, Maka simply removed her angel mask and robe, letting them fall to the floor without care, revealing herself as the Grigori beneath. Soul followed suit, his red spandex the only thing under the robes because his clothes had been too bulky. He'd also donned a black eye mask to at least give him some anonymity if it came down to it. He'd hoped it wouldn't. And yet, here he was, feeling wholly exposed in too tight shiny red fabric. Fucking Lightning Assholes.
"You really think it'll be that easy?" Maka said with a slight tilt to the head.
"Ah, the Grigori!" the woman said, sounding far too pleased, "or should I say the Meister?" Maka must have made some sort of face because the one the woman in front of them waved one hand dismissively. "Yes, yes I am quite aware of who you were. Or did you think no one would notice you both sported the same powers? That a mere outfit change could deceive all of us? Come now, not everyone in the city is a fool."
Soul felt sick because it had, indeed, seemed to fool everyone. Everyone but this woman.
"And who is your little friend?" The woman turned her eerie lilac gaze his way, and even from ten feet away, he could tell it was calculating. "Hmmm... White hair and red eyes, how very unusual."
"Fuck off," Soul growled.
"Ah, and sharp teeth, too! Interesting. A little bird once told me those were the very same features that the Weapon had in his human form, but surely you can't be him. After all, rumor speculates that he was killed by the Meister three years ago quite brutally. They say she was expelled from the League for using excessive force-and yet-" A soft, knowing smile graced her features "-here she stands before me, clearly with League sanction." The woman tapped her chin, as if puzzled. "I wonder how that is. Unless…" she trailed off for a moment, then snapped the fingers of her left hand. "Rumor was wrong."
A wicked smile spread across her china doll features, and Soul felt his heart freeze in his chest. "So, Weapon, it looks like her feminine charms proved too much to resist in the end. You are only a man, after all. Though I must say," she paused to look the Grigori up and down, "she is a bit lacking in certain assets. Well, I suppose she must make up for it in other ways." She offered a small shrug.
Soul felt fear and anger bubble up, his fists clenching at his sides. He didn't give a shit about her stupid taunts-who the fuck cared what she thought about him or Maka-but this bitch knew. She knew what the Weapon looked like, she knew it was him. And now, she knew he had ties with the Grigori. She could find them-she could hurt them, hurt Maka.
She needed to fucking die. Now.
Why were they listening to her drone on? They should just attack and-
"Shut up and fight if that's your purpose-If not, let us go." Maka gritted out suddenly, but Arachne ignored the outburst, continuing on as if she'd never spoken.
"But you." Her gaze stayed on the Grigori. "Sleeping with the enemy, with the Weapon of all people. I never thought the Meister would stoop so low-he must be more talented than anyone could have guessed." Her laugh was light and false. "Quite the pair the two of you make. I'm going to enjoy this, I think."
Soul was tired of waiting, but he knew they weren't supposed to attack first-stupid fucking hero bullshit. He felt a hand brush his arm. "Something-isn't right," Maka said quietly. "There's-she has two souls. I don't-" She shook her head, confused.
"Oh, you can see that, can you?" Arachne raised an eyebrow, amused. "Simply delightful! I am so going to enjoy your abilities! Crona!" she commanded, and Soul had no clue what was going on, but a chill of fear went up his spine at her tone.
Suddenly, Arachne raised one hand, palm outstretched, and dark ichor shot from her, slowly forming into a-a person. An odd person, with choppy lavender hair, wearing a long, tight black robe. Or dress, maybe. "Y-yes, Lady Arachne," the figure stammered out, looking nervous, frightened even. The voice was neither low nor high, and Soul honestly couldn't tell if they faced a man or a woman. After seeing the thing form from black ooze, he wasn't even convinced that what they faced was human.
"I need you to take them down, my love, but do try not to kill them-I have use for them both." Her voice was so nonchalant, so casual, that Soul didn't just want to kill her soundly, he wanted to make her bleed for underestimating them so thoroughly, and vowed that he would do just that, hero protocol be damned.
"Y-yes, Lady Arachne," the figure, Crona, stammered again, and then, before he could blink, the thing was black ooze again and, impossibly, hurtling towards them in sharp spikes. Soul felt something warm barrel into him and went crashing to the ground-Maka had shoved them both aside. He sprang to his feet as she scrambled off and away, whirling around to face the middle of the room.
"I'll handle this," Maka said, voice low. "You deal with Arachne-see if you can get whatever device she used to seal the door."
He grunted his acknowledgement, even as the black ichor formed into a figure once more a few feet ahead of them.
"Oh, you shouldn't have done that, you-sh-shouldn't have done that at all," they said sadly. "You shouldn't struggle. It will only m-make things worse, you know? My-my blood used to be black, not red, but black. But th-then I tried to struggle, and now I am the blood." The figure's grin became crazed as it dissolved again and Soul tried to shoot his beam at it, only to miss.
Maka shoved him to the side for a second time, hissing as she got up off of him, "Soul-Arachne-now!"
"Fuck," was his only response, but he charged towards the woman sitting placidly in the chair. He had to trust Maka if they were going to survive this, had to trust her even if his every instinct screamed to stay close and protect her. He shot his anti gravity beam towards the woman in the chair, but she merely stuck a casual hand up and an invisible something had it go askew, hitting the wall next to her. Growling his frustration, he tried again, but she only repeated the move before shooting a column of flame his way. He dodged it, but not completely, and yelped as it caught his shoulder, white hot and scalding, the pain intense.
"Tsk, tsk." She smiled languidly his way, never moving from her chair. "I expected better of the Weapon than parlor tricks. Perhaps if I break your little toy you'll put on a better show?"
Before he could catch her meaning, another plume of fire shot out, and as he dodged it, the second one blasted into his arm cuff, melting the electronics and rendering it useless. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-it took all the components to make the suit work. It was useless now-completely fucking useless, and somehow, she had known that it would be.
Who the fuck was this woman?
What the fuck was he going to do? He was useless now, too.
Not useless, he heard a voice at the back of his mind whisper, some deep dark part of him he had long since tried to bury. You are the Weapon still. You can fight-win-destroy.
No-no he couldn't. Not unless there was no other way. He'd made a promise to Maka. She was strong, she was smart, she was lethal; she would find a way.
He sprinted to the other side of Maka's battle with the ichor blob, watched as she blasted it with energy and dodged it almost effortlessly. Yet, she was talking to it, too, trying to reason with it. As if such a thing could be reasoned with.
"I know you don't want to do this, Crona. I know you don't. You have a choice. You don't have to listen to her-you have a choice!"
"N-no, I don't!" The figure who formed from the ichor screamed. "I'm her blood, only her blood, I h-have to-!"
"But you don't, don't you see?" Maka panted, dodging the spike of black that Crona shot out at her. Daringly, she stepped closer. "You don't. Just-stop, okay? Stop, and we can help you. Just-"
"Crona, now." Arachne's cold voice cut through the din. And for a moment, Crona did nothing but look pained. Maka looked pleading, far too unguarded.
Soul didn't even know what he was going to do before he did it. He saw the thing begin to dissolve again and hurtled forward, willing his body to morph, to change, as he leapt in front of the Grigori, the hardened black ooze bashing harmlessly into his metallic form.
"You will never touch her," Soul snarled as he crouched defensively, the Weapon once more, shining and metallic and utterly deadly as a scythe blade sprouted from his arm.
The ichor reformed into Crona several feet away, and he heard a voice to his side whisper, "Soul?" There was surprise, hurt. "Soul-when, why…?"
Almost worse than the sound of utter betrayal in her voice was that she was no longer behind him. She had dodged. Of course she had dodged. He had revealed himself, hurt her, for nothing.
"Maka, I-" he stammered.
Then there was clapping from across the room, slow and loud, followed by a tinkling little laugh. "Oh, bravo! Quite the show you two put on-absolutely marvelous!"
"Not now," Maka snapped, ignoring Arachne as Soul turned around and reached for her, eyes pleading. "Forget it, just-" she turned her eyes to the dais. "-I'll deal with Arachne myself!" she said, voice suddenly devoid of the hurt, low and angry. "We can talk about this later."
And then she was gone from his reach, screaming towards Arachne with everything she was, energy flying.
"Sh-she's really angry, isn't she?" he heard Crona say, far too close. They had moved a bare few feet away while Soul was distracted. He scrambled back and raised his blade.
"Yeah," he answered. "Not that it's any of your damned business."
"Y-you should t-try to talk to her if y-you hurt her feelings, you know?"
He sighed. "Yeah, I know. Not that I get why you care so much when you're trying to fucking kill us." As he spoke, the poor kid suddenly looked so despondent that Soul almost felt sorry for them. Almost. They didn't seem to want to be here anymore than he did. But they had been trying to hurt Maka, and that was inexcusable.
"It's n-not like I w-want to. I d-don't have a choice, don't you g-get it?" They sounded sad again,and Soul could only glare because that was just an excuse; he knew that better than anyone.
"There's always a fucking choice. Maybe not an easy one, but there is always a god damned choice. If your choice is to keep trying to kill us, then bring it on, mother fucker, 'cause I need your skinny ass out of my way to help the Grigori."
"R-right," Crona said, looking unsure. A line of black came from their hand, forming into a lethal looking sword, and they lunged fast and hard. Soul had to block quickly with his bladed forearm before dancing back. Suddenly, the realization that the metal man and the puddle of ooze in a hand to hand fight was a recipe for never gonna fucking end dawned on him, so he put some distance between them to glance Maka's way. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she was locked in a similar dance with Arachne, her distance attacks pitted against those of the tall, elegant woman.
It wouldn't last, though. Maka had enhanced strength and speed that was lethal in a hand to hand fight-it was only a matter of time before-
Crona lunged at Soul again, and he barely managed to get a blade up to block-although his metallic form wasn't much susceptible to the attacks of this thing so far, he didn't want to chance that they could some how really hurt him.
Dancing back, moving his head towards Maka, he heard a surprised yelp. When his eyes found her, he saw her wrist grasped by Arachne even as her other fist was in the woman's stomach, saw a pained, triumphant smile grace the features of the woman in black as Maka scrambled back and away, her own face a mask of shock.
"I-can't-what-what did you do to me?" she gasped.
The pained smile faded from the other woman's face, leaving only a triumphant smirk. "Why, my dear Maka, I merely touched you. And if it took your powers and your memories for a time, well, that can hardly be helped, can it?"
Soul had heard enough. Ignoring Crona's lunge, he rushed to Maka, putting himself between her and Arachne, eyes narrowed towards her with a snarl.
The woman they faced took them both in and laughed.
"Ah, Soul," Arachne said as she sauntered closer. "Haven't been taking your pills, I see. Maka is most disappointed in you. Breaking your promise like that. Inexcusable, really; you ought to be ashamed of yourself. She's sacrificed so much for you, you know, and yet you just keep disappointing her. Rather sad, I think, that such a pure heart would end up falling for a bastard like the Weapon, but I suppose that it's the pure hearts who suffer most in this world, don't you?"
"Stop talking like you know anything about it, anything about us," he said lowly.
"Oh, but Soul, love, I know everything about you now. I know how you rub her feet when she gets home from work, run her bath and massage her aching shoulders. I know how she claws your back and screams your name when you fuck her, how much you enjoy tasting her and how much she wants you to. I know how she burnt through your very flesh and bone, nearly killing you, maiming you for life, and how much the guilt of that eats away at her, how she still cries over it when you won't see." She eyed the scar that showed up on his metallic body even now, running diagonally from shoulder to hip, with a smirk. "I know how she pleaded with her father and then the entire League of Heroes for your life, begging them to keep you out of jail. I know how much she loves you even now, how she risked everything for you, and how you couldn't even keep one silly little promise. How could you possibly hope to deserve her?"
"Shut up!" he yelled, because it was true, and because it hurt, and because it was private, and because this monster shouldn't to be anywhere near Maka's precious memories. "I'll fucking kill you!"
"Soul," Maka said quietly from behind him, her hand touching his shoulder lightly. "She just wants to get to you. Don't let her. Just. Don't."
"Maka," he said softly, feeling unworthy of even uttering her sacred name. "I'm-"
"Later, Soul." She squeezed his shoulder, voice tight. "We can talk later. For now?" Her voice raised into a battle cry. "Kick her fucking ass!"
Arachne was right. He didn't deserve her. But he wasn't going to let her down again, either.
"Get back," he said to Maka. "I need us both to live through this to make it right so just-stay back and stay alive. I love you too much to lose you, not like this."
"I love you too, even when I'm mad at you, so you'd better end this soon, because I have a thing or two to say to you, Soul Evans, and you are going to hear it." As he felt the soft kiss against the back of his metallic neck, he couldn't help his little smile in spite of the turmoil, in spite of the self loathing, in spite of everything.
"Looking forward to it," he replied, voice as soft as that little kiss, and then she was gone, a streak of green jumping up the dais and ducking behind the large throne-like chair in the center.
Soul risked a glance to pinpoint the forgotten enemy, but Crona stood back and away, seemingly mesmerized by the entire scene, jaw very slightly slack, eyes wide. Since they didn't seem to be going anywhere for the moment, his eyes snapped back to Arachne and he charged.
And Arachne sprouted wings of light, Maka's lovely wings, and flew.
Fuck. Fuck. It was like fighting the Meister all over again.
She hovered over him, smiling down with something like triumph. "That was so heart achingly sweet, quite touching, really. Too bad you don't stand a chance," she said lightly. And then Maka's superheated energy attack, the one that had nearly killed him, was hurtling toward him, and he was dodging to the side, barely missing it. Fucking hell, he had to get her out of the air. He ran to one of the chairs against the wall and grabbed it by the leg, throwing it her way, then ran to another, and yet another, using his heightened strength to make the airspace in the room dangerous with flying furniture while narrowly dodging her energy attacks.
It wasn't working-he was just buying time, he damned well knew as she laughed at his plight, easily hovering near the ceiling. But it wasn't as if the ceiling were limitless and Soul could jump.
Yes-yes, that just might work.
She caught his arm with a new attack, just below his already injured shoulder, and he yelped, the pain intense, but still, he ran and saw her eyes widen as at the last minute he jumped and his scythe blade sliced her leg, black blood running down to the ground in a thick ribbon.
At least he'd made her bleed like he promised.
Arachne screamed, and as her concentration broke, she fell to the ground in a heap. Yet, before he could make a second move, she scrambled back, struggling to her feet. Soul expected her to shriek and rage, but while her face was a mask of intense anger, her voice was soft as she said.
"You are a dead man-but not before you watch her die." She held out an arm, extended it towards the chair, and before Soul could even think to act, the light energy that belonged to the Meister, to the Grigori, to Maka, streaked out and exploded. Maka managed to roll away, but not without getting caught in the edge of the blast, yelling out in pain. She stood up shakily, weakly, her very human body clearly singed. Arachne aimed another blast and Soul screamed, racing to intercept, but he wouldn't get there in time and Maka wasn't fast enough, couldn't dodge, and was hit square in the side. She yelped again in pain then crumpled, Soul huddling over her in anguish.
"Maka, god Maka, please be okay-" He couldn't cry, not in this form, but he felt the lump in his throat, the terror.
"Soul." She looked up at him weakly. "I'm okay," she croaked out. "But you have to-"
Another blast of energy screamed towards them and Soul couldn't move Maka in time and he couldn't let it hit her, so he leapt forward and took it; searing pain exploded in his gut and he bellowed in pain.
He collapsed to his knees in front of her even as she shrieked his name, watched Arachne hold out a hand-and then curse as nothing happened.
"Blast it!" the spider woman said loudly, even as he felt Maka come up beside him, felt her put an arm around him to support him.
"Maka," he croaked.
"My powers-are back-" she gasped out in return.
"Crona!" Arachne snapped, uncaring, cruel. "Don't just stand there like a useless moron-I need you to return to me-finish them."
"But-" Crona said. Soul tore his eyes from Maka's weak gaze for a moment to flick it towards the odd creature that had come from Arachne, watched as they staggered in the direction of the dais, a dozen feet away and clearly upset.
They were coming. Maka was wrecked, he was wrecked, and now they would face Crona again, face whatever other powers Arachne could hurl at them.
They were going to fucking die. They were going to fucking die. In the end, after everything, after how hard he had tried to keep her safe, keep her whole, he had failed her.
"But-L-Lady Arachne. They-they're-"
"I won't repeat myself, Crona. Finish them. Finish them now," she hissed.
"But-they're n-nice, they c-care about each other, I-" Crona stammered again, and Soul leaned further into Maka. When Crona finally acted, finally obeyed, maybe he could-get in front. He had barely managed to hold his metallic form through the intense pain, but it might be enough. He would protect her. He couldn't give up.
Then Maka surprised him by shooting an unexpected energy beam straight for Arachne. It surprised the other woman, too, because she didn't even attempt to dodge and it hit her square in the chest.
Arachne shrieked in pain and held out her hands to hurl her own attack, another column of flame. Soul pushed Maka behind, heard Crona and Maka scream "No!" at the same time, and then there were dark spikes streaking towards Arachne, and then the flame was hitting them and Soul was screaming in pain at the heat of it, registering Maka's own screams behind him, and then Arachne's screams were mixing with their own, a wail so piercing and raw that it shook his very soul.
When the fire was gone, his hold on his form dissolved, his human form burned, battered, utterly spent as he blinked at where Arachne had stood, where she now lay on the ground in a puddle of inky black, unmoving.
"Is she-" Soul couldn't help but to gasp out, and he heard Maka croak out from behind him in something that sounded suspiciously like despair.
"They're gone-they're both gone-" And then she was collapsing against his back. He felt his head go light, felt his vision fade just as he heard a now familiar voice bellow out from somewhere nearby, "There you two are! You shouldn't keep your god waiting!" before he knew no more.
Somehow, someway, they had both survived the shitstorm.