2nd Iteration Redux

Chaos.

The only word Allen knows that even comes close to describing what happens after he blows into the cafeteria, Crown Clown billowing in his wake, and screams, at the top of his lungs, so high his voice cracks: "Everybody out! We're under attack!"

There's a moment of complete and utter silence, during which everyone in the cafeteria, his friends and personal stalker included, stare at him in confusion, in disbelief. And he understands. That he looks insane. Dashing through the hallways with his Innocence activated and no active threat in sight. Barreling into the cafeteria, of all places, as if their enemies are bent are stealing Jerry's best recipes instead of taking their lives.

If Allen was in anyone else's position right now, he'd think the screaming exorcist was a lunatic too.

So he doesn't blame Kanda for his scowl, or Lenalee for her frown, or Lavi for the lopsided expression begging an answer to a dozen Bookman-esque questions. He doesn't blame the Finders and Scientists for the shocked, nervous looks. And he doesn't blame Link for his standard glare that states, evenly and calmly, I need to report this suspicious behavior.

He doesn't blame them for their lack of understanding.

Therefore, he hopes they don't blame him for recalling their worst recent nightmares and adding on to his previous declaration: "Level 4s! Run!"

The building, noxious tension in the room snaps in half. And chaos ensues.

Finders leap up, knocking silverware from the tables, and bump into each other, hard enough to bruise, as they flee. Scientists, reliving horrific flashbacks, scurry for the nearest exits, half crawling, half sprinting, most of them already in tears by the time they reach the doors. The cafeteria staff hurry toward the kitchen exits, Jerry holding the door as he ushers his team out, ensuring they all make it to safety. He knows what happened to the Science Division. He doesn't want his people to be next.

Finally, as the cafeteria clears, and with seconds left on the clock before…

Every exorcist in the room rises, readying their weapons—Allen can't remember the last time he saw an exorcist unarmed. Not since the Ark. Not since Lulu Bell. Not since the Level 4.

Allen whips around and backs away from the main entrance doors, eyes darting every which way to make sure the room is clear of anyone who isn't armed with an Innocence. And, of course, he spots Link, still lingering where the food line had gathered only a moment ago. He stands by himself now, shoulders stiffer than Allen has ever seen them, and expression more bewildered.

The Inspector opens his mouth and mutters, oddly loud in the now silent room, "Walker, what on earth are you talking about? If we were under attack, there'd be an alarm and—"

With a subtle rumble in in the air, the black Ark Gate bursts into existence.

Allen throws his harshest glare at Link and yells, "Get out of here now!"

Link gapes for half a second, and then vaults over the serving window for the kitchen, ducking somewhere out of sight.

The moment Allen grips his wrist to form the Sword of Exorcism, the first akuma emerges from the Gate. Its warped, cherubic face is already grinning as it pulls free from the rippling portal, its fingers extended, ready to shove its hand through Allen's chest again. To its left, another silver body emerges, unfurling like it's in the midst of some unholy birth. To the right, yet another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

Seven.

Seven, when they barely defeated one…

Seven—and God, what if the exorcists gathering behind Allen are only lining up to face a literal firing squad, and…?

A blur zips past Allen just as his sword blinks into being, and it takes Allen a startled instant to realize it's Kanda, Mugen already drawn and activated, no hesitation whatsoever in his step as he advances. (And why would there be? Kanda didn't even back down from a Level 4 battle when he had no Innocence to speak of.)

Mugen's black blade slices through the extended wrist of the first akuma like butter, and it shrieks, high-pitched, so loud it hurts, and reels back from Kanda's assault. But Kanda doesn't let it escape. He turns on his toes and launches himself forward, teeth bared, eyes alight, a growl of fury in his throat. "Not again, you little bastards," Allen catches between Kanda's lightning-quick swings. "Not this time."

Kanda has no love for the Order. Allen knows this well. And yet, even the brooding samurai refuses to allow a repeat of the last attack. Even Kanda's hatred cannot ignore that nightmare.

Allen snaps out his reverie, grips his sword so hard his knuckles crack, and sets his sights on the closest Level 4. Crown Clown envelops his body tightly, and he points his blade at his target. Strips of white wrap around his legs, bracing him as he pushes off the ground, rushing forward, straight at the akuma wearing a befuddled look, like it can't understand why the cafeteria isn't full of easy pickings, as it was no doubt promised.

It shakes its head when Allen is mere steps away and throws him its brightest, wickedest grin. "Exorcist," it murmurs, "let's have some fun."

Allen's drives his sword into the akuma's side, but the monster catches the blade with its deformed hands. Its feet hit the floor at an angle, and Allen pushes with all his might, the akuma slowly sliding toward the wall, slowly losing its balance, slowly losing its grip, slowly creeping toward the exorcism that'll save the warped, tortured soul trapped inside. The one Allen can see now—his left eye activated at some point—hovering behind the akuma, bent and twisted in ways Allen doesn't have the words to describe.

This time, instead of the vision sending him into a vomiting spell, it fuels his rage, ten fold, and he uses every ounce of power in his right arm, in Crown Clown's cloak and strips, in his legs and chest and back, still bruised and sore from a fight so much like this far, far too recently, and…

The akuma's grip slips off the blade, and the sword eats into its chest. Allen forces the akuma back against the wall. It shrieks, and Allen's ears ring. But he keeps going. Keeps dragging the sword inch by inch into the akuma's metallic body. Even as it writhes and spits and lashes out at him. Even as one of its arms transforms into a gun to try and blast Allen away with virus-laced bullets. Even as those bullets fire, only to bounce harmlessly off Crown Clown's cloak.

With a mighty howl, Allen tears the akuma's body in half, and with a scream on its tongue, it disintegrates, falls to pieces before him, the trapped soul fading away with what could be a thank you but could be an insane mutter all the same.

Allen stares at the bits and pieces as they clank and clatter across the cafeteria floor. The world around him, which faded to muffled shouts and squeals and blasts and gunshots as Allen struggled with the monster, suddenly rebounds in full. Allen whips around to recapture the scene: Krory and Lavi going at one of the 4s together. Kanda taking on two at once, Mugen now split into double blades. Lenalee in her new crystal boots, dancing through the air, over the heads of the remaining two, their fastest bullets not nearly quick enough to catch her—

Allen freezes. And recounts.

Krory and Lavi have one.

Kanda has two.

Lenalee has two.

And Allen just destroyed one.

That makes six. But there were seven.

An alarm goes off, and it takes Allen several seconds to realize it's not just in his head. It's the Order's intruder alarm. Someone set if off because…

There's a Level 4 missing—God, where did it go?

Allen scours every inch of the room, searching for the remaining akuma, but it's nowhere to be found, nowhere on the ceiling, or the floor, or underneath the tables. And it couldn't have gone through the main door, blocked by the Gate. So it must have either gone through one of the smaller doors—but they're all still closed—or…

The kitchen serving window. Where Link had…

Allen leaps and bounds across the cafeteria, crisscrossing through the other battles in full swing. His friends can handle the akuma, he knows, at least long enough for reinforcements to arrive. They're exorcists, and they've been through hell already, all of them dragged through a trial by fire—Noah's Ark. He trusts them, even if they don't trust him anymore, or at least not as much as they used to (despite their attempts to deny it). Allen trusts them to live on.

And so he leaps across the serving window, into the kitchen, and races to the partially open exit door. Because exorcists are hardy, at the end of the day, battle worn and always battle ready, no matter how tired their souls. But Finders and Scientists and cooks and secretaries and all the other people who keep the Order running? They weren't ready last time. And they won't be ready this time either.

Nor for the cherubic monstrosity creeping through the halls toward them.

He kicks the exit door wide open, exposing a dimly lit corridor that loops back around to the main communal areas. He barrels out onto the cold, sturdy stone, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence in between the wails of the alarm. He looks left and sees nothing but empty hallway. He looks right and sees nothing but empty hallway. His instincts tell him to look up, but there's nothing crawling across the ceiling either. And there are no broken windows. And there are no bloody trails. And there's no indication whatsoever as to where the missing akuma went…

But that doesn't make any sense, because how could it move so fast that it reached the end of the long hallway…unless…

Unless it never left the kitchen at all.

Allen whips around in the nick of time and blocks the vicious blow from the Level 4's tiny, strangely jointed handed. But he loses his balance, boots skidding backward, and ends up in the same painful position he pushed the other akuma into, back against the wall. Right before he killed it.

The Level 4 grips Allen's sword and tries to rip it from his grasp, a wild giggle building in its throat. It shrieks out in its sing-song voice, "Got you, exorcist! Got you, exorcist! Now you're going to die!"

Just as Allen's right hand begins to slip from the hilt, he calls out, "Clown Belt." White strips whirl through the air, wrap tightly around the akuma's body, and wrench it backward, away from the blade of the sword, its fingertips just out of reach. The akuma spits and curses at Allen, its eyes manic and infuriated. But Allen refuses to give it a chance to counterattack again. He reasserts his grip on his sword, lifts it high in the air, and swings in a straight line down at the akuma's metallic skull.

A quarter of a second before the blade cleaves the Level 4 in two, the akuma stares straight into Allen's eyes…and smiles.

Allen stops the blade an inch from the akuma's skull. Because it's not right. They laugh and laugh and laugh as long as they're causing carnage, but as soon as they lose, they always—the akuma always get consumed by rage, so why…? It can only mean…

"What," he growls out, "are you smiling about? You're about to be destroyed."

Its smile grows wider, and it face bends closer to Allen. He expects to see a gun pop out of its mouth to blast him away, but instead, the akuma simply speaks. "So are you," it whispers. "Because we got orders, see? If we're 'about to be destroyed,' as you put it so nicely, exorcist…" It stops to chuckle again. "If we know we're going to lose, well, we've been instructed to make sure we take everyone else down with us." The smile grows so wide it nearly rips the akuma's face in half.

The Level 4 leans even closer and says, "Don't you know, little boy, that we can self-destruct?"

Yes.

Allen does know that.

Road taught Allen that.

And he learns that lesson all over again. When the cafeteria explodes. And takes him and the Level 4, Krory and Lavi, Kanda and Lenalee, and anyone else and everything else in a quarter-mile radius with it.