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~Angel and Hel
Chapter Thirteen: Echoes
-.-.-
There was sound and brightness, and her mouth tasted like dust and ash. Her throat was dry, scorched like earthen clay. She blinked, trying to shake off the last of the drowsiness of unconsciousness, letting her aura flow over her, speed her back towards something approaching wakefulness.
Winter was lying on a simple cobble courtyard, something that might once have been part of the ancient towns surrounding Atlas before the capital's expansion. The remnants of the tower that the Nervermore had flown her into lay around it. She'd survived, then. Stone, arched, pale grey and sandy beige. The air was thick with dust, dust rendered into glimmering fog by morning light and the terrible screeching of the city's dying sirens.
Her hand was still wrapped round her sabre and she used it to stand, hobbling as fast as she could. More Grimm, she - she needed not to draw their attention. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. She winced, feeling the bruised muscles in her leg. And the faint remnants of pain in her sternum from Yolona's kick had flared up again.
Her aura had definitely fallen at some point, then had time to rebuild itself. How long had she been out? She wished - she wished she knew -
She could hear something, quieter than the screeching, but still loud. Low, rhythmical.
Sobbing.
A moment of terror as slabs of rubble started to shift slightly, achy, falling, like a house settling.
"Anybody? P-please…" She could barely make out the words over the din of a falling metropolis.
Just as she thought she could control her beating heart, a very clear growl sounded from somewhere just above her. Something, a dark shadow in the shining glittering brightness of the rubble. Sitting, snuffling. Waiting.
She crept closer, cautiously. To the sobbing, to the waiting beast.
"H-help me…" a cough. A wet cough. "Fuck."
Synapses started firing in her brain. Blood. The smell of iron in the air.
Pebbles falling as several stomping steps crunched above her. Careful. Think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy -
It growled, snapped its jaws shut with the terrifying grinding clack of sharp teeth on sharp teeth. The sobbing intensified.
"One… one last kill…" It was clear it was a girl now, as Winter edged closer, slipping into the ruins of the building the voice was coming from. There was rubble everywhere. A gaping hole in the wall let the morning sunlight in, a beam of illuminated dust falling on the floor to show... the shifting, blood-stained barrel of a sniper rifle.
Winter froze. For one blank horrible moment the scale of the death struck her - a million deaths is a statistic one is a tragedy you knew this girl to know she dies makes you sad it's understandable and now you magnify that by a million and now you understand that a million isn't a statistic - and she couldn't do anything but look at Blue's sniper rifle sitting there in the dust and rocks.
It twitched. The small taps of metal on rocks set Winter's nerves on edge. The Grimm was close - too close for comfort - and the noise -
"Fffff…" Blue sighed. Out of reach. Winter could - oh god - she was -
She didn't throw up because that would attract more attention -
Trapped.
A half-hearted howl from the Grimm - it must be a Beowulf - before it started wandering around the building. Winter wouldn't admit it out loud but having an extra layer or three of concrete between it and her right now was a reassurance she desperately needed.
Blue began sobbing again, weakly hitting the ground as her heaving breaths seemed to bubble. Fluid was building up in her lungs. Which, given their position in relation to the rubble, was -
Winter shut her eyes and didn't think about it. If she didn't think about it it wasn't happening. She couldn't hear her dying she couldn't stand here and do nothing.
She stood, quickly, half running in a crouch over to the fallen girl as quickly as she could.
"Wh -" Blue looked up at her in dulled surprise, coughing again. And again. She didn't seem to stop, drooling and spitting blood with every movement. Her Aura was probably the only thing keeping her alive, if at all.
Her skin was pale. It wasn't like the comforting white complexion of Weiss's skin or clean sheets. It was more of a sickly grey, tinged with blue and black. Patches of skin missing, her clothes shredded.
She looked like death.
Winter tried to shush her. Whispered, "Hey, please, be quiet, I'm here." She glanced around. The Beowulf was snarling now, the hurried pattering of its paws echoing off the stone cage the girls found themselves trapped in.
Blue shuddered, looking up at Winter with flat, hopeful eyes. "D-d-" she coughed again, her blood beginning to form an alarmingly large pool under her, "Don't wanna… die alone…"
"No, I'm here, see? I'm here." She did her best to smile reassuringly.
Which of course was the moment the Beowulf leapt out from behind her and knocked her sabre away and out the window, sending her sprawling.
Blue let out a wet, muffled shriek. In the hallowing light stood the beast of darkness. Up close, in no condition to fight back, Winter finally understood the why and how the general population were so terrified of the Grimm. Even hunched over, its limbs long and gangly, it still looked strong enough to tear steel asunder and eviscerate the flesh of anyone who got too close. Its fur matted, its breath stinking, eyes gleaming from its skullplate.
And then there was it's behaviour. It wasn't simply killing her. It was enjoying this. Standing over her, confident enough in its victory that it let her get her breath back and try to crawl away. The moment she moved, it took a single step forward, crushing Blue's arm under it.
Winter started hyperventilating. This was how she was going to die. To a lowly Beowulf.
It got down on all fours, its back feet shifting up and putting nearly all of it's weight on its toes, grinding them against Blue's tattered flesh. It knew.
It knew what it was doing and it was prolonging it.
Negativity they feed on negativity no better way to do it than to torture -
The Beowulf couldn't have been more than a few years old. And yet Grimm hundreds of years old existed. Winter shuddered to think what they would do in it's place.
She had thought them to be mindless beasts.
Oh how wrong she was.
-.-.-
The streets were teeming with Grimm. Normally this would be considered a very bad thing. But in light of the tsunami of Grimm she'd seen pouring into the city mere… hours, minutes, before? It was odd. They should have run straight through the place. Not lingered.
The fact they did suggested survivors, but she couldn't smell any. Her claws twitched in her fingers, and she winced - that last fall had cracked one of them. Still, to eliminate the darkness, that was her purpose, yes? To drive it back to the chasm. Burn it down.
No matter the cost.
Titian Cinerous sighed. Her sword, Rasaat, was heavy in her grasp, its dust chambers quiescent and expended, a relic of the time it had been developed. But… there were Grimm to kill, nature's fury or no.
Always Grimm to kill, a black tide pouring from a hole in the earth, more and more more and more sweeping over them onward like water trickling through cobblestones -
The alleyways weren't perfect cover. But they were better than hopping over the rooftops with all the Nevermores, Gryphons, and Vespyrs in the air. The narrow cramped streets of suburbia, no more messy than normal. Which was - a comfort, she supposed. Knowing that these hidden abandoned places would remain such even in the face of armageddon.
A series of gunshots and a yelp of pain from nearby - followed by the rumbling roar of the horde. A soldier or a police officer? She ran towards the noise, keeping her sword trailing along the ground. Rasaat was hungry for Grimmstuff. Never sated.
A family. A cop. One gun to protect five humans from endless Grimm. A mother, her teenage daughter, and young twins - a boy and a girl. And all the police officer had was his tiny, standard issue pistol. His aim wasn't even that good.
Irritating, considering his target was one of several Ursa. Aside from a Goliath, or the larger Gryphons or Manticores, they had the most bodymass to hit. One was even a Prime, spikes quivering as it paced round them. The Grimm weren't even paying attention to the shots.
The woman was crying, softly, but still trying to comfort her family. Stroking her children's hair. Humming lullabies.
It was touching. But it was futile. Comfort had its place, and here wasn't it. She blinked, slowly. The Ursai were too spread out for her to take them on effectively - if she wanted to kill them, like she'd planned, like she'd herded them to do, she'd need them to be clumped up, enough that each swing cut through several of the beasts at once.
Hopefully, when they finally finished playing with the humans, that moment would come.
The lead Ursa, the Prime, lumbered forward, getting shot in the face twice before growling and swiping, sending the cop flying into a wall. His pained outcries startled the children. The other Ursai waited, almost as though waiting for permission. Like a pack.
Damnit. They still weren't grouped.
Letting them die, the humans, was - unfortunate. They were innocent. They were - it was morally wrong of her to do this. To let them die so she could kill their killers. She was reminded of Yolona's words atop the mountain. But this wasn't their choice. It was hers.
But it was necessary to kill the Grimm. With her Aura as low as it already was she couldn't be sure she'd be able to take out all the Ursai, especially the Prime. It was the only way.
And did Amon Schwartz think the same thing when he vivisected the Faunus? And did Orion Schnee think the same thing when he lowered his workers' wages and had them shot when they attempted a strike?
A young voice made her pause. "HEY MEANIES!" she shouted, roller-blading around them. Her hair was bright orange and she was waving glow-stick chains around as though she could help. An amateur huntress? The moron's tail waved -
Tail. She was a Faunus.
And she was barely tall enough to reach Titian's waist. Either she was fearless or foolhardy - no, she was definitely foolhardy. Dancing at the Grimm in a stupid manner did little to get their attention. They were attracted to negativity, not -
One of the twins watched her and laughed. The Ursai stood puzzled for a moment. Maybe - maybe Titian didn't have to leave them, to use them as bait, even the foolish would-be-huntress. Maybe she didn't have to watch at least some of them die.
The brightly coloured girl ducked from side to side, only smiling wider when she spotted Titian and locked eyes with her. She beckoned, still dancing. She was so young, so innocent - had Titian ever understood the world that little, what it was like?
A sudden screech tore through the air, a massive Nevermore slamming into the ground and picking the little girl up in its claws - she squealed and screamed and clutched at the massive talon going through her stomach, looking to Titian for help, for reassurance… and finding none.
She couldn't engage. She couldn't attack. The positioning was all wrong she -
The girl's eyes widened and her face fell. Her hand reached out.
Then the Nevermore took off, still holding her in its claws.
Things were almost simple after that. The Ursai attacked the family. Titian killed the Ursai. The mother was killed by the Prime's charge, impaled on its spines. The teenage daughter was alive, though not for long given her gut wound and pained screaming. The twins were paste.
Titian had won. Hadn't she?
In the same way Schwartz had won.
Sacrifices… must be made… in the name of progress.
She felt sick to her stomach. Rasaat was far too heavy in her hands. Slowly, she walked away down the bloodsoaked streets. Humans to hunt Grimm. Faunus in the name of science or preservation of culture. Was there any difference in those deaths, in the end?
Her feet felt warm, her boots standing in the hissing liquid - wait. Titian stepped to one side, out of the puddle of boiling, magma-like blood, twitching her burnt feet, examining her boots for damage. The soles had been half burnt off - she'd gotten distracted, damnit -
"Ffffuck offff…" a heavily accented voice moaned, slurred slightly. It came from a loose pile of rocks and furniture, from a house that looked as though a meteor had hit it.
She knew that voice, the smell. That redheaded girl from earlier, who had become a... thing. Her name, what was it… "Vivian?" She approached the rubble cautiously.
"Oh heyyy…" Vivian lifted her head a bit, blinking groggily. "You didn't happen to catch the plate on that Gryphon, did you?"
"I'm reasonably confident Gryphons don't register with any vehicular board."
"Ah, pity. Hit like a truck."
She was clearly delirious. Likely due to her arm being missing from the elbow down. Titian crouched down beside her - the girl's aura was keeping her blood in, barely. She hadn't even tied a tourniquet, a problem Titian set to fixing.
"OW." Vivian stated, loudly, right next to Titian's sensitive ears. Maybe that was a bit too tight. No such thing, though - and it wasn't like circulation to the last two inches of the girl's arm was that important. "Heh… bet I look like a muppet right now…"
Definitely delirious. "I have no idea what that is so I'm just going to say that you do."
Vivian giggled. "Of course, poppet~" she sang, breaking down into laughter. "Hey… where'd my arm go?" she asked, rubbing her face with the torn, bloody stump in confusion as she looked around for it.
"The dog ate it. Along with your homework." Titian tried to scoop the girl up. "We'd best get moving."
"H-hey, nooo…" she whined, reaching back at her pile of rubble with her free hand. "My- my swords. And- and stuff… have to fight the- hic- Grimm!"
Titian sighed, kicking through the rubble, grabbing her weapon, then moving on.
"Ahh, Blasphemies…" Vivian cuddled her sword as Titian carried her. This wasn't ideal. If a Grimm came upon them Titian might not have the time to react… but she wasn't sure Vivian could even walk. Damn. She -
She growled and hefted Vivian closer. "Stay quiet."
"Mmmkay." Vivian nuzzled against her neck, relaxing somehow.
Titian sighed, and walked deeper into the ruined, dying city.
-.-.-
The Beowulf charged in one crystal clear moment, teeth bared, claws scraping on the ground. Winter rolled to one side, flopping and falling she was about to die, she was about to die -
It skidded past, turning to look at her, scratched one hand along the floor. More games. Winter crawled to her feet, trying to tune out Blue's whimpers, trying to look for anything she could use to fight back. Wait, her glyphs, maybe if she -
The Grimm darted at her again teeth snapping at her face. She stumbled back, feet tripping over Blue's sniper - Blue's sniper. She hauled it into her hands, still crawling backwards, it was so heavy and long, a vast black thing that - it seemed almost out of place in Blue's hands - she couldn't find the trigger or aim properly, the Beowulf was starting forward again, realising she was armed, a heedless charge smashing rubble aside -
Winter fired. She felt the impact of the recoil on her shoulder, a pulse of pain lashing through her sternum, the flash and bright light.
The crack of the bullet and the whine of the Beowulf as it fell back, bullet in its shoulder. It was already turning, trying to get to the easier prey - Winter tried to aim and fire again. The bullet pinged off the stonework.
Blue screamed, a horrible gurgling noise as the Beowulf ripped into her flesh. Winter was standing, she didn't know when, running up, swinging the rifle like a club, knocking the Grimm away, but there was already more red, clinging to its teeth and claws, that mouth looming up again - until she planted the barrel of the gun in it and fired.
She collapsed, exhausted, on the floor.
Splash. Blue's lifeblood was staining the ground. It wasn't just dark anymore. The hole in her back and side was leaking bright bright red. Oxygenated. Winter could see the light in her eyes and the strength in her limbs weakening with every passing second. But her look of sad hope, her look of comfort, remained.
Winter leaned towards her -
A rumble. A horrible blinding light and a screech from outside. But the rumble drew her attention most of all, the stone shaking around them, dust falling. A clang and crash as half the wall tumbled outward above them.
That missed shot. The building was coming down.
And that light and noise - whatever it was, the Grimm were coming for it. She could hear them, the ground shaking with the stamp of their feet, their paws, their hooves. Hear them baying for blood.
Blue was covered in dust. She was almost turned white with it. Her hand was still outstretched to Winter. "Don'- don' go... Please." The words were almost unintelligible under the blood and gasps.
A rock tumbled from what was left of the ceiling, landing right beside Winter.
The whole building shuddered. Slabs of wall and chunks of ceiling fell. Blue gurgled and started scrabbling weakly, her face contorting into terror as the concrete she was trapped under began to move, grinding up was was left of her torso. "Hgh- heghlp!" she choked, her words coming out as nothing more than red and pink froth.
Winter couldn't - she -
She looked up at the building again, then back down at Blue. The Grimm were closer. She could hear them. But Blue was there and dying and she had to help her, she had to do something.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, drowning out any and all noise. Her breathing quickened, her chest feeling tighter and tighter as she inhaled more dust. She couldn't think couldn't feel -
The sunlight began to flicker. The sound of heavy wings beating filled the air. Cracks were sporadically racing each other up what remained of the walls.
Winter took a step towards freedom. Hesitated. The pained gurgling - she took another step, hesitated. If she stayed she was trapped if she left she -
One glance at Blue.
At what was left of Blue.
The look of terror, of betrayal. She - she'd trusted Winter. She didn't want to die alone Winter needed to be there for -
Winter shut her eyes and ran. She leapt. She slid out off the edge and onto another and then she fell of that one too. She kept her eyes shut, curled herself into a ball. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.
The building collapsed behind her. Burying her sin.
Her sabre was in the street outside. She picked it up slowly, holding it and the sniper rifle to her chest.
Burying her failure.
Yolona's words floated back to her as if in a dream. "Better to survive now, and save others who aren't living on false hope another day."
Winter closed her eyes, and wondered if she'd made the right choice.
-.-.-
~R&R~