Emma:
They made it to breakfast at the last minute. It was continental, set in a little room off the motel lobby. A maid was already bagging up the trash, but Emma and Sophia entered anyway.
Emma headed straight for the coffee, but almost immediately doubled back to help Sophia into her chair. The other girl sat slowly, holding her side with one hand.
"I can get it," Sophia grumbled.
Emma helped her all the same.
"Coffee?" She asked.
Sophia grunted her affirmative, and Emma departed again. Just moving around was hard. Like dragging rocks around behind her. She couldn't even imagine how badly Sophia must have been feeling. She had gotten more sleep than Emma, but her wound was still wearing at her.
The food at the buffet looked unappetizing. Rubbery sausage and eggs, squashy fruit salad, and pastries too sugary to do more than look at. Coffee came first. Dreadful, hospital- quality coffee, but coffee nonetheless. The first sip was warm, flowing into her like the breath of life. She groaned with relief. The maid gave her an odd look, but Emma ignored it.
Feeling a little more human, she made up a coffee and a plate for Sophia. It was a balancing act to get the food back to their table, but she made it, waving at Sophia to stay seated.
"I've got it, I've got it," Emma said.
Sitting down was a palpable relief; all the tired aches in her back and shoulders relaxing as one.
Sophia had scrounged a paper from somewhere. She looked up at Emma, eyes narrowed. "You're not eating?"
"Not hungry," Emma replied.
"Eat anyway. It's gonna be a long day."
Emma sighed, and returned to the buffet. She was hungry. Starving, in fact. Neither of them had been in the mood for dinner last night. Not after the rally. Just thinking about it made her nauseous.
A muffin and some fruit made up her concession to Sophia. The other girl looked at her again, shrugged, and returned to her paper. They ate in silence. Sophia ate slowly, clumsy with her off-hand, while Emma did little more than pick at her food. It all tasted like cardboard, settling thick and heavy in her stomach. She was drifting off between bites; so tired that she was waking up to find food halfway to her mouth.
She would have gladly gone the entire meal without saying anything else, when she turned her attention to the television in the corner. It was set to some news station, one of the bigger ones that her father liked. 'GNN' or something.
'Violence in the North-East' ran across the banner at the bottom of the screen. Emma leaned forward, trying to hear the anchor.
"…Nine strike Boston. The parahuman terrorist group hit multiple locations late yesterday, including a school and church, leaving over seventy dead, and many more missing."
The screen cut away to a still shot of police standing next to a long, long line of sheet-covered bodies.
"Soph, look," Emma whispered hoarsely.
"Mmh?" Sophia looked up from her paper, an orange slice in her teeth. When Emma pointed, Sophia turned in her seat to watch.
"The search is still ongoing. Coming up at six, see our exclusive interview with Director Armstrong, head of Boston's Protectorate branch." The anchor paused for a moment, and then changed gears. "The attack in Boston came just hours before violence erupted in Brockton Bay. A clash between local parahuman gangs and the Brockton Protectorate…"
Emma stopped listening. So much for the news. They were going to start in about the rally again. If she heard another word about the goddamn rally, it would be too soon. The news stations had only covered it constantly since yesterday. It wasn't even interesting news.
She stood and caught Sophia's eye. "Let's go back to the room."
They stayed close together on the way back, leaning on each other for support. Emma, too tired to do much more than drag her feet, and Sophia, hobbling, her face tight with pain.
"I don't need your help," Sophia had grumbled.
But she hadn't pushed Emma away.
The room was as they'd left it. Dimestore print on the wall, lumpy beds, and a collage of water spots on the ceiling. There were bits of personality here and there where she or Sophia had left something of theirs, and the stack of money by the coffee maker still gave her a start. They really ought to hide that.
Sophia sank onto the bed immediately, her face flushed. Emma locked the door before turning to her friend.
"Alright," Emma said, clapping her hands together. "Shirt off. Let's get this over with."
Sophia stared at her for a long moment, and then smirked. Emma stared back before it slowly occurred to her what she'd just said. Sophia's smirk widened, growing into a full grin.
"I meant- I was gonna- aghh- stitches! Your stitches!" Emma spluttered, her cheeks burning.
But it was too late. Sophia's usual scowl shattered entirely and she burst into laughter.
"It's not funny, Sophia!"
The other girl flopped back, laughing uncontrollably. Halfway through, the fit of laughter turned wheezy, and Sophia choked off, clutching her wound. Emma was at her side in a heartbeat.
"Soph?!"
"It's- okay," Sophia panted. "Just… pulled it."
Emma cringed. "Sorry. Can I see?"
Sophia nodded, and unzipped her hoodie. She was bare beneath it, her chest wrapped in bandages. The bandages were stained on one side, a line of red rosettes blooming across the fabric.
"You want me to wait, or can you handle stitching it now?" Emma asked.
"Now." Sophia said.
"You're sure? We could-"
"Now, Emma, now," Sophia snapped. "It was bleeding all through breakfast. I can't travel worth shit until we get it closed."
While Sophia peeled off the soiled bandages, Emma went to work gathering the supplies she needed. Most of them were contained in Sophia's Protectorate issued medical kit. It was, to Emma's knowledge, the only Ward-related thing Sophia had brought along. Even her beloved crossbows hadn't made the cut.
She was grateful for Sophia's practicality now. The kit was well-stocked. Bandages, tape, gauze, anti-septic spray, and- Emma picked up a little bottle and rattled it in Sophia's direction.
"You want a pain pill?"
Sophia pulled a face. "Nah. That Protectorate crap makes me nauseous. Last time I took one, I…" She hesitated before smiling wryly. "I was going to tell you not to tell anyone, but… anyway, I nearly puked in Battery's lap. She had to use her powers to get out of the way. Never heard anyone scream like that before."
Emma tossed the pills back in the kit. Ooh. There was a foil packet of caffeine supplements next to the painkillers. She peeled the blister pack open right there and knocked the pill back dry. Hopefully it would take effect soon- she was lagging badly. Just being still made her want to lay down and go to sleep.
She returned to Sophia, tossing the supplies onto the bed. It took a bit of positioning before they were comfortable; Sophia ended up sitting at the foot, with Emma behind her.
Sophia turned on the tv and raised her left arm, baring her side to Emma. The gash made an ugly line along her ribs; just shy from the bottom of one breast, stretching nearly the entire width of her side. The edges were red and inflamed, the scabbing mottled brown. The scabs had cracked in spots, letting blood ooze through. Not the first wound she'd seen Sophia get, but definitely one of the largest.
Emma squinted, threading the needle. "You know… I thought you'd know better by now. You avoid the pointy end of the knife, remember?" She was trying to be playful, to cover her nervousness. If the cut had been a little deeper, Sophia might be in real trouble.
Sophia snorted. "I can't help it if gang-bangers have the most cash." She jerked a thumb at the stacks of bills. "Didn't see you earn any of that." After a pause, she sighed, her expression softening. "I'm going to try something different though, next time I go out. Fighting without a crossbow is a real bitch."
She started cycling through tv channels while Emma prepared.
Anti-septic spray… and then stitching. Wait, no. Sterilize the needle first. It was in the kit… but... sterilize her hands first. Then gloves from the kit.
She ran to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands. The fluorescent bathroom light was harsh, unforgiving. As she finished, she looked up. A stranger looked back at her from the mirror.
It was the hair that did it. Blonde, cut boyishly short. Sophia's work from a few days ago. Too big a change to reconcile. The dye job was one of the worst she'd ever seen- trailer-trash grade blonde from a bottle, but she didn't look much like Emma Barnes, and that was the important part. Sophia's cut suited her better. They'd kept her hair the same color but cut it even shorter than Emma's.
She returned to the room and pulled on the latex gloves from out of the kit. Sophia was still hunched over on the bed, sluggish streams of blood oozing from her side and soaking into the top of her pants.
"Ready?" Emma said, trying to sound confident. The noise from the tv wasn't helping.
"Thirty-three found dead, in what is believed to be another attack by the Slaughterhouse Nine. Eyes on the scene report that the victims were sewn together as some kind of macabre display. This raises the total death toll in Boston to one-hundred-and-twelve. Police are still…"
Emma turned the set off. "Ugh." She didn't need that hanging over her head while she was taking a needle to Sophia.
Sophia nodded in agreement. "Same crap they were showing earlier. They don't really give a shit about the victims." She bared her side to Emma once more. "Go on."
Emma couldn't help hesitating. It wasn't the first time she'd stitched up Sophia, but it never stopped being eerie. Jamming a needle into someone, sewing them up like a piece of meat. It all felt so… so unnatural.
Sophia turned to look at her, managed a small smile. "Emma, you can do this. Don't freak out on me."
Emma flushed. Hesitating was one thing, but being noticed for it was another. She steadied the needle, point hovering over Sophia's skin, and pushed. Sophia went stiff when the needle went in, all the muscles in her back and neck tightening, before Emma pulled the needle through, drawing the thread in.
"You okay?" Emma asked.
"Fucking do it." Sophia gritted.
In and out, yellow thread tugged the ragged edges together. Emma's stitches were clumsy and irregular; the product of a skill she'd never gotten the hang of.
One inch. Two inch. Three and- the thread ripped free from the skin. Red drops beaded along the split skin, raw, red flesh exposed beneath. The flow intensified, the scab opened wider now.
Sophia let out a choked, agonized gasp, her fingers dug deep into the bedspread.
"Shit!" Emma cried. "You-"
"Keep going." Barely a whisper. Sophia shook with pain.
Emma redid the stitch, skirting the torn section. It would have to be an extra-long loop for the next one. Like jumping over the bad spot. Blood smeared around it; stained the thread, her gloves, the sheets.
Fourth inch. Her unsteady hands made her stitches jerky, made worse by Sophia's panting, uneven breaths. Sophia's whole side went up and down, heaving uncontrollably.
Fifth. Emma stopped, letting her free hand rest on Sophia's back. She rubbed softly, "It's okay. We're almost done." Her touch found roughness, and she looked up. Scars, thin and pink, traced along her friend's back, divided the smooth skin like city streets.
How many times has she gotten hurt like this?
Not now.
Concentrate.
Sixth inch.
Seventh. Emma blinked sweat out of her eyes. Were they done? How long had it been? She pulled the little pair of scissors from the sewing kit and snipped the thread.
"We're done," Emma said.
It took a moment for Sophia to respond. She blinked, and then seemed to come back to herself.
"Fuck, that hurt." Her voice was rough and breathless, like she was still holding in the pain.
Emma snorted. Only Sophia would describe motel room meatball surgery as "that hurt."
Sophia brought her hand up to gingerly trace the line of stitches.
"You shouldn't," Emma said.
"Just wanted to feel it for a second."
Emma's hand was still resting on Sophia's side, just below the end of the stitching. Sophia's brushed it, paused, and then settled her hand on top of Emma's. Callused fingers squeezed her gently.
"Good job, Em," Sophia said quietly.
"It was nothing," Emma said. Then she frowned. "Can I clean up now? And we're going to need to change the bedspread. Try not to bleed on the next one, hero."
Sophia snickered, but Emma's gaze fixed on the network of scars covering Sophia's back and sides. The newest cut was bloody and swollen, out of place among its pinkish fellows.
It wasn't the longest. Not even close.
The sight scared Emma. Scared the shit out of her, really. That was only what- two? Three years of cape work? They'd only made it a few days on the run before Sophia got hurt. What would happen next time Sophia got injured?
Or worse.
Once Sophia was re-bandaged, they both sacked out on Emma's bed. It was barely afternoon and they were already too tired to move. Emma lay back to back with Sophia, staring out at her side of the room.
The used medical supplies made a little tower out of the wastebasket. She'd have to throw those away herself. Not something to let room-service handle. Too suspicious. She'd cover their tracks.
That was for later though. She let the train of thought derail. Sleep wasn't coming like she'd hoped. Stupid of her to take that caffeine pill. She didn't feel any more awake or less tired, just… kind of… present.
They'd have to move again today. To another hotel, probably.
And then? Being on the run was its own goal, wasn't it though? It just felt… incomplete. Like they were aimless, just drifting along.
Beside her, Sophia was quiet, her breaths slow and slightly raspy. Emma rolled over. Sophia was on her good side, facing away from Emma. Up and down… the bandages around Sophia's chest stretched slightly with each inhalation. There were a few scattered dots of red, but the fabric was otherwise uniformly white. A good sign.
"Soph?" Emma whispered.
Silence, and then a moment later, "Mmh?"
She hadn't actually expected a response. Now she had to think of something to say.
"Do you…" Know where we're going? "Are you…" That was all wrong. Finally, she said the first thing that came to mind. "Taylor. What do you think… about Taylor?"
"Fuck Taylor," Sophia muttered.
"I meant… about her powers. You said she had powers and…" Emma took a deep breath. "She triggered. I mean, it figures that she'd trigger from something so stupid as that and…"
Sophia was very still beside her.
"Don't." Sophia said. Her voice was deadly quiet. "Don't talk about triggers that way. Not ever."
"Sorry." Emma's face heated. "I just… I didn't mean… sorry."
"Go to sleep, Emma."
The silence that followed lasted long enough that Emma thought Sophia had fallen asleep, but then she spoke again.
"I think I get how Taylor feels. She's got power now. Makes sense that she'd come after us with it." Sophia chuckled softly. "It's what I'd do."
"She's still the same old loser," Emma countered.
"No. No, she's not. You…" Sophia trailed off, but Emma could fill in the blanks easily enough. You're not a cape, you wouldn't get it.
"Could you tell me?" Emma asked, half-dreading the answer. "Explain it. I know I don't get it, but you and I are… kind of on the same wavelength, aren't we?"
More silence, and then Sophia rolled over to face her. The expression on her face was one Emma had never seen before. Eyes half-lidded, mouth quirked in a sort of grimace. Not angry. More… rueful. Offputtingly alien.
"You just can't leave things alone, can you?" Sophia said, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry. I can- I can go to sleep," Emma stuttered. "Just forget it."
"Shut up for a second."
Emma fell silent immediately.
"I think… you, of all people would understand, if I told you," Sophia said slowly, "Because you've been there."
Neither of them needed to say it. The alley.
"If you could have, I think, it would have been there," Sophia continued.
Emma nodded. They'd discussed this before. Only once, but she remembered it well.
"And I came out stronger," She added. "So it wasn't a… complete loss."
"Right," Sophia agreed. "That's what powers are like. Except more. Everything bad that happened, plus the changes that powers cause. Like a… what's the word? A crucible?" She laughed under her breath again. "So yeah, not a huge surprise that Taylor went batshit when she got powers. Happens to a lot of capes."
Emma scooted a little bit closer. They were face to face in the middle of the bed now, like little girls sharing secrets.
"You're not worried about her… I dunno, coming after us?"
"Nah. Powers change you, but Taylor?" Sophia snorted.
"Like pearls on a pig," Emma said with a smirk. "There's got to be something there to build on. Like, before the- that stuff happened to me, I was still pretty strong. Couldn't have got through it if I wasn't."
Taylor was strong though. And she'd survived the locker. Somehow. So… wouldn't she be even stronger now?
"And, I bet you were pretty strong before you got powers, right, Soph?"
Sophia's smile died, her lips suddenly tight, and Emma knew she'd overstepped. She was about to apologize when the other girl held up a finger. Sophia studied her for a long moment, dark eyes narrowed.
Finally, Sophia seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension leaving her face. "Never told you about that, did I?"
"And you don't have to!" Emma exclaimed. "It's okay, I didn't mean to- I mean… It's your business."
Sophia raised herself onto one elbow, moving carefully, minding her stitches. She looked down at Emma, face pale in the gray light bleeding through the curtains.
"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. Not even a whisper. Not to anyone."
Emma nodded. She had no doubt that Sophia could and would follow through on her threats, but the dominating emotion here was… surprise. Sophia never talked about her life before they'd met.
"You know about the alley." Emma supplied. "I've trusted you to not tell anyone that."
"And I haven't." Sophia said.
"So trust me." She sat up and spoke to Sophia eye to eye. "We're on the run together. I have your blood under my nails. If you can't trust me at this point, I- I don't know what to say to convince you."
A weighted pause, and then Sophia grinned irreverently, her somber air evaporating. "We're renting Thelma and Louise later. It's only right if you keep busting all these touchy-feely girl moments on me."
Emma punched Sophia's good shoulder. "Jerk. You're just lucky you have me along. Nobody else would put up with you."
Sophia responded with a vicious hair ruffling. "Please, if I weren't here, you'd be using daddy's money to get out of white girl prison."
Emma huffed blond bangs out of her eyes. "Sociopath."
"You know it, bitch."
"Literal manhunter."
"Aryan wannabe."
The lingering tension disappeared in a storm of insults. When they both ran out of steam, they ended up flopped across the bed again; this time buried in a tangle of mussed up sheets and blankets. Any earlier worries had vanished somewhere around the point where Sophia got her in a headlock and she responded with her frighteningly accurate knowledge of Sophia's ticklish spots.
"Geez…" Emma wheezed. Her sides ached. "It's like we're twelve again."
"Let's skip the pillow fight. I think one of my stitches popped," Sophia groaned.
"Sorry."
Sophia waved a hand dismissively. "Nah. I think we both needed it. Just… a break or something."
Emma rolled over to face her. "Do you… do you still want to tell me? About… you know? I mean, I won't tell anyone. And… it's good to talk to someone who understands, I guess."
Sophia started unknotting the sheets. She concentrated on working the tangle apart before responding.
"Yeah, okay, I'll tell you," Sophia said. She tugged the blanket free and set it aside. "Tell anyone and I will kill you though."
Emma reached out and pulled the sheets over them. The world was suddenly reduced to the two of them, face to face under a cotton sky.
"Trust me," Emma whispered.
In flat, clipped tones, Sophia told her everything. Her friend's steady gaze wavered only once, near the end. Emma stayed silent for the entire story, kept any words of comfort to herself. Sophia didn't need them.
But when it was over, Emma excused herself to the bathroom. She cranked up the faucet to full blast, loud enough that Sophia couldn't hear her, and she couldn't hear Sophia. Without once looking in the mirror, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. It was another ten minutes before she opened the door. She spent the interval sitting on the edge of the tub, face against her knees, trying, trying so very hard not to feel pity.
Neither of them deserved nor needed it.
When Emma returned, the bedroom was gray and silent, Sophia still, facing away again. Emma slid in beside her, closer than she'd dared before. Slowly… so very slowly, she reached out and put a hand on Sophia's arm. After a moment, Sophia squeezed her hand. Didn't pull away.
No words were needed.
SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK
The sun was already going down by the time they woke. Neither had much energy for anything big, so they settled on walking across the street and getting takeout. It was stupid, but she still felt uncomfortable stepping into the little Chinese place. Not like the ABB were going to fall out of the woodwork.
It was only Sophia's presence that made her go in. The other girl was moving more easily than before, and seemed to have regained some of her good humor as well. Neither of them said anything about before, but Emma could feel the change.
A shared secret. It was a different kind of intimacy than she was used to from Sophia. Like they'd broken down a wall between them.
It was snowing lightly when they headed back to the room, food in hand. By unspoken agreement, they returned to Emma's bed. Sophia leaned against the headboard to protect her wound, while Emma sat cross-legged at the foot to better see the tv.
The room quickly filled with the tangy scent of her chicken curry. It was spicy enough that her eyes were watering just smelling it. When Sophia chipped in about sleeping on the floor if Emma had curry breath, Emma responded with her best death glare.
Her good mood lasted all the way until the evening news.
The "Boston News at 6" brought another plastic-faced reporter's recollections of just what the Slaughterhouse Nine had done this time. Followed by another spot on the rally, now with follow up on some gang war in Brockton.
Emma wanted to beat her head against the wall just thinking about it. Brockton had gang wars every other week.
She turned off the tv, sent the remote spinning over her shoulder.
"Bunch of news morons." She muttered.
Sophia didn't look up from her box of takeout. "Mmh." She grunted.
"I was thinking though," Emma said slowly. "Maybe… maybe it's time we leave."
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "We were going to check out in a few hours."
"No, I mean- leave, Sophia. Leave Boston." Emma held up a hand. "Hear me out first. The Slaughterhouse is in town, and you're hurt, and we're only an hour from Brockton. Anybody who wanted to come after us is right there. Boston is the most obvious place we could go."
"Where were you thinking about going?" Sophia said, chewing thoughtfully.
"Anywhere! We can go anywhere." Emma flung her arms wide, like she was spanning the world. She was pushing this hard, trying to sell Sophia on the idea. "Just think. We'd be so far away they'd never catch up. You think- I dunno- Denver gives a crap about what happened in Brockton?"
Sophia set her pad thai on the nightstand and turned, giving Emma her full attention.
"I didn't plan on us staying in Boston forever," Sophia said. "And now would be a good time. Especially with the Nine here. That's bad for us."
"You don't think- I mean, what are the odds?" Emma exclaimed.
"Not the odds. The attention," Sophia said carefully. "I've seen it before. S-Class threats attract a lot of attention from the Protectorate. Give it a few days and Boston's gonna be a fucking mess. The capes in this town were already batshit- Accord, the Teeth, I forget who else, and it's them against the Nine. And the whole time, the media just eats it all up. We don't want to be anywhere near that shitstorm."
Emma grimaced at the thought. "Yeesh." She thought for a moment. "I think… somewhere out west."
"Oh?" Sophia looked interested. "Why?"
"It was your joke about Thelma and Louise that made me think of it. Not Mexico, but… just out there. Somewhere where we can fall through the cracks together."
"Just us?" Sophia said.
"Just us," Emma repeated. "Like… a pack. A pair of predators."
There was a long pause as Sophia looked at her. And then she smiled.
"I'd like that."
SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK
The train tickets were monumentally expensive, but they shelled out anyway. Money didn't mean quite the same when Sophia could recoup it with a bust or two.
Boston's Gray Line would cycle through, ending at a station on the far side of Boston from them. From there, they would transfer to a different, interstate train line. Apparently it was an affiliate company partnered with Boston's transit service, so they were able to get the tickets in the subway.
And from there?
Getting away from Brockton was like a dream come true. No more gangs or capes. No more looking over her shoulder for the ABB. Nothing but the open road. Or something poetic like that. Really, anything far, far away from Brockton would be nice.
The final station came at the end of a rail bridge over the river. Outside, the Boston skyline blazed with light, reflected in the dark waters like a kaleidoscope. Even the clouds above were lit up, burnt dull orange by the light pollution, blotting out the stars.
Beside her, Sophia sat quietly, watching the other passengers.
"Almost there." Emma whispered.
Sophia squeezed her hand reassuringly.
The tunnel swallowed up the train. There were a few seconds of darkness, and then the station opened up before them. The stations in Boston were much larger than she had expected. Nearly cavernous. High, vaulted ceilings, more akin to the kind in DC's Metro. The platform was equally scaled, a wide expanse of tile nearly forty feet wide. There was a flash of something and- one of the other passengers stepped into her view
"What the fuck is that?" Sophia murmured.
Apparently she could see something Emma couldn't. But everyone else in the car was looking out now, crowding at the windows. The train ground to a halt, and Emma craned her neck, pushing a businessman aside so she could see.
The platform outside was red. Splashes and splatters of gore were painted across the tile as though some mad artist had gone and selected a pallet of nothing but arterial reds and brain matter gray. And the train. The train on the other side of the platform was…
"Oh God. Oh Jesus Christ almighty." Someone in the car whispered.
The other train's passengers were stacked next to it. Limp, naked bodies in a heap, like cordwood. As she stared, one of the bodies twitched. They're still alive. The first two train cars were full, loose bodies packed together inside. She couldn't see exactly what had been done to them, only that the bodies seemed to have melted together, forming a web of meat and skin across the walls and floor.
-the victims were sewn together as some kind of macabre display-
And there, leaning in the open door to the third car, was a little girl in a smock. She was bloody to the elbow, splattered enough that her blonde curls were red and stiff. A striped, nude woman stood beside her- oh fucking Jesus that's the Siberian- nodded at something, pushed another body into the train car.
There were others there, scattered around the platform, not watching the little girl, but the new train. The train that she was on. Capes, her brain supplied. There were capes outside. No- not just capes-
"Soph, it's- it's them." Emma whispered.
"I know." Sophia said. She'd gone pale, fingers locked around Emma's.
The Slaughterhouse Nine. She could see seven, and seven was enough. The human looking ones were the worst. At least the monstrous ones wore their inhumanity on the outside.
Monsters. All of them.
Worst of all was the man standing dead-center, hands on his hips. Tall, blade thin, with his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Handsome in a rakish sort of way. She recognized him on sight.
"That's Jack Slash." She said it without thinking, and the tremor of fear that ran through the car at her words was palpable.
The train doors hissed open, and no one moved.
Jack Slash stepped forward. He jingled when he moved; a dozen knives at his belt clinking together.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Boston, welcome to the first annual Slaughterhouse Nine art show." His voice echoed through the station, all charm with a hint of laughter behind the words. He spread his arms wide like a showman. "We ask for your help in making Bonesaw's show the best it can be."
In the next train car up, someone started screaming. The other passengers were shifting, trying to move away from the open doors, climbing over each other to get away. Emma just stood, pressed against Sophia, too stunned to move. A moment later, Sophia's hand slipped out of hers.
"Soph?"
The dark-skinned girl looked back at her. "When they get started, I want you to run. Forget the bags and just go, okay?"
Emma gaped at her. "And where are you going to be?!"
Sophia's voice was barely a whisper, hard and serious as iron. "Buying you time to run."
"No!" She grabbed Sophia's arm, but the other girl pulled away from her again. "It's suicide to go out there!"
Sophia jerked her thumb at the other passengers. "I've got meat shields, I'll be fine. If it gets bad, I can just run for it. I'm more worried about you."
From outside, Jack called again, sounding inordinately amused. "No takers? None at all? I think we may have to start choosing then." He paused, rubbing his chin. "I think… Burnscar, pick a car. Medium-rare."
One of the Nine stepped forward. A dark-haired woman with flames rippling over her like a second skin. With each step, the blaze intensified, blood smears boiling under her feet.
"Emma, get down." Sophia hissed. She pushed Emma back and stepped in front of her.
But the woman, Burnscar, chose the next car up. She ambled up, hands in her pockets, taking her time.
A man burst out of the next car, running wildly, unwilling to wait for death. It set off an avalanche of motion. The other passengers in the car made a run for it, and the other cars followed. Hundreds of commuters poured out of the train, all running for the exits. Others pulled the back doors open and scrambled down onto the tracks. Sophia threw their bags aside and seized Emma's arm, pulling her into the crowd. In an instant, the station was filled with a cacophony of screams.
And then the Nine charged. She couldn't see most of them over the tide of panicked people, only saw shattered bodies thrown up as the capes plowed into them. A massive, tentacled thing, like a panther the size of an SUV, bellowed, its roar reverberating even over the tumult.
Someone slammed into her, and she lost her grip on Sophia. The other girl was swept away, gone in seconds.
"Sophia!" Emma shrieked. She tried to fight her way to where Sophia had gone, but going against the tide was impossible. No no no- wait- there! An opening in the crowd! Emma forged toward it, clawing her way forward.
Something crunched under her foot, and she glanced down. A corpse crumbled beneath her, burnt to charcoal and ash.
She realized far too late that the opening in the crowd began next to Burnscar, the crowd scattering around her like water around a rock. It didn't save them. Anyone who drew too close earned a lash of flame, scouring them to the bone. The woman's hand flicked out like serpents, casting balls of fire at everything she saw. Already, a pile of dead surrounded her, tripping newcomers with limbs like burnt twigs. The smoke from her victims clogged the air, turning the area into a choking miasma.
Emma pushed back, trying to rejoin the flow, but the fleeing travelers formed a solid, terrified wall around them.
Burnscar turned and saw her. The woman's face was blank, almost vacant, her eyes glowing red. Emma stood like a deer in the headlights. Already she could see the flames gathering in Burnscar's hands, searing hot even a dozen feet away.
Emma's lips formed the word, but she knew she'd never get it out in time. The world was slowing down, two heartbeats long, stretched into an eternity. Burnscar raised a hand, slowly, so very slowly, it seemed. Emma screamed, her body dull, unresponsive, like she was in a dream where there could be no escape.
The fireball flared and-
"Sophia!"
And then she was there, spinning out of the crowd in a blur of shadow. Burnscar turned, her eyes widening, just as Sophia coalesced. A feral smile crossed her friend's face, and she ran, snapped out of focus, just in time for Burnscar's flames to go over her head. Sophia leapt and flung her arm wide. Bits of shadow rained down over the pyrokinetic cape and into the crowd behind her.
Sophia snapped back, landed, and turned to catch Emma's arm. Behind her, Burnscar staggered, her features going slack, and then fell, flames already dying out one by one. Others, the crowd that the shadows had touched, had fallen too, clutching at limp legs or bleeding arms.
"Soph-" Emma gasped. "H-how!?"
Sophia opened her hand. She had a palm full of…
"Spare change?"
"Like a shotgun. Phases back inside someone." Sophia said. She wasn't looking at Emma anymore, her eyes moving rapidly, scanning the crowd. "Get going. You-"
A sound like a bomb blast from the entrance. The crowd fleeing up the stairs were broken, sent flying like ragdolls. Bits of ceiling rained down, shattering the bodies and skulls of those below. The monster- the panther thing stood at the top, blockading the exit with its chthonic body. As she watched, it dug its front set of legs into the stairs and tore out great chunks of concrete, hurling them into the crowd.
There was no exit.
"Shit." Sophia hissed. "I- you need to hide. It'll be like fish in a barrel if they can't get out."
She pulled Emma with her, and they slid down onto the tracks, between the train and the platform. There were others there, passengers hiding, praying for the right moment to run. Others were fleeing into the tunnels.
After a moment, Sophia stood to peek over the edge of the platform. Emma did the same, and instantly regretted it.
Sophia had understated it when she referred to fish in a barrel. It was a massacre.
Near the front of the other train, a woman with a cloak like shifting scales lifted a hand. Every train window near her exploded outward. The glass rose before driving into the crowd near her like a storm of shining hornets, flaying the skin from their bones in a matter of heartbeats. The panther-thing was working its way down the stairs, killing everyone it could reach with sweeping arcs of its many limbs. Broken bodies lay in its wake, some still screaming.
Other atrocities abounded. A doll creature was spinning through the crowd, ball-jointed arms working madly to cripple and maim. As she watched, it pinned a woman to the ticket kiosk and-
Emma bent down to vomit, heaving bile into the gravel beneath the tracks.
"Oh god. Oh my god." Her lips were numb.
This couldn't be real.
Sophia's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "Emma, Emma listen to me."
Emma staggered to her feet again. Wiped her mouth.
More scenes of carnage. She couldn't look away. Needed to.
Barely twenty feet down the platform, the little girl in the bloody apron walked hand in hand with Siberian.
"Bonesaw," Sophia whispered.
The girl, Bonesaw, was even tinier up close, barely waist-high to Siberian. Bonesaw held a test tube in her free hand, sending up gouts of white smoke around them. Anyone who drew into the smoke fell back, choking. A second later, they'd fall to the ground, limp and twitching like the passengers from the first train. None of them got up. Any who fell were swept up by the horde of mechanical spiders trailing along in the duo's wake.
Bonesaw stopped, frowning at one of the bodies strewn across the tile. "Burnscar's dead?" She put her hands around her mouth. "Jack! Burnscar's dead!"
Siberian patted her on the head consolingly.
Bonesaw sighed, and then said something to Siberian that Emma couldn't catch. Siberian nodded, and then took off across the platform, stopping only to grind a man's skull into the floor. The girl started going through her pockets, pulling out supplies.
Sophia grabbed Emma, pulled her down again. Emma tried to stand, but Sophia pressed her against the side of the platform.
"Listen to me," Sophia said, her voice stiff with forced calm. "I need you to go. Run for it."
Emma shook her head frantically. "N-no! I won't leave you. Not to this."
"I'll be fine. Trust me. My power is perfect for this kind of thing. They won't be able to catch up."
How does she know that though?
Sophia continued, "Emma, I need you to be a survivor, okay? You can get through this."
The words cut through the fog in her head. She was dead weight here. Nothing but another liability for Sophia to watch out for.
"Y-yeah. I can… I can do that."
"I know you can," Sophia said. "Now go."
But neither of them moved. They stayed there for a moment, huddled away from the carnage. The reprieve could have lasted a minute or an hour, Emma wasn't sure. She didn't think about it, only kept her eyes on Sophia.
The other girl crouched down and began gathering handfuls of gravel off the tracks, pocketing them for more ammunition. Her whole body was tensed, coiled ready for action.
Not for the first time, she envied Sophia. Sophia had it together, even now. Where did all that confidence come from? All that strength. Her surety. Her-
There was a crash from above. From the sound of breaking glass and tearing metal, it might have been a train car. It didn't matter though. The moment was broken.
Emma stood slowly, her whole body shaking. Focus. Follow her lead. Be confident like her.
"I'll meet you at the last hotel, okay?" She reached out, brushed Sophia's cheek with her hand. "Come back to me, hero."
And then she fled. Behind her, Sophia pulled herself onto the platform.
"Hey!" Sophia shouted. "That's one down. Six more of you fucks to go!"
The last glimpse she had of the station was of Bonesaw stepping aside, making way for Jack Slash. He smiled at Sophia; gave a mocking salute with his knife, said something. She stood tall, the only living person besides the Nine still on the platform.
Emma hurtled down the tracks. The third rail was live, the electric hum vibrating in her chest. But she was out- away from the crowd. There were dead on the tracks, fallen from above, but she ignored them, forced herself onward. In no time at all she stumbled into the tunnel, headed back out the way they'd ridden in.
She was panting, exhausted already, hot tears of fear running down her cheeks. Sophia. Oh god, Sophia. The tunnel was barely lit, and she fumbled along in the dark, the ragged sounds of her breath filling the air.
The exit, and then- She was out, cool night air fresh on her face. The same Boston skyline stared back at her from across the water, unchanged, and yet different in every way. The bridge was ahead of her. Narrow tracks, suspended over the water. She'd have to balance across the ties to get across. There were other people escaping that way already, picking their way down the line with frantic motion.
She could do this. If they could do it, she could too.
The bridge stretched out, seemingly endless. Just one step at a time. One railroad tie at a time, watching out for the third rail and-
A noise behind her.
Someone moved in the darkness of the tunnel.
Hope rose in her, washing away her fear.
"Soph? Is it- is that you?"
Yellow eyes flickered in the gloom, and with dawning horror, Emma watched as the Siberian stepped out of the tunnel. Her white stripes were almost incandescent in the dim night, rippling sinuously across sculpted muscle.
"Oh shit. Oh shit." Emma whispered.
The Siberian was smiling- No. Not a smile. There was nothing human behind those eyes, she could see that now. An imitation of a smile, black lips drawn back to expose pointed teeth.
The striped woman came forward, closing the distance with long, sure strides. The shaky, uneven rail bridge didn't seem to bother her at all.
Forty feet. Thirty. The Siberian was taking her time. Stalking her. There was no way Emma could get away, not from her.
This is what prey feels like.
Sophia wasn't coming.
And Emma wasn't going to make it back to the hotel.
Twenty.
She looked down. The river below her was black, too far from the city lights to catch their illumination. How cold would it be?
Fifteen feet.
The Siberian lunged suddenly, moving so fast that all she saw was a blur of stripes.
Emma threw herself from the bridge. The river rushed up at her and-
Cold.
So cold she hadn't even felt the fall. The pain came a moment later; cold so sharp it was like knives, and new- something broken in the fall.
The tide threw her back and forth, nearly dashed her into the bridge's struts with its idiot force. Her clothes weighed her down, pulled her under like bands of iron. Water closed over her head, fingers clawing helplessly into the open air before they sank below the surface too.
She should have stayed in the station. Then at least they could have died together.
Not like this.
Not alone like this.
Not-
Stars
SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK
Not getting to continue Emma and Sophia's arc is one of my greatest disappointments of this story. I was really excited to have them get pressganged into S9. There'd be a lot of suffering and pain, but I think I'm such a sucker for them as a pairing that I'd let them both come out of it alive.
Probably.
Anyway, I consider this the best chapter of the entire story. It could probably stand on its own if I changed it around a little.