Ilia Amitola, being a faunus contract killer and former member of the White Fang, certainly knew a predator when she saw one. Everything about Salem set off warning signs in her head, and though she was too experienced and determined to freeze up in terror, her confidence began to waver almost immediately. Salem moved with the dignified feral grace of an apex predator, and there was certainly an inhuman, animalistic quality to her piercing gaze. Her eyes were locked upon Ilia's own, and the pale woman seemed to almost glide across the ground as she made her way through the small ravine in the concrete left by her sudden landing. There was no way that Salem would allow her to simply run. Several civilians stopped to stare at the ghostlike figure, her alabaster skin shrouded in living grimm material. None of them saw what Ilia saw as she swept her eyes over the witch's form.
The revelation was sudden. It was key. Nothing in that moment was more important, and the faunus redoubled her concentration upon her target as she gripped her weapon ever tighter. She wasn't mistaken. The signs were all there.
Ilia Amitola, being a young woman who had fought with a broken arm, torn shrapnel out of her skin mid-fight, suffered burns, shattered ribs, and shrugged off impalement wounds in her career with the White Fang, certainly knew an injured combatant when she saw one. Despite Salem's practiced and intimidating grace, her muscles were unnaturally tense beneath the shifting, membranous armor. Her breathing was quickened, though she only moved slowly. The veined wings tucked against her back sagged ever so slightly, as though keeping them aloft as she walked took active effort. She was both injured and uncharacteristically vulnerable.
In the hallway leading to the infirmary, Ruby had told Ilia and Jaune about her encounter with Salem, including the woman's emergence from a cocoon, apparent death in the hotel collapse, and quick rebirth beneath the ruined building. The apex predator clearly wasn't at her personal apex, no matter how well she hid it from the untrained eye. She would be slower than she was in her prime. More prone to mistakes. There was actually a chance at doing some damage.
One chance at not a victory against the unkillable witch, but survival after a one-on-one encounter. It was an opportunity that Ilia might never have at her fingertips again. There was no way that Ilia would allow herself to simply run.
Ilia swallowed the lump in her throat, and despite her hammering heart, began to advance at a slow, measured pace.
The move was unexpected enough to stop Salem in her tracks.
"…it would seem I've stumbled upon a contender," Salem said airily as she flared her wings. "Tell me your name, huntress. I wish to know the first to dare approach me so directly."
"Ilia Amitola," the faunus spat as she picked up the pace. "And I'm not just going to approach. Get ready for the ass-beating of a lifetime!"
"The line between bravado and foolishness blurs," Salem accused. "You needn't die here, little girl. All I desire from you is t-"
"Salem's at my coordinates!" Ilia interrupted as she touched her earpiece and broke into a run. "Engaging!"
The cacophony of scrambled protests over her comm unit was expected, and so, Ilia tore off her earpiece and threw it down onto the asphalt as she raised her weapon up and across her body to prepare for a raking diagonal whip strike. Salem's eyes narrowed in annoyance at the brazen assault and with a quick beat of her wings, she rushed in to meet her challenger. The witch threw her arm forward, black, sinewy muscle breaking the skin and thrusting her limb farther outward as bony claws manifested at her fingertips.
Ilia felt the deadly spikes dig into her stomach just as the exposed flesh gave way to rippling water, allowing Salem's attack to pass harmlessly through and spread droplets out behind her. With Salem's arm embedded in her torso, Ilia had her prey right where she wanted it.
The faunus' whip came down hard, its segmented sections ripping pale flesh from Salem's neck and upper chest. Ilia's shoulder crashed into Salem's sternum before she pivoted and threw a desperate punch straight for the center of the witch's face with her free hand. As Salem reeled backward and reached up to grab Ilia, the rest of her body melted away to water and crashed down harmlessly around the feet of the grimm queen.
A furious roar signaled the end of Ilia's one free opportunity to land a blow with the element of surprise, and she knew it beyond all doubt. Hot, viscous ichor fell from Salem's wounds and intermingled with Ilia's liquid form upon the ground. Even without her body of flesh, Ilia could feel a sickening burn and struggled to flow away from the unnatural, wriggling rain. Just as she reformed and stood to crack her whip behind Salem, the immortal aggressor whirled and aimed her palm outward. Ilia wasn't stupid enough to stay in one place, immediately dashing toward and then behind a nearby vehicle for cover. Torrents of multicolored, swirling, pure, dustless magic flew from Salem's digits, chasing ilia through the vehicle and triggering a chain of explosions. The car flew up into the air as its steel superheated, twisted, and flew apart within a massive fireball. There was no sign of the faunus on the ground beneath it or amongst the flying debris.
Ignoring her wounds, Salem took to the sky, her hand enshrouded in glittering magic as she sped toward the center of the explosion. She was ready for the descent of Ilia's swirling, fiery form from the rising plume of the explosion. Without a second thought, Salem seized the faunus girl's flaming body by the neck, her spell quickly working to revert the swirling column of fire back to flesh. Ilia drove the sharpened point of her weapon straight into Salem's stomach with an impassioned yell as she watched the winged woman pull back her unoccupied hand. Just before the death blow came, a flying mass impacted them both, sending the combatants to the hard concrete as they separated.
Salem impacted the road first with an undignified scream, while Ilia landed hard on her shoulder and rolled with a pained hiss as the asphalt tore into her arms. Raven hit the ground running, Omen drawn and its saffron blade trailing sparks of electricity as she bared down upon the rising witch.
"Ilia, get clear!" Raven commanded in a furious voice. "Head for the election hall, now!"
Ilia very nearly toppled over as she got to her feet and windmilled her arms to stay standing. Her torso hurt as though she had bruised several ribs. The chain veil around her arm was laying against bare skin where her sleeve had been torn and several slash wounds had appeared. An unnatural burning had manifested around her neck where Salem had touched her, and it felt as though the pale hand of death had never left her skin.
"I'm not leaving you!" Ilia retorted as she watched Salem manifest a black, pulsating sword from the grimm mass on her body to clash against Raven's blade. "If she somehow manages to steal your power…!"
Raven pushed harder into the deadlock, bracing the back of her forearm upon the reverse of her blade. No matter how hard she pushed, Salem pushed back, slowly rising to her feet. The corners of Raven's eyes burst with crimson flames as a sudden rush of wind backed up her push, bringing the clash back to a stalemate.
"There is no victory here," Salem hissed. "Here, on this road, or here, down in Mantle. Even if you strike me down, I will rise again, as many times as it takes to wear you down into nothingness…"
Ilia clenched her teeth and ran toward the deadlock, readying her whip.
"What you don't realize is that so will we!"
The armament extended and wrapped itself around one of Salem's wrists as Ilia touched another finger to her palm. Just as with the beowulf, the faunus channeled electricity through her body and into the weapon. Unlike the simpler grimm, however, Salem was prepared for the assault. The woman's hand simply dropped off, leaving the coiled portion of Ilia's weapon to fall lamely to the ground in a sparking dance of unpredictable motion. Another skeletal hand grew quickly from the stump and found its way back to Salem's manufactured sword as she beat her wings and separated from Raven, sliding along just above the ground as she went. With a fluid flick of her wrist, Salem slung the sword off to the side, aiming for Ilia as she let the weapon leave her grasp in a whirling motion. There was no time to dodge and no opportunity to counter as Ilia reeled her weapon back in, the black blade hurtling toward her all the while.
Ilia's body was in sensory overload from the various sources of pain all over her. Somewhere on or below her abdomen, she felt a searing sensation as Salem's flying sword tore through her flesh. Raven rushed toward her as Salem once again took to the air, and before Ilia could tell what was happened, she felt a sudden warmth directly behind herself as the entire area was bathed in blood-red light. As the faunus watched in horror while the very sky above Salem began to shimmer with wild magic, Raven threw herself into the faunus and shoved her backward and into the lashing tendrils of warm scarlet. Before she knew it, Ilia found herself on the floor of General Ironwood's office with Raven atop her, the pair of them breathing heavily.
"What were you thinking!?" Raven yelled as she propped herself up on her palms above Ilia, eyes still alight with Maiden's flames. "Had I not been on my way to Sun, y-"
"I s-saw an opportunity!" Ilia interrupted, her voice wavering from a combination of adrenaline and pain. "She was weakened, a-and…"
"She's immortal!" Raven roared as she pushed off the ground to loom over Ilia. "Engaging her was never on the table, especially alone!"
"Whoa, whoa!" Qrow interrupted as he rushed over from behind his borrowed desk. "What are you… we need to get her to the infirmary immediately!"
Between her shallow breaths, Ilia finally found the opportunity to look down. Salem's improvised sword was embedded firmly within and through her right thigh, the blade sunken almost to the halfway point. Warm blood seeped down into Ilia's heeled boot, and she realized then that she could no longer feel the lower half of her limb despite its twitching muscles. The faunus scooted backward into a sitting position, hot tears once again forming at the corners of her eyes. In the heat of the moment and ferocity of her pain, Ilia failed to hold them back.
"No, you need to get her to the infirmary," Raven ordered with a harsh finality in her voice. "I need to get back to the battlefield. Salem's main forces are inbound, every squad is shuffled and in danger, and now, we're down a body."
"How many people did I save by stalling her?" Ilia dared to ask. "She landed in a crowd. She would've… t-they'd all be dead had I not stepped in."
Raven turned away and closed her eyes, heaving a sigh deep enough to raise her shoulders as she shook her head.
"And we cannot save everyone. You may have just traded the lives of civilians that won't even make the evac ships for those of Clover, Ruby, or Emerald. You now get to live with that choice… and you're done. Take her downstairs."
Ilia opened her mouth to retort, but Raven didn't give her the opportunity. The Maiden disappeared through another portal, the dimensional door sealing itself immediately afterward and leaving the faunus with Qrow in the silent office.
"…even if you fucked up in the grand scheme of things, I would've done the same thing," Qrow offered as he kneeled and began to worm his shoulder up underneath Ilia's arm. "That's part of why James didn't want me down there, and I know it. Saying you'll leave people to die is one thing. Seeing it happen right in front of you and turning a blind eye… come on, let's get you up."
Ilia invested a modicum of effort into helping Qrow to get her standing, though she kept her injured leg held slightly aloft. With a disappointed sniff, she closed her eyes and slipped her weapon back into its hip-mounted sheath.
"…I was thinking… it was time to take initiative and give back on my own, unprompted, like an actual huntress would. Otherwise, all of this, the license Ironwood gave us, everything Sun's invested in me… what the fuck is it even for? I don't care if this battle's supposed to be unwinnable. I'm not giving in. I won't just let her roll right through us…"
"If Ironwood really thought we had no chance, he wouldn't put this much effort into the fight," Qrow reassured as he helped Ilia begin to walk along toward the office door. "Don't beat yourself up too much. Raven'll come around, and hey- you did your part. Not many people can say they went toe-to-toe with Salem and got out alive. You probably did save some people with your heroics, dangerous as they were."
"I barely did anything, all things considered…" Ilia muttered as she looked down at her thigh.
"You brought us a piece of her," Qrow pointed out. "A piece that can be studied. That's never happened before."
Ilia watched as the blade continued to pulse and writhe within her wound, almost as though it had a mind of its own. Despite Qrow's reassurance, she felt the need to get it out of herself as quickly as possible. Failure to do so would result in something that Ilia didn't quite understand, nor did she want to.
"Yeah… maybe there's something to be gained from all this after all…"
Author's Note:
Ilia lives!
For now…
-RD