Scarcity 14.1
The slow movement of the metronome beat cast eerie shadows on the cracked and crumbling walls of the atrium.
Amy sat on top of the Heart of the Labyrinth, elbows braced on her knees. Her heels bounced lightly against the thick muscles on the side of the living abomination. The black and crimson hood of her costume wrapped around her face, hiding her from the world. Like pulling the covers up over her head would keep the monsters away.
She enjoyed her slow rise and fall with every heartbeat. It was soothing, even though the knot in her stomach refused to go away.
Rachel leaned against one of the walls down below, her expression unreadable. Amy didn't know what to say to her.
Taylor was the leader. Taylor was the one who always knew what to say. Taylor was the one who made the plans, who knew when to unravel the knots and when to cut them down.
What the fuck am I doing?
The rest of the Hunt would arrive shortly, if they'd all survived. The fight with the Simurgh hadn't lasted nearly as long as they'd expected, so hopefully they all made it.
Taylor may have been right in the thick of things, but the Simurgh's power wasn't just limited to her direct vicinity. The buildings that the angel threw around like toys had done more than enough damage on their own. Amy would know, having spent the fight frantically healing the endless parade of broken bodies.
None of the bodies had belonged to the Hunt, except for Taylor's.
Amy held the lantern in her hands and stared into the ethereal white-purple flame.
Wherever Taylor was, Amy couldn't feel her anymore. Couldn't open a door to her.
Apparently, there were places that even the Labyrinth couldn't reach.
Taylor just had to be the exception to her own bullshit.
Amy's fingers trembled with an incomprehensible mess of different emotions as she pulled the old, crumpled envelope from her pocket.
It was well worn from time and handling. The hospital, her hospital, didn't exactly use high quality paper, so it hadn't aged gracefully.
"If I give you this, do you promise not to open it unless I die?"
Taylor was gone, and that was probably as close to dead as she would ever get.
"You aren't allowed to leave me. I won't let you."
But Amy had asked her to leave. Begged her to die for Victoria. For her.
She couldn't bring herself to regret it, even as the knives tore her apart from the inside out.
"I don't want to do this alone."
Amy didn't want to, either. She hadn't realized just how desperately she wanted this forever with Taylor, until she was alone in the dark.
The envelope was too worn to crinkle as Amy carefully ripped it open.
She unfolded the paper that she'd seen Taylor scribbling on in the hospital lobby, her hospital, back when she was still Panacea and everything wasn't broken.
The message was short, and written in deliberate, angry strokes.
The full moon will bring me home,
But in the meantime, I'll dream of you.
Hot, traitorous tears leaked from the corners of Amy's eyes, and she brought the sleeve of her new robe up to angrily wipe away the salt.
Taylor just couldn't fucking resist being stupid and over-dramatic, even from beyond the grave.
Part of her wanted to crush the short note in her fist and throw it away. It wasn't enough, wasn't a good enough substitute for being able to yell at Taylor in person.
Amy knew that the note had been written in a hurry, before she even kissed Taylor the first time, but she wanted… more. Needed more.
Cryptic bitch.
Apparently, she'd just have to wait for the full moon, and hope.
After carefully folding the note and putting it back into her pocket, Amy placed her bare hand on the Heart and let her mind drift into her biosenses, into the massive network that was her Messengers.
The city was screaming, so she avoided looking too far outside the Labyrinth. Just looking for her visitors, instead of trying to see everything. There was just… too much. Too much pain. Too much to think about.
They were close, now.
Amy considered growing herself a living throne out of the top of the Heart. Would that be too over-the-top?
She decided against it. Sitting, like this, with the combination of casual melancholy while also lurking in the shadows… it worked for what she wanted to accomplish.
Lisa and Dimitri were the first to arrive.
Amy opened her eyes and stared down at Taylor's infuriating lieutenant from under her hood.
Lisa's lips thinned into a hard line.
"Fuck. She actually did it, then," Lisa sighed. "I knew she wouldn't be able to resist. Irritating, suicidal, martyr complex-"
"Shut up," Amy bit out, even though she'd been making basically the same complaints internally not thirty seconds ago. That didn't give Lisa the right to say it.
Lisa grimaced.
"You should probably consider being less of a bitch, if you want this whole thing to work while our fearless leader is on vacation," Lisa said. "Just a suggestion."
Amy glared at her, but Lisa didn't back down this time. Even if she didn't want to admit it, some part of Amy knew the Thinker was right, for once.
Not that she would say that out loud. Ever.
The others trickled in until all Amy was surrounded by the former Undersiders.
She didn't know how to do this. How had her life turned from endless, gray, monotonous healing and pining to… running a villain gang?
She decided to just wing it. It wasn't like things could get all that much worse.
"Taylor couldn't tell me the details because it'd fuck up whatever precognitive game she was playing, but as far as I can tell, she found a way to lock the Simurgh somewhere and throw away the key," Amy started slowly, her voice sounding strange in her own ears. "She promised me that she'd always find her way back. I hope she does. I think she will."
They were silent, as the heart beat beneath her.
"But I can't give you any shit if you don't want to stick around. The city is quarantined, and any of us who show our faces out there will be fucked in the eyes of the PRT, even more than we already are. If you want to leave, now's the time," Amy said.
Alec idly twirled his threaded cane.
"If we were gonna skedaddle, don't you think we would've left before the Endbringer showed up?" He asked with unusual seriousness. "Besides, your scary girlfriend hasn't gotten around to killing my father yet. I don't know about the rest of you, but I gotta wait around to cash that check."
Amy didn't know what to say to that, so she decided to move on to the next item on her mental checklist.
"If you stay, we have to figure out what to do next. Taylor said she'd come back at the next full moon, so that leaves us with… what? A couple weeks?" Amy looked questioningly at Lisa. It was her job to know things.
"I haven't gotten around to setting up an external internet line, and the PRT threw up a dead zone over the city. I'll get that set up ASAP, though. We'll need access to the outside world," Lisa replied.
"I need to find my sister," Brian cut in. "My mother's apartment was deserted when I got back."
Amy reached down and ran a finger over the lantern.
"She's still alive…" Amy trailed off. Several of the lights, including Brian's sister, were moving towards them together.
What the hell?
Amy opened a door and sent the Messengers to peak out.
An enormous crowd of people, thousands strong, was working their way through the abandoned streets of the Trainyards.
Heading towards the Hospital.
She could feel the shining spark that was Taylor's father, at the head. Him, and…
Amy had bigger things to worry about, but the little star that marked Emma Barnes' location still made her blood boil.
Taylor would probably forgive her for killing her former tormentor… right?
She would worry about it later. Brian was still staring up at her expectantly, although she couldn't see his expression under his dark hood.
"Your sister is on her way here, along with half the Docks, by the look of it," Amy said dazedly.
I'm not ready for this.
She'd just managed to get over some of her issues with healing, going to the hospital in the dead of night and hiding from her patients' gratitude. What was she supposed to do with a crowd of dying people at her front fucking door?
Amy remembered Taylor's delirious plan to die on Carol's doorstep just to fuck with her, and couldn't tell whether that made her want to laugh or cry. Maybe both.
"We need to decide what the Hunt will become, without the Hunter," Amy said. She couldn't quite get the words right, but she didn't care.
There was quiet for a long moment, and Amy refocused on her actual surroundings.
They were all looking at her for direction.
Fuck.
She was going to strangle Taylor when she got back.
"Taylor says we aren't heroes, but the people here need us. She always talked about her Dream, her sanctuary… we can't let it crumble just because she's gone. If you're staying, then we should do what we can to help," Amy said.
"I'm in," Lisa offered. She didn't elaborate.
Rachel just nodded. Amy had a feeling she would rather die than disobey Taylor's orders.
Brian and Emily looked less sure, but they nodded too. Brian needed to find his sister, and Emily probably didn't have anywhere else to go.
"It's not like I've got anything better to do," Alec shrugged.
That's that, then.
The heartbeat echoed in the deep.
Fuck it.
Amy sighed.
We're all monsters, here.
But that didn't mean they couldn't help, in their own way.
"Nothing's going to get better if we don't have a little faith."
Amy could hear her voice, like she was still here somehow. It let her push back her doubts, for a moment.
"When I was still Panacea, I always restrained myself, limited my power's versatility… I told myself I just had to keep healing, but I could only save one person at a time. One miracle at a time. It was never enough… I was never enough," Amy said aloud, although she was mostly talking to herself. "What's the point of helping one person at a time, if the world just keeps falling apart? What does one little miracle matter, compared to the millions of unanswered prayers?"
If there's a God out there to judge me, their sins far outnumber my own.
She reshaped the muscle underneath her until it grew into a corded throne of living flesh, stark white bone interweaving with the bloody tendrils of the Heart to provide structure. The Messengers sprouted from the high back over her shoulder, and reached spindly, questing fingers out to caress the crimson lining of her hood.
More biomass was leached from the multiple doorways out into the northern mountains like a plug being pulled from a drain. Her tendrils latched on to the trees and integrated into their bark and leaves, becoming one with each until her power considered them part of the same singular organism. Entire forests melted away under her touch, redistributed across the massive network of vessels in an instant.
"When Taylor was still here, I was happy to be her shadow. I was glad to leave Panacea behind, glad that I didn't need to be anything but Taylor's. I would have been okay with that, forever," Amy said from atop her new throne. The Hunt stared up in concern from the atrium below, but Amy pressed on undeterred. She didn't care what they thought, not really. "Unfortunately, the Hunter isn't here… so, until she gets back…"
Giant, six fingered hands attached to unnaturally long, multi-jointed arms loomed in the Labyrinth behind her.
"I will be her Vicar."
Her power sang in the back of her mind, thrilled to be set free once and for all.
She created new organs throughout the Labyrinth, inhuman vocal chords to pass along her words. The Messengers didn't have lungs, so she relied on stridulating layers of flesh instead. The voice of the Labyrinth may not sound human, but it was a lot less complicated than installing a mechanical respiratory system.
"The people of our city are crying out for salvation," Amy intoned.
Her voice, the voice of the Heart, echoed through the endless halls with an eerie double-timbre, both high and low at the same time. Gentle as silk and rough as sandpaper.
"And the Hunt will answer."
From her seat at the Heart of the Labyrinth, Amy took control of her power and twisted, letting go of the last of her shackles.
The doors opened.
Living vessels grew out of every ethereal entrance to the Labyrinth, in every corner of the broken city. The Messengers stretched free from within. On hundreds of shattered streets, in crumbling buildings, the people of Brockton Bay stopped and stared in fascination and terror. Amy steeled herself, and took up the responsibility she'd never allowed herself to wield before.
She had spent her whole life treating the symptoms, and never the disease.
The voice that emanated from her creation wasn't hers, but at least it was intelligible.
All across the quarantined city, amid the panicked and screaming masses, she spoke.
"The Hospital is open. The Hunt will keep you safe."
She could see them, the beasts that prowled the streets. She would need to gather some test subjects, to see if they could be restored.
Great, skeletal hands reached out from within the depths of the Labyrinth.
There was no limit to how far her power could extend, or how many limbs she could control at once. They were all part of the same organism, and she was its shaper.
Outside one of the downtown Endbringer shelters, a toddler cried for his mother as the people maddened by the Simurgh's song caught a hold of his already ripped and dirty shirt collar.
Amy's hands snatched away the monsters, and dragged them screaming back into the dark.
"There will be food, if you're hungry."
The PRT had never permitted her to experiment with Simurgh victims, and she had never been willing to touch their brains before, regardless. She didn't know if it was something she could fix or not.
In the meantime, she would save as many of the unaffected as she could.
There were infinite currently unused rooms in the Labyrinth. Amy began growing her vessels into them, flesh bulging as she built new organs that would convert the biomass she stole from the outside world into food for the people of her city.
Of Taylor's city.
She was just its babysitter, it's steward, until her girlfriend figured out how to come back from the dead again.
Amy would come up with a more efficient solution eventually. Once Taylor was back.
"Clean water. Clean beds, if you're tired."
Providing water would be easy. She and Taylor had worked that out ages ago.
In the Docks, a family cowered in their barely standing house while monsters clawed at the doors. Amy's hands descended, and she saw a man peeking out the window at the sudden silence.
She stole more and more of the Afflicted, wherever they passed within her reach. She couldn't burn too much energy cleansing the whole city, since she had other responsibilities and no current method to restore the Heart's mass without taking it from the natural world, but she would do what she could to get some of the beasts off the streets and keep them from ripping apart too many people. She needed to poke around in their brains and see what made them tick, after all.
If they couldn't be fixed… if nothing could undo the damage the fallen angel caused…
"Come to the Hospital, and you will be healed."
Then the Hunt would do what they did best, and they would have no shortage of prey.
…
White flowers filled Taylor's vision when she awoke. Peaceful, five petaled stars that shone in the moonlight.
Except, she wasn't awake. Not really. Some part of her knew she was still dreaming.
She lifted her head, and propped herself up on one elbow.
The field of flowers was small, a wrought iron fence lining the edges of a yard that was both familiar and alien. A tall, gnarled tree stood in one corner, more twisted and knotted than she remembered.
Taylor stood, and rolled her shoulders experimentally.
She could feel the indomitable strength of Amy's enhancements singing in her bones once again. That was good. The temporary body she'd taken control of after the Simurgh cut her in half had been weak without her blood to fuel the fire.
Her coat was back, too. The gray long coat fell naturally around her shoulders over her crisp white shirt and vest. Her slacks were more comfortable than the ill-fitting scrubs that Amy gave her, at the end.
Something's missing, though…
She glanced down, and smiled.
She knelt, and picked up her hat.
Much better.
Taylor turned away from the old tree, and looked toward the other side of the familiar yard.
The house looked just like she remembered, before everything fell apart.
Dull green shutters highlighted the quaint windows, even more white flowers blooming in tidy window boxes and flowerbeds. Ivy grew along the doorframe and under the eaves. The wooden siding was a faded white, the paint just starting to chip.
It was her house. The way she remembered it, when her mother was still alive. When her father wasn't empty, and Emma still loved her.
Taylor walked over slowly. Carefully. Reverently.
She opened the front door.
Everything was exactly how she left it, before Sophia forced her to destroy it.
It was strangely fitting, in a way. Sophia had ruined her life and tried to kill her. Now, when the Simurgh finally succeeded where all others failed, Taylor got back some part of what was stolen from her.
The clock on the oven didn't work. Maybe time didn't quite work, here.
The stairs creaked under her feet as she climbed.
Her bedroom was the same, too.
Part of her wanted to lie down on her childhood bed and just… sleep. She was weary of the world, and she had far too many eyes.
Still, she wanted to know the truth, before she let herself rest. There were still so many questions that hadn't been answered.
Taylor retreated back downstairs, and turned to the basement.
The door was already ajar. It reminded her of the last night she returned to this house, when she found an invader in her sanctuary.
She hit the light switch as she went down the stairs. Even the single naked electric bulb on the ceiling seemed too bright, after the gentle moonlight above.
Her workshop was still here.
Taylor blinked and tried to place the feeling of disconnect.
The house upstairs was from her memory of a better time. It had never existed with a bloody workshop in its basement.
And yet, her workshop was here.
This is all a Dream.
Taylor walked back outside and stood in the field of white flowers, staring up at the full moon overhead.
She missed Amy. Hopefully she wouldn't be forced to stay here for too long.
The moon was watching her. She could feel something in its inhuman gaze.
A deep breath ghosted over her lips, and the cool breeze of the Dream breathed with her.
Taylor opened the eyes within her mind, and harnessed the interdimensional stars that ran in her veins.
Her perception was not sight, in the traditional sense. Imbibing so many parahuman blood vials had connected her deeply to something… Other. Something outside the physical reality that she had previously existed within.
There was far more to the universe than the surface that everyone else walked upon.
This wasn't necessarily new information. Earth Bet was only one version of Earth. Tinkers had found ways to communicate with others, even if no one had figured out how to move between them, yet.
What her power was doing to her was something… more.
The eyes and stars granted her knowledge without the usually necessary experience of gaining it. She could simply know the world around her, instead of being forced to hack and chip away at the veneer like everyone else.
So Taylor stood in her Dream, under the moonlight, and let her mind expand once more. Knowledge poured into her first like a gentle stream, then a raging river.
The presence in the moon was related to the source of parahuman power, but also different. Separate. It had its own goals that remained shrouded even to her.
It wanted something from her, but she wasn't sure what.
"Seek Pale Blood to transcend the hunt."
She still didn't know what that meant. Didn't quite know what Dinah meant by ascending, either.
Still, there were things that she understood now, that had only been hints in the fog, before.
Her power allowed her to create and control her own alternate dimensions, Dreams and Nightmares. The Chalice rituals were one potential method to do so, but they were just a tool. An instrument and a catalyst that let her dictate the shape and nature of the Dreams, although it was clearly more art than science.
She now stood in her original Dream, which she had understood instinctively on some level from the moment she first came back from the dead, in the snowy graveyard. It was what anchored her, what allowed her to continue after the death of her physical body in other worlds.
If she was killed in this Dream, her physical body would awaken one last time, and she would never be able to return. The cycle would end.
That was the risk of creating isolated Dreams and Nightmares. Without an opening into a consolidated plane, like her Hospital, they would open up the possibility of ending her cycle for good.
The plan with Dinah had been deceptively simple, and all the more effective for it. A Nightmare strong enough to contain the Simurgh needed multiple anchor points, and the greater the conceptual weight of those anchors, the better. Even if they purposefully created it without any true doors, and no lantern to make more.
Death and sacrifice made for excellent anchors.
The remnants of the gangs needed to be cleaned up anyway, and her Hunters needed their own experiences… but that wasn't the only reason she sent them out to clean up the city. She needed to spread her web wide, to have the best chance of catching the angel within it.
The Simurgh couldn't see Dinah's future effectively. Her own precognition worked against her, since the second that the angel planned around Dinah's future, Dinah would see that and change her plans accordingly. Rinse and repeat. So, it had to be her who triggered the ritual.
Taylor just set the dominos up, so that Dinah could tip them over at the correct time.
She hoped that her other theory was wrong, but she wasn't optimistic.
Taylor's blood wasn't the only catalyst used in the ritual, by necessity. If she was right, then the Nightmare now had two unwilling occupants, instead of one.
She would find a way to go back for Dinah, eventually. If the Simurgh killed Dinah in the Nightmare, she would just wake up.
But the angel would know better than to kill her.
It hurt, to know that she was abandoning the child that quickly became a friend, but there was no other way. If there was, Dinah wouldn't have gone along with the plan.
Taylor took another deep breath and let her awareness retract, centering herself on her singular form once again.
There was a new addition to the yard, which definitely hadn't been present in the real world.
Two gravestones lined the edge of the iron fence, white candles lit at the base with flowers surrounding them.
The first was fairly mundane, just a gray headstone with familiar markings.
Taylor Anne Hebert
June 12, 1995 - January 5, 2011
The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass.
The other headstone was different, cracked down the middle like it had been struck with a massive chisel. Deep ruby ichor leaked from the fissure and hung in strange lines against the gray rock.
Taylor reached out to touch the sticky fluid instinctively before thinking better of it and pulling back. Instead, she let her newfound insight quest outwards to the stones.
The ruined stone in front of her was a link to the blood-drunk Nightmare, the crimson moon hanging low over a churning sea.
That was… concerning, but also probably good in the long run. She would have a way to get back to the Nightmare and free Dinah, once she figured out how to do so without either releasing the Simurgh or dying again herself.
As for the other…
Taylor smiled.
She could see the familiar graveyard where her mother rested, where her original body lay. It wasn't covered in snow anymore, but she knew it, nonetheless.
She still had to wait to be reborn but at least she had a way back to Amy.
It almost felt like she could reach out into the dark and touch her freckled cheek again…
Soon.
In the meantime, she had time to center herself. To think, without the world constantly spiraling around her. She would obviously return eventually, but it would be pointless to reawaken immediately. She would still come back on the night of the full moon on Earth Bet, regardless of how long she spent in her Dream.
It would probably get lonely soon, though.
So, instead of touching the headstone, Taylor made her way back inside her old house. She hung up her coat and hat on the hooks beside the front door, like her mother and father used to when they got home from work.
Then she climbed the creaky stairs again, stripped out of her remaining formalwear, and went to bed.
It wasn't the same, without Amy. Being able to keep all the blankets for herself was a poor consolation prize for the empty space beside her.
Still, the day had worn on her, even if she didn't know exactly how long it had been since she slept. Time moved strangely, here.
She eventually managed to calm her mind and drift away. For once, she didn't dream.
…
Amy stood on the roof of Taylor's Hospital and watched the crowd approach. Endless gray clouds stretched overhead, a remnant of the Simurgh's descent. Amy idly wondered how long it would take them to clear. The shambling mass of tired people stretched as far as she could see in the dim light, before the broken buildings of the Trainyards obscured her line of sight.
There were just so many.
Thousands. Tens of thousands.
She took a deep breath and pushed away the insecurities. She could help them.
"Y'know, I didn't really get how you and Taylor fit together, before… but now I get it. You're both off your fucking rockers," Lisa sighed next to her, also watching the crowd gather.
Amy didn't bother to argue with her. It was true, after all.
She missed Taylor already.
I should have told her that I loved her, before she left.
Just one more thing to regret.
But she didn't have time to break, right now. She could do that later, alone in the Workshop when the candles burned low and she was alone.
"Start working on a perimeter. Figure out how much space we'll need to house everyone, and the best way to distribute our resources," Amy said. She did her best to sound like Taylor. It didn't quite work. "We can't give them communion, or we'll be buried in no time."
"No shit. Dealing with you guys having doors everywhere is more than enough trouble, let alone thousands of strangers," Lisa replied.
Amy managed not to kill her. Again. It was difficult, though.
"Take the others and as many dogs as you can keep in line," Amy directed towards Rachel. "We'll need to clear the Afflicted out of our refugee camp, and keep them away."
Taylor's less annoying lieutenant eyed her warily.
"Not sure I like this," Rachel said gruffly. "Too many people. Shit gets fucked quick."
"I know… It's what she would have done, though," Amy wasn't as sure as she tried to sound, but Taylor had more good in her than she let on.
More than me.
Taylor would have done everything she could to help the broken city.
Rachel stared at her for a long moment, and Amy didn't turn to meet her eyes.
"You love her."
It didn't sound like a question, but Amy nodded anyway.
The crowd got closer.
"Good enough for me," Rachel shrugged.
"My teeth are rotting over here. Can we go stop the inevitable riot, now? Please?" Lisa complained from the top of the staircase.
Amy snorted.
"Yeah. I'll talk to the first arrivals here…" Amy chuckled darkly. "I never pictured meeting the in-laws quite like this."
Lisa let out a surprised laugh of her own and shook her head. At least she didn't pester her any further, though.
The roof access door closed, and the rest of the Hunt left to begin setting up their little slice of paradise.
Amy glanced down at the Messengers sprouting from the roof next to her. Through their eyes, she could see Taylor's father at the head of the first column of stumbling refugees. He looked tired, but she recognized the same resolve in his eyes that so often stared out of Taylor's.
It made something in her chest hurt, but she pushed that pain aside for now.
"Are you ready?" She asked her Messengers, even though they couldn't answer.
They bobbed excitedly, nonetheless.
"Yeah, me neither," Amy sighed.
She took one of the Messenger's spindly little hands in her own, and reached into the Heart with her power.
From the depths of the Labyrinth, she grew a new abomination.
It unfolded slowly, onto the roof behind her.
Countless long, thin limbs ending in six-fingered hands sprouted from a massive wrinkled and emaciated body.
In place of a head, she grew an oblong cerebral containment unit. It didn't need a mouth, or traditional eyes. A honeycomb lattice of bone protected the mass of pulsating nerves that would serve as a substitute for a brain, since the creature wouldn't be quite alive. She didn't want it wandering off without her input, after all.
It was alive in the same way that the Heart was alive. While the Messengers each had more independence, the overall system was still fairly autonomous.
She kept it connected to the Labyrinth so that she could continue to manipulate it from within. It was just easier that way.
One of its massive hands reached down for her as it clambered across the roof high overhead, and Amy stepped aboard like she was riding an escalator at the mall.
If only Vicky could see me now.
The enormous creature, now easily fifty feet tall, crawled down the side of the hospital on its multitude of wiry hands with Amy in tow. The hand that was her platform remained upright and steady the whole way down, her black cloak flowing in the breeze.
She could practically feel the horror and awe from the crowd. The worried murmuring swelled like a great tide to meet her as she approached.
Her new pet placed her carefully on the cracked pavement on the front steps of the Hospital, and Amy stepped off of its palm.
She felt strangely short, all of a sudden.
Taylor's father finished whispering placating words to the crowd behind him. Amy saw a bearded man and a sturdy woman with short hair begin to move through the crowd, quieting them.
An unfamiliar redhead in bloodstained pajamas stared at her intently from the front of the mob, but Amy ignored her. She could still feel the dancing spark in the lantern.
Silence fell, aside from the faint breeze and some crying in the distance.
"Hi," Taylor's father said anticlimactically.
Amy snorted involuntarily, and he smiled. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and she saw pieces of Taylor's face in his expression.
"This isn't how I thought we'd meet," he powered through the awkwardness. "I'm Danny, Taylor's dad. You're… Amy, right?"
Amy blinked under her hood. She honestly didn't know what she was expecting, but this… wasn't it.
"Yes. I go by Vicar, now," she said. "I guess you can call me Amy, though, given the… circumstances."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Taylor told me a lot about you, but she said you weren't ready to meet in person, yet. Sorry to intrude, but, well… things have changed," Danny said. "Is Taylor available?"
"You think I'd be here if she was?" Amy snapped before reigning in her temper. Taylor actually liked her father. This wasn't the same as dealing with Carol. "Sorry. No, Hunter is… unavailable, for now. I don't know when she'll be back."
When. Not if.
Amy wouldn't let herself consider it.
Danny's face fell, and for a moment he looked lost. Amy understood the feeling.
Still, he found himself again quickly, and Amy saw the determination return to his eyes.
"I heard your… announcement. That was you then, right? I thought it might have been… never mind," he trailed off. "You'll help these people, then?"
"Yes," Amy replied, looking out into the ever expanding sea of desperate faces. "I may need some help getting things organized, though."
Danny's face softened at that, despite the atmosphere.
"I may not be able to fight Endbringers or perform miracles, but I can do paperwork," Taylor's father said with a wry smile.
"Come with me, then, and try not to get lost," Amy said to Danny before reaching into the monstrosity looming above her to project her inhuman voice over the crowd. "As for the rest of you, sit and stay for a few minutes. The Hunt will be with you shortly. And if anyone causes trouble…"
She let the tendrils from the Labyrinth burrow through the pavement under everyone's feet, Messengers popping up like weeds all across the cracked parking lot and the surrounding street. More massive hands emerged from beneath the earth and from the walls of the surrounding buildings.
Amy hemmed and hawed for a moment before deciding to double down. Two more enormous, multi-limbed monstrosities grew from within the Labyrinth and climbed onto the roofs of nearby buildings, looming overhead and surveying the crowd menacingly.
"...I'll see you, and you can come stay in the Labyrinth until you've learned how to behave."
A few people screamed. Many of them backed away from her Messengers in fear. Amy didn't care.
She motioned for Danny to follow her, and walked back towards the front door of the Hospital.
It was too late to second guess herself, now.
Messengers still in hand and her multitude of eyes watching the broken city that was now her responsibility, Amy and Taylor's father passed over the threshold.
When Taylor got back, Amy didn't know if she was going to kiss her or kill her again.
Maybe both.
Their steps echoed in the empty halls. Amy ran a finger over the lantern to make sure they were heading in the correct direction.
"You know, then? About Taylor?" Danny asked eventually.
"Yeah."
Amy cursed herself for being so fucking awkward.
"She's… dead?" Danny asked.
The words seemed like ash in his mouth. Again, Amy understood the feeling.
"As far as I can tell. She and the Simurgh both disappeared, and I can't find her."
"She came back on the full moon, last time," he said.
"I know."
The Labyrinth was quiet for a moment, except their rhythmic steps.
"It sounds like she really trusts you. That's… good," Danny replied carefully. "I'm glad she found someone like you."
Amy didn't know what to say to that, so she just went with the truth.
"Taylor is mine, and I'm hers. Whether or not she's currently alive doesn't change that."
He glanced down at her with raised eyebrows. Amy studiously ignored his eyes, fighting back an automatic blush. She'd momentarily forgotten that she was talking to Taylor's dad.
Oh well. If he didn't like her, she didn't really care. If Carol was good for anything, it was getting over the need for parental approval.
Amy opened a door into Coil's old hideout, where Lisa was busy coordinating with the remaining mercenaries. Some had left to escape the quarantine zone, but most had stuck around. They didn't seem like the type to want a boring life, and many of them still wanted the promised healing or enhancements.
"...still have a decent stockpile of regeneration and rapid healing vials. Start with anyone currently injured, then work on documenting cases that require her assistance."
Amy cleared her throat.
"Sup, Vicar?" Lisa chirped. She just couldn't help putting a mocking emphasis on Amy's admittedly over-dramatic choice of name.
Whatever.
Amy had bigger things to worry about.
"Mr. Hebert, meet Tattletale. I bet she already knows who you are," Amy said to Danny before directing her orders at Taylor's frustratingly competent logistics manager. "He's the de-facto spokesperson for the first group of refugees outside, so work with him to make sure we don't have any riots or anything. I don't know shit about managing people, aside from threatening them."
This was supposed to be Taylor's job, dammit.
"Would it kill you to say 'please'?" Lisa whined.
"Yes."
"Taylor needs to hurry up and figure out how to respawn quicker. I don't get paid enough to put up with you."
Amy didn't answer. She had other problems to deal with.
Namely, deciding whether to melt Emma Barnes into a puddle of living goop or just fucking kill her.
"Hey, Vicar… don't shoot the messenger, but… you probably shouldn't kill her. Just saying," Lisa called from behind her.
"I'll think about it."
Amy stepped back into the Labyrinth, and followed the lantern to her next target.
…
Emma waited and watched the outside of the not-so-abandoned hospital apprehensively.
Taylor wasn't here.
She'd come back, Emma knew she would, but…
It was still disappointing.
Plus, she hadn't been expecting Vicar to be… that.
Emma was already well aware that Taylor was dating Amy Dallon, Panacea before she joined the Hunt. It was all over PHO. The theories about their relationship were as varied as they were wild. Emma didn't pay them much mind; she was confident that anyone Taylor chose would be perfect for her.
It was obvious, now, why Vicar was the right choice.
Her eyes held the same murderous ice that Emma remembered crystalized behind Taylor's. Her monsters loomed overhead, always watching.
Vicar was strong, too.
That was good. Taylor didn't need anyone, but that didn't mean it wasn't better for her to have a powerful partner.
When the hands came for her, she wasn't surprised. Or even truly scared, despite the very real possibility of her approaching end.
If Vicar decided to kill her for what she'd done to Taylor, there wasn't anything she could do to stop her.
The six-fingered hand that grabbed her wasn't as large as some of the beasts high above, but it was more than sufficient to hold her tightly as she was pulled directly through the brick wall immediately to her right.
Taylor's domain was dark, even compared to the dim overcast outside.
The halls around her were incomprehensible. An endless maze that flashed past as the long limb dragged her through the infinite corridors.
She arrived at the end of the line quickly, though.
Emma hung suspended, trapped in the grip of Vicar's creation, in the middle of a wide entrance hall. It was as ruined as the rest of the Hospital, but definitely not empty.
In front of her, a great heart beat slowly in the shadows. The echoing thud-thud of its pulses rumbled low and deep, an endless metronome that promised to drive her insane eventually.
Emma looked up with a strangely calm feeling of acceptance. There was only so much powerless horror that one person could feel before it just stopped mattering anymore.
Besides, she deserved it, for what she'd done.
The dark silhouette of Vicar sat on top of the enormous organ in a throne of living flesh and bone. Emma couldn't see her face under the hood, but the crimson Hunter's Mark was just visible in the strange light of the lantern that hung in one hand.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you," an inhuman rasping filled the hall, scraping against Emma's bones.
Emma swallowed dryly and worked to find her voice again. The defiance she'd felt in the face of Taylor's father was long gone. This was… different. Somehow even more personal.
"...Taylor might want to do it herself?" Was the best Emma could come up with.
She heard a disembodied sigh from somewhere in the darkness.
"I'm protecting her from that choice."
That didn't sound true, even to Emma.
"Are you? Or is it just to make things feel fair?" Emma's voice came out more bold than she actually felt.
There was a long silence, aside from the heartbeat.
"It could be both," Vicar said stubbornly.
Despite her acceptance, Emma didn't exactly want to die here. Not without seeing Taylor again.
"I can be useful, to her. I can help. I'll do anything, for her, now. What I did… It's unforgivable. I get that. But I can't take it back, and I don't even think I would," Emma said hurriedly, before Vicar could change her mind and end her with a thought. "Because it made her strong. Because it got her here."
Something about those words seemed to strike a chord with Vicar, and the hand holding her trembled.
"...wouldn't trade any of my scars for an easy life…" Vicar mumbled in a low voice. It didn't sound like she was talking to Emma, anymore.
The heartbeat echoed slowly in the deep, and the shadows seemed to whisper just out of sight. Emma saw the silhouette of Vicar slump forward, like she had her head in her hands.
It was quiet for a long time, but Emma knew better than to interrupt.
"Fine," Vicar said eventually. "Congratulations, Emma Barnes. You get the opportunity to pay for your sins. Go keep those people from causing any more trouble if you can, and convince them that the Hunter will return. On the night of the full moon, she will rise from her grave, victorious over the fallen angel. I need them to believe, otherwise they might start getting ideas. Taylor will come back, and she can decide if she wants to keep you around when she does."
"Yes, Vicar," Emma said eagerly. She would have done that anyway.
She wouldn't fail Taylor. Not again.
"Good. Get out of my sight," Vicar hissed.
Emma looked down at the hand still holding her tightly, ten feet above the cracked tile floor.
"Oh. Right," Vicar said awkwardly.
The darkness suddenly blurred around her and the wind tugged at her hair. Her stomach lurched from the sudden and unnatural movement.
Then she landed unceremoniously in the dirt.
Emma glanced up at her parents' shocked and worried faces.
"Emma! What happened? Are you okay?" Her mother knelt down next to her with relief.
Was she?
"I'm fine. More than fine, actually. Vicar just wanted to talk," Emma pulled herself to her feet. "Taylor… Hunter is coming back soon. I need to help, need to tell everyone. So they don't get worried. They need to know."
That didn't seem to assuage her parents' concerns, but Emma didn't care.
She had a purpose, now. She wouldn't let the cold and the emptiness retake her. Not when she could be useful to Taylor.
She used to be good at this. Finding the right words, saying them to the right people. Making them feel better about themselves, while finding the right buttons to push to ensure their loyalty. The right supports to prop up, and which ones to loosen.
Now, it would just be for Taylor's benefit, rather than tearing her down.
It was more than Emma deserved.
…
The Workshop felt cold without its master.
Taylor's beautiful glass lattice didn't sparkle quite the same way, sitting silent and unused.
The forge in the corner was empty and lifeless.
The doors closed behind Amy with a loud click, in the silence. The cracks in her facade started to tremble, and she hugged her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep the pieces from crumbling.
The candles had all gone out, except for the ever burning flames of the chalice altar. The Hunter's Mark loomed on the far wall.
I should go to bed.
But she just… couldn't.
Not without her.
The walls broke, and the ocean that Amy had been holding back since this morning finally overwhelmed her.
I don't want to do this alone.
She didn't make it to the bed.
Instead, she crumpled right there in the doorway, pulling her knees to her chest on the hard tile floor.
Her teeth chattered. Her limbs trembled.
She pulled the folded note out of her pocket and clutched it uselessly against her chest.
Salt water ran down her cheeks and soaked into her new hood. Sobs forced their way out of her lungs, unbidden and involuntary.
She couldn't stop.
Taylor was gone. Victoria was gone.
Everything was gone, except for her.
It wasn't fair.
Her hands gripped the lantern in an iron vice, searching for a light that wasn't there.
Please come back.
The shivering didn't feel like it would ever let up. All the warmth in the world was gone, drained away with her. Amy was trapped in a single, endless night while she drowned.
Drowning, suffocating, but unable to die.
Why, why, why…
Eventually, though, she ran out of tears. Her body was too tired to hack up any more sobs.
At some point, the cold turned into an empty sort of numbness that was almost worse.
Amy couldn't quite pinpoint the moment that she fell asleep, but the lack of consciousness was bliss.
Besides, she could still dream of her.
Black eyes smiled down at her from the fog, along with the faint scent of blood and smoke.
Amy dreamed of white flowers, and soft, midnight curls.
…