by wildbow
A white streak, plummeting from the sky, striking Leviathan.
The shockwave that accompanied the impact tore through the tower. Superficial features broke away first, followed by the internal structures that had provided structural integrity. The end result was a gradual, almost slow-motion collapse, a lingering view of the Simurgh and Leviathan as they’d been at the moment of impact.
They tilted as the tower did, but neither Endbringer moved. The Simurgh had both feet pressed against Leviathan’s stomach, one hand reaching up to grip his face, the other hand holding the gladius she’d made, buried so deep in Leviathan’s sternum that only a little bit of the handle stuck out.
Pieces of her halo began to fall, including her fabricated guns and the other debris she’d arranged to form the ring itself. It rained down like a localized meteor shower, striking the castle, the base of the tower, the wall, and Leviathan.
The Simurgh managed to avoid being struck, even with her vast wingspan. She leaped up, kicking herself off of Leviathan, and found a perch on the wall, folding her wings around herself and the top of the wall, as if to ward off the worst of the rain.
Maybe six or seven seconds later, the tower finished collapsing, and Leviathan’s massive, dense body hit ground, crashing through several buildings before settling, the handle of the sword still sticking out of the wound.
He didn’t rise. He twitched, lashed out with his tail, dashing three already tattered buildings to smithereens, then gushed with water, producing four or five times his body weight in water without even moving.
Death throes?
She’d hit his core.
Beside me, Imp wiped at the lenses of her mask, tried again, and then pulled it off entirely. She stared at the scene with her mouth agape, then looked to Tattletale, mouthing three words in a voice too quiet to make out through the pounding rain.
Tattletale’s hair was soaked through, streaming with rivulets of water that ran down her back. Dark makeup ran from the eye sockets of her costume.
However bedraggled she appeared, just after a minute of standing in the rain, she also looked contemplative, rubbing her chin as she hugged her other arm close for warmth.
Leviathan went utterly still.
I watched the faces of the others. Every set of eyes was fixed on Leviathan’s body. Nobody seemed like they were willing or able to tear their eyes away from the scene.
Slowly, almost at a glacial pace, Leviathan moved. One hand with the disproportionately long claws was planted on the ground, then another. His tail provided some of the support and strength to leverage himself to his feet.
That, oddly enough, seemed to surprise Tattletale. Her hand dropped from her face to her side. She fumbled to hook her thumb over her belt as if she needed the extra leverage.
When Leviathan had pulled himself to an upright position with both feet beneath him, his head hanging down, the tail snaked around the handle of the sword.
He wrenched it free, and tore out chunks of his own chest in the process. There was little left but the handle and the base of the sword. Needle-like lengths of metal speared out from the base, but the bulk of the sword’s material was gone.
Leviathan continued to move with an almost excruciating slowness as he reached out with his claws, extending each arm to his sides, like a figure crucified.
The wound was superficial, but he was acting like he’d received a more grievous wound than any of us had dealt in the past.
The wind turned, and the wall ceased to provide a curtain against the rain. For a moment, Leviathan was only a silhouette.
I could see his shape distort.
Others reacted before I saw anything different. The Number Man, Tattletale, Dinah, Faultline… they saw something I couldn’t make out through the curtains of torrential rain. The Number Man said something to Doctor Mother, and I saw Dinah fall back just an instant before Faultline gave a hand signal to her crew. They adopted fighting stances.
Did they really think we could fight, if it came down to it? Against two Endbringers?
It was maybe twenty seconds of stillness, seeing only vague shapes through the shifting downpour, before the wind turned again. I got a glimpse of what the Simurgh had done.
I could hear a squeak from beside me. I expected it to be Imp, saw it was Shadow Stalker, instead. She clutched her crossbow in both hands.
Fins. Leviathan had fins.
They were like blades, points sweeping backwards. A fin rooted in the side of his arm, from wrist to elbow, the point scything back. Had it not been limp enough to trail on the ground, it might have reached his shoulder. More at the sides of his neck and along the length of his spine, forming an almost serrated pattern where multiple fins overlapped. Perhaps some at his legs. The fins ran down the length of his tail, and ended in a cluster at the end, like the tuft of fur at the end of a lion’s tail, exaggerated many times over in size.
He flexed a claw, and I could see webbing between each finger, mottled in black and an iridescent green that matched his eyes. It made me think of the bioluminescence of a jellyfish in the deep ocean.
In synchronous motions, the Simurgh unfurled her wings, stretching them to their full length, and Leviathan flexed his fins, letting them unfold in kind. Each fin was the same as the webbing, mottled black and a eerie green, and the echo-image of water that accompanied his movement produced mist as it washed over the fins. It obscured him almost completely, and as much as the pouring rain served to drive it away, the rainwater produced more mist as it touched the fins.
It took some time to clear, and even then, it only cleared because Leviathan had folded the fins up again. When we could see Leviathan again, he had collapsed into a sitting position, one overlong arm draped over his legs, ‘chin’ resting on one shoulder, completely at ease.
Above him, the Simurgh slowly folded her wings closed, like a reversal of a flower blossoming.
Doctor Mother turned to face us.
“Wha—The—” she stuttered.
Contessa, holding an umbrella to keep the both of them dry, set an arm on the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor fell silent, stopping only to look at Leviathan, then turned back to Tattletale.
Tattletale managed a grin. “I’d say there’s a silver lining in all this, but that phrase has sort of lost it’s cachet over the last decade or so.”
She gestured in the vague direction of the Simurgh before hugging her arms against her body. “…He’s probably stronger, which helps if he’s going up against Scion, right?”
“I think,” Doctor Mother said. She paused very deliberately. “It would be very wise to keep the Endbringers separated from here on out.”
“We might have to fight them, before or after we take on Scion,” King of Swords, leader of one division of the Suits voiced the concerns that everyone was harboring.
Lung was the next one to speak. “What did she do?”
“Upgraded Leviathan,” Tattletale said. “Attuned some device to the right frequency or setting, then tapped into his core without doing too much harm to Leviathan. Fed things into there. Knowledge, data, nanotechnology.”
Defiant’s head turned, as if Tattletale had said something.
“Yeah,” Tattletale said. “Nanotech. Why do you think the fins were turning water to mist?”
“My tech?” Defiant asked.
“Among one or two other advancements. If the density rules are in effect, I’d bet those fins are just as hard to cut through as Leviathan’s arm or torso. Disintegration effect, maybe something else.”
“Mecha-Leviathan?” Imp murmured.
“That’s not—it doesn’t fit with what we know of them,” Defiant said.
Tattletale spread her arms, a massive, exaggerated ‘who knows?’ gesture.
“It’s the fucking Simurgh,” Rachel said.
“I hope you can understand why we’re… distressed with you,” the Doctor said.
“Fuck you,” Tattletale retorted. “Cope.”
I put my han
d on her shoulder. She didn’t relent, nor did she release any of her tension.
“You wiped out two defending forces,” the Doctor said. “We lost the Yàngbǎn’s support when you took out their infiltration squads, and the Elite are wiped out.”
I squeezed Tattletale’s shoulder. She gave me an annoyed look, but she backed away.
I took in a deep breath. I could see the Doctor fold her arms. Like a mother or schoolteacher awaiting an apology from the recalcitrant student.
“Fuck you,” I said.
“You don’t want us for enemies,” the Doctor said.
“We have the fucking Simu—” Imp started. Tattletale elbowed her.
“The Yàngbǎn were doing more harm than good,” I said.
“They were limiting their strikes to civilians. Not something I agree with, but with Earth, with every Earth on the line, I’d forego two or three thousand lives for the help of over two hundred of the C.U.I.’s trained parahumans.”
“They’d given up,” Tattletale said. “They were taking territory to run and hide.”
“Contessa would have changed their minds.”
Tattletale shrugged. “Don’t blame us for not taking your plans into account, when you don’t share your plans with anyone.”
“This is common sense. No matter. The Elite, though?”
“They were attacking civilians.”
“They were nonviolent. Refugees in the vicinity of the portal were evacuated. The Elite then made contact with possible settlers who they thought would be interested in paying a premium for good shelter, for resources and supplies. If not paying with cash, then paying with skills. Doctors, talented artists, scholars… it was one of our best bets for re-establishing a hub of development across all of the Earths.”
“They broke the truce,” Tattletale said.
“Again, they were an asset. They were cooperating. The truce hardly stands in this dark hour.”
“They broke the truce,” I echoed Tattletale. “The code has been there since the beginning. If a bigger threat shows up, we band together. We don’t distract each other with attacks or murder attempts, we don’t take advantage of the situation to fuck with civilians. The truce is there for a reason, and it has weight because everyone knows that they can’t handle the trouble that gets express-delivered to their doorsteps when they’ve defied it.”
“Siding with Endbringers could be seen as a violation,” Queen of Wands said. “I seem to recall you participated in an effort to drive out a gang that had escalated too much, too violently, too fast.”
Her eyes fell on Lung.
Were they serious?
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Faultline said. “If you start going after the Undersiders and Guild for trying to amass enough firepower to take down Scion, then nobody’s going to be able to put up a fight.”
“Hey,” Tattletale said. “Faultline, sticking up for me? This is a first.”
“So you agree with this? Using the Endbringers?” one of the Thanda asked.
Tattletale grinned. “Agree? It was her idea.”
Faultline whipped her head around. “No. No it wasn’t.”
“Talking to the monsters. Well, you said talk to Scion, but this is close. You can have partial credit.”
“I’ll have no such thing. I don’t disagree with this, but I won’t condone it either. This is the Undersider’s plan, they can reap the consequences if it goes wrong.”
Tattletale smiled, but it wasn’t quite a grin. Confident, calm. I doubted anyone but the perception thinkers on the other side could see, but Tattletale was clenching her jaw in an effort to keep her teeth from chattering.
I felt just a little warmer, owing to my hood. I spoke so Tattletale wouldn’t have to try and risk an ill-timed chattering of teeth. “That’s fair. We’ll deal with the consequences, be it a stab in the back from the Endbringers or punishment that follows from any real issues that follow from this. But we will keep going after anyone who violates the truce.”
Rachel stepped forward, her arm pressing against my shoulder and side, as if she was bolstering me with physical presence. Through the bugs I’d planted on him, I could sense Lung folding his arms.
“You will not be taking charge of all of the Endbringers,” the Doctor said. “Teacher emerged with a small force at his disposal. He defeated the Protectorate squads that were deployed at one empty location…”
“The place Khonsu or Tohu were supposed to appear,” Tattletale said.
“Quite. It was Khonsu. The Endbringer has imprinted on Teacher’s group, and he has offered to sell that squad, along with the Endbringer, to a sufficiently wealthy buyer. We agreed, if only to keep this from becoming a monopoly on Endbringers.”
Tattletale smiled a little, but didn’t talk.
“How good of you,” Defiant said.
“We strongly advise you leave Tohu for another party to claim,” the Doctor said. “Focus on the three you have.”
Defiant glanced at Tattletale and I. I looked at Tattletale, reading her expression, before coming to a conclusion. “That’s fine.”
“Then we’re one step closer to a resolution,” the Doctor said. “Much better than the alternative.”
Veiled threats, now? Just how badly had we fucked her plans?
“This is more firepower than we expected to have at this juncture,” the Doctor said. “But not enough by itself. Without sufficient distraction, Scion will treat the Endbringers as he treated Behemoth. We’ll step forward and unveil our own plan B and plan C at the time of battle.”
“Armies,” Tattletale said. “You were collecting people for a reason, and you didn’t release every case fifty-three you made.”
“Essentially,” the Doctor said.
“Five groups,” I said, and my eyes fell on Dinah, who was standing beside Faultline. “We should split up so we can respond the instant Scion appears. We make sure every group has some way to maybe occupy him or pin him down, and we move to reinforce.”
Dinah, standing beside Faultline, nodded slowly.
“Four Endbringers, and then Dragon and Teacher to comprise the final group,” the Doctor said. “If Tohu arrives, she can reinforce the weakest group. Quite possibly Bohu.”
“Yes,” Defiant said. He was clutching his spear so tight I thought it would break. He looked to Miss Militia for clarification.
“I’ll run it by Chevalier,” she said. “But I don’t see a problem with this.”
There were heads nodding.
Not enough. We don’t have enough people here. There’s groups missing. People still hiding. People like the Yàngbǎn who are fighting us instead of helping.
I was all too aware of the Simurgh and Leviathan at the corner of my peripheral vision, of Lung and Shadow Stalker, who I could sense with my swarm.
Too many people ready to stab us in the back.
“I would recommend,” the Doctor said, speaking slowly, “That you take your time to visit loved ones, say goodbyes and make your peace. I don’t think there will be another fight after this.”
Cockroaches 28.6
“So this is it,” Tattletale murmured.
“Just about,” I said.
“You ready?” Tattletale asked.
I shook my head. I sighed, and glanced out over the fields of grass. So much beautiful nature. So many worlds to explore, now, each subtly different, each with its own hidden treasures. But even a field of tall grass had an art to it.
For an instant, I felt a kind of pull. The same sort of intrusive thought that made one think, ‘what if I stepped off the edge of this cliff?’ or ‘what if I opened the car door right now and threw myself into traffic?’ Not suicidal thoughts, but thoughts that were clear enough and alarming enough that we worried we might listen of our own accord.
What if I just left? Walked away?
I only needed to travel a short distance away for a short time. It would be so quiet. No sound, people or artificial lights. No pressure, no imminent danger.
From the Wards to a small war with inter-global stakes.
Solitude had a pull. I was an introvert by nature, and I felt so drained. A little while by myself, to recharge my batteries, to think. Me and now-distant storm clouds, fields of grass, trees and water crashing against cliff faces far below.
What worried me was the idea that I’d get caught up in that gravity. It had happened when I flew out alone, before. If I left to recuperate, to get centered and try to think of something I could do… could I say with confidence that I’d come back? Would I fail to come up with any idea, and simply… stay until it was too late?
Was that cowardly? Was it a mark against me if I couldn’t say for certain? Or was it like how a person could be courageous at the same time they were utterly terrified? I wasn’t terrified, wasn’t about to flee. I had reasons for fighting… but a part of me definitely liked the notion of going. Of not fighting. Surviving up until Scion passed through this Earth and then dying in a flash, possibly unawares.
I clenched my teeth.
All a fantasy, anyways. There was a tether keeping me here. Several tethers.
Rachel scratched Huntress’s neck as she approached me. She stopped right next to me, then bumped me with her arm. A push, enough that I had to move my foot to keep my balance.
We stood there, my arm pressing against her arm, her attention on Huntress and Bastard, as the two canines vied for her attention. I couldn’t articulate how much I appreciated it, didn’t want to look at her or do anything that might be misinterpreted as discomfort.
One tether.
“Reminds me of the movies I used to watch,” Imp commented. “On the shitty kid’s channels, at noon on Saturdays. My mom would be too out of it from the night before to want the TV, so I’d have to watch with the volume turned down and sit, like, three feet away from the screen. But I could usually get a good two or three hours of brain-rotting TV-watching in before I got kicked out of the apartment. Best part of my week, for years.”