by wildbow
Not caring so much about conserving ammunition. The Devil knew this was the final move.
“Thirty seconds,” Lillian observed. “That was a small canister of gas.”
“Stand back,” Ashton said. “I’ll try to do what I can here. Even if I’m spent.”
Duncan nodded. He retreated from Ashton, putting himself with Lara and Abby.
“Twenty seconds,” Lillian said. After a few moments, she said, “Fifteen.”
Another person made their way up to the top of the stairs. He moved in a strange way, thrusting himself into the wires, arms limp at his sides. Drugged?
They were coming up the scaffolding. Duncan put himself closer to Lacey and Helen, ready to shoot if he had to.
“Still not a fan of going up high,” he said. Leaves us with nowhere to go.
A man appeared on the scaffolding, visible from the window, and Duncan aimed, then fired.
He didn’t know if he hit the man or if the man had fast reflexes. It only occurred to Duncan a moment later that the man had been wearing a uniform of the Crown Police. This could all go so bad so quickly, if they didn’t massage the aftermath.
Duncan’s target peeked around the corner, pulled back before Duncan could pull the trigger. He could see people on the ground, organizing, pointing.
“Get away from the walls!” Lara said.
The building shuddered, a rumble that fed into more rumbles. Instinctively, he stepped back and away from the window.
He saw the dust and the first of the falling stones, then the cascading tumble of wood and stone.
Sylvester, Mary and Emmett had aimed the worst of it at the west side of the building, where the forces were greatest. There had been a sixty men out there, and now there were forty or so. The vast majority of those were close to the building, positioned just right to get caught in the urban avalanche.
With that tumble of wall and building material atop one side of the scaffolding, the vast majority of the scaffold came down, peeling away, collapsing, or tipping over.
Did Sylvester think about the fact that those police likely had families? That some might have been forced into this, or ignorant? When Duncan stepped closer to the window to look, he looked with an eye for how many were moving, struggling in the midst of the scattered rubble and how many were utterly still.
“Stairs,” Lara said, very quickly.
He turned back, looking.
The man who he’d seen pressing against the wire had taken things a step further. The wire bit straight to bone, and some of the knives had come free of the floor. There was a reason the man had been limp, a reason he had so mindlessly thrust himself into the wire.
He was already unconscious, for one, if not dead, and his body was being pushed.
The Devil shoved the body up and into the wire, and another came free. The human shield had cleared most the way, and with a sweep of his arm and a slash of a long, heavy knife, Devil was able to clear the rest. He stepped up into the room, near the east wall. He tossed the human shield aside.
“The headmaster,” Lillian said.
Don’t talk to him. Don’t draw his attention.
Helen was the one who did it instead. She threw herself at the Devil, and he was quick to respond, slashing. She seized the Devil’s knife arm with the hand that hadn’t been slashed.
He bodily slammed her into the wall. Helen didn’t let go, but smiled. She extended a leg, trying to hook it around his, and he slammed her into the wall again.
Some of the loose material from up above clattered as it dropped down.
“Let go,” he said.
That look in Helen’s eyes. It called back to what he’d thought about how much scarier she was these days. Would he be able to put his finger on it if he was in the midst of things, like Sylvester?
Duncan winced as the Devil bodily slammed Helen into the wall again, to keep her from getting too good a grip on him.
Lillian charged the Devil, threw a punch, right for the kidney. But the man had seen her coming, and was already twisting. He struck her with Helen’s swinging body, before anything could connect. Lillian managed to scramble back before he swung a punch of his own.
Instinctively, Duncan raised his gun, pointing it at the man.
“Shoot, boy. Risk killing me. Kill all of those children,” the Devil said. “Would your Sylvester forgive you?”
“I don’t give a damn about Sylvester,” Duncan said.
The Devil moved his wrist, with Helen dangling off of it. Helen seized the opportunity to get a grip on the Devil’s forearm. She was being held so she blocked Duncan’s shot.
“But you give a damn about her. And about the children,” the Devil growled. “No. You don’t look like that confident a shot.”
Reaching behind his back, he drew a knife.
As he slashed for Helen’s wrists, she dropped away before it could cut through them. He kicked and she stumbled back.
He kicked her, hard enough to send her flying out past the missing piece of wall at the side of the building, and over the edge.
Duncan aimed for the Devil’s leg and he fired.
The man barely flinched. He didn’t even seem to slow down. No, if anything, he seemed to pick up steam, moving toward the little ones, with scarcely a limp.
Toward Ashton, Abby, and Lara, who had clustered together with Quinton.
Knives appeared in the midst of his shoulders, his buttocks, and the backs of his legs, one a second. Duncan turned to see Emmett and Mary at the top of the stairs with Sylvester. Mary was throwing, and Sylvester looked like he’d thrown one too.
The Devil clearly didn’t feel pain, but his functioning did suffer. He stumbled, and he lost his knives along the way, as knives struck hands and as he jerked in response to a well-placed hit at his shoulder. He practically fell atop the trio.
One of his hands seized Lara by the face. Lara, because she was the most afraid, and he preyed on fear. As a large man, musclebound, monstrous, he crawled forward with an eerie tenacity, clearly aiming to go over the edge of the building, to jump down to the ground below, where the remaining Crown police would be picking themselves up off the ground.
As he crawled, he dragged Lara a few feet, then put immense weight on her face and head, almost ignoring the fact she existed. Her sleeves turned crimson as she reached up to claw at his forearms, frantically scrabbling to do enough damage that he might let go.
Duncan didn’t trust his aim. Mary was doing what she could, putting knives in key areas, each throw having a measurable effect, slowing him, but not quite keeping him from moving.
She put two knives in the base of his spine as he shifted position, and he sagged, the use of his legs clearly gone. But then he hauled himself forward.
She didn’t want to kill the man. Killing him meant others died.
But leaving him alive meant he could, fueled by drugs and fury, make it those two feet to the edge, tumble over, and take Lara with him. They would land amid rubble and the officers still waiting outside. If those officers were in his pocket, which they so clearly were, then they would give him care and he could do whatever he wanted to Lara. He would win.
Ashton looked to Duncan, of all people, for answers, and Duncan didn’t have any.
He’d always gotten along with Ashton best.
Mary and Sylvester were crossing the room at a run. Emmett was a few steps behind.
But it was Nora who moved the fastest, crossing the floor to throw herself at the Devil. He held Lara with his left hand, and Nora attacked his right, furious, mad, with no strategy or direction except the intent to use every natural weapon available to her to lash out and do as much damage to him as possible.
The twins were supposed to have a ‘cornered rat’ reflex. It wasn’t, however, supposed to extend to situations where the other was cornered.
The onslaught bought some time, if only partially because of the damage done, partially because of the fact that he saw more prey and instinctively reached for
it, slowing his advance.
Mary appeared on his back, grabbing one of the knives that had embedded into his shoulder, and adjusting it. He fell onto one side, narrowly missing falling atop Lara and crushing her under his mass.
What ensued wasn’t pretty, or graceful. Two experiments clawing at the man desperately, Mary moving her knives to sever nerves while trying not to spill too much blood.
Somewhere, and there wasn’t a pretty or easily defined point in the midst of it, the Devil lost the fight. Lara and Nora saw the opportunity and backed away, both trembling and streaked with blood, eyes wide. Mary straddled the Devil’s chest, taking another few moments to sever key nerves and make sure he was no longer a threat.
Duncan went to his charges, to Nora and Lara first, slowing down as he approached them, in case their reflexive self-defense was still in effect. He dropped to one knee in front of them.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Nora shook her head. Lara nodded, touching her face.
“Okay,” Duncan said. He looked over his shoulder, at Emmett, who was guarding the stairs, at Ashton, and Lacey, and at Lillian, who looked almost defeated.
Lillian wasn’t meant for this. She’d used the sleeves to fight, but she hadn’t fought monsters with them. They were a meager substitute for being made for the task of hunting and killing monsters.
Sylvester, apparently, had found the opportunity to duck away.
Duncan gave Lara’s face a quick examination, checking that the skull was intact, checking her jaw, the rigidity of her neck. She submitted to the exam.
“Eyes functioning? Problems?”
“Buzzy head,” she said. “I got the sun in my eyes.”
“Okay,” he said. He put his hand on her head. “Whatever your disagreement was, put it aside. Nora, look after Lara. Lara, look after Nora. Checkup later, for your head.”
They both gave him blank stares, but then Nora nodded.
Helen. Helen was so often the afterthought, the exception, the one that was hard to include in summaries. Duncan rose to his feet, approaching the wall that Helen had been kicked off of. He was cautious as he drew nearer.
There were officers down there, many of them dusty, some bloody. One had a gun out, pointing in Duncan’s general direction. Another had a hand on that man’s wrist, as if to hold him back.
The fight at the edge of the wall, it saw Mary over the Devil, the Devil’s head and shoulders at the edge, now. The Crown Police could see him, and they could see Mary.
Gathering what little confidence he had, Duncan drew closer to the edge. There, he could see how the rubble from the fallen wall and scaffolding had barred the front door even further.
There were bodies there. The door had been opened and some of the Devil’s men had been making their way out.
He could also see Helen. She dangled from the edge. She’d grabbed the edge as she went over, and she was still there.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello, Helen,” Duncan said, still eyeing the police and the warbeasts on the ground.
“Help, pretty please? I took a bad cut to my left hand, and it doesn’t grab things anymore.”
“Easily fixed,” Duncan said. He crouched down, one hand on the wall, and reached down to grab the wrist of the hand that was holding the ledge. She let go and her fingers snapped around his wrist.
She was surprisingly light as he hauled her up and back onto the second floor.
“Thank you kindly,” Helen said, before bending over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Somehow not as threatening as usual.
Helen went straight to Lillian and Lacey for her medical care.
There was still so much dust in the air, and so much left undone. The police out there, the Devil, Sylvester… Duncan looked over at the Devil and Mary.
“He’s not going to talk,” Mary said. “And he’s too big to move.”
“Ashton can handle it,” Duncan said. “Emmett, come help.”
With Emmett’s help, soon joined by Lacey, who had to feel useless and dazed in this situation, Duncan dragged the Devil away from the edge and closer to the center of the room.
“Direct dose,” Duncan said, to Ashton. “I know you’re spent, but we need something.”
Ashton nodded. “You can always dig just a little bit deeper.”
Then he put one hand on the Devil’s chin and leaned over, face drawing closer.
“Ashton,” Lacey said. “Do not kiss that man. You don’t know where he’s been.”
Ashton paused.
“Nose,” Duncan said. “And use your hand to funnel it.”
Ashton cupped his hand to form a circle, pressed it over the Devil’s nose, and then blew hard into it.
It would take a minute.
“I’m sorry we were late,” Mary said. “We didn’t think it would get quite this bad this fast. I thought my wires were good enough.”
“They were good. He used a human shield,” Duncan said. “Brute forced his way through.”
Mary frowned. Even faced with a perfectly reasonable countermeasure, she still acted like it was a failure on her end.
“We were taking a minute to set up our escape route. We have a way out of the building,” Mary said. “One Sylvester has no doubt already used.”
Duncan nodded.
He stood, backing away from the scene, coming to stand by Lillian and Helen. Abby had Quinton, which was mostly what she needed. Nora had Lara and Lara had Nora. Ashton had a task to do.
“Did you get hurt?” he asked Lillian.
“No. Only my pride.”
“You did better than I did,” he said.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t agree, either.
Instead, she approached the Devil, who was starting to slur out words in the rambling fashion that went hand in hand with having his inhibitions lowered and being beset with the compulsion to talk.
There was only Helen.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She showed him her bandaged hand. “Only need a little bit of surgery. Lillian can do that when we have ten minutes free.”
He nodded.
Having been through this brief, ugly, messy skirmish, he was concerned about where things stood. He wasn’t very strong or skilled or useful in any capacity except for medicine, and Lillian and Lacey had that handled.
He didn’t want to be as disconnected. Just moving the pieces and allocating resources.
He definitely didn’t want to be Sylvester, either.
But drawing a little closer, exposing himself to more risk, if it helped others, he could do that.
“But are you okay?” he asked, venturing, ready to be laughed at, teased, and mocked. “You seem scarier lately. I know Ibbot has everything handled, but…”
“He doesn’t have everything handled,” Helen said.
“Oh,” Duncan said. He wasn’t sure what to say. It was maybe the worst thing she could have said, and he wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t be trying to gainsay one of the more talented Professors in the Crown States.
“I heard you talking to the twins. I saw what you did for Abby. You’re doing something different.”
“I don’t know,” Duncan said.
He felt so dumb sometimes.
“Just…” he ventured. “Bedside manner, I guess.”
“Well, thank you,” Helen said, leaning against the wall beside him, watching the ongoing struggle with the devil, hands clasped in front of her. “Thank you for asking that.”
“Sure,” he said.
Previous Next
Black Sheep—13.10 (Lamb)
I am a young lady of Mothmont, I am an exemplary killer. I am a step above.
With the Lambs at my back, I can handle anything this world might throw at me.
Mary stared down into the eyes of the Devil.
I win.
“I used to be a businessman,” the Devil said. “I used to be one of the best. Chemicals were my stock in trade. Chemicals
and drugs. When war happens, the demand goes up. Both for the people on the ground and for the soldiers. Sometimes I sold to both sides. Sometimes one.”
His laugh bubbled out through his lips. His eyes were unfocused. Mary, straddling his chest, could feel his breaths. He was slowing down.
The blood loss was catching up with him. The laugh was delirious, and it seemed to take something out of him, because he was less as the laugh concluded.
“I thought I was ethical,” the Devil said. He chuckled to himself.
His eyes weren’t focusing on her. They weren’t focusing on anything much, now. His bare chest rose and fell against her thighs. That monstrous, tenacious strength was trickling out of him now.
The toes of each of her feet were propped against the ground, her stomach was tense. She was very aware of where her body was, and the mental exercises she’d done outlined exactly how and where she needed to move if she needed to spring off him in any direction.
“I was a businessman,” he said.
“He’s repeating himself,” Lillian said. “And Sylvester is putting distance between himself and us as we speak. We got what we need. We know where to go to rescue the hostages.”
“The escape route is upstairs,” Mary said. “Go. I’ll be right behind you, after I clean this up. Show them, Emmett.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t take too long,” Lillian said.
Mary nodded.
“I was a businessman,” the Devil said. “Then a warmonger. I couldn’t do business without war to push it forward. I diminished. I made myself stronger, smarter, sharper.”
Mary stared down at him. The others ascended the stairs to head further up the building.
The Devil rambled. Was his life flashing before his eyes? The individual scenes spilling out of his mouth as they flickered in his mind?
“I don’t care about any of that,” Mary said. “But I know you’re the kind of man who likes to keep a card up his sleeve. You’d keep a secret, another dead man’s switch that you didn’t even tell people about, to ensure that we pay in some fashion for winning.”
The Devil stopped his rambling. His eyes rolled up into his head, then lolled over to one side. He chuckled weakly.