Vigilia Fidelis 5: Homecoming
Sweat stung Carlo’s eyes, but he grinned and went in for the pin, trying to grab Mina and slam her, gently, onto the mat and earn his reward. Instead, no sooner had he touched her than he flew smack into the heavy bag that the Colonel had been working over a few minutes before, face first. He hadn’t been going too fast, but he still rebounded off the bag and landed on the mat 20 feet away from the boxing ring he’d been sparring in with a thump.
“And by ringout, the victory goes to MP! That’s 27 matches in a row, folks! The crowd goes wild!” Mina cheered from behind him.
She had on a red boxing helmet that had mouse ears stenciled on it, and was wearing a red and white polka dot sports bra and yellow boxing shorts that showed off her toned figure nicely. Carlo wasn’t sure why he’d ever thought she was plain-looking. Mina had the body of an athlete, and her short brown hair was fine and wavy, though sweat-drenched at the moment. Which just made her look even better.
The crowd, of course, didn’t go wild, but Roach made clicking noises from where he was working at two sets of dumbbells with his four sets of arms. The insectile man had on a white sweat band and white arm bands on each of his four arms, though Carlo knew perfectly well that Roach didn’t sweat, and it was simply a fashion statement.
“Yes, you are very clever,” Carlo sighed, floating up into the air in a lying down position and frowning at Mina. “What, exactly, is the point of sparring with you if you simply teleport me away every time?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s really funny,” Mina said with a wide grin, slipping out from between the ropes to grab her water bottle. She tossed Carlo his own, and he snatched it out from behind him, because Mina had teleported it and changed the object's vector, if not its velocity. Always on your toes with this one.
She stepped forward and gave him a kiss, Carlo pulling her up into the air with him and drawing her into an embrace. “And for another, I only let you pin me in private.”
“Mmm, sounds exciting,” Carlo said, but let Mina go for the moment. She stepped over to the boombox they had playing, and swapped to a new CD she’d had Ajaw burn for her earlier.
“I got a new set of tunes! Listen to this, it’s some French girl who’s topping the charts over in Europe,” she said. “A lot of it is covers, but she did her own music, too!”
A bright, cheery tune that sounded like something out of a pop musical began to play, and Carlo took a drink of his water as the woman began to sing.
Bonjour, mes amis du matin
Le monde paraît parfois gris, parfois lointain
Mais regardez le soleil briller
Même après les nuits cassées
“Hmm, sounds happy, at least,” Carlo said with a nod. “Could use more of that. Who’s the singer?”
“Uhhh,” Mina pulled her phone out from their stuff and tapped at it a bit. “Furina, I think. Ajaw picked it out for me.”
“You’re letting HIM pick your music?” Carlo asked, slightly horrified at the thought.
“Hey, it’s like, the only way to get media out of the rest of the world these days! I already listened to all of the Tone Deaf Bards new stuff, but this is more my taste. Looks like her name is…Furina?”
“Oh, the one who does the dance videos on the internet,” Carlo said with a nod. “I saw her doing Billy Jean, that was pretty good.”
Roach came over and made a few clicking sounds, then a robotic voice from a collar at his neck said, Isn’t she the one who had her cat turn into a girl?
“Maybe, I just think her music is pretty good. She has some showtunes, too, but I’m not much into theater,” Mina said. She grinned at Carlo. “You done with me tossing you around, or you ready for round 28?”
“We could go-” Carlo began, but the lights suddenly flashed, and an alarm blared.
Endbringer Alert. All teams to ready stations.
Carlo was so startled he dropped his water bottle. “Endbringer? But, it’s been only 18 days since Banjul!”
Roach and Mina, however, were already springing for the ready room, and Carlo swore and took off, flying past them to land in the ready room. The projector showed a now too familiar image: a city, shrouded in rapidly spreading purple fog, with a great black serpent the size of a hill coiled at the center.
The only difference was, Carlo knew this city.
He recognized the spires of Catedral de la Asunción de María Santísima, now shrouded in Abyssal mists. He knew the Rotonda de los Hombres Ilustres, where he had gone on more than one school trip to see the statues of famous sons and daughters of the state of Jalisco who had left their mark upon history. He remembered going to C.D. Guadalajara games with his father and his half-brother, cheering madly at every goal and booing whenever the other team scored, especially if it was Atlas F.C. This was his family’s home!
“No!” he gasped, grasping one of the screens in his hands so hard the screen sparked and died as his fingers dug into it. “No!”
He began to mumble a prayer, tears obscuring his vision. “San Miguel Arcángel, defiéndenos en la lucha. Sé nuestro amparo contra la perversidad y acechanzas del demonio-”
Roach and Mina ran in next, and Carlo forced himself to stop. He didn’t have time for childish superstitions. Mina saw the displays, some of which read the location, and let out a small gasp. She hurried over and put her arms around Carlo. He wanted to be macho. To be the tough, manly man, who protected his lover, like he usually was. But right at that moment, Carlo needed the hug, as he watched Apep envelope the city he loved best in death and corruption.
It took agonizing minutes for the rest of the team to assemble, but they were soon all there: Colin and the heroes from Brockton Bay, and even the Colonel arrived, out of breath and in exercise gear. By then, Carlo had changed into his Class IV protective gear. It was a bit redundant for him: He was rated as a Brute 6 and should be largely immune, but he was not taking risks when it came to Abyss. He had seen what it did to people.
“Right. We’re going into our own backyard this time, people,” Colonel Jones said as everyone assembled. Carlo was double-checking the integrity of Mina’s suit, and other partners were doing the same. The faces in the room were grim, and there was more than a little fear. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
“I know this fucker has turned up far before it should have,” Colonel Jones said, her voice steady and firm, even as her armor from her power formed about her. “I know that it’s a demon, and that some of you even have family in Guadalajara. This time, it’s personal.”
Carlo swallowed and nodded, forcing himself not to weep again. He could not show further weakness. Not in the face of the Abyss.
“So here’s what we’re going to do: We’re going to kick this thing's ass, and destroy it completely, so that never again can it scourge one of our cities. And I don’t just mean the Hegemony and Mexico. I mean one of Mankind’s cities. This is our ball of dirt! This is our planet! And we will suffer no alien, demon, or monster to threaten our people! We will do our duty, and protect our planet! We will be the light in the darkness! For we are the Lightkeepers!”
There was a flash of light on those final words, and Carlo’s armor altered slightly. He blinked in astonishment as the same green-black tinkertech that Colonel Jones used formed over his armor, modifying it to look slightly more futuristic. There was a sigil there as well. A lantern, shining in the blackness of night, beating back the darkness.
“Now!” Colonel Jones said as a doorway, one with bronze knockers and thick mahogany planks, opened behind her. “LET’S BRING THE LIGHT!”
Carlor roared his agreement along with the rest, and he followed Colonel Jones right into hell.
This time, they had been transported into the very thick of things. All around them was the thickening Abyssal haze, filled with panicked cries and screams.
Screams that Carlo understood perfectly.
“Help, oh God, help!”
“Run, they’re coming!”
“Jose, Jose, where did you go!? Where did you-”
Snarling, Carlos flew into battle, calvary saber stretched out before him. Out of the mists loomed what they were calling a rogre: an enormous, pale skilled beast with beady black eyes, shaggy pale blue fur on its back, dark abyssal crystals sticking out for its skin, and a long, naked tail that lashed and smashed the ground around it. It was a skaven that had been further mutated by the Abyss. This one was infused with Cryo Energy by its coloration, but Carlo ignored that and went in for the kill.
His speed allowed him to dodge the things strikes, slashing at it violently as it went after a smashed car that had a screaming woman trapped inside. He flew up into the air, spinning back behind the rogre and driving his saber into the base of the things neck. It squealed as dark ichor poured out, and Carlo yanked the saber out, then slashed at the things neck again and again until the head detached from the body, leaving its corpse twitching and spasming. Abyssal creatures did not die easily.
He was panting for breath when Mina and Gregor ran up. Mina was able to reach a hand into the car, touching the woman and teleporting her to freedom, while Gregor slammed a mask onto the woman’s face and secured it.
“Jose, Jose!” she babbled, and Mina looked at her worriedly.
“Is she..?” Mina whispered, and Carlo knew she was worried she’d already been driven mad by the mists.
“My husband!” she gasped. “My husband, he was just running into the store to grab something!” she pointed to a storefront, and Carlo hurried inside. There, he found a man spread-eagled, his chest cut open, organs placed on an eight-pointed star as Skaven mages chanted their profane ritual. He slaughtered them all, then hurried back. “Get her out of here! Jose is dead! I’ll save all I can!”
“Carlo!” Mina screamed, and he turned to her. She jumped forward, touching her helmet to his. “Don’t try to do this alone! We have a mission! Save as many as we can, while the Colonel and the heavy hitters deal with Apep! Stick with us!”
“I…” Carlo swallowed, but nodded. What if Adoncia were here? What if Diego were? He…he couldn’t find them in this fog. Best to stick with the team, and do what good he could, killing as many monsters as possible.
There was death and slaughter everywhere. Carlo would have wept to see the buildings corrupted and defaced, if he hadn’t already been weeping to see the streets run with the blood of his people. He couldn’t even see Apep! The thing had grown to a size halfway between its first appearance and the smaller size it had shown in The Gambia: two kilometers in length, or near enough. Big enough to coil around the entire Plaza de Armas, crushing the cathedral and the Palacio de Gobierno in the process.
It was fifteen minutes of absolute hell, as Carlo fought to save his fellow Guadalajarans from death and worse. There were mostly Skaven here, but a mixture of the churls and orcs as well, no sign of Hilichurls this time. Carlo didn’t know what it meant, and didn’t care. One of the corrupted Abyssal races was much the same as another in the end.
There were a few Mexican capes fighting as well. Several dozen, all of whom had been taken unawares, had rushed out into the fight. Some of them worked for the cartels, of course, but there was one cape who Carlo had known and respected for years: El Judicante. He was a vigilante, not affiliated with the government-sponsored Los Valientes or the cartels. El Judicante was rumored to be half beast, and was renowned for striking at the cartels from the shadows, delivering criminals up for harsh justice from those who they had wronged. The only reason he’d survived so long provoking the ire of the cartels was he was probably one of the strongest capes in Mexico, if not the strongest. It was this man that Carlo heard over the radio, trying to rally some sort of defense for Guadalajara.
“Anyone who can hear me, come to CMNO! We are rallying as many as we can! I have two vision holders and five other parahumans! If we stand together, we can withstand this downpour of evil! So bring an umbrella!”
“That’s the general hospital complex! It’s not too far from here!” Carlo cried. He opened his radio band. “Colonel Jones! The defenders are rallying at the Western National Medical Center! We, we can save many lives if we move our teams there!”
“Goo-...Pavo! You and…-ad, move in that direction! I’ll -... you!” the Colonel’s voice said.
That was permission enough. Mina nodded to him, waving to Gregor, Shamrock, and Roach.
“We’re heading to the hospital! Pavo, lead the way! We’ll need drone coverage, though!”
“I got -...- covered,” Colin’s voice said over the radio. “Launching … coverage!”
The fighting toward the hospital was a slog. The monsters were endless, but panicked civilians had heard the news over the radio that the hospital was a place of safety, and were clogging the streets with cars, bicycles, and foot traffic. That, in turn, drew the Abyss like sharks sensing blood in the water.
“We have to protect the Civilians!” Carlo cried desperately. “Please! These are my people!”
“Don’t have to beg us,” Gregor rumbled, leveling a newly developed Pyro rifle and blasting two rifthounds out of the air. More were swarming, and Carlo surged forward, slashing at the demonic beasts and beating them back.
“Quickly! This way!” Carlo shouted, motioning the crowd down a side street. “Out of the cars, damn you! On foot! Forget your possessions! Your lives are not worth it!”
“Tu punta madre, Gabacho!” someone below him jeered. “You pendejos brought the demons here!”
“Shut the fuck up, Angel, he’s with the Lightkeepers! They’re not like the rest of the gringos!” another voice shouted back.
Carlo felt torn, but grateful they’d at least not called him a pocho. On the one hand, someone was on his side, or more specifically, the Lightkeepers. On the other…a lot of people saw the Protectorate, and by extension, him, as nothing but Gringos and imperialists who wanted to do the same thing to Mexico they had to Canada.
And they were right. Carlo did want Mexico to join the Hegemony. He wanted to clean up the Cartels and to make his land and people strong. President Costa-Brown was a Latina! It wasn’t like it was before! And the world was clearly no longer a place where a country, even a large, populous, and relatively powerful one like Mexico, could go it alone. If it ever had been.
They were still several blocks from the hospital when three dozen skaven came pouring out of the sewers around them, chittering and snarling for blood. There were no rogres this time, thank the Blessed Mother, but there were two mages that sent bolts of Abyssal energy into the civilians. Shamrock barely avoided one before blowing the head of the mage off with an electro pistol, but even with her luck, she couldn’t hope to kill them all. Carlo fought desperately, but more and more skaven were pouring out, and some of the civilians had breathed in too much of the fog, and were going mad, attacking their comrades in blind panic. It looked like it would be a slaughter.
“JUDGEMENT IS UPON YOU!” a bestial voice howled, and out of the fog, a creature Carlo initially took for an Abyssal monstrosity lept out of the fog, claws as large as bananas ripping Skaven to pieces. A blast from a mage took the creature in the chest, and it howled in fury, before lunging forward, canine-like jaws closing around the rat-thing's head and sending up a spray of blood.
“Disgusting. Filthy creatures,” the werebeast growled, spitting to the side. Pavo was hovering up in the air, about two meters, and he was just above the creature’s head when it straightened fully. It was dressed in a black leather vest and purple kilt, with a purple Ankh emblazoned on the chest and a headdress like that of an Egyptian pharaoh.
“El Judicante?” Carlo asked, floating down so they were at eye level.
“Try not to judge me for my appearance; otherwise, your opinion of me would be Abyss-mal,” the monstrous cape said, bearing sharp fangs in a horrible grin.
Normally, Carlo would have rolled his eyes, but as it was, he barked a laugh. “Just glad to see a friendly face, even if it looks like that! Let’s get these civilians to safety!” He switched back to English to call, “Mina! The big guy is on our side!”
Mina didn’t even look up from carving a pair of skaven in half with her glowing sword, her mouse-emblazoned shield raised high. “Wow, another animal theme caped who likes puns? Cut the cheese, I’m feeling endangered!”
“Perhaps I should feel threatened,” Gregor grunted as he slapped a skaven, sending out a spray of acid. “He is nearly as handsome as Roach and I.”
El Judicante rumbled a laugh, switching to English himself. “That’s the best you’ve got? I had bigger expectations from you, Mouse Protector, but it looks like you came up a little short.”
“Ah, yes, the height of humor! Short jokes,” Mina huffed, punching her sword through a skaven’s throat. “It’s cheesy, but we get the point!”
After that, there wasn’t much more time for jokes. Rifthouse appeared out of cuts in reality, their forms eerily similar to El Judicante, who seemed personally offended by them, and smashed them out of the sky, ripping them apart with his claws, which cut far more deeply than even their deadly points would indicate. Carlo recalled that El Judicante had a striker power on top of his Changer abilities that let him rend even tinkertech with ease. A good thing, too, with all the monsters about.
They made it the rest of the way to the hospital, but not without losing a great number of civilians. Carlo felt sick, looking at the trail of blood and broken bodies, but he forced himself not to vomit inside his suit. That could be lethal in these conditions, and they needed every fighter they had to face down the Abyss.
The hospital itself was surrounded by a barricade erected by the expedience of smashing cars into the fence and entrances. Gunfire was constant, and Carlo saw cops fighting side by side with gangsters, fear written on all their faces as they held back all the demons of hell. He saw one gangster go down, only to be dragged to safety by a member of a rival cartel, who fought desperately to defend a man earlier in the day he would have tried to kill on sight.
Hands reached out to help the civilians over the barricade, and Carlo turned and fought alongside his squad and El Judicante as more swarms of monsters arrived. Even with his suit’s cooling systems, he felt like he was baking, and sweat poured off his body as he dashed up and down the line, hacking and slashing for all he was worth.
“Where’s Farasha?” he panted into the comms.
“I don’t know! We don’t have comms with the other squads, we’re cut off! The fog’s only getting thicker!” Mina gasped, scrambling over the barricade with the last of the Civilians. She slipped, and Roach grabbed her, tossing her over as he smashed a fist into a Skaven’s head.
They fought desperately in the dark, death all around them. Those that could took up arms, but Carlo saw more and more of the defenders begin to show signs of Abyssal madness: muttering to themselves, shifting eyes, and manic laughter were the most obvious tells, but there could be other, far subtler signs.
Rifthounds appeared behind them, and the defenders were forced to split their attention, desperately fighting a war on two fronts. Victory seemed impossible, and survival was a rapidly fading hope. Carlo refused to consider retreating for even a moment, however. If he were to die, he would die here, a son of Mexico, a son of Guadalajara!
Diego, I wish that our last time together, I had spoken kinder words.
Carlo did everything he could to keep Mina safe: her suit was battered and damaged, and he feared that soon, she’d be suffering Abyssal corruption herself. If they survived long enough for that to even matter. They had been pushed back from the barrier, to the shattered doors of the hospital. Behind them, doctors and nurses defended their patients with broken chair legs and fire axes, while gangsters and police officers lay sprawled together in a pile of gore on the steps. There were no signs of the other capes El Judicante had rallied earlier: Carlo could only assume they were all dead.
Then, when all hope seemed lost, a miracle happened: A voice spoke to them over the radio.
“This is President Alexandria to all defenders: The Calvary is here,” the voice of an angel said in Spanish. Carlo could have fainted with relief, as doors opened all around him, and PRT Troopers, lead by Protectorate capes, charged out, carrying the latest weapons and clad in the very best armor. They routed the Abyssal forces around them, and Carlo collapsed on the steps, panting and exhausted, his armor slick with gore. He checked his clock. Only 23 minutes since they’d arrived? Impossible. It had been hours, hadn’t it?
Medics came to check on him, but he waved them off, urging them to see to the wounded and civilians who were suffering Abyssal contamination. However, El Judicante stepped forward, growling. “There will be no test subjects here, Gringo. We are grateful for the help in an Endbringer fight, but none of my people are being taken to a concentration camp or one of your secret laboratories to become one of our so-called PATRIOTs.”
“The PATRIOT program is one of the only ways to address Abyssal corruption,” the medic said, shifting uneasily away from the giant Mexican cape.
“There are other ways. We can pray that God send us one of his Holy Archons to cleanse and protect us. But none of your lies!” El Judicante snarled.
Carlo thought he was about to have a fight on his hands, when a deafening boom echoed. Everyone turned towards it, and the report was followed by several others. Then, there was a flash of light, and something about the fog changed. It didn’t lift, but it did seem to clear somewhat.
“It’s withdrawing!” someone said over the radio. “The President hit it with her elite, and now, it’s withdrawing! Thank God, it’s leaving!”
There was a cheer from the defenders, and Carlo slumped again. Even El Judicante seemed to relax someone, allowing the medics to tend to the wounded.
Carlo staggered over to Mina, who was propped against a wall with Shamrock, both of them obviously exhausted. Roach was laid out on the ground, all six of his limbs extended, while Gregor was being taken care of by a medic.
“No, it is supposed to leak there! I shoot acid!” he was arguing with one of them.
“Sir, you’ll still need to undergo decon protocols…”
“Fine, but I am doing them in Honolulu, not in some other facility! Take it up with Colonel Jones,” Gregor argued.
Carlo lay down with his head in Mina’s lap, though both of them were clad in armor. She still caressed his head, and the two of them rested like that for long minutes. How long, Carlo wasn’t sure, he didn’t have the energy to keep track of time, but not longer than five minutes.
Suddenly, alarms blared in his suit, and Carlo jerked up into the air, hauling Mina with him as she let out a squeak.
“ALL UNITS: EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY! DIVINE NAIL INBOUND!”
“Fuck!” Carlo gasped as a door opened nearby. He flew over, grabbing two civilians, one under each arm, and hurled them through the nearest door that had opened for them.
“What is happening? What is going on!?” El Judicante demanded, grabbing Carlo so hard he was dragged along for several feet.
“Divine Nail!” Carlo gasped. “The thing that destroyed Sao Luis! One is headed here now!”
“T-MINUS 30 SECOND TO IMPACT! EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!”
No, no, no! This was just not possible! There hadn’t been one in The Gambia! Why here?! Why Guadaljara!
“Rodrigo!” Carlo gasped, and turned to fly off towards the farm.
El Judicante didn’t let go though. “You can’t save them now! Get out!”
“But, my brother! My family! They’re here, just 50 kilometers out of town!” Carlo babbled.
“And you’ll never save them, that’s too far! Get through the doors!” El Judicante bellowed
“T-MINUS 10 SECONDS!”
Swearing, weeping, Carlo grabbed two small children, then flew after Mina, who was halling a pair of elderly through a door. He rammed into them, bowling them through the door, which slammed shut behind them. They weren’t in Honolulu, but in a large stadium that had doors appearing all over the field and in the bleachers. He lifted into the air, still desperate, and was one of the few who didn’t shudder as a shockwave rippled through the ground moments later.
There were gasps and cries, and Carlo ripped his helmet off, damaging the equipment in his haste. He crashed to the ground, and vomited into the grass of the stadium floor.
Someone knelt beside him, and Mina lifted his head, peering into his eyes. What she saw relieved her, and she hugged him tightly. “Oh, Carlo. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“My…my family…my city…gone…” Carlo gasped, trembling. All around him, there was weeping and wailing, screams of pain and loss. El Judicante, still in his giant form, sat slumped on the grass, his eyes empty.
Above them, Carlo saw the Colonel talking with the President and the other Elites of the Protectorate. They had failed. They hadn’t been able to save Guadalajara. His hands clung to Mina, and it was only through force of will that he didn’t crush her. Failed. He had failed.
Later, they learned that only Guadalajara had been destroyed. Most of Jalisco was still there. Carlo thought about calling Rodrigo, but when he tried, the phone lines were all busy. Instead, he sent a text. He didn’t hear back for a day,
When he did, he got one line.
Alive. No thanks to you.
Carlo looked at the text, and then carefully put the phone away instead of crushing it. He looked back at the TV screen, feeling exhausted. He was back in Honolulu, still in the office, sitting on a couch with Mina, and Shamrock, Gregor and Roach on beanbags beside them.
The Divine Nail slung by Scion had been smaller than the first. So had the Abyssal Corruption. It had been larger than the area corrupted in The Gambia, but still smaller than the area afflicted in Sao Luis. The outskirts of Guadalajara were even mostly intact, though more than a million were still dead.
It made the Protectorates efforts feel futile. They’d beaten back Apep, with Alexandria herself arriving less than half an hour after the attack started with the full might of the Hegemony’s capes. She’d only gotten in a single blow before Apep had fled, and how much damage it had taken wasn’t certain. But it was an entirely hollow victory, one won after an entire city was annihilated.
“We have to stop it. Somehow,” Carlo whispered, shaking his head. He closed his hand into a fist, and Mina put her own hands over it, her expression determined.
“We will. We’ll find a way,” she promised him.
Never again. I’ll never fail my home again, Carlo swore.
Not that he had a home left to fail.
This time, they got a respite. Or, a small one, at least. Apep waited 20 days to attack.
And then the death continued.