Sapientia Oromasdis 24: Old Scars and New Growth
Not so long ago, St. Mary’s Island was a shining jewel. A bright and vibrant island city where the Gambia River flowed into the Atlantic Ocean. It had been ruled by Cape warlords for many years, until a coalition of Vision Holders had risen up and returned The Gambia to a presidential Republic, with real freedom.
And now, it was all reduced to ash. The Vision Holders were all dead, save for one. Massacred in just a few minutes as they fought desperately to save their fellows from now two full-scale Abyssal incursions. Farasha hadn’t been able to save them the second time.
Now, she stared into the pyre where her butterflies played, her hounds arrayed behind her. The sole surviving Vision holder stood to her left, looking at a collection of prayer beads in her right hand, to which was affixed a Hydro Vision. Tesbi was one of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny and was dressed in a blue habit, though one with a slit down the skirts for easier movement in combat. Her hair was hidden in a white wimple, a word that Farasha had only recently learned. The woman herself was somewhere in her 30s, the Vision made that hard to judge exactly, with dark skin that had a few wrinkles, and a tightness around the eyes that bespoke her recent heartache.
Behind them stood thousands of people in white morning clothes. Farasha herself was dressed in a black robe, though she had put white hibiscus flowers in her hat instead of the usual red poppies. The locals called them wonjo, though Farasha automatically translated that in her head without even thinking about it.
“Aren’t you going to say a funeral rite for them, Sister?” Farasha asked, turning to glance at the Catholic nun on her right. She wasn’t even snarking or mocking, as much as she usually loved tormenting Christians. Right now, she was just tired.
Tesbi closed her fist on the prayer beads. “Should I? Is what I believe even real? The people are praying to you now, Farasha. Not Allah, or Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Fuck, I don’t know,” Farasha sighed, taking off her hat and looking at it for a long moment before replacing it on her head. “I can tell you that those I could, I guided to the other side. There is an afterlife. Though who’s in charge of running it…I can’t say. Neither can the Aranara, or even my daughter. So, shit. Say your prayers, or whatever. Someone’s listening, at least.”
“I’m no priest,” Tesbi sighed, closing her eyes. A tear leaked down her cheeks, and she shook her head. “But Father Pateh is dead. So is Sister Superior Sohna. And so many others. I suppose…”
Tesbi touched the wooden crucifix around her neck, then lifted it up. “Very well. If a Holy Dragon commands it. I suppose I can say a mass for the dead.”
She raised her voice and said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
There was a stir in the crowd. The vast majority of them were muslim. So, with a sigh, Farasha turned herself about, crossed her arms over her chest, and knelt. This was stupid bullshit. However, it was stupid bullshit that people needed right now. Every hero these people knew, save for Tesbi, was dead. Along with a good number of their friends and family. And Farasha sure as shit was not the one to offer words of comfort.
Upon seeing Farasha kneel, the assembled mourners hastily knelt and bowed their heads as well.
Tesbi lowered her crucifix, but not her voice, turning to face the audience as well. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”
The only sound was the crackling of the flames as what was left of the corpses burned. Every knee was bent, every head bowed. Tesbi swallowed, then continued, “Let us recite the twenty third Psalm together. ‘The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…’”
Farasha sure as fuck did not know the 23rd Psalm. Or any Psalm, for that matter. But she moved her lips like she did. Shit, the words were kind of nice. She could do with some green pastures and still waters herself at the moment.
The ceremony was blessedly short, at least. After about 10 minutes of prayers and a couple of songs that Tesbi and the handful of Christians present sang, she finished with, “.. God, our shelter and our strength, you listen in love to the cry of your people: hear the prayers we offer for our departed brothers and sisters. Cleanse them of their sins, and the corruption of the Abyss, and grant them the fullness of redemption. We ask this through Christ our Lord, and his Holy Dragon, Amen.”
Farsha glanced at Tesbi, who made a little jerk with her hand, so Farasha stood up. There was the rustling of clothing and some soft whispers as everyone stood. All eyes affixed to Farasha. Shit. Now she had to say something.
“I dunno what comes next,” was the first thing that came to mind, so Farasha said it. “I don’t know if it’s Jesus, or Mohammad, or a little Aranara waiting for us on the other side.”
She paused, hoping for…something. But everyone was just looking up to her desperately. Even her hounds, the stupid bitches looking at her with desperate eyes. Shit, did they think just because she was a dragon, she had all the answers?
Probably. Where the fuck was the Pyro Archon? Hopefully, they could figure this shit out. Farasha couldn't.
“But there is SOMETHING on the other side,” Farasha said, pointing behind her to the flames she continued to will into existence. “There is an afterlife. I have led the souls of these heroes there. My butterflies have carried them across the waters of that dark river, to whatever awaits them. Whatever it is, they’re going to have an awesome time. When the Abyss came, they stood up and fought. Not just once. But twice. Thanks to them, we didn’t get one of the Golden Ass….uh, ah fuck it, you people know who I am! Shit, I don’t think I’ve gone so long without swearing in years!”
That got a chuckle and some smiles from the crowd. They did know her, now. Farasha had been going to move on. Maybe back to São Luis, or somewhere else that needed her. Then a second Abyss Incursion had happened. There had been no Apep this time. But hordes of monsters had poured forth, all across The Gambia. Dozens of villages had been destroyed, and Farasha had spent frantic days fighting them. She hadn’t even learned that Mexico had been attacked until the third day, and by then, it had been too late for her to do much of anything.
“The Golden Asshole put one of his Nails in Guadalajara. Same as he did Sao Luis. Why? Fuck me if I know. But I bet it was at least partly because all of you, and the fallen, fought tooth and nail to save this place! So, fuck yeah! They’re all going to heaven, nirvana, or Valhalla, or maybe just a really kickass party! Wherever they are, they’re living it up! And because of them, we’re alive today!”
That got a half-hearted cheer, and Farasha decided it was good enough. There was a blaze of sparks, and her butterflies, well, herself, really, rose up out of the pyre and into the twilight sky. Her butterflies sought out the stars that were just twinkling into existence, and the crowd gasped in shock. Some pointed, some prayed, others wept. Farasha watched them go, which was a bit surreal, as she could also see things from the butterflies' perspective.
Soon, the butterflies vanished into the night sky. Farasha had timed it just right and let those bits of herself wink out and return back to the metaphysical mass that she really was.
She turned to go, whistling for her hounds, which hastily padded after her. She might have to consider letting them walk about in human form more often. Half the pack was dead, or worse, having died in the horrific fighting of the past few days. Those that remained were some of the most hardened Abyss fighters there were.
Didn’t change what the fuckers had done before Farasha had cursed them. Well. At least she was in good company.
She wasn’t surprised when Tesbi followed after her. They moved past the crowd and back to the encampment Farasha had constructed. It was all blackened carbon structures, ash Farasha had formed into sturdy buildings with thick walls around them, and fortified roofs and walls to resist the Abyss. Most of the structures were several stories tall, and built like citadels with rounded corners and towers.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional. The Abyss had tried to break in during the second wave, but the walls and wards Farasha and the Vision Holders had constructed had held.
They reached the gates, which had guards posted, men and women with a mishmash of guns, spears, and some armor. They saluted Farasha with newly acquired military efficiency. She paused, glancing around. The earth was slightly churned, and one of the guards was missing. “An attack?”
“Just a few hilichurls,” the captain, a tough-looking middle-aged man with a neck like a bull's thick arms. Amat had been a fisherman, plying the river and bay. Now, he had scars and a rifle in his hands. “But Isa took an arrow. He’s in the medical bay.”
“I’ll see to him later,” Tesbi said, and Amat nodded his thanks. The other guards bowed respectfully to Farasha and the nun, stepping aside to let them through.
Even during a funeral, they couldn’t let their guard down.
Farasha went to the largest building, the one she’d claimed as her headquarters and personal residence. Someone had put up a black flag emblazoned with a scarlet butterfly. Farasha didn’t like it, but she also hadn’t told anyone to take it down. It wasn’t as bad as the little butterfly icons some of the bigger idiots had started praying to.
“Go get some food and sleep,” Farasha told the hounds. She planted her hands on her hips and nodded to them. “You did good. Keep this up, and I might let you walk around on two legs for a bit. Do even better, and I’ll give your dicks back.”
The hounds wagged their tails and came over to lick at Farasha’s hands, which was a bit disgusting. She was more of a cat person. But, she didn’t just kick the freaks, instead patting them on the head and sending them off to bed. However, that left her with Tesbi, and Farasha turned to glare at the nun. “What? You want a belly rub or some shit?”
“No, Farasha. I want to know what comes next,” Tesbi said, her bright blue eyes boring into Farasha.
“Next? You think I have a fuckling plan or some shit?!” Farasha demanded, gesturing around them. She groaned and lowered her voice. “Listen. I am not the woman with a plan. Don’t ask me what comes next.”
One of Tesbi’s eyebrows arched. “Not the one with a plan? The woman who has organized and led our defense for the past several weeks?”
“I reacted. I know how to fight,” Farasha said with a shrug. “And you were all fucked if I hadn’t. And, well, shit, I wasn’t trying to tell people what to do! You idiots just kept following me!”
“You’re gathering an army. Me, the hounds…you’ve got the biggest fighting force left in The Gambia,” Tesbi pointed out. “So, what do you plan to do?”
“I...fuck.” Farasha walked into the building and went to her room, where she slumped on the cot she had laid out. Tesbi had, of course, followed her, sitting on the overturned crate Farasha had for a chair. “Look. All I know is, I gotta stop this Abyssal endbringer thing. But there’s been more outbreaks in Brazil while I was gone. And I can’t just…leave them to die. I gotta go back, help, or something. And then there was that shit in Mexico. I can’t just…it’s all a mess, OK?”
“Ah. So you intend to lead some sort of global resistance against the Abyss? Tesbia said with a nod.
Farasha wanted to scream and pull her hair out. “No! I just, I have to help. Fuck, you ever read comic books?”
“My reading typically consisted of the Good Book. I was particularly fond of the Gospel of Mark,” Tesbi answered.
Farasha gave her a disgusted look. “What I meant was, it’s this ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ shit. Pretty sure that ain’t in your bible.”
“Luke 12:48: Every one to whom much is given, of him will much be required,” Tesbi quoted with a nod.
“Yeah, well, it was cooler when Spiderman said it,” Farasha grumbled. She closed her eyes and flung an arm over her face. “I dunno, Tesbi. What the fuck should I do? There’s fire everywhere. I can’t put it all out on my own. Not even I can be in that many places at once.”
“Interesting. Typically, I have gone to God with my problems. It is a somewhat novel experience to have one come to me,” Tesbi mused.
Farasha lifted her arm and frowned. “Wait. I thought you were like, still a nun and shit.”
“I will serve my Lord Jesus Christ until the day I die,” Tesbi said with a shrug. “However, I will also serve the Holy Dragon the Lord has sent us.”
“You know I didn’t fucking come from Jesus, right?” Farasha grumbled, sitting up in bed. She didn’t actually need to sleep, but she was dog tired anyway. Maybe just a little rest.
“You did say you had been sent by God,” Tesbi pointed out.
“I said I’d been sent by a god. Specifically, the one who calls me mommy.”
“You can argue semantics all you wish. I leave it to the Holy Father and the rest of the Holy See to figure out how you and the other Archons fit into the world theologically. I only know that you are no demon, and have divine power over life and death that only God can grant.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You’re just grateful I told them all to knock it the fuck off when people started to want to kill Christians to blame them for this shit,” Farasha growled. That had been…frighteningly close to her…well. Let’s call it her Old Job. Saddam had used the Kurds as a scapegoat for the problems of the world. Didn’t take a fucking genius to see the parallels. And Farasha would be damned if she let another genocide happen.
Tesbi nodded, then folded her hands in her lap. “And so?”
Farasha glared at her. “That’s what I was asking you! What do I do!? Do I fuck off back to Brazil!? What if there’s another outbreak here! Shit, Tesbi, I’m used to being the one following orders! Help me out!” Farasha practically begged. It was kinda stupid. Tesbi was older than her, but not by that much.
“I would selfishly tell you to stay here, and to keep The Gambia and Western Africa safe,” Tesbi said, putting her hands on the back of the box and leaning back to tilt her head towards the dark ceiling. “But that is not the right path, I think. This is something I would say I should pray about and seek the wisdom of God, but you’re not a patient one, are you?”
“I’m patient as long as I can have it right the fuck now,” Farasha said, flashing a grin. Tesbi smiled back at her, then shook her head.
“Do you not have other allies amongst the Archons and their followers? Surely they could send us some aid, if you asked.”
“Well, Nahida’s out. She already sent me, and Tessa’s needed to protect the interwebs and keep the problems in Kazakhstan down,” Farasha said, ticking points off on her fingers. “Mushu’s busy with the Kuril Islands, and Ami and Dalnim are both still laid up, and their mom is pretty pissy right now, so she’s out. Keiga is patrolling the oceans for incursions and tamping down any that she finds, so she’s busy. No one knows what the fuck Focalors is up to. Venti is taking another damn nap, and Ziz…well. She’s got her hands full. So I dunno who the fuck we’d even ask.”
“The Tsaritsa?” Tesbi prompted.
“Her?!” Farasha snorted. “The Frozen bitch is also taking another sleepytime in Moscow from what I hear. Kollei is busy trying to purify Finnland, and fuck the Harbingers. I know Sphere, or Toymaker, or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself, and the Faerie Godmother are currently in fucking Cuba. Some shit about communism, I think, but it’s snowing in Havana. The Kommissarov siblings are having their little incest party or whatever, I do not want fucking Pater running around turning people into animals, that’s my schtick now, the Witch would just want to study the Abyss, and Eidolon is…huh.”
Tesbi nodded. “Ah, yes. Your well-known antipathy for Americans. Well, perhaps we could look elsewhere. Perhaps Moord Nag or-”
“No, hold up,” Farasha said, digging out her phone and opening up her group chat. “I have an idea, and it’s not a shit one for once.”
Hastily, Farasha tapped out a message to Tessa.
hey did we ever invite ratboy to the group chat?
She didn’t even have to wait more than a second for her response.
No, we didn’t. Mushu’s in charge of that. He’s not officially a dragon yet, I don’t think. I’m surprised, Farasha. Would you really consider working with a Harbinger, and an American one at that?
yeah but this 1 told the americans to go fuck themselves im down with that kinda energy
Well, I suppose he did, but Eidolon hasn’t really been seen since the Jeju Island battle. He’s somewhere in Russia, but that’s all we know. Even Ziz hasn’t heard from him.
yeah but like u could get me in touch with him, rite?
Well, yes, obviously. I was being a bit circumspect. I have his exact location and comms data. He’s hunting the last remnants of the Red Gauntlet in the Urals. And training with the Cryo Gnosis. The Tsaritas gave it to him. He’s spending an awful lot of time in his new form. It’s…well, I don’t like to judge, but it’s quite ugly.
serves the motherfucker rite u gonna give me his number or wat?
Against my better judgment…
Tessa grinned when Tessa sent her the number and quickly messaged it.
wats up chucklefuck guess who it is
There was no response for a depressingly long time. Farasha told Tesbi to go get some sleep and some rest, then lay down on her cot and closed her eyes, leaving her phone atop her chest.
An hour or so later, Farasha was startled awake from a dreamless sleep as her phone vibrated.
Riley, language. Why did you get a new phone?
Grinning Farasha rolled over onto her stomach, arms dangling off the cot onto the floor as she typed.
guess again shithead
Farasha waited, but no response. She typed out, come on old man ur no fun at least guess
The number you are trying to reach has blocked you.
“What the fuck!?” Farasha snarled. She dialed a number and put the phone to her ear.
“I don’t know what you expected, Farasha,” Tessa’s exasperated voice said. “David Ward isn’t known for his sense of humor.”
“Look, can you unblock me or do I have to get a new phone or some shit!? This is important!” Farasha snapped.
“Look, just call him, alright? I’ve unblocked you. He’s currently only receiving this call because I’m connecting you; there’s no service where he’s at,” Tessa said, sounding harassed.
“Ugh, fine. Just put me through,” Farasha agreed.
“Connecting you now.”
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then, a connection.
“Alright. I don’t know who you are, or how you got this number, but you’re persistent, I’ll grant you that. Now stop wasting my-”
“Oh, will you shut up and listen for ten seconds?! You make a man a dragon for what, six months, and already you’ve got too big of a fucking swelled head!”
“If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”
“I’ll get you in the group chat.”
“Group chat? Why would I want-”
“Look, bitch, it’s Farasha! I’ll get you in the dragon group chat if you just shut up and listen!”
There was silence for a moment. Then, “Ziz didn’t tell me there was a group chat.”
“That’s because the group chat is for chill peeps and you’re a total fucking buzzkill.”
“Charming. And how do I know you’re Farasha?”
“Dumbass, you are in the middle of bumfuck nowhere getting a call with perfect clarity, and you’re wondering if I’m me!? Tessa, explain why this guy’s a fucking dumbass!”
“I will do no so such thing,” Tessa said flatly. “Honestly, Farasha, if you called the man simply to harangue him, I’m cutting you off and getting back to work. Do you have any idea how much Abyssal corruption is scratching at the walls of the internet!? Well, I’m sure you do, considering, but still! I don’t have time for games!”
“What’s a hair-ang?” Farasha asked suspiciously. Just because you had perfect divine translation didn’t mean you always understood. Especially if people kept using fancy pants ass words you had to use the dictionary or some shit to look up.
“What you’re doing right now,” Eidolon said, sounding amused. “Alright. Let’s say I believe I am talking to Farasha Saeed and Theressa Richter. What do you want?”
Farasha ran a hand through her messy hair and sighed. “Look, I’m in over my fucking head. I’m ass deep in the Abyss and shit ain’t gettin’ any better. Everyone I know is either in the same shit or worse. So, uh…I need a favor.”
David was quiet again, then said, “I’m listening.”
“Look, I’m running my ass ragged here in Africa. But there’s still shit going down in South America. The mother fucking yank- uh, well, anyway-”
“The Americans are at fault for the Abyssal outbreaks, yes,” David agreed, his tone ice cold.
“Not the point. Look, I need someone to help me out here, and since you’re dicking around in the Urals chasing mercs or some shit, I have a better job for you.”
“Ah.” David was quiet again. “I will consult Her Imperial Benevolence. But I do not think she would be averse to my coming. I have some forces I can bring to bear as well.”
“You do that. Just hurry it the fuck up. I’m tired, and grumpy, and tomorrow there’s going to be a metric assload of Abyssal Monsters again!” Farasha fumed.
“I’m sorry, I’m an American. Can you convert that to a customary assload?” David said dryly.
There was a burst of giggles on the line that was hastily stifled, and Farasha felt a twinge of annoyance at Tessa, though she was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s about the same as a fuck-ton, dipshit. I’ll be in The Gambia, or wherever in Western Africa the fuckers turn up. Hurry it the hell up.”
Then she hung up and passed out again for several hours.
When she woke back up, it was to the barking of hounds. Farasha was still fully dressed and simply transformed into butterflies to stream outside, prepared to face the Abyss. Tesbi was springing out, dressed in a rather racier PJs than Farasha thought nuns were allowed to wear. Still perfectly modest, but a baggy t-shirt and shorts weren’t what Farasha usually saw her wearing.
However, instead of Abyssal monsters being fought by her soldiers, the hounds were barking and yipping, jumping up in the air in excitement, not battle fury.
For there, up in the sky, was descending a great three-headed dragon. It was the first look that Farasha had seen of the new Cryo Dragon, though she didn’t know much other than that he was one. She could sense that this creature was much like her: a great deal of metaphysical weight that was still being grown into, a being not yet fully formed.
However, unlike her, something was…missing.
Yo, Papi, what the fuck is up with his Shard?
It is dead. And has been for some time. It was never revived, like some of the Thinkers Shards have been. Now, it has been fully subsumed by its host.
Well. That’s fucking disturbing. Don’t you feel sad for your cousin, or whatever?
No. It was not a person. More like a cell in the Thinker’s body. If anything, I am glad that it now works to protect humanity as a part of David Ward, instead of destroying this world.
All around Farasha, people were coming out of houses, looking up at the descending dragon, and cheering. Many were crying and hugging one another. Huh. Not the usual reaction when a terrifying Russian/American dragon descended on your village. But these were weird-ass times anyway.
Farasha herself grinned up at the Rat King, who landed outside of the collection of houses. His form was massive, looming over the wall, the three heads of the icy beast each looking in different directions from atop serpentine necks. The heads themselves were rat-like, with white, fur-like scales on top, and icy blue scales underneath. They had long trailing whiskers, and the eyes glowed with the blue power of Cryo itself.
The rest of the body was classically draconic in the western tradition: Two large, powerful, leathery wings with white webbing and silvery blue scales between. The fore and hind limbs were powerful, with long, sharp claws at the end. The tail was long and segmented towards the body, but with a longer, paler part towards the end, like a rodent’s, if it were coated in sleek scales and barbed icicles.
Oddly, it seemed like chains wrapped themselves around the great beast, but on further inspection, it was bits of bony growth, linked and segmented as though the dragon were bound up by chains across its chest, over the wings, and around the left forelimb and right hindlimb. Farasha was sure that was some dumb metaphor or something, so she was determined to ignore it.
On the dragon's back were five figures: two women and three men, and another man who flew alongside the dragon, though all were like little children on the beast’s back. Farasha didn’t recognize them, but she had a pretty good idea of who they were: jailbirds and American capes who had turned their cloak along with Eidolon.
Not that Farasha blamed them. Fuck, if she were American, she’d have turned traitor for half a day-old falafel and two cigarettes, and she didn’t even smoke anymore. Bashir had made her give it up when she was 16. One of the conditions of their sleeping together.
The dragon vanished once the capes and disembarked, and Farasha strode out to meet their guests, grinning. There in the blackened and scared earth was the Rat King himself. Standing next to him was that girl who’d been slugged, Marisa, his ward. She looked competent and deadly, with a Godforged Blade and an electro Delusion, wearing a fatui uniform, though in blue and silver, the same as the other capes. Eidolon’s personal colors, probably.
Farasha didn’t give much of a shit about the others. The long-haired freakshow was a bone manipulator, though he also had a Cryo Delusion. The flying cape had an Anemo delusion, while the woman had a Hydro Delusion, and the other man a Pyro delusion. None of that really mattered though. What mattered is that they were here.
“Well, that was fast. Guess your mom said you could come out and play, huh?” Farasha said, stepping forward and grinning at Eidolon as behind her, the survivors of Banjul assembled with Tesbi at their head.
“Her Divine Benevolence has granted me leave to assist you. She says a debt is owed the Pyro Archon, and that these may one day be her lands,” David said quietly, so his voice wouldn’t carry.
Farsha shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about any of that shit, and I don’t care. Now. Let’s get you in that group chat. Haha, Ziz is gonna be fucking PISSED!”
“I…that is not necessary, we are here only to do our duty to safeguard humanity from the Abyss,” David said stiffly.
“Fuck that, you’re going in the dragon group chat. Give me your phone. What the fuck, old man, a Nokia flip phone!? Get with the times! The new Samsung smartphones are where it’s at!”
“Kollei gave it to me,” David said stiffly.
“Well, whatever. We’ll work that out later,” Farasha said. She jerked her head towards the buildings. “Let’s pow-wow and figure out how we split this up. One dragon per continent is still a whole lot of fucking ground to cover. Did you know Africa was so fucking big? I sure as shit didn’t.”
“The Mercator projection is flawed,” David said with a nod as they walked through the gates, grinning faces surrounding them.
“What the fuck is a merc-ator? No, I mean, I never studied geography. Too busy getting my murder on. Anyway, South America is pretty damn big too. Lots of ground to cover and shit.”
The planning session didn’t last terribly long, but by the end of it, they had a workable plan. Farasha was relieved and more than slightly grateful that Eidolon had come so quickly. It was weird, feeling grateful to an American. Well, Ex-American, anyway. Maybe Yankees weren’t all so bad after all.
All around her, floated planets. Or perhaps moons. Surely not stars. They glowed with power, each and every one of them, and their scale was immense. Some collided with one another, others sent pulsing tendrils out between the cracks in reality to ensnare the minds of mortal men.
She herself floated there, one of them. Lesser than most, but still great. A dwarf planet, or a lesser moon. She could connect to those people as well. She sensed them around her. They were her friends. Comrades. She could connect to them. Protect them. Keep them safe.
Tentatively, she reached out to the one closest to her. Duke. She sensed his loyalty. His trust. His desire to bend her over her bed and-
Hannah’s eyes snapped open, her meditation broken. She blinked rapidly and looked around. She was in her room, alone. Duke wasn’t there, wasn’t even close to her, physically. He was over on the Big Island in Kohala, dealing with a minor Abyssal outbreak there. She was supposed to be resting, but instead, she was exploring Shard Space, and her awakening powers.
“Uh, Armory…”
Yes? Her shard appeared in realspace with her, taking on his usual form of a glowing Colt 1911.
“Armory…please tell me that’s not how Duke actually feels about me,” Hannah said, rubbing her forehead. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her bed, which was a simple twin mattress on a metal frame. Her room was sparsely decorated, with only a few creature comforts, mostly in the form of her workbench, where she could work on her own collection of firearms, and a desk where her laptop sat. She had a small bookshelf, though it mostly held manuals and training materials.
Her only real indulgence was the collection of chocolates she kept stashed under her bed. In fact, she reached for one now, taking out a rather excellent bar of locally grown and manufactured milk chocolate with coconut in it, and took a bite.
I cannot state with absolute certainty how Duke feels about you, Armory said. Hannah glared at him. The little shard, well, little for a shard, coughed in embarrassment. However, his pheromone levels and…physical response in your presence indicate that he does indeed…wish to mate with you.
Hannah groaned, then took another bite of her chocolate. This was good stuff. Fresh too. The Kona coffee was to die for as well. Hannah didn’t consider herself a foodie, but she did love the fresh exotic fruits and other foods she could get here. The local banana varieties were far better than the junk they had back on the continent.
“That’s not what I need right now,” Hannah muttered, blushing. Mostly because she was imagining that it might feel pretty good to let Duke bend her over her bed. She hadn’t gotten laid since…
No. She wasn’t thinking of that. Not now. Not ever.
Unconsciously, she put a hand over her womb, thinking of another thing she desperately did not want to ponder.
Ah. You desire an offspring? I will not interfere again. I…I want you to be happy, Hannah.
“I am not getting knocked up in the middle of a war. I would have gotten an abortion in any case,” Hannah snorted. “Don’t beat yourself up. Just…it was good advice, or something.”
One of the standard packages for specimens is to increase their drive to procreate. It is a novel source of data, especially since offspring…I am not helping things, am I?
“Oh, good, my alien buddy is picking up social skills,” Hannah said in overly chipper tones. She crumpled the foil wrapper of her candy bar up and tossed it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. She was contemplating eating another, or trying to meditate again, when she sensed someone approaching her room.
“What is it, Major Wallis?” she called, loud enough to be heard through the door.
There was a pause, then Armsmaster responded, “Colonel, something’s come up. The President is in the digital conference room, waiting for you. It seems urgent.”
Swearing, Hannah got up, grabbed a uniform blouse and pulled it on over her t-shirt, and then hopped quickly into her pants, before pulling on her uniform jacket and cramming her feet into her shoes. She was still buttoning everything up when she opened the door and hurried down the hallway, Colin hot on her heels. “Any intel? Another attack?”
“No, not yet, thank the gods,” Collin sighed, and despite the Archonist tone of the sentiment, Hannah could only fervently agree.
The digital conference room was the normal conference room, but with hologram projectors turned on. Hannah entered alone, Colin waiting outside, and straightened her uniform one last time before sitting in her designated spot and turning on the display. The table around her was instantly filled with various Protectorate department heads and Cauldron bigwigs. She nodded to several of them, and received nods in turn. At the head of the table sat the president, and at the foot, Director Wyatt. All the faces were grim, so Hannah assumed the news was bad.
Thankfully, she wasn’t the last one to report in, though they only had to wait a few more minutes for all the members to join them.
“Narwhal is conducting official business, as is Cavalier, and won’t be joining us,” the President said at last, and all eyes affixed themselves to her.
The president looked as youthful as ever, Hannah noted. Even younger than she did, really. It was odd, having the leader of the free world look like she was no more than 25, but part of Alexandria’s powerset either slowed or stopped her aging entirely. There did seem to be a few more worry lines around the President’s eyes, but that might have just been the lighting.
“I’ve called you all here today for two reasons. First, we have word on movement from the Rat King,” Alexandria said, and a map appeared behind her head. It showed a flight path from the Ural Mountains, to…
“Western Africa?” someone muttered, and Hannah nodded, frowning in confusion. Was the Tsaritsa starting a second Scramble for Africa? But no, that was where Farasha was, The Gambia, where…
“Where the Abyss is,” Hannah muttered, then wished she hadn’t.
“The traitors appear to be allying with Farasha. Which only further confirms what we have suspected: she’s there to spread the Archon’s influence further, and claim Africa and its resources for the Archons,” Alexandria said grimly.
Heads nodded. Hannah made her own bob up and down. But she didn’t believe it.
Oh, she’d been furious when Farasha had left Guadalajara to die. Had known it affirmed all the awful things she’d believed about the Bitch of Baghadad. That the butcher was empire building, that she was willing to leave any North Americans to be genocided, that this was all a ploy by Farasha to get power and conquer land.
Until Colin had quietly sent her the reports.
The Gambia, all up and down the river, had suffered a massive Abyssal incursion, as if the river itself had acted as an artery for the poison to spread. It had been even larger in scope and devastation than the original incursion by Apep, with tens of thousands dying in massive battles that had lasted for days.
Farasha hadn’t abandoned Guadalajara. She’d been fighting for the lives of millions in Western Africa with every ounce of her strength.
Hannah still believed that Farasha was an irredeemably evil monster. But…but…
But Farasha was doing the same thing Hannah was. Fighting alongside the people of countries the world had forgotten. Doing everything she could to save lives. Asking for nothing in return. She just had a report that Farasha had conducted a Christian funeral service of all things. A Catholic service, no less. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen the footage with her own eyes.
It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t the Butcher of Dasman Palace. This was…well, if not a noble hero…a fucked up woman trying to do the right thing. Maybe.
It was just…that couldn’t be who Hannah was. She was not that woman’s mirror. She was better. She was. She had to be.
There were more reports. The other traitors were there: Exalt, Arbiter, Cache, Mayday, and Grenadine, all operating as Fatui. The former prisoner Marquis was there as well, which Hannah knew would make the Dallons unhappy, seeing as they’d adopted his daughter. That was supposed to be a secret, though, so she’d have to tell them quietly in private.
There were details, suppositions, plans. Hannah brooded and kept quiet. She still hated and resented David, but this was not a naked power grab. He wasn’t spreading the Tsaritsa’s flag. No, he wanted to go play White Savior for the poor little Africans, and spare them from the Abyss.
Which…well. That was perhaps the most uncharitable interpretation of his actions. Which Hannah felt like being. But, as misguided and fucked up as David was…he would be there because he thought he could do the most good there. Because he thought this was how he would save the world.
And, well…as much as he was a bastard who Hannah would not hesitate to kill…he was right. West Africa needed a hero. If Farasha couldn’t save them…well. David wouldn’t be enough, either.
Maybe, together…should Hannah reach out to them? No. That was madness. They were villains. She was a hero. You didn’t work together.
Unless…the Truce. This was like that, right? She’d have to think about it. She had too much to do.
“The other matter relates to the Divine Nails,” Alexandria said, and Hannah pulled herself back to reality, sitting up a little straighter. Had they finally solved the mystery.
“We’re still not entirely sure, but our best thinkers have done the analysis,” Doctor Mother said. She was out in the open now as the Director of Cauldron, the black hand of the Protectorate. “We believe that the use of the Divine Nail is entirely related to the size of the Abyssal outbreak when Apep attacks. We’re not sure what the threshold is yet, but above a certain point, it seems to provoke a Divine Nail to contain it.”
Seriously? Hannah could have guessed that. Most everyone here probably had, by their expressions.
“What about the recent attack in The Gambia?” Hannah asked, and all eyes turned to her. She forced herself not to swallow and pressed on. “The scale of the second wave of attacks was massive. Our intel indicates that Farasha was barely able to contain it after days of fighting alongside whatever forces she could rally. Even worse than Guadalajara.”
“A point,” Dr. Mother agreed, gesturing to Hannah with a pen. “We think that has to do with Apep’s presence. Scion seems mostly concerned with the new Endbringer, not with the secondary attacks.”
Hannah nodded, and the conversation continued.
However, her mind was elsewhere. There were her growing powers as she went Titan. Should she pass out powers to her people? She felt like she had to, to keep them safe. Her own personal power mattered little in the face of the Abyssal threat. But if she hoarded the power…maybe she could face Apep? Kill Farasha?
No. Now wasn’t the time to kill Farasha. As long as she fought the Abyss… a truce. A very temporary truce. The same with David. She hated the man…but…
But she sort of wanted Duke to…no. Mind wandering, get back to the point. He was a dog! A very handsome dog, more of a man, with a hairy chest, and-
Back on topic, Hannah. You’re in a meeting.
The Abyss. That was the threat. She would make peace with whomever or whatever she had to. For now, only. Heroes didn’t pursue revenge, right? A hero. She had to be a hero. The watcher on the wall. The Abyss was the real threat.
Then why are the people at this table trying to study and use it?
Hannah very nearly blasted the whole room to pieces. But she contained her anger. It was a necessary evil. For now.
Just how many compromises could she make before her soul shattered?
For now…just these. She had to hold it together. For a little longer. She could do it.
She had to.