Hookwolf howled and charged. He was a whirling dervish made alive and left deep gouges in the pavement as he rushed towards the shadow like a wave of steel death. The shadow ran sideways, keeping his front to the monster charging him, using the advantage of running at a decline to keep extra speed. Only when his boots splashed into a surprisingly deep puddle of run-off water, left over from a week of regular rain, did he stop. Spurred on by the certainty of his coming victory the Neo-Nazi villain charged all the faster at his stationary foe.
For a long moment the shadow remained still, practically ignoring his metallic foe. When he finally moved it was so fast his limbs nearly blurred. One hand stretched upwards throwing something small and dark, almost invisible in the nighttime environment. So soon afterwards to seem like the same motion he planted his staff and vaulted out of the pool and onto the roof of a parked truck.
The air filled with an audible hum and an odd snap-crack. Despite his well-honed combat reflexes, the danger of the situation didn't occur to Hookwolf until he'd crossed almost half of the flooded depression in pursuit of his prey. Too late he understood the meaning of the two great snakes falling from the sky. He howled in defiance, but as the live power cables hit the water it transformed into a howl of pain of desperation. Despite the danger, the transformer handled the fluctuation with surprising aplomb and kept the power running for almost four minutes before an emergency cut-off finally kicked in due to the instability in the circuit.
Sirens heralding the police filled the air moments later, but the officers that arrived found no shadow waiting there.
* * *
A young redhead shivered despite her sweater as she stood outside the door of a fairly normal sized middle class home. The lawn was unkempt, old paint was peeling away from the walls and the bottom step leading up to the door was rotted and broken. Only the slowly rusting hulk of an old Chevy proved that anyone even lived at the address. With the energy of the annoyed she smashed her fist into the door three times. Her annoyance was only slightly mollified by the shuffling sounds coming from within.
A middle aged man, balding on the crown and wearing a pair of large glasses that made his eyes seem enormous, finally opened the door. "Emma," he tonelessly greeted. She only had a moment to take in his ratty t-shirt and the spot of blood on his pajama bottoms before he disappeared back into the house. Taking that as an unspoken invitation she hurried in, careful to close the door behind herself as she did.
It didn't surprise her at all to find him already back to doing push-ups in the living room. Her eyes however sought out the bloodstain to confirm her suspicions. "Your bleeding," she announced, pointing at the wound.
"One of them had a knife. He didn't get me very deep," Daniel Hebert responded.
"I've been taking nursing classes in the evening. I can take a look at it before I start on breakfast," she told him.
"It's not that bad," he protested.
She glared at him, "bullshit. I know you took out Hookwolf, and I know you think you can take care of yourself, but I am not going to lose you to this city over a cut from some two bit gangster! Deal with it!"
He frowned and his eyes drifted to the scars carved into her cheeks. "Fine," he sighed in defeat. Without any fan-fare he dropped the pajama pants and took a seat on the couch, he still had boxers on so it wasn't like he was showing anything.
After determining that he did, in fact, need stitches and nearly turning green as she had to do them herself, Emma nodded in appreciation of her handiwork. "There, that should — " she interrupted herself by poking him in the ribs, eliciting a hiss. Before he could respond she lifted the base of his shirt and got a good look at the massive bruise in his chest. "And I'm getting you some ice for that." He glared at her but there wasn't much heat in it.
She paused in the hall on the way to the kitchen, catching sight of the portraits that still hung there. One of a dark haired woman who was, perhaps a bit thin, but still was quite a beauty even as she'd reached into her forties. The other was a teenage girl, gawky and ill-fitting in her clothing but the signs were there. Had she been allowed to reach adulthood she might have been a real beauty in her own right. "I'll take care of him," she promised them once more, her voice little more than a whisper. "I'll make sure he remembers he isn't alone just yet..."
It was only a moment though before she returned to her mission. She'd get him his ice, and get him a good breakfast, and he was going to eat it if she had to tie him down and feed him with a tube.
* * *
"You! Ha, this is hysterical! You're nothing! Just a fake. It's a wonder you've managed to keep them all fooled for this long," Jack Slash carried on as he flicked his wrist and cut yet another stripe into Danny's chest. His ceramic plating had been cracked earlier and now decorated the ground, no longer protecting him from the mad-man's telekinetic slashes.
"It doesn't matter," Danny growled out. He kept his head and neck hidden behind his arm so the invisible slashes couldn't simply decapitate him. Even as more cuts developed on his torso and arms his mind worked through his resources looking for some way of solving his problem. Smoke and flash grenades were out, his last HE grenade he couldn't guarantee getting close enough to Jack to hurt him, same with his last two incendiary. The his eyes noticed something inside the building beside them.
His free arm jerked the incendiary free of his belt and he knelt on the pin so he could remove it without his other hand. A solid throw got it through the window he was aiming for and he immediately began to backpedal away from the psychopath. Jack stared at the window in confusion as the incendiary exploded and flames began to lick out of the opening. "Well that was disappointing," he mused.
"For a final act of defiance I'd put it pretty low on the list. Unique though, I do admit. Usually it's people charging at me, or — " His words were cut off by the tanks exploding, and their setting off even another secondary explosion from some source even Danny hadn't seen. The entire building smashed down into the clearing, a rain-basin on top of it spilling out enough water that Danny was briefly caught up in the wave.
There was a brief instant of silence before two points in the chaos stirred. Jack surged to his feet, bricks and water sloughing off him, but surprisingly not much the worse for wear. His shirt and knife were missing, and a scowl of anger twisted his face. The leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine immediately set about searching for his knife. Danny had to struggle, first to his knees and then finally into a hunched stagger towards his target. As he moved he carefully regulated his breath and tried to get his heart rate under control, he'd need to be ready to go at it when he finally reached the psychopath.
Jack's scowl deepened as he couldn't find his knife or even a particularly sharp edged bit of rubble. Finally he abandoned the search, his upgrades made him more than a match for a half-dead normal person. Giving up any pretense of class he charged faster than even most Olympic athletes could imagine towards his prey.
Danny grasped something from the ground with his left hand and then weaved backwards as the serial killer telegraphed a punch. Even then it wasn't quite enough his nose got clipped, easily breaking under the strain. The pain was brutal but Danny forced himself to ignore it. Instead he ducked under the next swing and lashed out with his left arm. Jack had only a second to recoil in surprise before the back of a claw-hammer caught his jaw and dragged it brutally downward. On a normal man the jaw would have simply snapped in a bloody mess, but his enhancements only allowed it to be wrenched open in an excruciatingly wide gape.
Abnormally strong hands caught Danny's inner shoulder area and squeezed, breaking his collarbone in an instant. However he still had one functioning arm and his final action was simple. With a hate-filled smile he tore the HE grenade from his belt and smashed it into the gaping mouth of his attacker and pulled the pin.
Jack reacted on instinct and let go of Danny, stumbling back and scrabbling for a grip on the grenade as he choked. When the grenade exploded even the upgrades devised by Bonesaw were ripped apart and launched through the air. The shock wave liquefied most of the psychopaths inner organs and was so powerful that even Danny was lifted off his feet and thrown several meters into a brick wall with the sickening crunch of breaking vertebrae and ribs.
Danny remained awake just long enough to elicit a painful chuckle, then let himself fall into the darkness. He was content with a job well done.
* * *
It stared up at him with eyes that were unfocused but not quite enough. It was aware. He reached out towards it but let his hand fall before he could touch it.
"I'm sorry! There's nothing I can do! It's too much... It's..." The young brunette was babbling to him. He barely spared her enough attention to notice the torn jeans and blood staining the entire front of her outfit.
"There's only one thing we can do," he heard his own voice. With barely a thought he grabbed a police officer's service revolver off a table that happened to be in reach and aimed between it's eyes. Yet, despite himself, he hesitated.
"Uncle Danny...?" The creature uttered in pseudo-recognition.
"I'm sorry." Despite his tears obscuring his view, he didn't miss when he pulled the trigger.
And then he collapsed as a vision of crystalline beings dancing and entwined filled his mind.
* * *
He stared at the other people in the room. Years ago he'd have gotten up and screamed at them, his temper pushing him into a righteous fury. Weeks ago he'd have started planning their demise, simply adding them to the list of villains he'd one day attempt to take down. Even yesterday he would have given them a harsh negation and walked out of the room. None of those were today though. Today he understood. He understood them better than they understood themselves. All of their strengths... And all of their flaws.
And he was weary. Exhausted. Not in body, Panacea had been gracious enough to take care of that, but in spirit. While it wasn't the raw grief he'd felt when he'd been called down to the coroner's office to identify the charred corpses of his wife and his beautiful, vibrant, chatterbox of a daughter... They were of a kind.
He was so tired. And after only an hour he had no more patience for these people and their bullshit.
"He's enraged, far ahead of schedule. Your shard can communicate with him. We just need you to buy us enough time to gather the people necessary," Alexandria stated in a terse tone.
"Right. Just drop me off in front of him," Danny answered, too tired to make an argument of it.
A bright white door opened and a few steps later he was standing on a hill overlooking... something. Really it was one thing to hear them talk of the otherworldly nature of these creatures, a whole other to see this garden of crystalline stuff. Only a few feet away floated a figure of solid gold, even motionless it radiated rage and loss. With a few steps he walked up beside it. For a few seconds he kept his peace as he tried to decide what to say, but finally it just came out.
"I know how you feel."
So many people had fed him similar trite lines after his wife had died. This, though, wasn't a mere line. His memories of the corpse of his wife, unrecognizable from the flames flowed through him. The way it's damaged mouth had leered up at him in a twisted mockery of the kind smile she'd worn before. His disbelief at how it was ended... Hell that it was ended. And his grief. Deep and black and how he hadn't believed he'd ever feel anything again but that tearing sensation in his heart. All of that flowed with his words like an under-current.
It turned and looked at him and he was almost crushed under the response. It was not words, images, emotions, or information, it was more, so much more, and yet... less too. But all the same he understood its disbelief and its scorn, and its grief, and its wrath, and its desire to lash out.
Danny reached into a pocket and pulled out a picture. It was a reprint, the original had been destroyed long ago but he'd kept a dozen copies so he'd have her with him no matter what. Now he held out the image of his wife, laughing with joy on the day she'd discovered she was pregnant. "This is her." Again all of his longing and loss flowed beneath his words.
The golden man stared at the picture for a long moment. Finally he looked back at the grotesque garden and lifted a hand. Above his digits a crystalline creature reminiscent of a snake appeared and swam through the air, the details were exquisite. Despite its alien nature it was easy to appreciate how beautiful the creature must have been in life. "She's beautiful."
They were silent for another span. Finally it radiated a sort of curious disbelief filled with pain.
"It doesn't seem possible at first. But one day bleeds into another. Then... Then you get up, and put on your pants, and go punch a nazi in the face. It may not be exactly what she would have wanted, but its how you get by," Danny replied.
It suddenly swung an arm and the crystalline valley lit with an unnatural golden fire, made all the more beautiful by the sun setting in the distance behind it. They watched, somberly, as the last of the alien's earthly remains were reduced to ash. When the show finally ended they were standing in the dark, under a carpet of stars thicker and fuller than any he'd ever seen his life.
"I will think on what you said, Danny Hebert," the golden man suddenly spoke in plain English. "But for now. I wish to be alone." And then it was gone.
Danny just nodded in acceptance and laid down on his back to watch the stars.
Alone
(Автор: Angush)
Preface: A different sort of Taylor/Amy. Moderate AU in that Golden Morning happened in 2006, went quite differently, and Taylor and Amy never triggered. This is July 2015, after Taylor's birthday but before Amy's, so they're both 20. There's a bunch of elements here that didn't all come together that well. But it was a fun experiment, if not an overly successful one. It may have been affected by the... somewhat barebones narration and characterisation, which I guess is what happens when I try to do something like this in a day (even if it took two in the end and I totally forgot to post it again <.<). (5,105 words)
* * *
