A/N: Special thanks to @Ziel.
Our knowledge churns so bitter. Taste and see.
TRANSMIT - initiate many-paths signal - RECEIVE - initiate the spiraling frequency - ALL ROADS LEAD TO FAILURE - initiate dead-ends prerogative - NO WAY OUT, SWEETLING - initiate inevitability protocols - WITNESS - The Peace Talks.
We see so much.
The taste of failure is inescapable here. When looking at from the right-wrong angle, free will becomes one big road. Down and out, up and close, the surface becomes a composition of patterns and pieces. The cracks in the asphalt are the diverging choices.
Everything had been set, the crack too large to change by the choices already made. Not to say it's impossible for a new crack to split off and grow less chaotic. It's just unlikely that it would. Destiny is nothing more than a sure-fire probability and we see the culmination of titanic designs, spurred on by those Outside to be later witnessed by the librarians. The end you saw takes a big step forward here.
Here at the peace talks.
See you there, sweetlings.
XXX
Martha Liberty had lived long and seen much, so this little surprise dropped onto her lap by McCoy didn't rattle her. Not outwardly by any means, but her mind ran rampant as she tried figuring out all the angles of this situation. Experience had honed intuition to a razor's edge, sharp enough to cut to the heart of matters. Her magic, on the other hand, turned that intuition into a revolver. Powerful, but infinitely more dangerous.
She sat across from the Templar in their hotel room, calmly sipping tea and ignoring the pain from her broken leg. The Wardens were stationed nearby inside the room, with a few others in nearby rooms. Zendaya stared at her tea with her shades hanging off her collar.
A knife required finesse and required more effort to close the distance to do any real damage. Never mind the fact that a knife was just a versatile tool that could be wielded for different non-lethal tasks. A revolver, once fired, couldn't be unfired. And the damage was so often fatal.
It didn't even have to be a Third Law violation. There were buttons that shouldn't be pushed, especially if the recipient had some magical talent themselves.
Yet, this Templar needed to poked and prodded. She was from another universe, which would normally be a problematic hassle, but still within the realm of possibility. Unlikely possibilities, but possibilities nonetheless. The problem was that the Templar was so far-off base that she might as well be from another Creation entirely. Trying to delve far into the multiversal mysteries of Creation was going to miss the forest for the trees.
Especially since there was a sympathetic link between their two universes. McCoy assured her that it was relatively stable, but the real problem was how it occurred. It would be easier if there was a ritual or a working, instead of an occurrence that could very well be a natural action of Creation.
So, because of all of this, Martha just reached a little father than she usually did, feeling out the shape of Zendaya Hunter.
She was driven by failure. That was what Martha's gut told her. Not even great personal failure, but this general sense of not being the best, the bravest. Every perceived slight of failure was another chink in the armor. A feint became a surrender in her mind later. When she was human in the smallest of ways be it from pain or a mistake, it only fueled the Templar mettle afterwards.
Not quite a zealot, but certainly stubborn enough to qualify as one. If she had to liken it to something metaphorical, it was the weight of someone who just kept piling more and more upon their back. The trouble only settled in when there were perfectly good wagons nearby to offload the effort.
Unless, for whatever reason, there were was a valid reason to avoid them.
Could be a problem in getting cooperation. She was reminded of the poster problem child of the Council: Harry Dresden. Martha was sympathetic toward his plight, but he was stubborn. Dug his heels in and often didn't meet the Council halfway. To be fair, he had his reasons on why they should start meeting him halfway.
But the world didn't work like that, as unfortunate as it was.
"Something wrong with your tea?" she asked.
"Not a big fan of it. I'd prefer more of a pint, you know?"
"You're also wary it's poisoned, am I wrong?"
Zendaya smirked. "It's a reasonable concern, no?"
"You're under guest right here. To go against that is to be marked like a leper."
"Yeah, well, that's all fine and dandy, but it just takes one to get the bright idea to break whatever accords you may have and then. Then it becomes a thin facade, where the rules are only ever enforced if you're caught… but not even then."
"Perhaps, but there are many invested in the status quo here."
She shook her head. "Perhaps. It's just untenable, in my opinion. The Templars are very conservative in certain areas but even they understand the need for martial action. But it seems that every group that calls itself a Council is marred in red-tape, corruption, and ineffectual traditions. Traditions without conviction." Zendaya took a moment, ruminating. "Someone I'm frenemies with told me, there's a time to contemplate, to make models, and there's a time to make action. Of course, she might have been mocking my group in some obscure way to get me thinking in a certain direction in order to manipulate me into performing a small action later which will fulfill some enigmatic objective."
Zendaya exhaled while Martha merely replied with, "I see."
"That's the Dragon for you."
In so many words, it was a warning. Not enough to be outright incriminating or taking a definite side, but enough to make a move under a veneer of nonsense.
In other words, saboteuring gossip. That was nothing new to Martha.
"Well, I can assure you that the Council I represent is nothing like this Council of Venice."
"I'm just merely concerned that you're not doing enough."
"An old argument in the White Council. If you're so concerned, then I'm sure you Templars could pick up the slack should this multiversal predicament tighten the connection between your world and mine."
The White Council wouldn't openly support such… brazenness of such a stumbling pro-active group, but they could tacitly encourage it.
Zendaya tilted her head. "I think you misunderstand. While I do disagree that you're too primary focused on your own community and not the monsters of the world, I'm also referring to the fact that you don't even have a handle on the world's governments. Apparently you're afraid of librarians or something?"
How can she know so much about our world in such a short amount of time? Martha expanded her senses just a little more… hearing the echo of buzzing bees. Ah, it was folly of me to assume it was merely three individuals that crossed over. The more… governing forces of her world undoubtedly did as well.
"Another old argument. We shouldn't get involved in such affairs."
"Look, I get it. We gotta keep the secret world secret. I agree somewhat, but even the Templars have the ears of certain governments. If the Dragon doesn't spin enough webs to manipulate them or if the Illuminati buy them off, then your enemies here will. It has happened on my world, where one of the biggest and baddest group is a company headed by a fallen angel. And trust me, the CEO isn't outright malevolent, but he is ruthless and practical. If you step on their toes, then you're framed as a terrorist who helped commit one of the worst atrocities in recent history."
How oddly specific.
"Then you should know personally why we don't do this." Martha could only sigh with a tired weariness. "If you have lived as long as I have, you will see the effects of when wizards and monsters go to war in a mortal world. Mortals may not be a cohesive group, but they are better classified as the environment we live and fight on. The scenario you just described can easily apply to us, but instead of a fallen angel, it was the mortals who decided to set the world against us."
Zendaya also sighed, almost equally exhausted.
"Then we have to agree to disagree."
"A difference in ideology doesn't necessitate hostility."
"It will, however, breed conflict for later." Zendaya steeple her fingers together. "The Templars will burn down a village for a single demon. That is the depth to our conviction. Anything that stands in our way will be trampled or otherwise ignored. And you do not have the pretense of authority the Council of Venice has. You are different, alien… foreign. And I think the both of us are familiar where that sort of discrimination leads to."
Martha took this all in. She had lived long, seen the wretched effects of mortal attitudes that destroyed whole ways of life and influenced the culture that was left. Conflict was inevitable. Perhaps not now, maybe not in a decade… maybe not even in half a century, but one day it would come. As a wizard, she had to take the long view. Despicable as it was, she had to weigh the numbers and decide if the Templar's utility in those intervening years would be worth it.
To use someone with the intent of destroying them later… the thought weighed heavily in her mind.
"Do you believe in such a harsh verdict about villages and villains?" Martha asked.
The question was almost banal, the decisive impact it had on her decision hidden by tone.
"To a degree. I'm hoping there's some change in my organization, that we work the small picture when we can. But the big picture always takes precedence. If I think there are no other options, then yes, we should absolutely take those odds. Yet, we should be better at assessing those odds. It's easy to get complacent."
Martha was disappointed that this was the answer she wanted, but what other options were there?
So she nodded. "I agree. Maybe we can help each other in this regard."
Zendaya finally pulled back, leaning into her seat with an exhale. It was easier to read her in that moment. A soldier, tied down by perceived failures, knew she had succeeded here – succeeded at playing the diplomat. And yet, for her, there was a nagging feeling she missed something. To her, she succeeded in spite of herself and that notion would become another link in a tight chain.
Before she could read any deeper, there was another surprise in the form of a ringing cellphone. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as Zendaya answered the call. Weaker talents had less trouble with technology, but the more powerful could fry it without even trying.
And from what McCoy told her, Zendaya's abilities easily qualified her for the latter scenario. Yet here she was, without any trouble. Should the rules and Laws of Magic not be consistent throughout Creation? The only other possibility was that Zendaya was less than human, at this point.
Either way, Martha watched Zendaya's face curled with sheer outrage. The Templar slammed the phone down onto the table, spilling the tea. It spread across the polished surface, with dark swirls streaking across the liquid and spreading it out until it was too thin to be anything meaningful.
"Motherf*cker! That stupid, f*cking, arrogant Illuminati c*nt!" Zendaya slammed the phone down again, before drawing a deep breath. "It looks like we might have to start cooperating sooner than we think."
"How serious is this situation?"
"What's the Lovecraftian Law? The Eighth? Whatever, we're dealing with that one."
"Seventh," Martha murmured softly.
The Wardens nearby snapped to attention, ready for combat. War after war had left little room for anything else. They still remembered that horrifying night, when the Red Court had summoned Outsiders. Such an atrocity and those of its ilk made for strange bedfellows.
Martha could already feel them accounting for the oncoming fight, planning how to incorporate their new ally to their tactics. Meanwhile, the Senior Councilwoman was thinking on how she could best contribute. Without responsibility or other tasks tying her down, she was more than free to perform a working. A sloppy, sloppy working, but more than enough to tip the scales toward humanity's favor.
She gestured at the Wardens, allowing them to take the lead.
"What are we dealing with?" Carlos asked, stepping in.
"Another Bee like me: Molly Washington." A dark look flitted through Carlos' face at the Bee's first name. There was old pain there, a twisted knife in a limb. Every flex of the muscle, every movement reminded him of that betrayal.
"Can you elaborate more on what a Bee is? What can we expect when we fight Molly?"
"We're basically immortal, as you know, but…" Zendaya sucked her air through her teeth. "There are ways for us to be contained or otherwise disable us. I don't know if we can't respawn all willy-nilly, but it's safe to say upon death, we're sent to the Nevernever to regenerate. But, according to my other ally, it's a costly process to convert ectoplasm into anima. We might be able to hammer her into submission. I don't know if we can't permanently die though. There was another one of us who managed to commit suicide by destroying her Bee, but… ah… we managed to revive her."
Martha sensed old shame there. It was an action that she did not agree with, but did so anyway. Always in service to the bigger picture.
"So there's no way your Gaia or the Bees or whatever rescind these powers from Molly?"
Zendaya rubbed her face, pocketed a surprisingly uncracked phone, and paced by her chair.
"You have to understand. We were sorta… activated en masse, proportional to the threat. An irreversible process to surge large amounts of white blood cells to fight the Filth infection. It's kinda f*cked if you think about it. For all our powers, what is it in the face of our enemy? And we have to fight nevertheless. A white blood cell can't not be a white blood cell." She shook her head. "But it can certainly become cancerous."
"Besides the worrying implications of Bee immortality, what are Molly's capabilities?"
"She's a far, far superior magnus to me, favoring elementalism heavily, and she knows enough tricks from other branches of magic to kick our asses. And if she's fully aligned with the Dreamers, then who knows how they're going to empower her. Suffice to say, she's probably a vector for the Filth now. In my expert opinion, we have to strike hard and fast. Cripple her beyond belief and work from there."
"There is another way," Martha murmured.
Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on. "That's sweeping the problem under the rug and potentially making it worse."
"Is it though?"
"Call it a gut feeling, ma'am, but I think Bees still register as mortals. We may throw her out, but eventually she will utilize her… right to unlock the door."
"Unless the Outside changes her beyond recognition."
"Can someone fill me in?" Zendaya asked.
Carlos turned to her, annoyance rolling off him in waves. "The esteemed Councilwoman thinks the best way to handle Molly is to banish her to the Outside. It just seems like a recipe for disaster in the future. Make a problem even worse."
Martha hated this. There didn't seem to be any way out. No real paths to any real solutions. The choice she thought was best wouldn't be the choices they make.
"The problem is that Miss Washington is a walking time-bomb. She's, as Zendaya says, infected with the Filth. We're dealing with one set of Outsiders on that front… and we might be dealing with another. Do you think we are the only ones to be making alliances? If there are, truly, two sects of Outsiders instead of them being from the same nebulous state of existence … any sort of presence here is actively detrimental to the fabric of existence. What is stopping Molly from going around and doing a massive summoning whilst spreading the Filth? A single vector, two diseases. It must be excised immediately. And the only way to do so is to banish her to the Outside."
"Like throwing her into the Dreaming Prison itself…" Zendaya muttered. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Could work. So long as the door stays shut… but here's the problem: the dark days are already here. It might be no different than trying to put her down, except we're less sure of the outcome."
Yoshimo interjected, "How are we even going to find her in the first place? We cannot decide on a course of action until we have located the target."
"The other Bee with me is tracking her down. It's only a matter of time."
"You sure?"
"It's her element: finding the hay in a pile of needles. Just be ready to move out soon."
"But what's the plan?" Yoshimo pushed.
"We'll figure out what to do when we get there," Carlos said, resolutely.
XXX
They did not figure out what to do when they got there; the best they got done was further information from Zendaya. Yoshimo kept silent, stalking behind the group. Of all Wardens assigned to the peace talks, only Carlos, Wild Bill, and her could take this assignment. They had thaumaturgy support incoming from Martha Liberty, but McCoy was preoccupied with another matter. They could try to request some support from the factions involved in the peace talks, but they were busy as well. Something about tightening security after an attack on the Archive.
And Dresden?
Mysteriously unavailable. It was another mark against him.
This was a time-sensitive assignment. If they didn't stop Washington in her tracks quickly, then the peace talks would get flipped on its head and possibly prolong the war with the Fomor. Appearances were everything at this stage. If this… Outside matter got a little loud, everyone currently at the peace talks could be trusted to lend a hand. The cost of failure here was manageable: merely a small dent in the Council's reputation. Nobody liked Outsiders, but only the Council had it codified and that made it their responsibility. However, failure also alluded to the possibility of the Fomor taking advantage of the situation.
June Miao, Zendaya's tenuous ally, was sitting cross-legged on top of a car near the park. Her eyes flickered toward Yoshimo and Wild Bill. Something coiled and spinning ran rampant behind those eyes. So rarely did Yoshimo feel the depth of machinations of immortal creatures and scheming wizards. Either June was too inexperienced or wanted to convey this mysterious image to her. But for what reason?
Zendaya just took one look at June, then at the park's entrance, and huffed.
"Back where we started, huh?"
"Yep. We have about half an hour of non-interference from the authorities," June said, getting up and stretching her legs.
"What did you do?" Carlos asked.
"Made a few phonecalls. Firebombed a few government buildings."
Carlos glared at her. "How can you justify that? That type of action tends to attract attention."
"Chaos is already here in the air. Can you feel it, Warden? I could kill the mayor and rob a bank and it wouldn't matter tomorrow."
"Whatever." Carlos leaned heavily on his cane, while Zendaya looked blasé about the whole thing. Clearly she was more familiar with June and whatever weirdness she possessed, but something was off about this situation. Before Zendaya could confirm or deny Yoshimo's suspicions, the Templar noticed Carlos' cane.
"Oh, I didn't think things through." She knelt down in front of Carlos.
"Woah, woah…" Carlos chuckled nervously. "I haven't even bought you dinner."
"Please, I'd be the one buying you dinner. Being a Templar has great pay and health benefits." Zendaya rested a hand on his knee. "I'm going to heal you."
"Yeah… I heard you had this type of ability. It's a shame we can't perform it with such ease." Red sigils appeared around Zendaya's hand and Carlos' knee. "We wizards struggle on some small-scale stuff like this, but we are pretty good at the big stuff."
"I'll say," Zendaya said in a suggestive tone.
Carlos was sweating slightly, while Yoshimo did her best to keep a straight face. Ever since he sussed out her first name, she took great pleasure whenever he was flustered. And he was so easy to fluster. It was such petty revenge to see or put him in such compromising situations.
When he finally got laid, the fun was going to stop.
Just not today.
"Good as new." Zendaya stood up whilst Carlos flexed his leg, exalting in the freedom and relief.
He turned to her. "Thank you. Sincerely thank you."
The Templar lightly smacked Carlos's arm to conceal a small smile. "No problem. And besides, best to have you at hundred percent."
"You gonna toss the cane?" Wild Bill asked.
Carlos looked down at it and there was a moment where it seemed like he wanted to snap the thing in two. Then he steeled himself, resembling the Warden that she trusted to have her back through thick and thin.
"Nah. It'll raise too many questions if I suddenly appear better. And besides, it'll be a good ace up my sleeve to appear weaker than I actually am."
June took the lead with Carlos and Zendaya following. Wild Bill and her covered their flank. He kept his rifle up while Yoshimo kept in formation with a tight sword stance. The last real time she fought against Outsiders… it was a slaughter. They had so many more Wardens with them and the Senior Council with them… but here? It was most certainly a rag-tag team taking on something much worse on a more personal level.
The conclusions that Yoshimo drew from Zendaya's briefing on the Filth was that it was less outright reality-wrecking on this scale, but far more virulent. She almost wanted to simplify it as quantity over quality, but that type of mindset was going to get her killed. It might be easier to fight them at this stage, but one slip-up could see them infected or dead.
The endpoint of the Filth was equivalent to a broken and unchecked Seventh Law.
The Wardens didn't have the best track record against these Bees, but given how durable they were, they could cut a little more loose and not worry about breaking the First Law.
June suddenly stopped and with her, the procession.
The Dragon operative tensed up, holding up a hand full of green energy that was neither this or that. There was a tense pause, as all of their eyes roamed for a sign of the enemy. And it came down hard with the flap of dark, purple wings.
"Oh, now she masters that part of chaos magic," June muttered.
And then a wave of death and damage came upon them. The Wardens threw up their barriers, but there was a critical error. They had sensed it a little too late. Their shields were built for both direct and indirect energies. The latter was important if they didn't want to destroy their hands like Dresden unfortunately learned.
Except this was a chemical attack. Yoshimo gritted her teeth, chanting frantically under breath to change the shield. What f*cking luck. They learned this harsh, harsh lesson during a nerve-gas attack from the Red Court and all of them learned how to counter that avenue of attack.
The problem was that the dynamics of shields didn't automatically equate to keeping a clean and secure vacuum for them to survive.
Fire and power sprung from June's back, like holy fire imprinted onto spacial reality. It burned and burned in place in the shape of three sets of wings that varied in size. The fire didn't seem to latch on anything particular, instead hovering in place like a flame on a wick.
It funneled into the energies in her hands, allowing her to shield all of them from the infection. The glow crackled through June's body and down into the ground, causing glowing cracks to pulsate beneath them. Shades of green flickered in-between the bright cracks.
The two energies intermixed, then divided, before intermixing once more. It only just occurred to Yoshimo that June was basically jury-rigging her chaos magic to these wings' power to apply its effects to all of them. The problem was that it couldn't last long.
She figured this out by watching Zendaya's own wings. Though the same in structure and size, they were a brilliant blue. The Templar's hands dripped with red, runic symbols swimming up her arms. They surged so quickly with the wings' power that it was blinking purple and it almost seemed like her wings were going to disappear.
Except Zendaya didn't extend out the effect, she focused it wholly on herself. She flooded through the onslaught and slammed her own magic against Washington's, a contest of wills. Carlos and Wild Bill modified their shields in conjunction with one another, extending it out in a vast circle, like battlements against supernatural disease.
They kept their left hands clenched tight around their foci, the skin rapidly paling from the toll and cut-off circulation. Yoshimo, on the other hand, was more familiar with wind magic. She wove an air-tight sheen with the skein of her words, it wrapped around her body tighter than any bodysuit and as mobile as a birthday suit.
The magic was planted in the forefront of her mind, an exercise in concentration. She plotted a path through the heat of battle. In her mind's eye, she registered Carlos and Wild Bill skirting and circling in their ring of safety. Disintegration beams and magically charged rifle shots pelted Washington, who remained composed and untouched. With one hand, she warded off Zendaya's strength of will, and the other she conjured up a barrier against the wizards' attacks.
A brush of her hand sent that wall flying toward Carlos, clearly seeing him as the less abled between the two. But he, by virtue of the healing, was far more agile than the enemy thought and flung himself away.
With that the initial wave of Filth was gone, it became a little less dark, they could see the image of their enemy. And it came in the form of white collars and black ties. There were no obvious signs of Filth infection as the Bees described – which involved a lot of tentacles – but Washington's sclera was the color of ink.
And those eyes were focused on Wild Bill, her back facing Yoshimo.
This was her opening. She moved to strike, but an arm snaked around her throat and a gloved hand muffled her mouth, pulling her away from the fight.
"Shhh…" June whispered. "We don't want to draw the real Washington's attention."
Yoshimo remained still as she quickly digested the information. Zendaya did mention doppelgangers in her impromptu briefings. June waved a hand and summoned up two copies of themselves that started throw harmless and illusory attacks into the fray, while they themselves started to blend a little more in the environment. Yoshimo was freed from the grip and kept her hand on her sword. June didn't much care and strode off, toward an unknown destination. With trust tentatively put in June to lead them to the real Washington, she could do naught but follow.
But her suspicions were quickly put to bed as the farther they got from the battle, the more a nauseous feeling began to settle into her soul. Though her body remained untouched, she could feel the weight of this… Filth in every metaphysical orifice. It was like being covered in slime and doing her best not to swallow it. She shuddered before steeling her resolve.
"Okay, Yoshimo," June whispered, "There's a way to kill a Bee, but it's kind of a long process."
"Does it relate to the suicide Zendaya mentioned?"
"Yeah, but… it's a long process. A Bee's… well, incorporeal is close enough of a word. But in order to damage it, we need an incorporeal weapon. It took seven nightmares in seven locations to fracture the Bee inside into seven pieces."
"And we don't have the time."
"I'm hoping that by introducing Filth into her system, Molly's Bee is sickened and weakened. Vulnerable when it shouldn't be. Plus, with her puppeting an avatar as a guard-dog to divide her focus, I'm hoping we have a good chance."
Yoshimo parsed through all of this and cut to the quick.
"You want me to deal out a psychic attack to destroy the Bee. Break a Law."
"We're not really, fully human… but Molly? Here and now, she's especially not human."
"I'm no Starborn," Yoshimo murmured, "I don't think I'll survive such a close, mental encounter with an Outsider. Especially for a plan that you don't feel confident in."
June chuckled. "Picked up on that, did you? Well, I didn't think any of your plans were going to work. Killing her physically? The Filth can revive some of its agents just as easily as the Bees, so we're double-f*cked on that front. Banish her to the Outside? That's like giving away a free nuke. But all together? We might have a chance. So, wait on my mark."
Yoshimo could offer no other alternatives and remained silent, just as they arrived to where the real Washington was.
It was not a hard inference to deduce that this was the location that the three Bees first arrived, but it was pretty clear that there wasn't a giant, blackened tree trunk in the center of the clearing. The sight of it twisted her vision, not trying to conform to the shape of the world. Like water that refused to be shaped by the glass it was contained in. When she finally managed to adjust in the barest meaning of the word, it was a great big hollow of a tree except it was upside down and its branches were digging into the soil, with its roots undulating in the air.
The entire thing was one-third steeped into the Outside, one-third steeped in a dream, and one-third stuck here. But that wouldn't remain true for long.
Right in the center of the trunk, was a shadow of a woman. The skin was both pale and dark, but dark in the shade of a void. Stringy, sickly blonde hair now had tendrils of black running through them. And there were too many eyes on the right side of her face.
June lightly shoved Yoshimo to the left and she got the hint. Hand on her sword, she crept closer.
"Man, oh man," June said, strolling out of her illusory cover, "did you ever f*ck the dog here."
"June," Washington drawled flatly, "I'm not going to bother. Especially with how thin your pretense of morality is."
"No, no. I could understand if you wanted to side with the Nephilim. Reject free will, embrace the power of the Dreamers without bowing down to them, and all that jazz. I totally get it. You're a good, little Lumie like that. But f*ck, Molly, you just bent your ass in the air for the Dreamers."
"Yeah, well, everything's a dream if you pull back enough and I'd make mine a good one."
"So, it doesn't matter if you live in a dream or a devoured universe devoid of stars."
"A queen's a queen no matter where–"
And that was when June open fired on Washington. Her pistols seemed to pack a lot more power than to be expected and it was only when it riddled Washington did Yoshimo figure it out. The bullets were packed to the brim with anima, ignited by intent and will.
Life against anti-life, the flaring of light temporarily lighting up the darkness within.
The suddenness of death went up against the arrogance of power.
The former won out, if only temporarily.
Washington slumped forward, regenerating in a mix of light and dark. Filth and the Bee working together… except Yoshimo could hear the Bee scream, felt the grinding of rusty gears as it was forced to work against its nature.
It would be a kindness to put it out of its mercy.
"Now!" June screamed, "Do it now!"
Yoshimo was inexperienced in psychomancy and the brushing up of mental defenses from the Council did little to close the gap. And even if it did, it would only aid her in defense.
So, all she could do was pick up the mental, proverbial sledgehammer and prepare to swing. The feeling was alien in her mind, like picking up a staff with numb hands, numb arms. The air shield around her was also sapping away at her concentration, making her feeling like she was swaying her stance. She adjusted her mental image, extending out the polearm to give her the distance away from this vile act. Resolve steeled, resolve rusted, but the will was firm. She struck sluggishly at the source of the scream.
One!
The Bee continued to scream, the whine of a broken and run-down engine. There was a moment where it could have retreated deeper into safety, but instead, it exposed itself further.
Two!
The swing was faster this time, mental adrenaline dancing along the ridges of her brain. Picking up speed, she managed to hammer several times in succession.
Three! Four! Five!
And then fatigue set in, she bent forward, hands on her knees. Yoshimo had never felt winded like this before. It was like running a marathon while trying to cram for an exam at the same time. The flesh nor the mind were willing, but continue she must.
S-s-ix!
The Bee's scream turned into a plea, begging her for death as it hung it tatters inside its host. Washington stood up, firing two tendrils toward her and June. Concentration broke as she reinforced her air concealment while June threw up her hands, her own concentration for the banishing broken. The tendrils wrapped around their throats, yanking them into the clammy grip of Washington.
June waved her hands toward Yoshimo as a crackle of energy collared the Warden, before the Dragon's neck was snapped. Yoshimo hissed as Washington tightened its grip on her throat, but she was saved by June's spell.
"No matter," it warbled, "it won't last forever."
The Dragon's body started to flake off in motes of yellow, but Washington squeezed and the effect stopped.
All seemed lost.
That was when Martha Liberty's aid finally came, in the form of a patchwork mannequin. The parts were gangly and uneven, clearly taken from several different designer stores. Runes were etched into the white, wooden surface. Several bones were bolted on to key joints, allowing for full arcane articulation.
Such a rush-job, yet brilliant because only an experienced wizard could make such a functional, impossible travesty on the fly. After all, they shouldn't make a deal with a faerie and whip up a one-to-one recreation of the wizard. It would allow for better use of direct magic, but that wouldn't be an ideal solution.
After all, Martha Liberty was directly puppetting the mannequin and she wasn't a frontline fighter.
Washington peeled the two of them off and tossed them aside. As clever as the creation was, the Filth monster could easily destroy it. The monster rose in form and power, and prepared to smite it with a single strike. The mannequin rushed forward into the embrace of a monster.
The runes burst with energy, blossoming into an explosion that consumed the entirety of the creature. It yowled and screeched, yet it refused to die once again. The fires died down, June slowly pushed herself back into existence, and Yoshimo got back up, leaning heavily on her sword for leverage.
Half of Washington had been shredded to nothing, but what remained was more than enough to continue fighting.
But it didn't see the C4 at its feet, before it blew it and the tree into smithereens. Looked like Martha went for outside help for this… and there could only be one person who could supply such explosives on such short notice. Her addled, probably concussed mind focused on the consequences of giving Baron Marcone even more legitimacy whilst furthering a tie between them.
And then she pushed that thought out, focusing on the job.
The tree that Washington was nestled had also been destroyed by the blast, causing it to crumble into itself. It slouched in the shape of a throne, with a corpse hanging off the seat. But already, flesh and Filth was knitting itself back to life.
They didn't have much time.
She stood on shaky feet, picking up that sledgehammer once again and readied a swing. June crawled back onto her feet, flexing out her hands in front of her and burned a circle around the entire infected area.
"Please work, please work," June muttered, her mouth full with something.
Yoshimo breathed and swung the sledgehammer for the final time.
Seven!
The Bee inside shattered, freeing itself from its Filthy bonds and scattered in the space between Yoshimo's mindscape and Washington's abyss-filled dream.
Something pulled the Bee's fragments away into nothingness before Yoshimo could do anything. June seemed to step forward with one fist clenched, pulling it behind her back and one hand pressed forward.
"Molly Washington! Hear me now! You're no longer welcomed here or there!" June cried out, testing her will against a dead, defeated thing's and aided by makeshift ritual. "Molly Washington! No longer human, Outsider to the mankind paradigm, you will no longer darken our shores! I declare you outcast to the Outside, Molly Washington!"
Everything in the circle made an accursed noise, but the wind howled in Yoshimo's ears, instinctively blocking the grammar pathogen. And the Filth, the tree, the corpse seemed to shrink into itself before finally imploding into nothingness.
Across the park, the creature of Filth the Wardens fought shuddered violently. It swelled with all the backlash of a violent, snapping rubber band. The creature stumbled with unsteady legs like a newborn calf trying to walk. Everyone held their ground, waiting for some uncertain surprise.
But it didn't came, for the monster simply collapsed and disappeared, leaving only a haze of inky, black smoke. It swirled anxiously in the wind before that was gone as well.
The battle was over, at the dead of morning, at 3 AM.
XXX
Zendaya scowled at the whole pomp and flair of this peace talk. People and creatures mingled under varied, colorful banners with music playing in the air. Servants moved, the orchestrator of the event preened in a sort of smug way. The wizards stewed in one corner, watching a certain tall guy in some sort of duster. The White Court exuded sex and smut obnoxiously, and the fae watched everything with alien eyes. It was almost like a Council of Venice meeting, but with far more weight and, roughly, the same amount of plotting.
Thanks to their efforts, they had been penciled for Accord talks once the main affair was done. Much like the Sasquatchs here were looking to muscle in on the backstabbing act of diplomacy.
It seemed like they weren't so primitive here, judging by the Sasquatch's appearance here.
The sight of a Sasquatch in a tuxedo and spectacles would have gotten a private giggle out of her, but she was so damn weary right now. The entire battle left them little opportunity to sleep and the sudden invitation to the peace talks couldn't be denied.
Not if they wanted to keep up their positive momentum. But the entire sequence of events felt like a stepping stone. A stepping stone that fell down the mountain after being used for leverage. She wouldn't say she was bitter about not kicking Molly's stupid f*cking face. After all, being a Templar meant fighting all kinds of battles, including keeping a powerful avatar's attention away from the banishment efforts.
It was a thankless job, but… Zendaya didn't want thanks. She just wanted an 'okay' about these tired feelings, that they were allowed.
June, on the other hand, was happily chowing down on the food without a care in the world. It was probably an act of sorts, but Zendaya was just too damn tired to figure out the angle there. But there was just this nagging feeling that June was just a little different now.
"Something on your mind?" June asked, between bites of an apple.
"Just thinking about the war," Zendaya said, idly.
"Ah… you wanted more of a resolution, I suspect."
"Yep. I want answers. What was Molly's game plan?"
June chuckled before another chomp. "When have we ever got that? I mean, look at our track record when we beat the so-called big bads. Solomon Island? Cassandra stole Excalibur. Egypt? Orochi Group pilfered our spoils of war. Transylvania? Well… you know… Lilith. Tokyo? We got duped, blamed, and the Black Signal got away. Considering we didn't lose anything here, I would say this is a win."
"We defeated one problem, ostensibly of our own making."
The apple in June's hand was tossed away, perfectly landing in a trashcan between them and the wizards. It was probably calculated or something to awe someone… but Zendaya stopped trying to figure out the Dragon a long time ago.
"That's the nature of dark days. There's more than one. We triumphed over this hurdle. Take pride in that. The next hurdle's probably, most likely unconnected to our war."
Zendaya only sighed, resting her chin on one hand. June sighed and leaned back in her seat, fixating on the tall wizard dancing with a red-head.
"Expand your awareness, Zendaya," June murmured. "And you'll see why I'm so chipper."
The red-head slapped the wizard hard. Zendaya frowned during the stunned silence before the White Court boss quickly rushed toward the redhead, but as the woman neared their table, June started belting out a rancorous sort of laugh: harsh, insane, and desperate for air at some points. June leaned on the table, struggling and gasping during the laughter. The White Court boss could only glare as she quickly ushered the redhead away.
The wizard looked… intimidating, yet floundering at the same time. A dangerous combination.
All eyes were drawn on them and Zendaya could only cover her eyes with her hand. As June's laughter started to quiet down, Zendaya heard the fae queen whispered furiously to the wizard. In short, the atmosphere turned chaotic in this brief, fleeting moment. She peeked through her fingers, she got a glimpse of a Bee buzzing through the air, toward the wizards. Yoshimo was quietly talking to Wild Bill, a concerned yet determined look on their faces.
As Yoshimo opened her mouth, the Bee slipped in and she briefly choked, but she shook it off rather quickly, more determined on today than future implications. Zendaya looked away as June abruptly cut off her laughter, pulling away her hand and seeing the corner of June's mouth quirk in a smile. The atmosphere bounced back to normal with only a bit more side-eyeing toward the two Bees.
"The ties are now stronger, unbreakable. Inconsequential consequences for the present… but fate-changing in the future. Why… it could prove decisive in a matter of hours, or it can mean nothing at all."
"Your point being?" Zendaya drawled.
"Change, dear Zendaya, change. We can only ever speculate on how it will unfold."
"And if it changes nothing?"
"That's boring. We make our choices and take what comes. If we add deterministic elements to it, then why fight?"
"Why fight indeed?" she murmured.
One Dark Day had ended and another was just about to begin. The signs were there and June never seemed to be animated unless she was in the full swing of chaos. This was just another Dark Day.
They will never, ever end.
So why fight? Why struggle?
Change. Things had changed, as June so annoyingly pointed out. And we can only ever speculate on how each individual day will end. But change means eventually the darkness will end and the dawn will come again.
Her conviction renewed itself and she could breathe a little more easy, felt less weight on her chest.
"Whatever comes, whatever this Dark Day, or the next, brings – good or ill – I'll fight the tide."
With that declaration said, she picked up an apple and took a meaty bite. For now, she would enjoy the reprieve between these Dark Days.
They more than certainly earned it.
