- Location
- Pacific NW
Ooooo... Silmaril shiny. Wouldn't that look nice in an crown of iron, no? 
Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]
- Thread starter Lithos Maitreya
- Start date
- Crossover Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
We'd have to get the other two to make a nice looking crown of iron. But perhaps some jewelry?Ooooo... Silmaril shiny. Wouldn't that look nice in an crown of iron, no?
- Location
- Earth Prime
More unfortunate than an Endbringer attack!?
Serpentine
Dark Arts Enthusiast
- Location
- The Tower of Ghenjei
I'm expecting maybe two Wards to die. Not sure what it would mean for Taylor though.
I give it 50% chance none of the Wards die, because of the thematic nature of the Seven Rings. In that case, at least one death in the local Protectorate, and probably one of New Wave, too.
acegunner
Planeswalker - Nicol Bolas
- Location
- Dominaria
Then again theres such a brilliant oportunity for escalation. One of the seven dies.
Leviathan escapes with a ring. Annatar than finishes forging all the rings.
Yes even that one. One to rule them all.
Then annatar masters leviathan in order to defeat the other endbringers. At least in the begining. Ever so gradually she shifts to world domination as her goal. As everyone being united would be so much more effective at fighting endbringers. Many object. Leviathan tells them why they should get in line. Then scion fights a three way battle.
Yes I said three way battle. World vs Scion vs Lord Sauron and Morgoth industries.
like = life
in the ff.net version this appears as haw you met
aside from this it's a rather great story so far and one i didn't think i'd originally like from the summary ... which is not to say that i thought it would have been poorly written in anyway i like you as an author the summary of the story just didn't sound like the story would be to my tastes but i was bored and not feeling up to reading any story currently in my reading list so i decided i'd give the first chapter of this one a chance and it turned out to be really good
isn't Ms. just the short form of Miss? are they not the same when spoken?
- Location
- Estonia
They basically are, as far as I can tell. I certainly can't hear any difference, even though the few native English speakers I know insist that they are different.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Ms. Refers to an unmarried woman, Mrs./Missus is a married woman.
- Location
- Earth Prime
What PAGDTenno said is...mostly correct.
Also, they're pronounced slightly but noticeably differently: "Miss" is a soft-S. "Ms." is actually pronounced "Mizz." Z-sound, instead of S-sound, at the end.
"Miss" refers to an unmarried woman. "Mrs." refers to a married woman, or possibly a widow or divorcee, though some divorcees prefer to go back to "Miss." I have seen no debate over whether that's technically correct, and would assume that it's one of those things that, even if not technically correct, nobody cares enough to make a big deal over.
"Ms. ('mizz')" is used when you do not wish to presume a woman's marital status, or when the woman doesn't want to have it assumed nor divulged. It's generally safe if you want to avoid accidental insult, but doesn't let you do an intentional compliment in the form of assuming she's too young to be married ("Miss") or that she's a mature figure of respect ("Mrs."). (There ARE women who are very proud of being "Mrs." because they feel their marriage and status as matron of a family is an accomplishment, to the point where they only marginally politely correct the attempted-flattery of a "Miss.")
Mizz is "safe," and also sometimes insisted upon. Usually, any of them are fine, and a woman who cares will correct you if you get it wrong.
i know that which is why my question was about Ms. and Miss and didn't include Mrs. or Missus
Douse 6.2
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @themanwhowas, @Assembler, @fabledFreeboota, and @Skyrunner for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
Trainwreck down, CD-5. Chubster down, CD-5. Bearach down, CD-5.
The names went on, droning forth from the armband, even as the battle joined and chaos broke out all around me. I leveraged Nenya into movement and resilience, forcing myself forwards in the crowd, pushing through the capes until I was in the front ranks. The star in the monster's breast was blinding—or would have been, had it the power to blind. Even through the glare, I could still see perfectly.
"Surround him!" Alexandria roared. She rose into the air and dove for the Endbringer's face. Meanwhile, capes not in the frontline group fell back behind us. Armsmaster and Chevalier were rallying the strikers into a second rank.
But none of that was my concern. I hefted Aeglos and leapt upward to strike wildly at Leviathan's shoulder as the Endbringer twisted and wove between attacks, its back bent as it loomed over us. The blow went wide, and the spear's point missed its target and embedded itself in the trailing water echo. Around its blazing tip, the water froze solid. The chunk of ice fell and shattered uselessly against Leviathan's broad back.
It turned its back to me as it grabbed for Alexandria with one hand while the other clawed at the capes on the ground. Its tail whipped up, snaking around and knocking over those closest. I barely dodged it, and almost managed to stab at it with Aeglos as it passed me. Again I missed, striking only the echo left in its wake.
A crossbow bolt, longer and heftier than Sophia's, flew past my head, whistling shrilly. It punctured through the water echo without resistance and sank into the ground beyond.
That was when Leviathan seemingly decided to stop sitting in the middle of us. It leapt, pushing itself up with water, and lunged at Alexandria. She leapt backward in the air, out of its reach, but was consequentially too far away to react when the Endbringer turned on a dime and dove for one of the others.
I didn't know him. He was clad in a full coating of chitinous armor, with bright, razor-sharp blades emerging from his forearms, and eyes which glowed a pale yellow under his mandibled helm. Leviathan threw itself into him and pushed him back a few staggering steps. Then it spun, as though drilling into him and over him, and its water echo whirled around him in flat discs. The brute's armor was flayed away in seconds by the maelstrom, rent apart as if by sawblades, and the man within was thrown aside to smack into one of the others, bleeding heavily.
Carapacitator down, CD-5.
Leviathan leapt again, landing on all fours and already running, skating over the top of the water. I had to dive backwards to dodge its echo as it barreled past, straight over the fallen body of Carapacitator. As it passed, it stooped, and its echo scooped him back up into itself, suspending the fallen cape in the water.
His mask had shattered, and I saw a pale, broken face looking back at me. The yellow eyes looked all too human now, as did the pinched expression of stark terror set in every line of his features.
Then, as if in slow motion, his body crumpled like an aluminum can under a sledgehammer. One limb at a time was crushed down into a thin smear, and the man was screaming in anguish, bubbles emerging from his mouth as from a valve, until at last his head, too, was squeezed into a pasty red pulp.
Carapacitator deceased, CD-5.
The entire process had taken some two seconds, and in that time Leviathan had already traveled the length of the street, dashing away from us like a bullet from a gun. Through the mess that had once been Carapacitator that horrible, beautiful star still shone bright, piercing air, water, and flesh undiminished.
I blinked. I could still see it behind closed eyelids.
For a moment, I cursed Nenya, and the perception it granted me. I didn't want the image of Carapacitator's body being crushed like garbage in a compactor to be burned into my mind in minute detail. I wanted to be able to forget.
But it was better than being dead myself.
"After him!" Alexandria ordered, and we charged. I did not use Nenya to speed up, any more than was necessary to keep up with the others. I did not want to be alone when I reached Leviathan. Was it the same for them too? Many of the capes beside me were movers. Were they, like me, restraining themselves to stay with the pack?
The water grew deeper as we proceeded down towards the bay and the ruined boardwalk. Leviathan reached the destroyed frame before we did and turned left, towards the city proper. Its echo slammed against the timber and shattered what little structure remained like so many matchsticks.
He dove down a street and out of my sight.
"Fliers, we need to cut him off!" Alexandria barked. She rose, and others followed her. I recognized both Glory Girl and Aegis as they rose over the buildings and flew after the Endbringer.
"Non-fliers, keep after him!" That was Armsmaster, who I suddenly found beside me. He was still charging, a grim set to his mouth, continuing towards the turn Leviathan had taken.
I followed, but something in the corner of my vision made me glance to my right. I blinked.
"Wave!" someone screamed, but that was inadequate. The sheer wall of water bearing down on us was no wave. It was monumental, towering over the tallest of us by almost five feet, and pushing forward like a bulldozer.
"Brace!" That was Bastion's resonant voice. "Shields up!"
The shakers put up their barriers. I saw the telltale stretching of space as Vista lengthened the distance, hoping to force the wave to wear itself out, but there wasn't enough time, and this was no ordinary wave. All around me, capes were grabbing one another, or holding on to buildings and posts and preparing to weather the impact.
I am unbowed. We are unbowed.
Nenya flared, a star in the storm, eclipsed only by that bright pinprick I saw shining in the streets behind me. I saw the capes around me stiffen, as if braced against supports of adamant. I felt the rush as the Ring of Power lent itself to me.
The wave struck, and we were not swept away. Almost every one of the assembled capes stood firm under the onslaught, holding strong against the impact.
The water level sank surprisingly quickly. In mere moments my head broke the surface again. I spluttered and spat brine, but Armsmaster was already calling out. "Keep moving!"
We did, wading heavily through waist-high water. The tip of Aeglos was freezing passing droplets of water into a fine dusting of snow, which billowed around me and swirled down towards the sea.
Even as I followed Armsmaster as he waded through waist-high seawater, I was watching that bright light shining through the buildings and streets, undimmed by intervening stone. It was moving erratically now as Leviathan engaged the other capes in combat.
Iron Falcon down, CD-5. Lady Photon down, CD-5. Oni Lee deceased, CD-5. Vantage down, CD-5. Fierceling deceased, CD-5.
Then, as if at an unseen cue, the light changed tack, ceasing to dodge and instead darting straight towards us. The light grew no brighter, since it was already as bright as any light as I could imagine, but it grew nearer all the same as Leviathan approached. I heard the rumbling as it crashed through buildings on its way.
"He's coming towards us!" I called out. "Through the buildings!"
Armsmaster nodded at me and shouted, "Get ready!"
I hefted Aeglos.
The building to our left shattered like an eggshell, sending fragments of stone and masonry flying out in clumps. The debris splashed into the water and crashed into the assembled capes, scattering foam and gore.
Cloister down, CD-5. Triumph down, CD-5.
Leviathan emerged from the hole like an avenging god. Its claws were hooks seeking to catch and rend, its tail a flailing lash, and its water echo a tidal wave of mingled blood and brine.
Crusader deceased, CD-5. Adamant down, CD-5. Pelter down, CD-5. The Erudite deceased, CD-5.
I met the Endbringer halfway. Gone was fear, at last. With Nenya streaming out power through me, I could no more be cowed by fear than by any other force. Aeglos shone brightest blue, and the light of Nenya mingled with the shimmer of my armor, setting the water all around me aglow in an incandescent, silver halo.
"Ego!" I shouted, the Sindarin pouring forth in an unquenchable tide. "Ego, limlug, ulunn i gaer! Ú-hirithach si tûr!"
I lanced forth with Aeglos, aiming straight for that shining thing in the center of its chest. Frost spread from the point where the blade touched the Endbringer's flesh, and the point sank into it, fighting the resistance of its tough hide.
Leviathan recoiled, pulling itself off of the impaling spear and whipping around. Its tail struck me hard across the stomach, its water echo a second blow just as hard. I was thrown up and back out of the water to fly fifty, sixty feet or more, exhaling sharply as my body was dashed against the inside of my armor. I arced through the air like a missile, and hit the water headfirst and sank, sank like a stone, falling deeper and deeper into the dark water past the beach's dropoff.
I struggled, trying to right myself, and eventually managed it so that my head was facing up towards the faint, flickering light shining down into the murky water from above. The salty brine stung my eyes, but I kept them open, allowing Nenya to fill me until the pain felt like little more than a passive reminder.
I was at least a hundred feet down. I could see faintly in the murk where the slope of the beach rose up. And though my armor had protected me from the worst of the impact, bouncing around in it had still left me winded. My lungs were anything but full.
But still Nenya's power surged through me. I was unbowed.
I began to swim, pushing the water down behind me as I rose. Up and up I went, rising from the depths, rising towards that faint light from the rising sun.
My lungs were protesting when I started. Soon they were screaming. Every muscle in my body burned at the exertion. There was no oxygen, no life-giving air, with which to fuel my arms as they swung, up and down, propelling me forwards and upwards. My armor, light as the mithril was, still seemed immeasurably heavy. But still I swam, though my limbs felt like lead and my head spun like a top.
The world grew darker even as I drew closer to the light above. Blackness crept in around the edges of my vision. There was a sound in my ears on the very edge of hearing, like a choir singing. Every so often I could almost make out a word or phrase in Valarin, and every so often I thought I heard a voice I recognized joining in the song—mine.
Nenya was brighter than it had ever been. I could feel it coursing through me in waves of power, keeping me alive and focused, keeping me from succumbing to the horrible, fatal temptation to open my mouth and let the water flow in.
Then there were arms around me. I felt them pulling me up, taking me by my armor and pulling. I couldn't see who it was. I could see very little besides the faint light above me, now, only a small glimmer which seemed miles away now.
I kept pushing water down, and the hands kept pulling me up. The last ten feet were the longest of all, and by the end of them, I had lost sight even of the light. I was blind.
Then the water broke around me. The cool air hit my face and I was gasping, coughing, and gasping again, desperately pulling sweet oxygen into my depleted lungs for the first time in what felt like an aeon.
The hands turned me and pulled me back with them as their owner made their way towards the shore. I spluttered, gasped, choked, and slowly the world came back into view.
All around me a storm raged. Leviathan's fury had not abated, not even close. In fact, as we swam, my aid and I were tossed upward on the back of another wave. They fought to keep me above water, their grip tightening around me as they pushed their way through.
My back was into their side, and their right arm was around me while their left pulled at the water, propelling us back towards the shore. I looked down at my chest, and at the dark-skinned girl's hand that was tightly clenched around me.
"Sophia?" I asked, the name coming out as little more than a wheeze.
"Save your breath," she replied, her words strained with exertion and tension.
I nodded slowly and turned my attention to myself, focusing on breathing and getting my lungs used to the sensation of having air in them again.
We slowed as Sophia's left hand came up to her face and she pressed the buttons on her wristband with her teeth, carefully not letting go of me. "Shadow Stalker here. I've recovered Annatar. Where should I take her?"
Without waiting for a reply, she continued swimming. I trailed behind like so much dead weight.
Sophia's wristband crackled to life then. "Shadow Stalker." It was Panacea's voice. "We've set up in the lobby of a hotel, right near where Strider brought us to fight Leviathan. Bring her there."
Sophia's head bobbed against me, but other than that she made no reply.
A few moments later, my feet touched earth. I pulled away from Sophia and stood up. "Thank you," I said. My voice was still weak, but at least now it sounded like a voice.
She turned to me. Under her mask, her eyes were bright and wet. "Don't," she said, her voice harsh and raw, "ever fucking do that again."
I chuckled, and then found myself falling forward. Nenya was flickering. It was not that the Ring of Power was flagging. I was flagging. I was not Nenya's true Bearer, and never would be. I was the Ring-Maker, and so the Ring of Power would gladly lend itself to me, but I could never complement it the way a true Bearer of Nenya would. I could be bowed in a way a Bearer the Ring had chosen would not be. There was only so much it could do for me.
Sophia caught me. "Let's get you to Panacea," she said. "She, Othala, and the other healers have set up a sort of medical tent."
"I'm fine," I protested weakly. "I just need a minute to rest."
The star that was Leviathan was still moving. I could see it through the buildings as it wound through the streets, dodging between capes and dealing blows when it was given opportunity.
Gully down, DB-3. Resolute deceased, DB-3. Purity down, DB-3. Acoustic deceased, DB-3. Trainwreck deceased, DB-3.
"Then you can rest there," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Panacea can take a look at you."
I nodded tiredly, giving up. "Fine. I'll be able to help with Vilya when I recover."
"Maybe," she allowed, "but recover first."
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
Trainwreck down, CD-5. Chubster down, CD-5. Bearach down, CD-5.
The names went on, droning forth from the armband, even as the battle joined and chaos broke out all around me. I leveraged Nenya into movement and resilience, forcing myself forwards in the crowd, pushing through the capes until I was in the front ranks. The star in the monster's breast was blinding—or would have been, had it the power to blind. Even through the glare, I could still see perfectly.
"Surround him!" Alexandria roared. She rose into the air and dove for the Endbringer's face. Meanwhile, capes not in the frontline group fell back behind us. Armsmaster and Chevalier were rallying the strikers into a second rank.
But none of that was my concern. I hefted Aeglos and leapt upward to strike wildly at Leviathan's shoulder as the Endbringer twisted and wove between attacks, its back bent as it loomed over us. The blow went wide, and the spear's point missed its target and embedded itself in the trailing water echo. Around its blazing tip, the water froze solid. The chunk of ice fell and shattered uselessly against Leviathan's broad back.
It turned its back to me as it grabbed for Alexandria with one hand while the other clawed at the capes on the ground. Its tail whipped up, snaking around and knocking over those closest. I barely dodged it, and almost managed to stab at it with Aeglos as it passed me. Again I missed, striking only the echo left in its wake.
A crossbow bolt, longer and heftier than Sophia's, flew past my head, whistling shrilly. It punctured through the water echo without resistance and sank into the ground beyond.
That was when Leviathan seemingly decided to stop sitting in the middle of us. It leapt, pushing itself up with water, and lunged at Alexandria. She leapt backward in the air, out of its reach, but was consequentially too far away to react when the Endbringer turned on a dime and dove for one of the others.
I didn't know him. He was clad in a full coating of chitinous armor, with bright, razor-sharp blades emerging from his forearms, and eyes which glowed a pale yellow under his mandibled helm. Leviathan threw itself into him and pushed him back a few staggering steps. Then it spun, as though drilling into him and over him, and its water echo whirled around him in flat discs. The brute's armor was flayed away in seconds by the maelstrom, rent apart as if by sawblades, and the man within was thrown aside to smack into one of the others, bleeding heavily.
Carapacitator down, CD-5.
Leviathan leapt again, landing on all fours and already running, skating over the top of the water. I had to dive backwards to dodge its echo as it barreled past, straight over the fallen body of Carapacitator. As it passed, it stooped, and its echo scooped him back up into itself, suspending the fallen cape in the water.
His mask had shattered, and I saw a pale, broken face looking back at me. The yellow eyes looked all too human now, as did the pinched expression of stark terror set in every line of his features.
Then, as if in slow motion, his body crumpled like an aluminum can under a sledgehammer. One limb at a time was crushed down into a thin smear, and the man was screaming in anguish, bubbles emerging from his mouth as from a valve, until at last his head, too, was squeezed into a pasty red pulp.
Carapacitator deceased, CD-5.
The entire process had taken some two seconds, and in that time Leviathan had already traveled the length of the street, dashing away from us like a bullet from a gun. Through the mess that had once been Carapacitator that horrible, beautiful star still shone bright, piercing air, water, and flesh undiminished.
I blinked. I could still see it behind closed eyelids.
For a moment, I cursed Nenya, and the perception it granted me. I didn't want the image of Carapacitator's body being crushed like garbage in a compactor to be burned into my mind in minute detail. I wanted to be able to forget.
But it was better than being dead myself.
"After him!" Alexandria ordered, and we charged. I did not use Nenya to speed up, any more than was necessary to keep up with the others. I did not want to be alone when I reached Leviathan. Was it the same for them too? Many of the capes beside me were movers. Were they, like me, restraining themselves to stay with the pack?
The water grew deeper as we proceeded down towards the bay and the ruined boardwalk. Leviathan reached the destroyed frame before we did and turned left, towards the city proper. Its echo slammed against the timber and shattered what little structure remained like so many matchsticks.
He dove down a street and out of my sight.
"Fliers, we need to cut him off!" Alexandria barked. She rose, and others followed her. I recognized both Glory Girl and Aegis as they rose over the buildings and flew after the Endbringer.
"Non-fliers, keep after him!" That was Armsmaster, who I suddenly found beside me. He was still charging, a grim set to his mouth, continuing towards the turn Leviathan had taken.
I followed, but something in the corner of my vision made me glance to my right. I blinked.
"Wave!" someone screamed, but that was inadequate. The sheer wall of water bearing down on us was no wave. It was monumental, towering over the tallest of us by almost five feet, and pushing forward like a bulldozer.
"Brace!" That was Bastion's resonant voice. "Shields up!"
The shakers put up their barriers. I saw the telltale stretching of space as Vista lengthened the distance, hoping to force the wave to wear itself out, but there wasn't enough time, and this was no ordinary wave. All around me, capes were grabbing one another, or holding on to buildings and posts and preparing to weather the impact.
I am unbowed. We are unbowed.
Nenya flared, a star in the storm, eclipsed only by that bright pinprick I saw shining in the streets behind me. I saw the capes around me stiffen, as if braced against supports of adamant. I felt the rush as the Ring of Power lent itself to me.
The wave struck, and we were not swept away. Almost every one of the assembled capes stood firm under the onslaught, holding strong against the impact.
The water level sank surprisingly quickly. In mere moments my head broke the surface again. I spluttered and spat brine, but Armsmaster was already calling out. "Keep moving!"
We did, wading heavily through waist-high water. The tip of Aeglos was freezing passing droplets of water into a fine dusting of snow, which billowed around me and swirled down towards the sea.
Even as I followed Armsmaster as he waded through waist-high seawater, I was watching that bright light shining through the buildings and streets, undimmed by intervening stone. It was moving erratically now as Leviathan engaged the other capes in combat.
Iron Falcon down, CD-5. Lady Photon down, CD-5. Oni Lee deceased, CD-5. Vantage down, CD-5. Fierceling deceased, CD-5.
Then, as if at an unseen cue, the light changed tack, ceasing to dodge and instead darting straight towards us. The light grew no brighter, since it was already as bright as any light as I could imagine, but it grew nearer all the same as Leviathan approached. I heard the rumbling as it crashed through buildings on its way.
"He's coming towards us!" I called out. "Through the buildings!"
Armsmaster nodded at me and shouted, "Get ready!"
I hefted Aeglos.
The building to our left shattered like an eggshell, sending fragments of stone and masonry flying out in clumps. The debris splashed into the water and crashed into the assembled capes, scattering foam and gore.
Cloister down, CD-5. Triumph down, CD-5.
Leviathan emerged from the hole like an avenging god. Its claws were hooks seeking to catch and rend, its tail a flailing lash, and its water echo a tidal wave of mingled blood and brine.
Crusader deceased, CD-5. Adamant down, CD-5. Pelter down, CD-5. The Erudite deceased, CD-5.
I met the Endbringer halfway. Gone was fear, at last. With Nenya streaming out power through me, I could no more be cowed by fear than by any other force. Aeglos shone brightest blue, and the light of Nenya mingled with the shimmer of my armor, setting the water all around me aglow in an incandescent, silver halo.
"Ego!" I shouted, the Sindarin pouring forth in an unquenchable tide. "Ego, limlug, ulunn i gaer! Ú-hirithach si tûr!"
I lanced forth with Aeglos, aiming straight for that shining thing in the center of its chest. Frost spread from the point where the blade touched the Endbringer's flesh, and the point sank into it, fighting the resistance of its tough hide.
Leviathan recoiled, pulling itself off of the impaling spear and whipping around. Its tail struck me hard across the stomach, its water echo a second blow just as hard. I was thrown up and back out of the water to fly fifty, sixty feet or more, exhaling sharply as my body was dashed against the inside of my armor. I arced through the air like a missile, and hit the water headfirst and sank, sank like a stone, falling deeper and deeper into the dark water past the beach's dropoff.
I struggled, trying to right myself, and eventually managed it so that my head was facing up towards the faint, flickering light shining down into the murky water from above. The salty brine stung my eyes, but I kept them open, allowing Nenya to fill me until the pain felt like little more than a passive reminder.
I was at least a hundred feet down. I could see faintly in the murk where the slope of the beach rose up. And though my armor had protected me from the worst of the impact, bouncing around in it had still left me winded. My lungs were anything but full.
But still Nenya's power surged through me. I was unbowed.
I began to swim, pushing the water down behind me as I rose. Up and up I went, rising from the depths, rising towards that faint light from the rising sun.
My lungs were protesting when I started. Soon they were screaming. Every muscle in my body burned at the exertion. There was no oxygen, no life-giving air, with which to fuel my arms as they swung, up and down, propelling me forwards and upwards. My armor, light as the mithril was, still seemed immeasurably heavy. But still I swam, though my limbs felt like lead and my head spun like a top.
The world grew darker even as I drew closer to the light above. Blackness crept in around the edges of my vision. There was a sound in my ears on the very edge of hearing, like a choir singing. Every so often I could almost make out a word or phrase in Valarin, and every so often I thought I heard a voice I recognized joining in the song—mine.
Nenya was brighter than it had ever been. I could feel it coursing through me in waves of power, keeping me alive and focused, keeping me from succumbing to the horrible, fatal temptation to open my mouth and let the water flow in.
Then there were arms around me. I felt them pulling me up, taking me by my armor and pulling. I couldn't see who it was. I could see very little besides the faint light above me, now, only a small glimmer which seemed miles away now.
I kept pushing water down, and the hands kept pulling me up. The last ten feet were the longest of all, and by the end of them, I had lost sight even of the light. I was blind.
Then the water broke around me. The cool air hit my face and I was gasping, coughing, and gasping again, desperately pulling sweet oxygen into my depleted lungs for the first time in what felt like an aeon.
The hands turned me and pulled me back with them as their owner made their way towards the shore. I spluttered, gasped, choked, and slowly the world came back into view.
All around me a storm raged. Leviathan's fury had not abated, not even close. In fact, as we swam, my aid and I were tossed upward on the back of another wave. They fought to keep me above water, their grip tightening around me as they pushed their way through.
My back was into their side, and their right arm was around me while their left pulled at the water, propelling us back towards the shore. I looked down at my chest, and at the dark-skinned girl's hand that was tightly clenched around me.
"Sophia?" I asked, the name coming out as little more than a wheeze.
"Save your breath," she replied, her words strained with exertion and tension.
I nodded slowly and turned my attention to myself, focusing on breathing and getting my lungs used to the sensation of having air in them again.
We slowed as Sophia's left hand came up to her face and she pressed the buttons on her wristband with her teeth, carefully not letting go of me. "Shadow Stalker here. I've recovered Annatar. Where should I take her?"
Without waiting for a reply, she continued swimming. I trailed behind like so much dead weight.
Sophia's wristband crackled to life then. "Shadow Stalker." It was Panacea's voice. "We've set up in the lobby of a hotel, right near where Strider brought us to fight Leviathan. Bring her there."
Sophia's head bobbed against me, but other than that she made no reply.
A few moments later, my feet touched earth. I pulled away from Sophia and stood up. "Thank you," I said. My voice was still weak, but at least now it sounded like a voice.
She turned to me. Under her mask, her eyes were bright and wet. "Don't," she said, her voice harsh and raw, "ever fucking do that again."
I chuckled, and then found myself falling forward. Nenya was flickering. It was not that the Ring of Power was flagging. I was flagging. I was not Nenya's true Bearer, and never would be. I was the Ring-Maker, and so the Ring of Power would gladly lend itself to me, but I could never complement it the way a true Bearer of Nenya would. I could be bowed in a way a Bearer the Ring had chosen would not be. There was only so much it could do for me.
Sophia caught me. "Let's get you to Panacea," she said. "She, Othala, and the other healers have set up a sort of medical tent."
"I'm fine," I protested weakly. "I just need a minute to rest."
The star that was Leviathan was still moving. I could see it through the buildings as it wound through the streets, dodging between capes and dealing blows when it was given opportunity.
Gully down, DB-3. Resolute deceased, DB-3. Purity down, DB-3. Acoustic deceased, DB-3. Trainwreck deceased, DB-3.
"Then you can rest there," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Panacea can take a look at you."
I nodded tiredly, giving up. "Fine. I'll be able to help with Vilya when I recover."
"Maybe," she allowed, "but recover first."
-x-x-x-
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Last edited:
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
The third is Narya, the Ring of Hope.
- Location
- Earth Prime
Huh. Eidolon NEEDS hope, but I'm not sure if the Rings go to those who need or represent to OTHERS, or if they go to those who already exemplify.
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
One of the Three should go to a person who will both feed it and be fed by it. So Narya would go to someone who already inspires hope without it, but also needs it's power to remain unerring.
Death_Sheep
Cat Owned
- Location
- Wisconsin
- Pronouns
- He/Him
So, any of the Triumvirate might qualify, although I'd put my money on Legend getting Narya.
- Location
- Earth Prime
I'd put the Hope ring on Eidolon, by that analysis. Legend gets the healing ring because he is a balm to people's spirits, and is the calming, confidence-building figure. He does provide hope, yes, but Eidolon is the hope for which everybody waits when the worst - Endbringers - happen.
Given that Dragon and Armsmaster know that Annatar wasn't telling them the whole story when she said that she can't Master people by giving them her rings, along with the pretty obvious personality changes among several of the Wards who have been given rings, there is no way in hell the Triumvirate are going to be putting on rings unless they're utterly desperate.
Railyn
fluffy
- Location
- my comfy bed
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So, it's just a matter of time, then.
Xero Key
Flying high, spinning webs!
They are that desperate though, all of Cauldron is. I can easily see them taking them and hoping that Contessa and Number Man can plot a path or plan around Annatar.
FullNothingness
Mostly DHMO.
Why wouldn't they do that the other way around? Ask for a path first and don't take the rings until after having confirmation it'll work out.
Interlude 6a: Dean
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @themanwhowas, @Assembler, @fabledFreeboota, and @Skyrunner for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
Shadow Stalker's voice broke on an anguished, wordless roar as Annatar was thrown aside by Leviathan. The Ring-Maker's spear tumbled from her grip, clattering to the ground, and was kicked away by the Endbringer. It then turned away from the assembled capes and charged into the fragments of the boardwalk, pushing its way through the sharp splinters.
"Stay focused!" barked Armsmaster, but Shadow Stalker was already moving.
"Fuck you," she growled as her form dissolved into shadow. "I'm going after Annatar."
"Good luck," said a voice. Gallant realized it was his own. He turned to Armsmaster.
The leader of the Protectorate ENE shook his head and faced towards the ruined wooden debris. "Keep going!"
But even as the assembled fighters followed him, Gallant could see their waning hope. The fear hung over them, visible to his powers as a sickly yellow cloud. These were the capes who couldn't fly; the capes who couldn't keep up. They would continue to be battered by Leviathan at its leisure until they were broken. There was nothing they could do; they couldn't keep up, they couldn't catch up, they could only wait for the Endbringer to come around again.
And without Nenya to keep them steadfast, now, Gallant wasn't sure they'd last another assault. And even if they did, what then? More would come. And yet more after that, until all resistance was crushed.
"They're flagging," whispered Missy beside him.
"Yes," he agreed. He turned to look at her. She was staring up at him, her eyes hidden behind her mask.
"Well?" she prompted.
"I know."
He raised his left hand. The fire opal adorning the band of Araya burned like a captured flame.
Before, Gallant could only deliver emotion through specific and directed blasts. But when Dawn comes, it comes to all. He reached into his Ring of Power, and pushed.
For an instant, the thunderclouds over the sea seemed to split, and the light of the morning sun spilled golden over the city. Its light shone, reflected in the frightened, despairing eyes and practically glowed incandescent on Weld's burnished frame, and on Armsmaster's and Gallant's own armor.
Hope came forth from Gallant then, and mingled with the light of the sun, suffusing each of the fighters there. As one, their backs straightened, their fists clenched, their heads were raised and held high.
For Gallant, however, the light of the sun in the East was matched and surpassed by the light he saw through new eyes as the Ring coursed through him. As Araya flowed through his blood, the world seemed almost to recede, so brilliant was that star in the streets to his left.
It lasted only a moment before the clouds closed again and Gallant allowed his Ring to dim. But the moment was enough. Their waning spirit had waxed again, and they were renewed and refreshed. The cloud of fear had been replaced by a sharper green aura of hope.
Missy put a hand on his arm for a moment. "Good job," she whispered.
"Thanks." It was always hard for Gallant to read his fellow Ring-Bearers. Their Rings of Power tended to color their aura in unexpected ways. But through the purpling shadows of Histeya, he could see a mixture of royal blue pride and light pink affection.
Armsmaster was still moving, and the others followed, a surety in their movements that had not been there before. Brutes took the fore, shoving aside broken timbers to make way for the rest, and Gallant made to follow their lead, but Missy grabbed his hand.
"Come with me," she said. "You and I should work S&R. I can be your mover, and you can help me get people out of trouble."
Gallant nodded. "Not as though I can hurt Leviathan," he agreed. "Okay."
She smiled and stretched space so that a patch of roadway beside them led onto a nearby roof. Gallant followed her through.
Now that they were above the battle, and the city, there was a different quality to the air. Everything still smelled of brine and seaweed, but there was less frantic tension in every sound and sensation around them.
Snaptrap deceased, CC-4. Brandish down, CC-4. Rail down, CC-4. Parian down, CC-4. Uglymug deceased, CC-4. Ironmonger deceased, CC-4.
Gallant looked down at his armband. The little screen was dotted with markers, pointing out the locations of injured capes who would need assistance, and one large marker a few blocks away, labeled MEDICAL.
"Looks like the healers have set up a drop point," he said.
Missy nodded. "We'll take anyone we recover there. Any ideas for where we go?"
"There's someone a block down from here. To the west?"
"On it." Missy formed another pathway and they stepped forward into a street.
Leviathan's passage was visible. The walls to either side had been torn asunder. Rubble was heaped on the sides of the road like rocks on the banks of a river. Water flowed between, running down the slope of the street in a noisy rush.
There was a man visible, trapped half-buried in crumbling masonry, his blond hair trailing in the running water. His face was turned skyward and the pale light washed out all color in the skin of his closed eyelids, visible in the holes in his mask.
Gallant came forward and started pulling away the rubble holding him there. Missy helped, her power allowing him to move a boulder several feet with only the effort required to move it an inch.
"Do you think Annatar's okay?" she asked. A faint hint of yellow had crept into her aura.
"Yes," he said firmly.
"How can you tell?"
Gully down, DB-3. Resolute deceased, DB-3. Purity down, DB-3. Acoustic deceased, DB-3. Trainwreck deceased, DB-3.
"Haven't heard anything on the armband. And Shadow Stalker won't let her die."
Missy hummed an affirmation. The yellow dissipated.
The last boulder came free and Gallant leaned down, putting the side of his helmet against the man's chest. He could faintly make out a heartbeat.
"Alive?"
"Yeah. Let's get him to Pan—"
There was a thundering roar of rushing water from behind them. Gallant whirled. There was Leviathan, weaving through a swarm of flying capes, its water echo lashing out and striking at one after another. It had just turned a corner, shattering the building in its wake, and was coming fast towards them.
"Get us out of here!" he hollered, hoisting the unconscious man into his arms.
Missy didn't answer except by pushing him sideways—and onto a nearby rooftop. "Keep going!" she ordered, already twisting space again.
Just as Leviathan crashed into the building they were on, they left it, passing into another street. One street at a time, they fled the battle, the man in Gallant's arms weighing him down even as Missy shortened each distance.
Miss Militia down, CD-2. Stormtiger deceased, CD-2. Impel down, CD-2. Cache deceased, CD-2.
Then, suddenly, they were there. Gallant pulled the man bodily into the derelict building and laid him out on a table.
"Let me at him," ordered a woman in a black and green costume adorned with stars. Gallant didn't recognize her, but he made space.
He took a moment to look around. The makeshift field hospital was cramped. Movers were arriving and leaving constantly, so that there were always one or two dropping off an injured cape. He saw Panacea at one bedside, slowly knitting together the flesh of one man whose chest had been torn open. There were other healers, tending to the wounded as they were able. Othala, he saw, was currently working on another local cape—Brandish.
"We should keep going," Missy said beside him. "We're no good here."
"Right," agreed Gallant, but took a moment before he turned to follow. He reached for Araya and release a hint of hope and resolve. The healers, he expected, would need it.
Then he turned and had to dodge aside to avoid being bowled over by a grim Shadow Stalker, and the unsteady Annatar she was leading.
"Oh, good," Missy said, her relief palpable. "You're okay."
"Mostly," said Annatar. Her voice was astonishingly weak, not at all like the orator's tones Gallant had grown accustomed to. "I just need rest."
"And a checkup," growled Shadow Stalker. She looked at Gallant. "What are you two doing here?"
"S&R," he replied. "Vista's moving, and I'm helping."
She nodded. "Good luck. I'll be out there again soon."
Suddenly the armbands all chimed in, and Gallant realized he hadn't heard from them in some time.
Horizon deceased, BD-1. Sundancer down, BD-1. Good Neighbor down, BD-1. Astrologer deceased, BD-1. Bambina down, BD-1.
"Sounds like the fight's started up again," said Missy. "We should go see what we can do."
Gallant nodded. "Lead the way."
He followed her out and through warped space, down flooded, crumbling streets, until suddenly they were behind Leviathan, and waist-deep in water.
The Endbringer was visible as a great, whirling mass, flailing and striking out erratically, amidst a localized rainstorm. The water fell so thick that it was almost easier to point out bubbles of air than droplets of rain. Capes flew around the monster's head and arms and ran around its feet, making feeble attempts to strike at it with weapons and attacks. Those he didn't dodge had little to no visible effect.
"Can you see anyone?" Gallant hollered at Missy over the thundering sound of rushing water, crumbling stonework, and shouting combatants.
"Not yet!"
Then, in one motion that would be forever ingrained in Dean's mind, Leviathan surged upward. Its clawed hand caught one cape-clad flier with a sharp blow which sent them flying aside--and then its water echo followed a fraction of a second later with another crushing impact which launched them even further, tumbling into the road and leaving a trough of crushed asphalt behind them.
Glory Girl down, BC-6.
Then Leviathan turned away and was dashing down the street again, shoving aside capes and fleeing further into the city.
Dean ignored it. He was running. He didn't remember when he'd started, but he was at the fallen form in less than a second with Missy's help.
Victoria Dallon looked ruined. Her chest looked practically caved in, and her left arm was bent at a horrible angle. Blood stained every inch of her, running in rivulets down her arms and legs, and matting her hair down over her eyes.
Dean leaned down and began to dig away at the rubble. "Come on, Vicky," he said, and could barely recognize his own voice. "Come on, we'll get you out of here and get you to Amy."
"Dean?" her voice was little more than a croak. "Is that you?"
"It's me, Vicky," he said gently. "It's me, I'm here. Let's get you out."
"Help me." Her aura was overpoweringly yellow, fearful. Or was that his own?
"I'm here, I'm helping. Just hold on, Vicky."
Missy was helping him dig, and together they were pulling aside the rubble. Vicky gasped breathlessly as one stone after another came away, red and slick with her blood. "Dean," she was whispering, "Dean, help. Dean, I can't see…"
And Dean was replying in an ongoing murmur, his voice quavering slightly, "I'm here, Vicky. I've got you."
Soon she was free, and he pulled her up as best he could. She let out an agonized groan as he lifted her. He took a moment to push aside her hair as Missy warped space around her. "Vicky," he said, looking into her blue eyes, "Vicky, can you see me? I'm here."
"I see you," she whispered, her good arm coming up. It left a smear of blood on his helmet as she stroked his cheek. "Dean. You came."
"Of course I came," he whispered, following Missy through warped and twisted space.
"We're almost there," his teammate said lowly. "Just hold on, Vicky."
Vicky ignored her—or possibly couldn't hear her. "Dean," she she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I never—it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I took it out on you…"
"Save your breath," he said gently. "It's okay, I forgive you. Just hold on."
"Dean," she whispered, her hand still trailing along his mask. "I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," he said, feeling his heart hammering in his throat. "We'll get you to Amy and you'll be fine. She'll take care of you."
Heavy casualties, please wait. Their armbands spoke as one.
Vicky was staring up at him through glazed eyes. Her mouth was working slowly as she tried to form words. "I'm scared," she finally croaked.
So am I. "You'll be okay. I'm here."
"You're here." She almost smiled through ruined, bloodstained lips. Her aura surged weakly, a soft pink. "I love you, Dean.
"I love you too, Vicky." Have I ever actually told you that before? I must have. Why can't I remember?
Vicky leaned her head back against the crook of his elbow and didn't reply. Her aura was flickering like a candle in a strong wind.
They hurried on in silence through shortened streets, making their way uphill towards the inner city and the field hospital.
Dean looked back down at Vicky. Was she still breathing? He couldn't be sure—not while he was running. Her eyes were closed, now, and her head was limp against his arm. Her aura was so faint, now, that he wasn't sure whether he was imagining it.
"We're here." That was Missy. Dean looked up and, sure enough, they were back at the field hospital.
Vicky's head lolled against his arm as Dean pushed forward into the clinic. "Panacea!" he screamed. "Help!"
She was already coming, running towards him. "Vicky!" she cried. "Put her down!"
He laid Vicky down on a table and in seconds, Panacea's hands were on her, yellow fear thick in the air around her. The healer grew perfectly still.
Carol Dallon came over then, seemingly healed. "Well?" she asked worriedly. "Amy?"
"She's working," said Missy. "Give her time."
Minutes passed at a slow crawl. Dean found he was shaking. Vicky's wounds were beginning to visibly heal, and he saw Brandish relaxing. He did not relax, because he saw what she couldn't—Amy's fear was giving way to deepest black despair--and Vicky's aura was already gone.
Maybe she can restart her heart, he thought wildly. That's a thing, right? Maybe it's not too late.
But in his heart of hearts, Dean knew better.
After several minutes, the healer pulled her hand away. Slowly, Amy Dallon looked up from her sister and met Dean's gaze. Her eyes were wet, and her aura was black as pitch.
"Thank you for trying," she whispered.
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
Shadow Stalker's voice broke on an anguished, wordless roar as Annatar was thrown aside by Leviathan. The Ring-Maker's spear tumbled from her grip, clattering to the ground, and was kicked away by the Endbringer. It then turned away from the assembled capes and charged into the fragments of the boardwalk, pushing its way through the sharp splinters.
"Stay focused!" barked Armsmaster, but Shadow Stalker was already moving.
"Fuck you," she growled as her form dissolved into shadow. "I'm going after Annatar."
"Good luck," said a voice. Gallant realized it was his own. He turned to Armsmaster.
The leader of the Protectorate ENE shook his head and faced towards the ruined wooden debris. "Keep going!"
But even as the assembled fighters followed him, Gallant could see their waning hope. The fear hung over them, visible to his powers as a sickly yellow cloud. These were the capes who couldn't fly; the capes who couldn't keep up. They would continue to be battered by Leviathan at its leisure until they were broken. There was nothing they could do; they couldn't keep up, they couldn't catch up, they could only wait for the Endbringer to come around again.
And without Nenya to keep them steadfast, now, Gallant wasn't sure they'd last another assault. And even if they did, what then? More would come. And yet more after that, until all resistance was crushed.
"They're flagging," whispered Missy beside him.
"Yes," he agreed. He turned to look at her. She was staring up at him, her eyes hidden behind her mask.
"Well?" she prompted.
"I know."
He raised his left hand. The fire opal adorning the band of Araya burned like a captured flame.
Before, Gallant could only deliver emotion through specific and directed blasts. But when Dawn comes, it comes to all. He reached into his Ring of Power, and pushed.
For an instant, the thunderclouds over the sea seemed to split, and the light of the morning sun spilled golden over the city. Its light shone, reflected in the frightened, despairing eyes and practically glowed incandescent on Weld's burnished frame, and on Armsmaster's and Gallant's own armor.
Hope came forth from Gallant then, and mingled with the light of the sun, suffusing each of the fighters there. As one, their backs straightened, their fists clenched, their heads were raised and held high.
For Gallant, however, the light of the sun in the East was matched and surpassed by the light he saw through new eyes as the Ring coursed through him. As Araya flowed through his blood, the world seemed almost to recede, so brilliant was that star in the streets to his left.
It lasted only a moment before the clouds closed again and Gallant allowed his Ring to dim. But the moment was enough. Their waning spirit had waxed again, and they were renewed and refreshed. The cloud of fear had been replaced by a sharper green aura of hope.
Missy put a hand on his arm for a moment. "Good job," she whispered.
"Thanks." It was always hard for Gallant to read his fellow Ring-Bearers. Their Rings of Power tended to color their aura in unexpected ways. But through the purpling shadows of Histeya, he could see a mixture of royal blue pride and light pink affection.
Armsmaster was still moving, and the others followed, a surety in their movements that had not been there before. Brutes took the fore, shoving aside broken timbers to make way for the rest, and Gallant made to follow their lead, but Missy grabbed his hand.
"Come with me," she said. "You and I should work S&R. I can be your mover, and you can help me get people out of trouble."
Gallant nodded. "Not as though I can hurt Leviathan," he agreed. "Okay."
She smiled and stretched space so that a patch of roadway beside them led onto a nearby roof. Gallant followed her through.
Now that they were above the battle, and the city, there was a different quality to the air. Everything still smelled of brine and seaweed, but there was less frantic tension in every sound and sensation around them.
Snaptrap deceased, CC-4. Brandish down, CC-4. Rail down, CC-4. Parian down, CC-4. Uglymug deceased, CC-4. Ironmonger deceased, CC-4.
Gallant looked down at his armband. The little screen was dotted with markers, pointing out the locations of injured capes who would need assistance, and one large marker a few blocks away, labeled MEDICAL.
"Looks like the healers have set up a drop point," he said.
Missy nodded. "We'll take anyone we recover there. Any ideas for where we go?"
"There's someone a block down from here. To the west?"
"On it." Missy formed another pathway and they stepped forward into a street.
Leviathan's passage was visible. The walls to either side had been torn asunder. Rubble was heaped on the sides of the road like rocks on the banks of a river. Water flowed between, running down the slope of the street in a noisy rush.
There was a man visible, trapped half-buried in crumbling masonry, his blond hair trailing in the running water. His face was turned skyward and the pale light washed out all color in the skin of his closed eyelids, visible in the holes in his mask.
Gallant came forward and started pulling away the rubble holding him there. Missy helped, her power allowing him to move a boulder several feet with only the effort required to move it an inch.
"Do you think Annatar's okay?" she asked. A faint hint of yellow had crept into her aura.
"Yes," he said firmly.
"How can you tell?"
Gully down, DB-3. Resolute deceased, DB-3. Purity down, DB-3. Acoustic deceased, DB-3. Trainwreck deceased, DB-3.
"Haven't heard anything on the armband. And Shadow Stalker won't let her die."
Missy hummed an affirmation. The yellow dissipated.
The last boulder came free and Gallant leaned down, putting the side of his helmet against the man's chest. He could faintly make out a heartbeat.
"Alive?"
"Yeah. Let's get him to Pan—"
There was a thundering roar of rushing water from behind them. Gallant whirled. There was Leviathan, weaving through a swarm of flying capes, its water echo lashing out and striking at one after another. It had just turned a corner, shattering the building in its wake, and was coming fast towards them.
"Get us out of here!" he hollered, hoisting the unconscious man into his arms.
Missy didn't answer except by pushing him sideways—and onto a nearby rooftop. "Keep going!" she ordered, already twisting space again.
Just as Leviathan crashed into the building they were on, they left it, passing into another street. One street at a time, they fled the battle, the man in Gallant's arms weighing him down even as Missy shortened each distance.
Miss Militia down, CD-2. Stormtiger deceased, CD-2. Impel down, CD-2. Cache deceased, CD-2.
Then, suddenly, they were there. Gallant pulled the man bodily into the derelict building and laid him out on a table.
"Let me at him," ordered a woman in a black and green costume adorned with stars. Gallant didn't recognize her, but he made space.
He took a moment to look around. The makeshift field hospital was cramped. Movers were arriving and leaving constantly, so that there were always one or two dropping off an injured cape. He saw Panacea at one bedside, slowly knitting together the flesh of one man whose chest had been torn open. There were other healers, tending to the wounded as they were able. Othala, he saw, was currently working on another local cape—Brandish.
"We should keep going," Missy said beside him. "We're no good here."
"Right," agreed Gallant, but took a moment before he turned to follow. He reached for Araya and release a hint of hope and resolve. The healers, he expected, would need it.
Then he turned and had to dodge aside to avoid being bowled over by a grim Shadow Stalker, and the unsteady Annatar she was leading.
"Oh, good," Missy said, her relief palpable. "You're okay."
"Mostly," said Annatar. Her voice was astonishingly weak, not at all like the orator's tones Gallant had grown accustomed to. "I just need rest."
"And a checkup," growled Shadow Stalker. She looked at Gallant. "What are you two doing here?"
"S&R," he replied. "Vista's moving, and I'm helping."
She nodded. "Good luck. I'll be out there again soon."
Suddenly the armbands all chimed in, and Gallant realized he hadn't heard from them in some time.
Horizon deceased, BD-1. Sundancer down, BD-1. Good Neighbor down, BD-1. Astrologer deceased, BD-1. Bambina down, BD-1.
"Sounds like the fight's started up again," said Missy. "We should go see what we can do."
Gallant nodded. "Lead the way."
He followed her out and through warped space, down flooded, crumbling streets, until suddenly they were behind Leviathan, and waist-deep in water.
The Endbringer was visible as a great, whirling mass, flailing and striking out erratically, amidst a localized rainstorm. The water fell so thick that it was almost easier to point out bubbles of air than droplets of rain. Capes flew around the monster's head and arms and ran around its feet, making feeble attempts to strike at it with weapons and attacks. Those he didn't dodge had little to no visible effect.
"Can you see anyone?" Gallant hollered at Missy over the thundering sound of rushing water, crumbling stonework, and shouting combatants.
"Not yet!"
Then, in one motion that would be forever ingrained in Dean's mind, Leviathan surged upward. Its clawed hand caught one cape-clad flier with a sharp blow which sent them flying aside--and then its water echo followed a fraction of a second later with another crushing impact which launched them even further, tumbling into the road and leaving a trough of crushed asphalt behind them.
Glory Girl down, BC-6.
Then Leviathan turned away and was dashing down the street again, shoving aside capes and fleeing further into the city.
Dean ignored it. He was running. He didn't remember when he'd started, but he was at the fallen form in less than a second with Missy's help.
Victoria Dallon looked ruined. Her chest looked practically caved in, and her left arm was bent at a horrible angle. Blood stained every inch of her, running in rivulets down her arms and legs, and matting her hair down over her eyes.
Dean leaned down and began to dig away at the rubble. "Come on, Vicky," he said, and could barely recognize his own voice. "Come on, we'll get you out of here and get you to Amy."
"Dean?" her voice was little more than a croak. "Is that you?"
"It's me, Vicky," he said gently. "It's me, I'm here. Let's get you out."
"Help me." Her aura was overpoweringly yellow, fearful. Or was that his own?
"I'm here, I'm helping. Just hold on, Vicky."
Missy was helping him dig, and together they were pulling aside the rubble. Vicky gasped breathlessly as one stone after another came away, red and slick with her blood. "Dean," she was whispering, "Dean, help. Dean, I can't see…"
And Dean was replying in an ongoing murmur, his voice quavering slightly, "I'm here, Vicky. I've got you."
Soon she was free, and he pulled her up as best he could. She let out an agonized groan as he lifted her. He took a moment to push aside her hair as Missy warped space around her. "Vicky," he said, looking into her blue eyes, "Vicky, can you see me? I'm here."
"I see you," she whispered, her good arm coming up. It left a smear of blood on his helmet as she stroked his cheek. "Dean. You came."
"Of course I came," he whispered, following Missy through warped and twisted space.
"We're almost there," his teammate said lowly. "Just hold on, Vicky."
Vicky ignored her—or possibly couldn't hear her. "Dean," she she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I never—it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I took it out on you…"
"Save your breath," he said gently. "It's okay, I forgive you. Just hold on."
"Dean," she whispered, her hand still trailing along his mask. "I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," he said, feeling his heart hammering in his throat. "We'll get you to Amy and you'll be fine. She'll take care of you."
Heavy casualties, please wait. Their armbands spoke as one.
Vicky was staring up at him through glazed eyes. Her mouth was working slowly as she tried to form words. "I'm scared," she finally croaked.
So am I. "You'll be okay. I'm here."
"You're here." She almost smiled through ruined, bloodstained lips. Her aura surged weakly, a soft pink. "I love you, Dean.
"I love you too, Vicky." Have I ever actually told you that before? I must have. Why can't I remember?
Vicky leaned her head back against the crook of his elbow and didn't reply. Her aura was flickering like a candle in a strong wind.
They hurried on in silence through shortened streets, making their way uphill towards the inner city and the field hospital.
Dean looked back down at Vicky. Was she still breathing? He couldn't be sure—not while he was running. Her eyes were closed, now, and her head was limp against his arm. Her aura was so faint, now, that he wasn't sure whether he was imagining it.
"We're here." That was Missy. Dean looked up and, sure enough, they were back at the field hospital.
Vicky's head lolled against his arm as Dean pushed forward into the clinic. "Panacea!" he screamed. "Help!"
She was already coming, running towards him. "Vicky!" she cried. "Put her down!"
He laid Vicky down on a table and in seconds, Panacea's hands were on her, yellow fear thick in the air around her. The healer grew perfectly still.
Carol Dallon came over then, seemingly healed. "Well?" she asked worriedly. "Amy?"
"She's working," said Missy. "Give her time."
Minutes passed at a slow crawl. Dean found he was shaking. Vicky's wounds were beginning to visibly heal, and he saw Brandish relaxing. He did not relax, because he saw what she couldn't—Amy's fear was giving way to deepest black despair--and Vicky's aura was already gone.
Maybe she can restart her heart, he thought wildly. That's a thing, right? Maybe it's not too late.
But in his heart of hearts, Dean knew better.
After several minutes, the healer pulled her hand away. Slowly, Amy Dallon looked up from her sister and met Dean's gaze. Her eyes were wet, and her aura was black as pitch.
"Thank you for trying," she whispered.
-x-x-x-
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