companionwolf

He aims, tries to quell the slight shake to his hands. The Emissary keeps moving, moving, throwing Null Lances and shielding themselves from the bullets. They make a show of rearing back, a dramatic hand flare, and swirling purple smoke rises and whirls around the humans in the back ground. 

PC knows what that is. “Move!” he yells at them. “Get out of the circle, away from it! It’s going to explo—“ 

He’s cut off as Alex rolls into him while avoiding a beam of Psionic energy from the Emissary, ends up bowled over. They apologize, rocketing to their feet and firing quick laser bolts back at their assailant, missing all but one. 

He staggers up, glances back toward the back room; the humans and Espeon have vacated the area, are running toward the opposite end of the building. The Emissary fires quick bursts of Psionic energy at them; one catches Tulip in the leg, and she screams as she falls. The Spartan jumps in front of her, one hand firing off lasers at the Emissary, none of which hit but occupy its concentration; the other hand loosens something from its belt and hands it to her as she crawls to Davey and the others. 

While they’re distracted, PC pulls the plasma sword from his back and approaches the Emissary from behind. He swings, remembers not real never was as he does, and is satisfied when he catches the side of the other’s arm. There is a burning smell, and suddenly, a lot more blood on the floor. 

The Emissary looks at him and screams inhuman, hands flickering purple as they charge, only to be knocked back by a blast from Alex, who follows up on their Psionic attack with quick shots from their laser pistol. Most of them miss, most of them are unsteady, go through the walls instead of their target, but he’s grateful anyway. 

There is a sucking in of air noise, and the whirling Psionic clouds back near the bedroom fold into each other before exploding back with a loud clap. The humans cover their ears; the Spartan winces. Espeon, however, seems unaffected, and throws a Psionic ball at the Emissary, knocking them off balance. 

PC takes the moment to come up on them again, but before he can bring the down swing of the sword, the Emissary shoots up a hand- Psionic force pushes him back, makes him stumble, gives the Emissary time to get to their feet. Davey and Espeon are busy with helping Tulip, Alex is pressed against the wall panting. 

The Emissary raises a hand, and PC expects another Dimensional Rift. But then he sees threads, just for a moment, glowing and extending outward—

“Oh, shit,” he says, as Davey drops the syringe the Spartan gave him and instead glowers with gleaming purple eyes at the Spartan, as Tulip struggles to sit up and grabs Espeon by the throat. 

He’s diving across the floor at Tulip before he really registers he’s moved, knocking Espeon from her grasp. Davey jumps on top of him a moment after, gets his hands about the sword’s hilt; they struggle for a moment, a whirlwind of limbs and pulling. The human rises with the weapon, moves to stab PC through the chest— 

Alex brings the side of their laser pistol hard across the side of his head, and he drops the sword in shock as he reels, bleeding and bruised there now, and turns to face her. PC scrambles to grab the dropped weapon, avoids Tulip’s grasping hands as she manages to stand on her injured leg. 

Espeon howls, dances past the humans and leaps at the Emissary. She lands on his clothes, Awakened claws clutching to robes as she scales their form and jumps at their face. They stumble blindly as she mauls at their eyes; the Spartan takes his time to pump a few more laser shots into the Emissary. 

The floor is slick with blood now, and PC can see the humans sweating. There’s the smell of burning flesh, of smoke, of plasma in the air. He hikes up his gun again and fires at the Emissary, who is slowing now; it calls up a mass of Psionic energy and shoots it as two separate waves, at him and the Spartan. PC is blown over his own feet, and the room tumble white and white and white; his gun falls, goes off; he hears the plasma blade skree against the tile floor as he lands on his backside. 

As he hefts himself to his feet he sees Alex sneak behind the Emissary, jump up, and get their arms around their neck. The Emissary claws at them with Psionic fingertips, and he sees them shred the human’s skin so easily, sheds them so easily as they let go, audibly crying as the wounds let bone meet air. 

He’s running across the room to them, avoiding the laser fire of the Spartan as it shoots at the Emissary, when mind controlled Tulip lands a shot through his clothes and right through where his sense of self says his head is. He collapses, phantom sense of blood, sense of burning, and then Elyion reminding him that is not really your center of processing, get up! Get up!

He gets somewhat woozily to his feet, blinks red and black and green from his vision. For a moment the building is not, the building is the burning, firey communications deck, and he is concussed from a fire extinguisher to the head. He blinks hard, shakes himself, and is about to move when something hits him hard in the approximation of the ribs and sends him to the floor again.

He wildly flips around so that he is stomach up, one hand reaching for his sword; Davey, irises purple, is studying him, but only just. When PC raises the sword, he swings the bat at it— the plasma cuts the wood clean in two. Davey’s brow furrows, and he frowns. 

PC tears his eyes from the human, tries to figure out how the others are faring. The Spartan is hand to hand combatting the Emissary, has it against the wall, is taking its frenzied Psionic clawing rather well. Alex has reached the syringe that Davey dropped early, stabs it twice at where their wrists are shredded— he sees the wounds begin to close. Espeon is engaging Tulip, narrowly dodging laser fire while yelling at her to ‘snap out of it!” 

His attention is brought back to Davey; the human has PC’s gun now, and in one swift motion a series of bullets goes through his chest. PC wheezes, automatically  putting hands to the wounds where there should be blood where is the blood. Davey frowns again. 

He hears a loud shout of pain from the Spartan, the clattering of armor hitting the floor, and hurriedly spins up a beam of Psionic energy.

Can you do the wave thing? he asks Eylion. 

I can try.

He finds he holds out his palms toward Davey, and then toward Tulip; small Psionic energy bursts crest across the time and knock the humans back, knocks them to the floor. In the few moments he has he grabs the sword from his back and rushes the Emissary, dutifully noting the prone form of the Spartan that is trying to hard to get up, gather its weapon. 

“They will die for no cause,” the Emissary says, side stepping PC, who turns on his heels and dives at them again. 

“Fuck you!” yells Alex, and a laser bolt lands square in the Emissary’s chest. PC swings his sword— 

There is a moment of quiet as the plasma cuts through robe and skin and muscle. In the moment the blade finishes passes through, a hundred Psionic threads gleam about the Emissary’s head and then shatter. 

Blood coats PC, drenches him in it, along with what he thinks must be stomach acid; the now severed body lies still on the tile floor, blood pooling about PC’s feet. He feels like he’s going to puke, shakes his head, tries to breathe normally. 

“You just sushi’d them real good, didn’t you,” says Espeon. “Like a little fish snack. Slice.” 

‘That’s- that’s how swords work, right?’ he says. He feels lightheaded. There is so much blood. 

(He’s not squeamish, but Jesus Christ that’s a lot of blood. And there’s a couple of... organs, he thinks. He’s not a human anatomy expert, he just knows those shouldn’t be on the outside.)

The processing part of whatever constitutes his brain decides to start dry heaving at the gore. Which he supposes is a standard reaction, given that he can’t actually throw up at all.

Through his own haggard breaths he hears Tulip gasp, hears a weapon hit the floor. He looks back. Davey stands still for a moment, shaking his head, and then hesitantly goes to help the Spartan to its feet. Alex and Espeon and Alice join PC in staring at the body of the Great Revered Emissary. 

He looks past them; Tulip and Davey exchange dazed looks at both the body and the Spartan that leans on them as they join the small group around the GRE. 

A ripple in the space above the body; PC raises his sword, Tulip and Alex hold up their pistols, Davey fumbles with PC’s gun. The Elder that stares at them does not speak at first. PC wonders if it is shocked.

Then: “You only hasten our hand.”

It vanishes. The Spartan snorts, somewhere beneath its heavy breathing. PC motions for it to come to him, for Alex and Tulip too, and gingerly he places hands on them all. 

Eylion, he asks, Eylion, can you—?

I can.

A green glow envelopes his hands, and then green emits from the wounds, from the armor, and they stand there quietly for a few moments, PC beginning to pant softly on Eylion’s behalf. “I’m sorry,” it says through him. “I am not used to this, so I cannot do much.” It removes his hands; the wounds of the humans are now lightly scabbed over. The Spartan breathes easier. 

The front door of the building opens. Sam stands in the moonlight, a adult woman behind her, and behind them a small crowd which pushes through the door and begins to clamor- not in anger, but in surprise, shock, horror, fear. 

“We’ll explain,” PC yells over the din. “We’ll explain everything.”