witch hammer

If she blushes any harder, Friday’s pretty sure she’ll look like a tomato. Her whole face and chest warm with Nacio’s teasing, and she’s certain he can hear her groan from behind her hands.

“ Nooooooooo, “ she mumbles, hands still clapped over her face. “ Nobody has phone numbers anymore, Nacio, obviously. “

She peeks at him from over the top of her fingers, her green eyes shining with mirth rather than embarrassment. It feels good, laughing like this. Even being teased. It’s a reminder that things hadn’t always been so dire, that there had been life once and not just survival. She makes a not of the moment, tucking it away in her mind and her heart to look back on when things feel most bleak.

“ Anyway, he’s–… “ Too strong, too gorgeous, too busy being a protector and not a babysitter. “ –and I’m–… “ Too helpless, too needy, too crazy.

“ You got me all flustered now, “ she glares playfully at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “ I can’t even put words together. That’s rude. “

It’s not a thing worth defending himself against, a shrug of his shoulders because she’s well aware cell phones didn’t have much to do with it.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it. Your candy man did.”

And his smile remains at how red her face is, that kind of innocence so contrary to just about everyone he knew in his past life and this one. There was never any place for, something that got stripped away too quickly in his business. If anything he was more used to seeing corpses, and it was funny some days just how little that changed.

But he lifts a brow at the half finished statements, watching her as if she’ll come out with something better. “You’re what?” 

He shifts in his seat to face her better, the words sparking an odd moment of sentimentality. This world will probably kill her. It will probably kill all of them, and he’s never been so aware of his mortality in his life. It might be what summons it, because whatever she meant to finish it with, whatever she thinks about herself isn’t good enough, he just shakes his head.

There’s words snapped back in her direction but she barely pays them any attention other than to recognise that they’re not the ones that she wants to hear. It’s not her own life she’s worried about when there’s every chance that the beast has made an opening wide enough for as many of the hoard to get through as possible, endangering everyone else in the airport and dramatically lower their chances of survival. Which was something she just couldn’t allow.

So she doesn’t break stride at his answer, continuing to sprint this way and that at the same time as firing off a round into its face to keep it occupied and its attention firmly away from where the witch was trying to do his work. Ayden knows she’s probably nothing more than an annoyance, like a wasp was to a human, but regardless she’s got its attention long enough to hopefully make a difference.

She’s vaguely aware of a voice - Zoe’s voice - calling out her name but she doesn’t turn, only yells an assurance that she’s fine back to them. And she was, fine with whatever happened as she moved swiftly across the fractured ground with the axe never getting close to her.

Until she slips, one piece of tile refusing to stay put and sliding away enough that her usually flawless balance falters enough that she feel the rush of air from the swing of the axe against her side, sending her diving to the ground. Except a fraction of a second later the searing pain in her side is telling her that she’s not managed a lucky escape this time. A hand presses to the area, fully expecting the red stain on her hand but not prepared for the pain that leaves her dizzy and wincing, eyes pressing shut as though that will help dull it. For a moment she’s not sure she can get up, that she’ll just have to lie there while the beast takes its final blow.

But she tries to get up. She has to. Even if it won’t be fast enough there’s a need to try and a refusal to die like this. So she slowly rises to her feet, under no illusions that it still won’t be fast enough. Though help comes from behind her, a metallic thud ringing out as its attention is caught by someone else.

The view that grants him isn’t a woman on her feet anymore, the sound of her gun silenced as she hits the ground. She isn’t dead, he can tell that much because she’s still moving, just a thousand times slower. Even though its hard for him to see the reason why in the dull light. The blood falling from the end of an axe is a better illustration of just how wrong it’s all going, the thought crossing his mind that she might not get back up again. Exhaustion is already pulling at his chest, the working he’s burned into the shattering tiles taking too much from him. And there’s no guarantee it’ll mean anything when the woman across from him is struggling to get herself back to her feet.

Her life doesn’t matter all that much to him. It isn’t anything altruistic when he follows, no desperate bid to save her life when he shoves himself upright. Fingers scraping across the ground with motions that are just as slowed. They curl around a chunk that’s fallen free from the ceiling, hand pulling back and throwing it at the massive target across from him. 

There’s a thud as it slams against metal, and if he doesn’t believe for a minute it’s enough to hurt it, it’s enough to draw its head around. Massive frame shifting as it turns towards him, axe scraping off the ground, and he can feel the moment its gaze settles on him, even if he still can’t see anything but blackness. It presses down on him like a black weight, a reminder of hell on it’s shoulders. Nacio shifts backwards, stumbling more than he likes on the broken landscape, and there are few things he hates more than the fear clawing at his chest.

He can’t see what happens to the woman behind him. All he can see is that encroaching monster, the towering figure and the ground shuddering beneath it’s feet.

Just one step closer.

A massive foot settles inside the circle, and then the world explodes.

Light and flame burst upwards from the rune he’s etched in the ground, a blast tearing upwards through the earth and ripping a hole in the ceiling above. It takes half the juggernaut with it, half its body engulfed by the perfect cylinder of fire. It’s a terrible image, and it’s the last one he sees before the heat is hitting his face, the blast knocking him off his feet entirely.

His back hits the wall somewhere behind him, his head cracking off it next before he’s down, body slamming into the earth and stars bursting in his eyes. Hands and knees scrape off the dirt, and he can taste blood in his mouth from how hard he hits. Somewhere before him he can still hear the roar of flame echoing in his ears, but it mingles with an awful ringing sound, the world nothing but chaos and flame. 

Nacio keeps his eyes open as long as he can, watching the ceiling collapse as the fire rips through it, then watching it die. And he sees the moment half of that monstrosity collapses into the ground before his eyes follow, slipping closed as he drifts into darkness.

The swings are mercifully slower than she is but it doesn’t stop there from being a few close calls when she misjudges its reflexes, each time cursing herself when she was better than simple mistakes. Years of training have led to this and she feels the weight of her parents’ expectations of her heavy on her back. They’d never pushed her too hard or made her break nor was their ever any disappointment in their features as they watched her. But it was their memory that she wanted to honour now, to live up to the legacy they and generations of Crosses before then had created with their dedication to the hunter cause. 

If she wasn’t prepared to deal with it now, she never would be. The strength of the beast didn’t matter, this was the life she had inherited and thanks to the fickleness of fate she’d ended up being the defender of the many rather than just a few and she wasn’t about to let them down.

Fire and dodge, fire and dodge, fire and dodge. It was an easy rhythm to let herself fall into as her movements became smoother and slicker with every shot fired and every sprint and leap made to keep herself out of the way of the axe that rivalled her in size each time it became embedded in the tiles. 

The ground was getting more and more uneven, with Ayden having to compensate for the way that her footing slid along the debris slightly each time a step landed on the ground. Tiredness wouldn’t set in for a while but she knew it was only matter of time before she quite literally slipped up.

“How much longer?”

"Don't rush me," he fires back, but he's aware time is a factor. If the giant in front of her doesn't kill them both, something else might slip through the cracks at any moment. Maybe something that strips both magic and sound from the air, and he doesn't like to consider what will happen after that. They'll be dead, and he doesn't see another outcome.

He finishes connecting the circle on the ground, big enough to fit two men at least, even if he can't swear all of the juggernaut before them could fit inside it. But he doesn't need more than for it to cross the line, and he focuses on those connecting lines inside it. Pouring power into every breath, black etching itself on stone and fire following the path of it.

Somewhere someone calls the woman's name. He doesn't look up, unwilling to spare a glance when he's calling so much power to his fingertips. Enough that it feels like a weight pressing down on his chest, like the blood draining from his bones. If this doesn't work, he'll run, because it's the strongest working he's ever done, and his palm flattens against the red and black lines after he finishes carving the last of them, incendius repeated on his tongue over and over again until the working is sealed.

Whatever decision he might have made is accelerated along by the crashing of the axe coming down hard enough to splinter the tile and split the ground under her feet. Feeling the impact coming she braces herself for it but ends up diving to the side anyway to ensure her survival just long enough to deal with the armoured creature.

Then Nacio is speaking to her, short and curt and barely fleshed out but they get a swift nod from her anyway before she’s moving into action.

“Works for me.”

The bluntness of his words doesn’t bother her when at least it’s a plan. Her own mind had been drafting up a variety of scenarios but none of them set in stone when she didn’t know how willing he would be to go through with any of them nor did she know enough about his magic to tell which would be their best chance. It doesn’t matter to her if he truly wants to be there or not when the main thing is that he’s staying instead of running and that counts for enough. 

Without any hesitation, the hunter sets off towards the beast once more not thinking twice about fully embracing her whole range of hunter abilities. Swiftly dodging each swing of the axe she manages to get close enough in ranger to fire a shot up into what would be the face of the creature only to hear the metallic clink of the bullet bouncing off the helm but there’s no frustration at herself when it was intended for distraction rather than a killshot and seems to work when next time the axe is aimed her way.

But she predicts it. The monster might have size and strength on its side but she was considerably more nimble and faster, something that would come in handy when all she had to do was buy them a few minutes.  

Whether the tone is appreciated or not never factors into it, only that the woman agrees more readily than he might expect and that’s enough. He isn’t in the habit of depending on anyone else, but she strides forward towards the monstrosity and he’ll take whatever seconds or minutes that lunatic charge will grant him. If she dies in the process it isn’t his concern, only the fire he’s breathing to life at his hands, the sweep of his palm against the floor to clear dust and rubble out of the way.

He starts to draw with the flames on his fingertips, burning black lines into the ground beneath him in patterns he can only hope he remembers correctly. Somewhere behind him are his grandmother’s books, still hidden carefully away in a bag. The last pieces he has of her, and he hates the sentimentality that follows because it isn’t the time or place for it.

Not when there’s a creature born from Hell itself swinging that giant axe, the earth shaking beneath it’s feet. A blast of a gun follows, loud and bright and too close. He only risks a glance up to ensure she’s still alive and it isn’t coming after him before he goes back to his work.

Words roll off his tongue, the repetition of latin incantations he holds brightly in his thoughts to try and force as much power into the image as possible. Embers glitter bright in the blackened lines he draws, etching a circle into the ground and feeling that pull in his chest as he pushes power into every curve. But the fire obeys him, a tool at his disposal he wields easier now every day, even if it’s a legacy he once rejected. Now it might be all that keeps him alive, and it’s easier to place faith in than he believed it should be, despite his own words always ready on his tongue, that everyone knows the Valenti’s have always been witches.

Envy wasn’t an emotion she often felt but there was a sharp pang of it when she saw the man fire bullets towards the creature without a gun when she was still practically defenceless against it. The envy was quickly replaced by a sense of frustration when she didn’t see any sign from the beast to show that the bullets had affected it. She wasn’t used to not being able to make herself of use and that alone was enough to propel herself forward towards where memory told her that her guns had been left after he can’t give her an alternative location for them.

Her pace is quick and she doesn’t bother looking behind when she’s not sure it’ll make an difference whether he follows her or not. 

For once she doesn’t bother restricting the speed that the mark on her hand gives her when there’s no need to appear normal with them all fighting for their lives. It takes her longer than she’d like to find the weapons she’d relinquished in a show of trust and faith but eventually she lays eyes on them and is scooping her duffel bag up and onto her shoulders.  

Quick strides get her back to Nacio, with her barely out of breath as she comes to a stop beside him. There’s no time to strategise when another blow of the axe is almost enough to allow the creature in. “We need a plan. We both saw how little damage those bullets did. We need more.”

Whatever questions he might’ve had about who the woman is are swiftly answered by just how fast she moves, racing against the swing of an axe as the monstrosity carves its way inside. He takes a step back simply out of instinct, dust and grit shaking loose from the ceiling and falling around them like ashen snow. Cold fingers curve around his heart, but it does little to still the rapid beating when it’s shoving head and shoulders into the building, bringing chunks of concrete down around with it.

The woman races back to his side, and there’s some distant thought that it’s sad for all of them if he’s considered anyone’s best chance. He has no desire to throw himself in front of that axe to save someone else’s life, more likely to shove her in it’s path simply to find his own way out. At the moment it isn’t anything that’ll keep him alive any longer when she has all the guns.

Whatever answer he might have is derailed by the monstrosity now taking a step towards them, a rumbling noise echoing somewhere beneath that metal helm. The axe follows, and a curse spills from his lips as he scrambles less than gracefully out of the way. The weapon slams into the ground, the tile buckling around them and he can feel shards hitting the back of his neck, one knee hitting fractured tile as he turns in place.

He doesn’t force himself back up. He mouths words beneath his breath that pull fire to his fingertips and then he’s jerking his head at the woman still with him.

“Keep him distracted, how’s that for a plan?”

For a heartbeat or two she thinks that he’s going to outright refuse and in those few moments she’s busy preparing the words she’ll use to convince him otherwise. In her mind there was no need for hesitation when it her only birthright had always been to protect but she knew that other’s sense of self preservation quite often took precedence over selflessness and defending those who can’t. But then he’s speaking and while it’s not an enthusiastic yes, it’s not an outright no and that would be enough for her for now.

“Not really.” The words are dry and maybe if the situation hadn’t been so urgent she’d have found it in herself to accompany it with a smirk but as it was her features remained poker straight as her gaze left him to focus back on where the gaping hole was developing.

Lips purse as the axe comes crashing down again, destroying more of the wall and taking a chunk out of the floor. Time wasn’t something they had a lot of and while she was certain that she was as good a person as anyone to face off against such a monster, there wasn’t much she would be able to do without some weapons in her hands. That’s when her attention flicks back over to him, keen to get the two of them moving toward some sort of assault. “It’s Nacio, right?” She already knows the answer when she’s made a point to make a mental note of everyone in their group. The bullets in his hand are now what catches her attention, the way they glint in his palm impossible to miss. “You know where they keep the guns here?”

There’s an impatient shuffling of feet, eyes darting to the door once more as the reinforced walls continue to buckle under the assault. The work of man no match for the actions of Hell. Fingers itch to have a weapon in them once more, fists balling instinctively. She can’t bear to wait for a proper answer when standing still feels too much like doing nothing, so she starts walking with forceful strides to where she’d relinquished her bad, only just sparing him a glance over her shoulders. “You coming?”

The earth itself shudders this time, when the axe crashes through another piece of the wall. If the monstrosity on the other side isn’t something that might usually fit through the door, it makes its own with every swing of that massive weapon. Tile buckling and glass shattering inwards, and the dead are quick to take advantage of the freshly made cracks in the barricade, insects crawling their way inside. 

It’s overwhelming, and more than he ever signed on for. The thought crosses his mind to run, but it doesn’t occur to him that there’s anywhere to run to.  

There’s a hum of agreement when she asks his name, not one he thinks she hears or even believes it matters. Not when there are chunks falling from the ceiling as massive shoulders force their way through, a towering monster he doesn’t believe has ever been human, even if it wears one’s shape. A giant helm, smeared with black, covers its head, until he can’t see anything but empty pits where the eyes should be. 

There’s fear flooding his veins, a thing he does his best to shut out with the same force of will he’s exercised all his life. And when she asks if he knows where the weapons are there’s just a shake of his head. “Not at all.” He surrendered his alongside everything else. But not the bullets, and this is why. The pull of power before they lift from his palm to hover in the air, the words he mouths beneath his breath that don’t lend strength, but a touch of fire to the ends of them before they burst like they’ve been fired from a barrel.

It’s nine shots, and he sees them all make contact, sees the burst of blood.

And the juggernaut doesn’t even flinch.

Brown eyes scanned the runway from a higher level, watching everything come closer unsure of whether today will be the day that they try to breach the defences. It’s been too quiet. Just like it had been in New York but getting people to move when they thought they were safe and had what they needed was always a difficult thing. Her duty was to protect and maybe even try to guide but she wasn’t about to become a dictator in the process when everyone deserved to still be able to make their own choices. So she’d stayed quiet again, only mentioning the need to move on when it came up in conversation in the hope that perhaps enough of them would consider it as the only viable option that it became a reality.

Except as she hears the crashing she’s immediately cursing herself for not being more forceful- already feeling like any blood that’s spilt will be on her hands when she could have done more. From her vantage point, Ayden can see that hoards, led by a creature that’s easily bigger than she’s ever seen. It all seems clear enough to her at that moment- that none of them stand a chance with that thing still in commission. Someone has to try to stop it or at least distract it long enough to let everyone else escape and it might as well be her. 

She’s not vain enough to think she can manage by herself nor does she have a death wish- though she’d always been at peace with the idea of dying doing what she’d been born to do- so without any moment of pause she’s running through the airport in search of a partner or to. It’s Zoe she’s searching for, her hunter knowledge and experience always making her invaluable, or perhaps even Sam or Nate with how they knew their way around a gun. But it’s not any of them she finds, instead laying eyes on someone who Sam had vouched for but she’d only spoken to in passing. A witch if she remembered correctly. “You wanna help me with this?” Straight to the point when there was no time for debate, she inclined her head towards the developing hole in the side of the airport.

@haeretikal

Whatever illusion of safety they’d found in the airport he can hear shattering before he even sees the source of it. The crashing of glass, the swell of chaos that he can feel rising beneath him like a wave. It has Nacio gathering his things and moving before he even knows the source of it, and if he thinks to simply run, he needs to know if the runes he’s carved still hold.

He slides to a stop before he gets any closer, the swing of an axe shattering more glass, tearing through the walls protecting them. Tearing through the runes he’s scrawled around the edges as though they were nothing at all. There’s a feeling of weakness he doesn’t like, spells fracturing as easily as glass beneath the monstrosity trying to smash its way through. But if he burns them into the wall to protect from demons, they might be the least of his worries when there’s another swing, the weapon crashing into the ground as it falls like an executioner’s blade, the tiles buckling and his feet taking a compulsive step back, because the forty or fifty yards between them isn’t enough distance when it’s one of hell’s most terrifying.

He doesn’t expect the woman who comes up beside him, and that in it’s own right says enough about his mental state. But it isn’t a contemplation he has much time for given what they’re faced with. 

His first response is no. Absolutely not. Self-preservation is his first and only concern, and there’s a strong urge to simply turn and run. But he can hear the crashing of glass, an echoing scream he can’t name the source of that rings in his head long after, and Nacio can only believe he’s found himself trapped, with nowhere else to run to. He might still be absent his bullets, but he isn’t weaponless, and he’s grasping the clip in his pocket and dumping bullets into his palm before his answer comes.  “Do I have much of a choice?"

“ Oh yeah? “ she teases, giggling at him. The feeling of a smile, of laughter, is foreign but she welcomes it for exactly that reason. “ Did you forget mine? Oh my gosh, did you ever know mine?! “

But her laugh gets caught in her throat at the sight of the smirk he turns her way. It’s not bad, more teasing than anything else, but it makes her a bit wary about what’s coming.

So, of course, when he asks her if she’d gotten Bern’s number, she squirms.

“ Nacio! “

Friday feels her blush spreading and her heartbeat stuttering in her chest as she realizes she’s not nearly as subtle as she’d hoped. She groans and buries her face in her hands, muffling the high, embarrassed squeak in her voice when she addresses him again.

“ We’re gonna pretend you didn’t say that, okay? Okay. “

The laugh that escapes her is bright and honest, something almost foreign now. Everyone has that mask of dread painted on their features, every smile is tempered by what’s waiting outside the walls. If his own are just as restrained it’s a simple facet of his nature, everything about himself carefully crafted and controlled. 

Maybe for no one’s benefit anymore. That road of violence he’d been walking down is blocked by abandoned cars and rotting corpses. 

But he still wears the same smile, and he still misses the gun that should be at his side.

“I’m offended, Tuesday.”

The reaction is worth it, pink as her hair used to be and face hidden in her hands. It might be kinder to let it go, but the fact is there’s little around here in the way of entertainment, less that carries with it any kind of normalcy.

“Did you at least give him yours?”

“ I didn’t find them in a vending machine. I–. “

She stops for a minute, biting her lip as she remembers the incident. Cursing her pale complexion, already feeling her cheeks again begin to flush red again, Friday leans her head forward a bit. Her hair falls like a curtain over her face, and she lets it.

Pull yourself together.

When she’s sure she’s semi-composed, she starts again.

“ –Bern gave them to me. He’s, um–. He’s one of the guys from the group that was here when we got here? Have you met him? “

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, enough so she can see Nacio as she glances over at him.

“ He was in one of the little… restaurant-y… places? And I ran into him when I was wandering around, and he gave them to me…

       – I just passed a vending machine with Starbursts in it though, so if you like those, you’d better go grab them before someone else gets to them first. “

For a moment Nacio doesn’t understand the break in her words, as though there’s some embarrassing secret behind a bag of M&M’s. Maybe she stole them, and the idea of looting hasn’t fully settled in yet. If he adjusted quickly, it’s because men like him are used to taking what they want, without ever apologizing for it.

Then he catches the tinge of pink, the words that follow, and her hesitation becomes abruptly clear. He could almost laugh at the sudden realization, something all too normal about it.

“Could be. I’m bad with names.”

Though that isn’t entirely true. He certainly remembers the man that greeted them at the door, with a demand for his gun. A thing he allowed solely because he has other methods of protecting himself, but the question of whether it’s necessary from their new friends remains to be seen.

It’s clear she doesn’t entirely share that paranoia, and he can’t keep the smirk off his lips. “Well that was kind of him. Did you get his number?”