#hero gem

Gem roams over the streets and alleys and shadows of Hermiton.

Patrolling.

Watching.

She's quiet and fast and hard to spot, but people know she's out.

She's out every night.

Not always the same area, the same routes. But Gem is always somewhere in the city.

Always closer than any villain might want.

Than any “hero” might want.

Between the alerts to any sort of activity that's reported and her power, she gets eyes on enough of the things that happen.

Even when there's a hero already on scene she'll check.

To make sure.

To keep them in line.

For the city.

Keeping the weeds from the garden so the planted seeds have time to grow.

Like she promised.

How she swore.

She has to.

Gem patrols. Keeping things safe and… good for the civilians of Hermiton.

Always out at night. Sometimes the day. When she can’t sleep. When she wakes up earlier than she meant. Whenever she gets an alert on the combined police-scanner-hero-radio she’d cobbled together.

It’s not as healthy as she should be.

Still better than The Commission’s schedules for her.

Probably.

Gem can’t be a hero if she doesn’t take care of herself.

It’s the only reason she does.

One of the only reasons.

The city is wary around her now. Something she should maybe put more effort into fixing.

But she can’t quite bring herself to care enough.

Gem acts the hero. Stops the muggings, passes out food to the people on her patrol she sees, pulls off the car door to free the trapped civilian, fights the villains who show up to cause chaos.

She doesn’t care what the city debates. Not really.

They’ve been wrong before.

Gem just patrols and helps people no matter who they are if they need it.

She knows what they’re calling her now. CWD. Not-Cervus. The Broken Hart.

She doesn’t care.

As long as they call her a deer she doesn’t care.

Armour pieced together from what she had that day and what she could find-make-buy that didn’t remind her of The Commission.

Antlers in loose hair she only tried braiding once after. Cut shorter the day after with hands white around the scissors.

Stars and space covering up her left arm, across her chest and neck. Keeping them close. A half cape Gem’d added only because it was the same color as her eyes and she’d had one.

Her sword the only major thing that stays from her time as Huntress. Because she’s always been better with a blade in her hand. Needs to be the best possible version of herself.

Mask dark above her eyes and down her nose. A shade lighter than her skin under them other than the tears.

Eyes visible and green and …

They had to call her Cervus if she looked like a deer.

Something close enough anyway.

Gem doesn’t care about those specifics.

She watches over the city. Does her duty as a hero of protecting civilians, helping people.

Like she’d promised.

Sitting in a desk chair, lying flat on the forest floor, on a bed, in front of a set of frosted glass doors, pulling herself up a fire escape as fast as possible.

Standing under a willow tree looking up.

Crumpled on a roof, vision blurry and chest aching. Looking over.

Pearl’s dead.

Pearl’s dead.

Again.

Gem unable to do anything and watching Pearl die, except the first time never happened.

She should have been able to do something.

Pearl had.

Pearl had broke through the Director's power and fought her with broken bones and burns and poisoned and she won.

Gem had laid there.

And then she’d woken up.

And then Pearl had cut open the Director's throat with an earring.

And then she’d fallen.

And Gem moved but did nothing.

Not in time.

Not before the other wolves came.

The villains.

And Pearl died.

And she was there and it didn’t matter.

And the world fell out of its shell.

🟄✧🟄

She hadn’t let anyone near the body.

Cradling her as close as possible and wiping away the blood from her eyes.

So she could see.

So sure she would come back.

That’s what happened the last time apparently.

She came back.

She hadn’t let anyone close.

Not really.

Except then The Tangler and Ethos had dragged her away.

Took Pearl from her.

And they knew.

They knew.

Had cared for Pearl better than she ever did.

Had helped Pearl when all Gem had even done was leave her.

They were the ones with any true claim to her.

Gem had fought them anyway.

Not fighting them, just fighting to get back.

She was never something solitary.

Always half of a whole.

And a hole without that half.

None of them let her go back to Pearl.

The wolves taking her body away.

Passing Gem off to the heroes who showed up.

When they showed up.

Gem had fought them then.

She was supposed to go with Pearl.

Fought the others to do so.

Done better than against the villains.

Until Skizz showed up.

And then Gem woke up again.

And Pearl was dead.

And nothing mattered.

🟄✧🟄

Pearl’s dead.

The world’s hollow with it.

A black hole where Pearl was, pulling at everything, setting it off balance, off kilter.

Gem thought she’d mourned Pearl before.

She hates that Gem.

That Gem still has her Pearl, she’s just not looking.

That Gem still thinks grief is sadness and empty pockets in the world.

That Gem’s an idiot.

Grief is a void.

It’s a hole in everything because it’s a hole where her heart had been.

Nothing where the most important part of her was and it eats through everything else now.

Almost everything else now.

The world is empty and dull and she moves through it just as empty and dull.

Nothing quite correct anymore. A facade that’s lost even its support structure. Paper thin, ready to crumple or shatter with the smallest bit of pressure.

Gem can’t.

She promised.

🟄✧🟄

She’s still a hero, still saving people, because Pearl thought she was one.

Pearl thought Cervus was a hero.

She can’t let her be wrong.

She can’t let anything like The Commission form again.

Pearl died to bring it down.

To save the people she cared about.

To save the city.

The world.

Gem knows how to devote herself to a single cause.

She’s good at that.

Makes herself be good at everything else.

Because she has to.

There were stars and suns and constellations inside her.

Then the sun died.

And the moon fell.

And the stars burned out.

She walks through the world a layer of skin over a black hole and dead stars and she is a hero.

Cervus is a hero.

Gem is a hero.

Pearl thought she was a hero, so she is a hero.

🟄✧🟄

She patrols.

In rain and snow and smoke and cold, and Gem never really feels it. Eyes picking apart the darkness and hiding holes and alleys. Listening for anything off. Anything too sharp or too quiet.

Gem patrols the city and keeps it safe.

As safe as she can.

Patrolling solo. Patrolling alone.

She'd almost gotten used to being with someone before… Before.

Almost expects the extra presence, the person (not quite right) at her back.

And no one's there.

The space quiet.

Something almost, but not quite.

And the nights are so much like the ones where she’d left Pearl behind.

But even then…

Even then she was still there.

There were still clothes in the laundry hamper. Meals in the fridge. Counters cleaned and white fur in the corners of the couch.

But the quiet’s the same.

Empty.

A cave that doesn't echo the gunshot, noise only ringing in her ears.

She patrols alone, in the dark, and silence, and emptyness, and it's familiar like she belongs there.

Gem makes sure she patrols properly. Keeps her ears and eyes open, senses alert and ready even with the rest of her dead and dull.

She's a hero.

She's a hero, she has to be ready.

🟄✧🟄

The city’s burning. Smoke and gold pooling through the trees and windows. Broken glass glinting like filigree over the dirt and trash. Cobblestones streaked with ashes. Sparks dying out as they dance across the asphalt.

Gem pulls people from the building. Going back in over and over even as the fire grows.

It takes less than three minutes for a fire to change. Engulf an entire building.

Gem goes back in.

Someone's calling her name.

Calling for help.

She's a hero.

She has to save them.

She’s a hero.

They’re calling her name.

Gem breaks down the door and freezes, caught in place.

Fire racing up through the chasm cutting through the floor, a wooden support beam half fallen through.

Her power isn't useful for this. Gem can't get to her. Can't reach her.

Gold-Silver eyes look back at her with emotions she doesn’t want to name.

She can't save her.

“Why are you so upset?” She asks and Gem’s on a roof, frozen in place. “Villians’ roles are to die.”

The flames scream. The woman rises. Gem falls. The stars dragged back out of the building even as she yells, fights the hands and arms on her.

Begging with teeth and claw and howling to let her go back, let her go, let her go, Let her Go, LET HER G—

Gem wakes up.

Pearl is dead

🟄✧🟄

Running over the roofs.

Through the shadows.

Across the city.

Pulling herself up firescapes.

Dragging herself through the motions.

Wading through the red of her faults.

Her fault.

The inclusion she grew up with.

Half mortal, half divine.

Outliving her other half.

No gods to bind them to the stars.

Moth made immortal by the amber.

An eternal corpse.

Killed by what keeps its body safe.

🟄✧🟄

Gem is a hero.

Pearl is dead.

She should be used to it.

It’s been like this for years.

It’s only real now.

🟄✧🟄

She wants to scream. To cry. To demand answers from the world and the city and the people who killed Pearl.

But they’re all dead.

And she has to be A Hero.

She has to.

It’s the only thing she can do.

Everyone who killed Pearl, who hurt her, is dead.

She got her own revenge.

Her and the villains.

And Gem can’t make it up to her.

Pearl’s dead.

She can’t apologize, can’t help her, can’t avenge her.

Everything she wants to do is impossible.

All she can do is be a hero.

All she can do is be Cervus.

All she has is Cervus. The silent, empty space around it.

She failed Pearl for years.

She abandoned her, and hurt her, and didn't listen, so certain she knew what she was doing, what the right thing to do was. Left her alone, left her to The Commission, left her to fall by herself.

Gem was supposed to be the one to fall if anyone.

Cared because Pearl did.

Was a hero because Pearl was.

But Gem had always been better at following the rules than Pearl.

The Commission just another system made to keep people inside the borders, stay out of the woods, stay where you belong.

Those systems never wanted Pearl.

Gem had said she did.

Had said she'd stick with her forever.

Pearl had always been the Hero.

And Gem had Failed her.

She can't anymore.

She can't.

Has to be what Pearl still thought she was that last fight.

Has to live up to who she’d said she'd be.

With Pearl.

Without her.

She has to.

🟄✧🟄

She goes to Joel's wedding because she owes it to him.

Grian is his best man.

He's better at it than she would be.

Gem leaves early.

She has patrol to do.

🟄✧🟄

She’s a hero.

Always fighting, always protecting.

And it’s harder.

Making the decisions herself, no voice in her ears, no written text she’s memorized.

Relying on her morals.

What Gem remembers of them.

Assuming the best of people, but prepared for if she’s wrong.

Playing two parts in one.

When she’s barely even half.

Gem has to do it, do it well though. She’s a hero.

She protects, and saves, and serves.

Holds herself to the best standards she can think of.

Trying to hold all the pieces together, every action she needs to take, every reaction she needs to be aware of, respond to correctly.

She makes mistakes.

She isn’t perfect.

But Gem ensures they’re minimal. Fixed as soon as they happen.

She’s a hero.

She’s here to protect.

She fights to protect. To save.

It’s the one allowance she gives herself.

That she is a fighter first and foremost.

No matter the situation, the person, the cause.

Gem’s a hero.

She protects the city.

But she fights to protect the city.

There are only two exceptions.

Two times she doesn’t fight, only guards if no one else is around and there’s a true danger.

Pearl’s dead.

She loved them.

Chose them.

Gem fights protecting Hermiton. A Cervus for the city in turmoil.

But not there.

Not with them.

Pearl’s dead.

🟄✧🟄

A black hole sun.

Yellow flickers fanned around the empty face.

Always following the light.

Circling the same empty space.

Ocean still with dead tides.

No pull to direct them in any direction.

Hunter pursuing nothing.

Nothing chasing the deer.

The story’s over.

The villain’s dead.

She’s dead.

🟄✧🟄

“You won, deerest.” She tells her, grinning wide and bright and bloody. “Congratulations you won!” Gripping moon white fingers around blood red hands.

Gem’s gut feels like she’s falling. Blinking the blood out of her eyes as her head aches.

The sword runs her through.

Splitting her ribcage open like bones already picked over at a banquet.

The eyes like void watch her. Unblinking. Hungry and proud and hungry.

Gem’s left eye burns. Vision wavering, unfocused.

She grins, a red line around her neck. Crescent crown embedded in her head.

Gem swallows.

Copper in her mouth and gasping for air like a landed fish.

Mussel sliding down her throat.

She pulls the corpse from the water.

Drags the body out of the ocean.

Up the sand and rocks.

Lighthouse flashing in it’s cyclical, there and gone warning.

Scales in Gem’s hand.

Her sword in the other.

Eyes wide open and unblinking because justice is blind.

“You won! Isn’t it worth it?”

She grins.

Beaming.

Do you miss me?

Gem can’t breathe.

Unable to claw open her neck.

Where the seams should be.

Something holding her wrists.

Hands kept gripped around the sword plunged into white flesh as the rivulets of red run down over Gem.

“Good job, my deer.” She says.

Gem wants to scream.

They pull her from the lake’s green-brown water.

🟄✧🟄

It should have been her.

She was the one who made the first move.

Who never cared about being a hero.

Who made the mistakes.

She didn’t expect to survive fighting the Director.

She knew that the moment she said her name was Cervus.

But Pearl would survive.

That was what mattered.

Pearl got her life back.

Got her revenge.

Got to live.

Gem could never make up for everything she did.

But if she saved Pearl…

If she kept Pearl alive. Just one time like she was supposed to.

Then that’d mean something.

Mean she hadn’t failed completely.

But Gem keeps hurting the people she's closest to.

Keeps getting them killed.

Backs facing her, shielding her from the danger she caused.

And it takes them instead.

🟄✧🟄

She stands at the edge of a stake and cord fence, train tracks running almost parallel to the border, red triangle banners occasionally flapping with the wind.

Near more populated areas there's signs explaining things and more proper chainlink fence.

Here it's just the line of wooden stakes driven into the ground and the red flags warning people not to enter.

They still haven't gotten here with the replanting.

Probably won't until next spring.

Taking the work section by section, piece by piece, expanding outwards slowly.

The burned landscape isn't even as bad as the first months after, patches of green in broken grey-brown as things come back to life.

Wildflowers and dandelions. Weeds and the idea of undergrowth. And a rare sunflower reaching up to the sky.

Gem’s hands are white around the stake in front of her.

Eyes scanning past the foreground, locked on the distance as she looks for a flash of pale fur.

She never sees one.

But she keeps coming back anyway.

Just in case.

🟄✧🟄

Grian finds her on patrol.

Of course he does.

It’s not the fact she’s patrolling that’s surprising.

He talks.

When it’s quiet. When there’s nothing happening.

She patrols.

“We’re getting together. The group. You should come.”

Searches through the city and night for anything out of sorts.

“You can’t push everyone away. This job is dangerous Tr—Cervus.” He stumbles over the last word. So used to another name.

“It’s not what she’d want.”

Gem throws herself into the alleys, weaving through them faster than he can adjust to get to the mugging a couple blocks over.

“At least patrol with someone. Let M run your comms.” He continues after catching up with her, rethinking the hand he almost puts on her arm.

She climbs up the fire escape one handed, wrapping the shallow knife wound as she continues back up.

“You’re going to kill yourself like this Gem.” Grian tries. Pleading almost, but she keeps her attention on the streets.

“I won’t.”

She can’t be a hero if she’s dead.

Gem jumps to the next roof. Keeps up her patrol.

Grian follows.

It doesn’t matter.

He’ll go home eventually.

He has to sleep.

His wings are still healing.

Slight scars under the feathers.

Same as the rest of them.

The Mountaineers all have more scars after The Commission fell.

They’re heroes.

There was a Fight.

Skizz didn't have the one across his face when he showed up on the roof where Pearl died.

Gem keeps patrolling.

Grian will leave eventually.

🟄✧🟄

There’s a gold sun and a silver moon in her ears. Hidden by the false ones. By her loose hair.

There’s no wolf at her back.

She still doesn’t make soup.

Those aren’t the right reminders.

Gem is a hero.

Gem is only a hero.

There are stars down her left arm. The idea of them.

Moons on her chest to keep the half-cloak in place.

Tears in her left eye. Antlers branching and sharp.

A sun and moon on either side of her head.

Not Huntress.

Not the Cervus she was.

Dying slowly, walking the same route every time, unafraid.

Hollow eyes watching, ready to cut out the rot as soon as it’s seen.

A dead Hart.

🟄✧🟄

The night’s cold.

Weightless.

Snow not quite falling, but still filling up the corners and edges of the city.

Softening them, with all the razor chill of frost and ice.

She’d led people to the shelters she knew.

The ones funded and the ones abandoned.

Most people aren’t out though.

Enough warning or knowledge.

She’s always out though.

Gem is a hero.

The cold isn’t anything new.

The empty streets and empty sky and empty hart.

The traffic lights flick between yellow and red. Lamps holding a steady circle glow on the white-covered pavement below.

The snow growing. Light and fluffy in single flakes, perfectly formed six pointed fractals.

Melting against the brick and concrete and asphalt until enough of them have joined.

And the thin layers of ice across the surfaces grow.

It’s dangerous to be on the roofs in this type of weather.

It’s why she’s not on the roofs.

So far from the sky. From the stars she can’t see. All the fake, fast fading ones around her a false comfort.

She walks through the streets.

Alone.

Half tracing paths she’d taken before.

When the days were bright and warm.

When she chased something important.

She’s alone now.

The night’s cold, but no colder than any other time.

No moths flickering around the street lamps, using the man-made light in instincts not made for the altered landscape.

It’s too cold.

And too cold to cry.

Gem keeps moving forward.

Steps somewhere between unconscious and unwilling.

The snow falls.

“Why so upset my deerest hart?” The familiar voice says, arms draping over her shoulders. “It’s a villain's role to die.” Tone somewhere between cheerful teasing and darkly mocking.

Her hands are red. The weight pressed against Gem’s back like the training exercises where they were made to carry each other through obstacles and simulated dangers.

Pearl liked whispering small warnings to her.

She doesn’t stumble.

She wants to.

Her legs won’t.

She can’t fail.

Can’t fall.

She’d never get up.

“Look at how peaceful it is.” She breathes into Gem’s ear, stars softly falling down around them as they walk. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She asks.

The city. Quiet. Calm. No sounds. No smell. Area dark in the way blanket forts and camping are.

It almost warms her.

The peace.

The silence.

“Wasn’t it worth it?” She asks, teeth against Gem’s ear and the red bleeds over the white. Corpse weight turns solid as ice, and Gem missteps.

No one there to catch her.

To hide the flaw.

The white is fur soft.

Warm.

The promise of rest and respite.

A break.

Gem can’t rest.

Doesn’t get to relax.

She can’t make herself move away.

“Is that all it takes?” She asks, incredulous. Almost affronted. Almost worried.

The red glitters in the side of her vision.

It goes away.

Gem stays.

White floating through blackness around her.

“That’s it?” She says. Gem almost always the one to call an end to their practices.

On the roof, watching the two figures with blurry vision and confusion that melts into Fear.

She was the one who snapped and lunged.

Of course it’s her place to be the one that fell.

The world isn’t as silent.

Isn’t as dark.

The peace ripped from her

“You think that’s enough?” Someone says, and no. No, she doesn’t. Knows it’s not.

Gem doesn’t. She knows what to do. What she has to do.

No. No, it’s not enough.

It’s not enough.

“It’ll never be enough.” She answers.

🟄✧🟄

Pearl is dead.

Her heart.

Her moon.

Her Pearl.

And she named Gem a hero.

Told Gem she is a hero.

So Gem stalks across the roofs and alleys of the city she died to protect.

Alone.

In a perfect world, they'd have something of a rivals-to-lovers romance. Joel and Gem are the perfect team. They do not make mistakes in PR, in fights, in training, and the Gs have always been second to them. Their feelings bloomed from stolen, secretive moments.

Pearl quadruple-checks her outfit, her mask, Tilly’s star, everything just one more time. Making sure it’s all exactly perfect.

The perfect start to their heroing.

Every day after this they’ll get ready in their apartment, a Commission one just for them with perfectly white countertops and large windows and space, already furnished and all their decorations from training are already being sent over. But for today they’ve gotten dressed in their outfits and run through a few checks in the main Commission hub at the center of the city.

Officially heroes employed by The Commission.

About to head out on their first patrol.

About to truly become heroes.

Pearl steps out of the locker/changing/prep type room, Tilly following close behind, eyes instantly finding Gem’s before moving to their hero handler, taking her place right next to Gem, shoulders back, stance ready. Their handler nods once behind their Commission white mask and fitted suit.

“Right, you both look fully suited up. One last time, your patrol route for today is Delta-3-Blue.” Their handler goes over again, striding towards the doors that will take them out. “If you deviate at all from it, call it in. Any incident you come across, call it in before engaging. You are not cleared for any villain or incident above a category C and if any show up during your patrol you are to disengage and retreat immediately. Mitigation efforts are allowed within reason but do not be overly ambitious.” They stop in the area before The Door, just out of sight for anyone outside of them.

“You two were the top of your group for a reason. Now it’s your chance to prove your capability in the real world.” Their handler says and Pearl knows Gem straightens her posture out just a little more, same as her. “You are the shield and weapon The Commission uses to protect this city and the world. Do your duty well, because everyone counts on you for it.” They continue, hands behind their back as they stare at her and Gem, before nodding formally.

“Your patrol starts now.” Their handler states, before turning and walking away, back to their office, or monitors, or wherever they work.

Pearl doesn’t let her posture drop a hair, turning to face the frosted “glass” doors that lead out to the city. The Hero Doors.

“You ready for this?” Gem asks her. A grin on her lips and bounce in her step, with glittering, excited eyes that also watch her carefully, checking in that Pearl really is ready.

The silent communication and knowing what makes them so in sync. Such a perfect team. One The Commission couldn’t even think about separating, because they were great together.

“Let's do this.” Pearl says back, matching Gem’s grin with her own.

Clasped hands hidden by their posture and Tilly moving into place for just a second.

Cervus and Lupus. Lupus and Cervus.

They walk out, side by side, and there’s cameras flashing, not too many, not as many as they’ve practiced with, and this has to be what graduation feels like to most people. The people you care about, a “stage” to walk across, the anticipation and excitement for the future, the certainty of watching your whole life unfurl in front of you like a red carpet.

They smile, wave a bit, and then they’re off.

Tilly bounding ahead like they’ve planned, sticking close enough to remain well within sight for now, but ranging around them like in orbit.

Pearl waits until they’re on the roofs to laugh. They’ve done it. They’ve done it, they’ve done it, they’ve done it!

Gem’s own laugh mixes with her, just as joyful and excited, her energy feeding off of Pearl’s and Pearl’s off of Gem’s.

They’re heroes!

They’re heroes and on patrol and they can make things better.

It’s a three hour patrol route. Shorter than the average, sticking to the lower crime areas, but they’re new still. And it’s still plenty of time for the city to see them.

Pearl runs with Gem, across the roofs and streets, and they wave and smile at the civilians, other heroes giving a short nod back (or a two finger salute in the case of their brief sighting of Cuteguy), and there isn’t much along their patrol. A purse snatching, a loose dog, a branch that falls into the road, a teen getting chased by bullies. Most of what happens are the people talking to them. Everyone wanting to know their names, who they are.

But it’s the incidents that stick with Pearl most.

The purse snatcher with some kind of speed and agility power that doesn’t manage to match up to Gem’s, Tilly cutting off his alley exit, and then holding onto the man while the police arrive and Gem gives the woman her purse back.

Pearl hearing the owner yelling after their dog and turning to grab onto the giant fluffball of a young Newfoundland before she runs further into the crowds or into the street, holding onto the dog while laughing and getting thoroughly slobbered on while the owner catches up.

A mother flagging her and Gem down to see if they were able to help her and her kids drag a branch out of the street, only for Gem to laugh and tell her to just tell her where she wanted Gem to put it. After they’d returned to the patrol path she’d shown Pearl the twigs she’d broken off. A memento from their first day, she’d said.

And then the teen that had literally run into them rounding a corner followed a few others that were clearly bullies. It hadn’t taken too much to scare them off, just a sharp grin and Tilly silently padding up next to them and the teen. They couldn’t actually do much more, but she and Gem had told the kid about the wonders of climbing as a way to get out of reach of bullies.

The sun was still shining brightly down on her and Gem and Tilly by the end of their route, despite the forecast of rain. The sunlight following them and their giddy euphoria as they re-enter The Commission Tower.

They were heroes.

They were heroes, everything laid out in front of them in golden light.

The future bright like the end of a tunnel they’ve come out of.

A future she and Gem and Tilly have.

Together.

 ☽  〇  ☾

Gem’s already gone when Pearl wakes up.

Probably.

It’s possible she never made it back in the first place. Liar. She didn’t even fall asleep until she heard the front door and Gem’s footsteps. She had to know she was okay.

She’s been out so much more.

Extra assignments and patrols taking her away, farther and farther each time.

Pearl pulls herself out of bed, moves towards the closet on automatic to stare at the untouched clothes before shutting the door again.

The kitchen is empty, silent, untouched.

Counters clear, sink empty, fridge partially covered in a couple pictures and a single yellow sticky note.

Mission. Back later.

- ✧

The note’s been there for several days now.

Pearl hasn’t bothered to take it down yet, it’s not like it’d change anything. Like one nearly identical wouldn’t take its place eventually.

When she remembered.

She opens the fridge, hands pulling two eggs from their container, a nearly empty bag of cheese, the limp spinach, and a package of meat, putting it on the counter with a cutting board. She really needs to toss the rest of those vegetables she’d gotten a few weeks back.

Pearl cuts up Tilly’s food, setting a handful of cubes into her pan before washing the knife and the cutting board and her hands. Water hot because that’s how you get rid of germs.

Meat out, eggs cracked and scrambled before going in the pan, clean her hands again, add the meat back again along with the cheese and good spinach, fold the omelette, toss the bags and off-spinich, rinse the stuff in the sink, put them in the dishwasher, flip, start wiping down the counters, turn off the stove, grab a fork.

Tilly curls around her chair as she eats mechanically, checking the hero site for information. Not looking at the news. Always at her side as Pearl rinses off her plate, puts it in the dishwasher along with the spatula, washes the pan.

Gem doesn’t believe her. But neither have they gotten a chance to talk.

Pearl would think it’s the Commission separating them on purpose so she couldn’t tell Gem, but she’s looked for spyware and there wasn’t any inside the apartment. Not ones she or Tilly could find at least.

Gem doesn’t even seem aware the Commission is separating them.

It’s been almost two months since they’ve even trained together, but Gem hasn’t noticed for some reason.

Pearl wants to say it’s because she’s tired, because she’s pushing herself, “them”, to be better. The next great hero duo.

It doesn’t feel like they’re a duo anymore.

Pearl pulls on her suit. Pajamas in the laundry basket that’s nearly empty.

They’re living like ghosts in each other's apartments. Schedules that seem about as opposite as they can get.

Too tired to argue against their handler. Always catching a closing door.

Pearl moves back out into the main area.

Scrawls a note on a half sheet of paper and sticks it to the fridge with a magnet.

We need to talk.

I’ll wait for you on patrol.

Don’t worry about writing a

reply if you can’t make it.

- 〇

Pearl walks out of the apartment, hood up, Tilly in for now, almost perfect posture.

She has a patrol to do. She has to do her patrol. The evening shift no one wants, not the dramatics and spotlight of the day or the secrecy and surprise of the later night. Most everyone back home or settled into their own night shifts, only people out the ones that slip between the cracks. The unwanted people in the alleys and backstreets.

She takes the elevator down. The tunnels and stairs out to the roof of the shorter building in one of the “worse” neighborhoods bordering the industrial sector. Tilly at her side again. The sun just setting behind the skyscrapers off in the distance, glittering gold and silver.

She watches the shadows grow, early to patrol as always, waiting. Watching the sun go down.

Eyes staring out across the city, ears focused back to the door.

Pearl has to go patrol. It’s time.

She waits, just an extra few seconds, just in case.

The door stays closed.

She’s probably just running late.

Pearl hops off the railing, stretches out one more time, and sets off on the assigned patrol route. Omega-1-Red. It was Commission standard. Easy to follow once you learned it.

Shortcuts you could take if you were trying to make up time or catch up to someone.

Pearl follows the route perfectly. Stopping the crimes she comes across. Keeping track of who comes for the people, mainly muggers and petty thieves. So far it’s always the police. But that could change.

The sun slowly sets, and she still has most of the night to patrol through.

Gem’s been out all day. Is probably tired.

Pearl keeps following her patrol route for the night. Not even a third of the way through as she reaches the more industrial section.

Breathes, cracks her joints and stretches out a little more. Always less crime in these areas, but always worse types.

At this time of night she should be running it with a partner considering her level. She’s patrolled this and other similar areas a lot by now though. Knows how to do it alone.

She deviates from the route ever so slightly now as well. Keeping a more focused eye on the area. There were rumour, possible connections she’d drawn, and she can’t do anything too out of the ordinary, but a few small detours like she’d seen a possible flash of light or small movement and shifted to double check would be fine.

The cracked warehouse door isn’t something she needs to detour for though.

A slight imperfection to the empty area.

Pearl slips off the roof, Tilly already circling the building, and carefully makes her way over.

The lock isn’t broken, only undone, which could point to a forgetful worker but Pearl’s a hero. It’s her job to check.

And… and maybe this is the lead she’s been following.

She slips inside, carefully opening the door just a little further for Tilly before closing it to the exact same distance it’d been beforehand.

The warehouse is dark and quiet, boxes on pallets barely illuminated by the twilight that manages to make it through the windows.

Something feels wrong.

Normally she’d listen to that feeling. Leave. Trust the instincts she’s built up over the years.

But how can she?

How can she trust her training from the Commission when the Commission…

She has to be here though.

Has to walk the balance beam of gathering information on what the Commission is actually doing without raising their suspicions.

Pearl creeps through the rows, keeping her movements low, footfalls soft, Tilly close.

A basic search for anything that seems out of place and then she’ll leave. Lock the doors and continue her patrol.

She barely clears the first row.

Pearl feels something hit Tilly, and instantly is pulling her back inside, spinning to face where the projectile, dart-like, tranq or poison, had come from, dodging the second volley. Keeps ducking and weaving as she pulls out her tonfa because there’s seven people, two long range, five moving in with longer ranged weapons, mainly staves, and she doesn’t know any powers.

“Attacking a hero is illegal, you know.” Pearl says, trying to calculate the best way to deal with this. Tilly’s faint and distant in her mind, a tranquilizer, probably, but she needs this to end quickly so she can check up on her properly and get her help. She’s pressed her emergency button already. This counted. But only as urgent, not an Emergency.

No one replies to her, which is a bad sign, and then they’re fighting and Pearl has to let her mind fall fully into the fight. The pattern of duck, strike, block, kick, spin, dodge. The sound of metal against wood against flesh against armour against concrete. The good news is she was able to remove one assailant from the fight within the first minute, two more within the next five or so, and that only one of the long range people was still bothering to shoot at her, some kind of laser beams that she’s calling stormtrooper shots on her report once she gets out of this.

It’s going to be once. Because it doesn’t matter the two she’s dealing with now are clearly much better than the others and have physical enhancing powers, or that she knows that because they’ve already messed up one of her arms enough she’s fighting basically one handed now.

Pearl fights.

And she fights until she’s taken out Stormtrooper (who thankfully had about as good an aim as their namesake) and probably has a cracked rib or two and is leaning against some crates in the half-shadows slightly bleeding and also weaponless.

The fight has become much more about outlasting the last three, though now she has learned the leader’s power is hair that turns into knives, until backup gets here.

Pearl keeps her breathing quiet, movements still as she listens for where the physical powered pair are moving.

A plan that lasts all of two seconds when Leader Knife-Hair turns a corner completely silently and not where Pearl thought they’d been in front of the doors to blink at her and then catch her abrupt lunge on another freaking knife.

“Doll. Banner.” They order, oh hey names for that report she’s definitely writing after this, not currently sporting any handicaps like her, and Pearl’s new overly strong friends show up to continue beating her into pulp.

She gets a few good hits in, eyes, groin, throat, gut, but she has one arm, one and a half legs, and only hopefully two lungs.

So she mostly unsurprisingly ends up on the ground, half pinned in place and ignoring any pain signals that are coming from her wild thrashing.

“Boss.” One of Doll and Banner says, whichever one is not doing their best to keep her pinned and she just manages to catch sight of something being tossed in the air before her hood is pulled back and her face half-slammed into the ground. And there’s the sting of a needle and something liquid and she screams, throwing a leg out (and definitely pulling something) to get just enough purchase to push herself up and slam her good elbow into whatever part of Doll/Banner is closest.

Luckily it’s something painful and their hold loosens enough she’s able to rip herself (literally, she felt a chunk of hair go) out of their hold and up, away.

Pearl’s vision is already wobbling, which is Not a good sign, and she snarls at the two heavy-hitters sizing her up warily.

“It’s done.” Knife-Hair says into the cell behind them, Not a good sign, before flipping it closed and looking back at her vaguely unimpressed, before the warehouse doors open and Pearl glances towards them to see three white masked Commission agents in the entrance, which, maybe not the rescuers she’d anticipated, but ones she would take. Her ribs are definitely broken and she is definitely drugged, as apparent by her kneeling on the ground. Her vision is very much going along with her ability to stay even this much upright.

“Thank you for your services once again.” The lead Commission agent says, a nod sending their two assistants towards her.

Huh?

“Of course. Though I will mention the analysis of Lupus we were given was inaccurate.” Knife-Hair replies calm. “Should The Commission require similar services again, assurance would be required a similar mistake doesn’t occur.”

Oh.

The balance beam slides out from under her.

In training this would be where Gem catches her. A quick grab to righten her, or stepping over to put herself between Pearl and the ground before she fell too far. Some teasing comment or facial expression as she does, maybe with a trace of concern if she thought something was wrong.

Gem hasn’t been around for a while.

But it was Gem.

Gem would catch her.

The blank white masks of the Commission come closer.

 ☽  〇  ☾

Gem is hit over the side of the roof, and Tilly follows her from her hiding spot, Pearl too distracted turning towards the danger, where the hit had come from, to tell her no.

Her knife hits the hero Scattershot directly in the neck before he has a chance to fire again or defend himself.

Then Pearl registers the others in the former group of six.

“Well,” the maskless woman in a fitted purple skirt suit and heels says, “that was rather dramatic, wasn’t it.”

“I have the Director.” Pearl says into her comms, not breaking her gaze with the woman in front of her with four white-masked guards around her. “Orchard and 43rd. Four others.”

“Moon, don’t fight her alone.” Tango replies almost instantly. “We don’t— ack— We don’t know her power or training. We don’t really know anything about her.”

“If all this was just for me, you could have simply arranged a meeting.” The Director says, gesturing around them gracefully.

“It wasn’t.” Pearl states flatly. She thinks her coms have been turned to pick up everything on her side.

“Someone find a way to get to Moon now.” Etho calls in, voice tight and pitched up, and Pearl can’t think about that right now. “Is anyone close to Hati?” He asks.

“Well you have my attention now anyway.” The Director says, walking forward lightly, guards in perfect step with her. “Care to say what this is about?”

“Not here—” Cleo starts before something cuts her connection and Pearl exhales steadily.

Four guards, The Director. All unknown powers, one possibly to do with her comms going out, but maybe someone else. Unknown skill too, she doesn’t recognize any of them.

“A villain can’t burn down a city?” She asks. Stall. She has to stall. She would prefer not to, but she doesn’t know enough information to get into this fight. Not really. And her wolves are needed elsewhere, Pearl pushing at them to not come to her. She’ll be fine. Other people won’t.

“So you are the focal point.” The Director says, smiling. “I thought so.” She’s not. But if that’s what The Director wants to think…

“What? Surprised I’d come back for a little revenge after I was tortured and murdered?” Pearl doesn’t change her posture much, she still needs to be ready. Just in case.

“Well, a bit perhaps.” The Director says idly, head tilted. The guards don’t move a hair.“You always did have such righteous morals back as a hero.” Her voice almost hits disdain on the word, everything else calm and placid as a summer lake.

“Shame we weren’t able to train you properly the first time. If this is your skill now, you really could have been a wonderful asset.” She says, looking through Pearl with a gaze like a scalpel, and Pearl doesn’t. Let herself. Flinch.

She can’t.

“I think I’d rather die.” Pearl says.

Now the guards shift ever so slightly.

Pearl wishes her comms were working.

“Yes. That is the conclusion to this isn’t it.” The Director says with a sigh. “You are aware you won’t be coming back of course. Whatever that takes from our side to do so.” And Pearl readies herself for the fight. She’d get herself out of this. She always did eventually.

“Get away from her.” Gem says, hauling herself up the last section of the fire escape and into sharp, swift strides, suit ripped and bloody in a few places, visor missing, but not limping, not holding anything carefully.

“Are you turning on The Commission as well, Huntress?” The Director asks, tilting her head lightly, voice perfectly casual and somehow dripping with disappointment at the same time.

“Cervus.”

“My name, is Cervus.” Gem says. Voice as sure as the first time she said it. Back straight, feet shoulder width apart, eyes steady.

“Hmm.” The Director’s disappointment grows, before she’s tapping some button and speaking into a comm. “Yes. No, none of the Mountaineers are being kept.” She says into it, distractedly waving a hand to her personal guards. “Figure out the PR for that before this mess is cleared up.” Gesturing them forward to deal with her and Gem.

Pearl shifts her stance in preparation for the fight, startling when Gem swiftly slides into position at her back, but then they’re fighting and Pearl can’t afford to be distracted, can’t afford to misstep. She goes for the kill, doesn’t care about how Gem will react, because the plan is to take out the entire Commission, anyone who fights. And they’re protecting The Director.

The first body the drops isn’t one of hers. The guard’s neck snapped even through their armour, and Pearl knows the strength needed for that. It’s a lot less than what’s needed to incapacitate them.

The next body is one of hers. Throat slit, but she’s down to her last knife, one more with Gem.

She doesn’t… doesn’t want to understand what Gem’s doing.

But she does.

Gem was always good at acting good. Always turned desperate eyes on anything orange-red in the forest, as long as no one but her was looking. Left their apartment to follow her on patrol that night.

Pearl knows it’s not going to change much about the future. Gem’s still a hero, she’s still a villain. But she can trust Gem is fighting on their side.

The last two fall in quick succession, Pearl isn’t even sure who did what, and Gem’s the only one with a knife now (Pearl’s, passed underhand), and already she turns to The Director, watching impassively from the sidelines.

“Your turn.” Gem half hisses out, and Pearl twitches forward to stop her. The Director’s calm, too calm.

“Stop that.” She orders Gem, flicking her fingers down, and Gem collapses.

“What did you do?” Pearl demands, shifting in front of Gem’s body along with Tilly. She doesn’t know how she feels about her, not fully, but she doesn’t want her dead.

“Hmm, how interesting, she has no bottom limit.” The Director says, not paying Pearl any attention, staring past her to Gem with a curious expression.

“What did you do?” So Pearl lunges at her.

“Ah, none of that now from you either.” The Director says, with another gesture and suddenly there’s the feeling of something in her head and Tilly is jerkily moving in front of her, blocking her from The Director.

“So it isn’t just pure orders, how curious.” The… worms in her head shift and turn and Pearl’s vision is forced into one of her wolves’, Villy, as she stumbles, feet slipping out from under her.

“What—What are you doing?” Pearl asks, the pressure on her head increasing as the things twist through and around her links to her pack. She needs— Just needs to move a couple steps closer.

“Don’t fight it. I hear it just makes things more painful.” The Director says idly, fingers and hands moving in slow, twisting movements. Don’t stumble. “And put simply, I’m directing your power.” She’s so calm. Pearl’s brain and head hurt, and it’s hard to think around the tendrils in any meaningful way as they shift and her thoughts—

“Your power is quite useful afterall, Lupus.” The Director continues. Forcing her power through Pearl and over her wolves. “Such a shame we didn’t do enough testing to find this out. The use cases are rather numerous.” She says, before actually glancing at her for once. “I don’t suppose there is any way for you to come back, is there?”

“Go to hell.” Pearl spits out.

“No, I didn’t think so.” The Director says and sighs. “Such a waste.”

“Well best to get the most use out of it while possible.” And all of Pearl’s wolves Stop, their minds confused and panicked, overlaying Pearl’s as she sees everything they do, hears and smells and feels everything they are.

“Now then, time to end this annoying conflict and put everything back as it should be, with everyone in their proper roles.” The Director’s voice comes from somewhere, in front, near Pearl.

“You’re wrong.” Pearl forces out. “You’re going to lose.” Trying to focus on her vision, her senses.

“No. That would be a villain’s role.” The Director says, not even looking at her as she stares out through her wolves eyes, turning her hands slowly inwards, forcing them to turn towards the closest people on their side.

A group of small-time villains fighting their way forwards. Illume as he stands with gritted teeth between a group of Commission soldiers and Ananke hurriedly stitching up a head wound on Enigma, Quandary at her side, Oli at his still singing. Doc, missing his arm and frustrated but not scared, never scared. A man in bright pink and yellow giving directions to an angry man in red and black armour and a confused one in silver. Grian perched on the roof of some building, entirely focused on whatever’s below him, back to Billy. Mazlov furiously swearing under his breath as he helps some vigilante or villain with a broken leg down into a tunnel. Gem, unconscious on the same roof as her. Etho, darting between soldier and soldier as he continues fighting his way out of the knot of them. Tango, looking back at Silly with concern even as he holds the area around the Commission Tower in an illusion.

They don’t know what’s happened.

Don’t know what’s going to happen.

All of them in danger.

Because of her.

Tango and Etho and the other villains, Oli and Enigma and Quandary, BigB if they don’t win this, Jimmy and the other restaurant staff, Zedaph, Grian, and Scar and Mumbo and the other heroes who are fighting with them, Gem.

Tango and Etho who saw her hiding and starving on the streets and offered their hands even when she snarled and snapped at them.

Always biting the hand that feeds her even if she doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean this. Doesn’t want this!

Doesn’t know what to do even as her wolves, her pack, fight against the control.

The blood that’s followed her her entire life, silver eyes and ginger hair and catch poles and white masks and pentobarbital and adult’s voices telling her everything that feels wrong.

The Commission a force, a constant, like gravity and momentum.

Why did they think they could beat it? Take it down?

Everyone she cares about in danger, true danger, and even with her wolves fighting the control it’s not enough. Pearl isn’t enough. She can’t save them.

The tidal wave about to crash down around her.

…

No.

It’s like what Joe said that one time.

The easiest choice they could ever make.

Pearl straightens her posture back to perfect.

Grips her pack, her wolves, tight for just a second.

Tilly, and Milly, and Matchbox and Mailbox, and Villy and Billy and Silly and Jilly and Lilly.

And then Pearl lets go.

Her hands scream, fingertips black, as she moves them. Blinks blood out of her right eye, ignores the pull and pain across her entire body as she pushes forwards, the way her lungs want to cough and contract, the numbness on her lips and burning down her throat.

She ducks, twists, broken arm out, because she learned this. They taught her this.

Never be where they expect.

Pearl would laugh if she could. Can barely pull her lips into a smirk as it is.

There’s copper and lake water and poison bubbling up her throat.

“Villian’s roles’re t’ die.” She forces out anyway.

The sun beams overhead. Sunlight warm against her skin, glinting off of the crescent moon earring she grips, half sunken into The Director’s throat.

She gurgles something, raising her hands to grasp at Pearl's wrists, fingers slipping in the blood and torn skin, and she’s not done. Has to finish the job.

Pearl doesn’t let her grip waver a hair, and yanks her earring back, stumbling to fall back flat against the roof, pain of every kind imaginable coursing through her body. Overloading her senses enough they barely register.

She can barely even see, shapes and colors blurring as her vision fails. Things moving in and out of what she can see. Sounds she almost recognizes filtering through her one mostly working ear.

The sun still shining bright above, like she’s back in the clearing or on The Hungry Hermit’s balcony garden or floating on a pond or on a skyscraper's roof, fur at her back and her pack next to her.

Pearl closes her eyes like she always does.

The city burns. Fighting and villains and death, and Gem doesn’t care.

She ignores everything as she runs.

Trying to get there.

Needing to get there in time.

She’s not in her full uniform. Hair unbraided, not wearing her vest or armour, leg straps and belt and sword back in her apartment. Not “hero-ready”.

Gem doesn’t care.

She just has to get to her.

The city doesn’t matter.

Not with Iris’s words echoing in her ears. Everything else from the meeting it’d interrupted. The video still playing across the screens and through radios and speakers around her.

Gem has to find her.

One of Mumbo’s screens had shown her. For just a second.

Walking up Main street.

A jacket with the hood pulled up, false ears on top and sleeves tucked into bracers, pants going into fur lined boots, and a wide fabric belt with a long trailing end.

All snow white as the eight giant wolves that ranged around her.

White as bone apart from the blood red stars that match the one painted on the forehead of the smaller, normal sized, wolf that walked exactly next to her.

(There’d been fighting. Of course there’d been fighting. That’d been the point.)

Gem hadn’t left quick enough. Throwing herself from her chair. Tearing herself from Grian’s grasp. Ignoring the team’s yelling and words.

She’d always been the fastest out of all of them. Could be the fastest.

But she’s not on Main street anymore.

There’s only the fighting and fires.

She can’t find her.

She needs to find her.

There are villains, and vigilantes, and heroes, and Commission agents, and civilians, and none of them are who she’s looking for.

Her head feels too panicked. Too much noise and scent and sight, and none of it matters.

She barely understands her actions, what she’s doing.

She’s not here.

Gem saw her.

On Mumbo’s computer, on the occasional news feed that comes through the static of her visor.

Spins at every flicker of white.

Chasing the sight through the city.

She ends up on the roofs. Less damaged than the streets. Less busy. Fewer people who attack or run from her.

She doesn’t know how far she’s gone. How long it’s been

None of it matters.

The figure in front of her with a red four pointed star on her back and a tail-like sash, staring out at the city, figuring out her next move.

“Pearl…” Gem says, staring. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud. Actually admitted everything. Everything and nothing in a single word. The only word she could say.

And Pearl looks back, eyes cold and untrusting, and god she should. It’s her and Gem’s hurt her so many times. Failed her so much.

“What do you want, Gem?” Pearl asks, voice flat, uncaring if anyone’s around to hear, before Gem can really gather her scattered thoughts and what does Gem want?

Gem wants her.

Gem wants to have not been so stubborn.

She wants to have argued harder against becoming “Huntress”.

She wants to have made it to the warehouse on time.

She wants to have never let The Commission pull her away from Pearl.

She wants to have never become heroes.

Gem wants to be kids again.

Hand in hand with Pearl in woods that are gone now.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She finds herself saying, wishing she could move closer, hold onto Pearl because she’s still not sure she won’t disappear. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I didn’t mean— didn’t know— I’m sorry. For not believing you. For not being there. For everything. I should have. I’m sorry.” Pearl stares at her incredulously.

“You’re apologizing?” She asks, disbelieving. “Now? Now you’re apologizing? After everything you’ve done?” Pearl cries, and all Gem can do is apologize.

“I’m sorry. I can’t— I don’t know how else— I should have believed you.” She says as Pearl stares at her like she can’t believe her audacity, like she can’t believe her words and is waiting for the other shoe to fall. “I should have listened. I should have realized earlier. I shouldn’t have let them drive us apart or hurt you. I should have been faster that night. I should have pushed myself more. Gotten there earlier. Before the explosion. Before they took you.” And all Gem can do is list off her faults. Apologize for all of them. Ignore her tears.

“You left.” Pearl says, voice blank.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have that morning. Shouldn’t’ve any of the times they called me out alone. I didn’t make it—” Gem chokes, visor blurring as she cries. “I tried to get there, but I didn’t push myself—” Pearl cuts her off. “No. You left the apartment to go on patrol.” She says, shoulders back, eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t catch you. I was supposed to be there.” Gem apologizes. “I’m supposed to be with you. I wasn’t fast enough and I’m sorry. I tried and it’s my fault and I didn’t know.”

“But you left.”

Gem doesn’t get what Pearl’s saying. Some importance, something changed. A shift she doesn’t understand but it only matters because Pearl isn’t as wary of her anymore.

“I’m sorry.” She repeats. The only thing she can do. “You were right. Are right. I didn’t want— I got too fixated on everything good The Commission was doing. I didn’t want to admit it was flawed. That what they were doing, what I was doing was wrong. I shouldn’t have left you. I should have known it was you from that first fight. Should have tried talking to you. Done something.” She spits out, all of her guilt over failing Pearl, over everything, falling out like viscera at her feet. “I should have looked into the explosion more. Hell, I should have stopped to consider why The Commission was even giving us separate assignments. I just thought it was like training, but I was wrong. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She says. Tears continuing to fall from her face. “I didn’t know, but that’s not an excuse, because I shou—”

“Just…” Pearl cuts in, tired. “Just stop. Stop apologizing." Frustrated. Gem wants to reach out. Fix things. Take her burden.

“If you’re not here to try and stop me and the others, just go home and wait it out.” Pearl continues, waving a hand out at the city.

“I can help.” Gem offers. She can’t leave her. Won’t. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Pearl draws back, crossing her arms. Wrong thing. “Villain. Remember?”

“Besides, you want to fight against The Commission? The place you’ve worked for for the past decade?” Pearl asks derisively, arms still crossed.

“They killed people. Killed you.” Gem says. “I’m a hero.” Supposed to be one anyway. She’s not a very good one. Never there when anyone truly needs her.

“Go home Gem.” Pearl tells her, almost rolling her eyes.

“I did.” Gem says, not taking her eyes off of Pearl even once.

“No.” Pearl’s reply is flat. “Stop chasing after deer in the woods.” Pearl says, pale blue eyes locked on hers, already disappointed in what Gem is.

“You’re not dead.” It comes automatic. She’s not. She’s not dead. Pearl’s alive and in front of her. She’s still here.

“I died!” Pearl screams. “I died Gem. Over and over and over again! The Pearl you knew is dead. I’m not her. Go home, Gem.” Her mask covers a lot of her face. In white shining material. Gem knows what it looks like when Pearl cries though. And everything snaps back into place.

“I can’t. Apparently my home is dead.” Gem says, all grief and desperation and other emotion evaporated. “Except I don’t believe that.” She has to take care of Pearl. “You still have the scar on the underside of your chin from falling out of the tree during practice when we were 15. Still lead with your left ever so slightly. Still spread your fingers when dodging, even if it’s just a twitch. You still have Tilly, and brown hair, and blue eyes, and a stronger set of morals than me.” Gem says, confidant and sure and focused. “I’d bet you still set all the ingredients out before cooking and clean the pans as soon as you’re done with them. You still followed the news about moths and remembered G’s nickname and know my power better than me sometimes. You’re Pearl.” She states, like a fact, because it is one. “You’re still Pearl. No matter how you’ve changed, you’re Pearl.” Her Pearl. Alive and different, but still Pearl.

“How can you say that?” Pearl half yells at her. “I’ve killed people. I’m a villain. You’re a hero.”

“So you have layers.” Gem shrugs, eyes fixed on her partner. “People change, but you’re still Pearl. And I never cared that much about being a hero. Not until it was the only way to keep a part of you.” She tells her, opening all her weak spots and secrets.

“I was a terrible hero.” Pearl says, and all Gem hears is the same tone she’d use when talking about dangerous powers, dangerous animals.

“You were a great hero. The only one between two of us.” Gem says, factually. Knowing the difference between popular and good. Especially now. “Do you think Riptide’s still available?” She asks and Pearl shakes her head, overwhelmed and distracted and confused. And that’s okay. Gem can wait as long as she needs. It’s only fair.

“What are you talking about?” Pearl cries, posture cornered and defensive. “Why aren’t you leaving? Not home, fine! The city is on fire. Go! Be a hero!”

“I was only a hero when I was with you.” Gem doesn’t move. Even when Pearl flinches back, because she can’t move closer towards her. Not yet. It would only scare her.

“Maz! Are you able to get to me!” Joel yells through her comms, an override. Desperation in his voice.

Pearl laughs. Brokenly.

“I can try!” Skizz calls back over the same frequency, static in the background as Mumbo keeps the connection open. “How ba—” He cuts off with a yelp and the coms switch off with a sharp crack.

Gem should go help.

But she can’t leave Pearl.

Won’t.

Not again.

“No.” Pearl says, shaking her head. “No, you’re supposed to—” Voice breaking, unable to finish the sentence, and she can hear what Pearl’s really saying.

“There’s no such thing as an evil person.” Gem says, stealing Skizz’s words from earlier. “Only evil actions. And I don’t care about yours.” Pearl opens her mouth to argue more, before suddenly straightening, eyes drawn off to the distance, scanning without seeing as Tilly or one of her other wolves pass her information. Attention split to her coms, posture so familiar that Gem wishes she could show it to her, say “Look. Look. You’re still Pearl.”

“Your team’s in trouble.” Pearl says, almost all business. “You should go. Help them.”

“Maybe, but so do you. And I don’t think I’d get there before anyone else.” Pearl needs her. “I’m not leaving you.” She has to be useful somehow.

“You don’t get it.” Pearl says. “You still don’t get it.” She shakes her head, bared teeth, hand twitching up like she wants to grab at her hair.

“Pearl—”

“You won’t let me go!” Pearl screams at her. “But you didn’t keep me!” She snarls, the tears and fear stripped away. “I’m not the Pearl you knew, more and less than her because The Commission ripped it out of me!”

“I am a villain. I’ve killed people and broken laws, and I don’t care.” Pearl says, Blood Moon’s face over hers. “I don’t care!” She cries. “But at least I know that. Have you even looked at what’s happening?” She asks, throwing her hands wide to encompass the fires and city and smoke. “Did you even look around while running after me?”

“You’re chasing after deer. And I don’t mean Fwhip.” Pearl spits out. “You’re not looking at the trees or the wood. Where the hell are you Gem?” She demands. “Look around and tell me where you are!”

Gem looks.

Brain stuttering to a halt as she— The city’s on fire.

The city is on fire.

There’d been bodies in the streets.

Injured people she ran past.

Her team had called after her in the beginning.

Her team had asked if she was alive.

“You’re a hero.” Pearl says flatly, no longer yelling. “And that’s fine. Someone has to be in the story.”

Gem looks back at her.

How can she say Gem is a hero?

“You didn’t save me? Fine, it sucks, but I don’t need saving anymore.” Pearl continues, sounding almost like absolution. “Go save someone who does.” She orders, jerking her chin up. “I’ve a job to do.”

She—

Pearl stares at her, and Gem can’t read her like before, but she knows she thinks Gem’s still a hero.

Expecting her to go and do “the right thing”.

Pearl’s so much paler, thinner. Scars Gem doesn’t recognize just barely not covered by her mask, a starburst in the hollow of her throat. Posture not quite a hero stance, closer to Ethos’, The Tangler’s.

There’s a silver crescent half hidden in her hair. Flat and thin like a sickle. Nothing like the one Gem’s managed to hold onto. Small and gold and soft swirls like currents.

“I—”

Who am I kidding this is about Pearl do her and Gem ever talk again

In a way.

Many, many years in the future, Gem visits the prison. There is no redemption for the things the Gs did. They were her coworkers, her colleagues, fellow figureheads of justice, and her friends, but a mistake that large cannot be undone.

They talk. There is hope in Pearl’s eyes, a longing for reconciliation, but Gem cannot see her. This person in front of her, separated by thick glass and handcuffs, is not the person she cared for all those years ago. If that person ever even existed, she’s long dead. She died the moment she let Cleo slip into Gem’s head and direct that arrow. Every aspect of Pearl beyond that point was a lie.

Gem mulls over a lot of what-ifs in her time apart from Pearl. If Pearl hadn’t allowed Gem to be caught in the crossfire, where would Gem have drawn the line? If Pearl had looped her into her plans, at what point would Gem have turned her in? If Pearl had died too that night at the theater, how long would Gem have been able to deny her role in it?

No amount of hypotheticals change how she feels in the present, what Pearl did in the past, or how she’ll act in the future.

Another day, another solo patrol, though Gem’s luckily gotten one of the easier shifts and areas, not that she’d say that outloud or the q-word her patrol’s been so far.

“Huntress!” Someone calls, not panicked, and she turns with a smile to the teen who stretches their hands out, a white envelope in them, half biting their lip. “This is for you.” They say and Gem takes it from them.

“Thank you.” She says, smile coming easier in honesty. Gem’s missed the notes and small gifts from civilians they’d get occasionally. People a bit too nervous with all the villainous activity. It’s a good sign they’ve started happening again.

“Read it soon!” They call, already rushing away, nerves and lateness she’d guess. Their backpack bouncing as they run towards a bus stop, hands tight on the straps.

She opens it up, not something they’re really supposed to do, but she can tell it’s just a letter inside and she’s not picking up anything wrong, no signs of tampering or strange smells.

Deer Artemis,

I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move, but I suppose that was a bit

presumptuous of me. Would you like to go on a picnic together?

Don’t worry about writing a reply. Whether you show up or not can be your answer.

I’ll be waiting in the park at lunchtime under the aspen tree with HotWings.

- Selene

:)

Her breathing stops.

“Mined, where’re the Guys?” Her voice says.

“Huntress?” Her earpiece clicks faintly. “Why are you asking?” Mumbo’s confused about something.

“I got a letter from Blood Moon.” Someone that sounds a lot like her says evenly. Impulse and Skizz are off for today. Something important with an old friend. Joel’s on patrol. Grian and Scar are supposed to be on patrol.

HotWings.

She was supposed to be on patrol that night.

“Their trackers aren’t working,” Mumbo’s voice comes back, pitched up in worry. “I’m trying to pull them up through—” Gem bolts.

She can’t lose another person.

She can’t.

 ☽  〇  ☾

The park is evacuating as she gets there. Mumbo. Probably.

She can’t think.

Eyes scanning over the benches and trees and structures and grass for the familiar figures as she races through them.

She knows where the aspen tree is.

There’s only one figure under the thin white tree.

Gem forces her heart slower, stance ready, set.

“You actually came this time.” Blood Moon says with a tilt to her head and sardonic grin. “Is it because the bosses told you to?”

“Where are they?” She can’t see them. Where are they? They can’t be far. They can’t.

“Who?” Blood Moon asks tilting her head further, eyes open and brows furrowed slightly like in confusion.

“I’m not playing your games, Blood Moon.” Sword. She can’t see any sign of them. “Where are they?”

“I think you have me mixed up with The Tangler, deerest, I’m not much of a game master.” The villain teases, grinning, and Gem can’t see them.

“Where Are THEY?!” She yells. Single-minded.

“Where are my teammates? I will kill you if you’ve hurt them.” She snarls out, focus entirely locked on to Blood Moon now, itching to fight but that’s not what she’s here for.

“Gee, such loyalty.” Blood Moon’s grin and words drip with contempt. “Like these ones better than the last?” And Gem lunges with a wordless snarl.

She’s not thinking like she should be. She can’t though.

The villain laughs, not delighted, sharp. Meets her lunge in perfect counter, catches her sword on her scythe.

They fight.

Blood Moon dancing around her with her almost too fluid movements, but Gem’s lost her own. No grace to her attacks except what’s necessary. She doesn’t care. No one’s around. The Commission would probably deem it acceptable for the situation.

“Tell me what you’ve done with them!” She demands, keeping up her assault.

“I’ve done absolutely nothing.” Blood Moon says, lies. “Not recently anyway, but I doubt you’re talking about weeks old fights.” She’s done something though. Is part of some plan.

She keeps blocking Gem’s attack, keeps parrying and dodging and sometimes trading an attack for her own, but she’s not messing up. Not yet. Not tired enough. Gem keeps attacking, forcing the villain to keep moving and she keeps following her. The park’s grass turning to concrete sidewalks and asphalt streets and Gem only cares about the changes in the scenery as much as they might change the balance of the fight. Mumbo had the park’s location, he could search through it for Scar and Grian. Meanwhile she can work on ripping their location out of Blood Moon.

“Where are Hotguy and Cuteguy?!” She snarls, backing her words up with a double slash. Backing Blood Moon down the empty street.

“Shouldn’t you know better than me with your fancy locator map and all?” The villain asks, mockingly. Pale blue eyes fixed on Gem as she sweeps her scythe forward, forcing her back. Enough to give her just a second headstart to bolt backwards and down a side street in a short-lived chase that ends when Gem slams her into a building’s wall, sword striking the brick only an inch or two away from Blood Moon as she dodges, laughing, out of Gem’s hold.

Gem follows, fixed on the villain, with a snarl as she weaves backwards down the side street, not quite enough space to use her scythe to its full extent, and advantage Gem should be getting more benefit from if it wasn’t for the fact Blood Moon rarely moves where she should. Keeps pursuing her down through the other streets it intersects. Fights.

Blood Moon ducks through a door and Gem doesn’t think twice, can’t smell or hear anything unusual, just the villain, the sirens, the city.

Gem fights her through the buildings, large factories and workshops mainly, half empty structures Blood Moon ducks in and out of. Chasing her down as she demands answers and the villain continues to laugh and give nothing but lies.

And then they’re in a warehouse and it's a taunt, a jab at her. Her teammates’ missing again and a warehouse and she can't be late, she can't afford to be too late again.

“Where are they? What did you do with them?” Gem demands, using her anger her desperation as fuel to strike faster, harder. She has to find them. They have to be okay. She can’t be late again.

“I didn’t do anything, deerest.” Blood Moon sneers at her, still matching her strikes. “Thought you would have figured that out by now. Too slow on the draw, yet again.” She says, words cutting through Gem more than any hit she’s managed to land on her.

“No! Tell me what you’ve done with my team!” Gem screams, lashing out with her sword over and over. “You don’t get them! You don’t get to kill any more of us!” Pushing her back to a corner made out of the crates stacked along the edges, the back. Wood and cardboard and metal shelves on concrete floor not streaked with ash.

“Hardly seems fair when you’re killing us.” Blood Moon hisses out, eyes flashing, but Gem’s not quite listening to her. There’s sunlight through the warehouse windows. The afternoon sun just managing to beam in through the glass. Gold as firelight at night.

“Where are they? You don’t get to take them! You don’t get to touch any of my teammates!” Gem screams. “YOU DON’T GET HER!”  And both of them freeze, breathing heavier, watching each other, muscles shaking slightly because she hadn’t meant to say that.

“Her?” Blood Moon says, deadly soft.

“What? Do you mean your former pet?” She spits out scathingly. Something in Gem stills. A sword being forged plunged into water.

“Don’t talk about my partner like that.” Gem’s hands tighten around her sword.

“Your partner?!” Blood Moon cries before busting into laughter. “Lupus was never your partner.” She says, wide-eyed and grinning, voice dripping in disdain.

“Shut UP!” Gem lunges. “You don’t get to decide that! No one does! Not you! Or the press! Or the Commission!” She slashes out with each sentence, driving the villain back. “Lupus is my partner!” She screams at the world. Like she can’t at the world.

“Oh Deer Hart,” She— Bl— Pe— she— She says, with a perfect block and tilting forward over their crossed blades, neck long and exposed, only just not touching the edges, and, no. “I’m the only one who gets to decide that.” No.

“Lupus wasn’t your partner.” She says, throwing her weight forward to break their locked weapons and matching Gem’s strikes from before. “Lupus was the puppy you found in the woods and brought home with you.” A perfect mirror. “Lupus was the dog that kept getting bigger and made your parents nervous no matter how well you trained her.” Easy confidence in Commission trained moves she performs perfectly. “Lupus was the wolf your parents took out back and shot while you were out playing with friends and then told you ran away.” Just as perfect as Gem. Just as exact. No. “Lupus is the wolf you shot dead while out hunting only half a year later.” No. That’s not— it’s not—

“Shut up.” Gem catches the scythe on her sword. Running on reflexes. She snickers.

“Aaawww, Geeeem~” No. No. No, no, no, no, no. “I thought you liked listening to me talk.” It’s fake. It’s fake, they just found out her identity. Remember the constellation?

“Stop— Stop pretending to be her.” The necklaces. It’s not real. Not true. Focus. It’s just a trick. “You’re not Lupus.” Gem states, and she snorts.

“Of course I’m not Lupus.” She says, still wielding the scythe. “Lupus died.” A patrol gone wrong. She’d been too late. The grave undisturbed. It’s not real. “Took four tries, but hey,” she winks, moving back, “The Commission just had to remove the Hart.” Puts a hand over her chest, overdramatic like she always had been when teasing Gem.

There’s blood on her gloves.

“You’re not her.” Gem glares, recenters, snaps the rest of her attention and focus back.

“Can’t even say my name?” The villain asks. “What? You feel guilty?” Mocking her. Mocking Pearl.

“Shut up.”

“Nah.” Blood Moon says, a perfect replica and Gem hates her. “I haven’t listened to you for years! Why start now?” She asks, grinning Pearl’s grin and apparently there is something worse than never seeing it again!

“Shut up!” Gem screams, shoving her grief away, lunging forward, back to attacking because then there’s less chance of seeing Pearl’s face and voice and mannerisms twisted onto the villain. “Stop acting like you’re Pearl!” She yells at the imposter. The woman who’s stolen parts of her partner and is wearing them like a cheap costume, like they don’t belong to someone who's never coming back and Gem’s never going to get to see or hear again. “Pearl died! And I don’t know who made you, but you’re not Pearl and I’m going to kill them for doing this to her!” She doesn’t care if she dies doing it. They don’t get to do this. Not to her. Not to Pearl.

“Wow!” Blood Moon laughs, incredulous, sad, as she dodges and parries Gem’s attacks. “You are so thoroughly brainwashed, it’s almost funny!” It’s the metal that makes the cracking sounds in her voice. Blood Moon’s eyes shining out from behind her white-witch moth mask that Gem is going to Burn. “Can’t admit what’s in front of you because they told you not to see!”

“Shut up!”

“Bit of a broken record there deerest.” Blood Moon mocks and something buzzes, just barely audible to Gem’s boosted hearing. “We’ll try this again later.” The villain says, half smiling like the ball as she moves back, expression blanking out slightly, not falling, just a neutral mask, something composed and uncaring. “I really thought you might actually listen this time.” She mumbles, almost too hard to hear, and it’s part of the trick, something calculated because they know her powers, how high she has them right now, and think it will make her question things more.

“You aren’t leaving!” Gem calls, moving forwards. She can’t leave. “We’re not finish—” Gem doesn’t even get to the end of her sentence before there’s a wolf suddenly at Blood Moon’s side (she didn’t whistle, the moon’s not up) and then they’re both gone and her sword slices through empty air.

“—ntress?! Huntress, can you hear me? Huntress let me know if you can hear this!” Her comms cut back in. Mumbo’s voice loud and frantic in the empty warehouse. “Oh no, oh no. Huntress?! Do you hear me, Huntress?” He asks. Panicked more than a little. She needs to answer.

“Mined.”

“—unt— Oh thank goodness, I’ve been trying to contact you.” Mumbo rushes out, relief obvious. “C and H aren’t with Blood Moon.” He says quickly. “They never were.” The warehouse stays quiet and empty. She should be leaving. “The Doctor showed up in the Aquatine district and their comms got cut off. They were only just able to radio back in. Unhurt, mostly.” That’s good. Makes sense.

“Blood Moon vanished as well.” Gem states flatly. “They were most likely working together. A distraction for the team.” And suddenly she thinks of something.

“The others,” she rushes out, “J—Illume, Mazlov, and Excavator, are they okay? Where are they? What—”

“Everyone’s okay and accounted for.” Mumbo cuts her off, and she breathes. Lets her shoulders fall ever so slightly. “Illume only had a minor encounter with Enigma and Quandary on his way over, and none of their trackers ever went out. I checked as soon as you went dark, plus visual on Mazlov and Excavator considering they’re not in uniform.” He explains as she leaves the warehouse behind. They’re okay. They’re all okay.

“Illume should be at your location shortly.” Mumbo continues. “I’m setting up a search around the area you’re in now. Do you know which way Blood Moon went?” He asks. Assuming the villain had ran.

“No.” She’ll explain later.

The change in her powers.

Gem needs to get to her teammates right now.

That’s more important.

It’s not her.

It’s not.

Gem can’t even remember when the fight began, just that they are. Just once again it’s her team, holding the line, keeping… keeping someone or something safe, taking on the villains. Saving the day.

She doesn’t feel like a savior.

The soldier in the dirt, the swordsman in the mud, hunter lost in the woods.

The woman in front of her always grinning as they cross blades, again, and again, and again.

Inside and outside and the scenery blurs together as Gem fights, keeps matching each strike with her own, moves as familiar as breathing.

In and out and in and out and duck and parry and in and lunge and dodge and out.

Gem’s done this for years.

Over a decade.

Almost 11 years.

Not yet half her life, but far, far longer than she’s done anything else.

She’s a hero. A fighter.

So she fights.

Sword against scythe, knife against sickle, staff against staff.

Metal ringing and wood clacking. Razor edged because she’s intended to kill her.

A dance that’s only going to end one way.

Gem barely thinks as she fights, attention wholly, solely, on the woman in front of her. White armour cloaked in blood, mask shimmering like a mirage over her face, grin steady and constant. Her limbs know what to do. Every move perfect and exact and trained into her.

She fights like she’s supposed to.

A hero.

A soldier.

A Huntress.

She cuts through the air with her blade, pushing her back, following her, keep attacking, don't let them rest. Every move planned and rehearsed. Block and stab and sidestep and parry and slice and lunge and fight. She breathes and it’s her sword against the woman’s scythe. Gem strikes out in a lunge to backslash and it’s her lungs expanding. Exhale, blunt knives just ghosting past brown hair and tanned skin as she dodges, bending backwards. Scythe circling back and Gem spins, a small misstep Blood Moon catches her in, the parody of a dip, before Gem is centered again, sword and sickle crossed as the woman speaks.

“Remember your footwork, deerest.” She says quiet, lips barely moving as she reminds Gem without the Commission noticing, the mistake covered up.

Moves perfect and exact, they have to be flawless. Faultless. All on her. Gloves designed to grip her sword even soaked in blood.

She’s intended to kill her.

Huntress, catch the prey for our table.

Soldier, do your duty.

Hero, save herthem.

Pollux, you can’t die.

Fight. Stab. Slice. Parry. Dodge, kick, lunge, slice, sweep, feintparrydodgeslashspinbreathe. Muscle memory from long hours in training and sneaking out at night, always pushing themselves better, she’s a hero, knows how to fight, in perfect step, they’re going to be great. Catch the real knife, turn her parry into an attack, dodge the leg, swipe with the sword. She’s intended to kill her.

Gem pulls the knife from her belt as she turns, blocking with her sword, the reverse grip keeping it hidden even as she follows through with the turn, half inside her guard, and Gem flips the knife, light catching on the edge and Blood Moon’s attention flicks towards it, the wrong place, as Gem hooks a leg around hers and pulls. Sending them both to the ground, Gem on top, following her down as her back hits the mat in perfect form even though she’s wounded.

Gem straddles her, hand on her throat, sword in her shoulder, pressing down so she can’t buck, still expecting the fight, she always fights.

“Was it worth it?” She asks bitingly, sneering with blood on her teeth, knowing she’s lost but still trying to hide how she’s scared, upset. Wolf backed against a wall.

“What?” It’s matched by the blood on Gem’s suit and face, too warm and too cool all at the same time. Here’s how you skin your catch.

“Was it worth it?” Pearl asks, looking up at her, head at a curious, confused, tilt. One dark blue eye, one pale, as blood flows down from her spilt toned hair into the asphalt beneath.

And Gem bolts straight up in her bed gasping as her heart and lungs strain against her ribcage. 

It’s a lie.

It’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie.

The Commission checked the body—bodies, the bodies of the graves that got desecrated.

None of them were touched.

Atropos didn’t raise her.

Pearl’s still buried.

The Commission’s report on the explosion that killed Pearl is off, but Gem’s know that for years. Knows it was because of the undercover work. Some of the shadier parts of the Commission's dealings. Pearl wasn’t supposed to be there, but she was because she’d been investigating the Commission, and she’d been alone, and it was Gem’s fault. If she’d just listened—

Pearl had always been the one with the stronger sense of justice. The better set of morals.

She was a hero. She was.

She was a better hero than Gem and it killed her and Gem has to keep her legacy alive.

Because Pearl’s dead.

They know about her, the villains, and she’s going to kill them for using her like this. Her memory. But Pearl’s dead.

Pearl is dead.