a year.
it's been just over a year since vought came. nightmares realized, fear unleashed. they had not just come for her, though. no, when there was pounding at the door of battery ram against wood, the distinct smell of blood and hatred in the air that alerted her before anything else, they were coming for everyone.
august had been prepared. when nelrathe had burst into his office, he was already grabbing up bags and taking her by the hand, leading her to a tunnel to get out. but it wasn't enough.
the fear in his eyes as he shoved the go-bag into her arms and whispered run haunts her in the hours she does manage to sleep, just before her gaze is suddenly set upon the ceiling again and the corners of her eyes sting with tears.
august had sacrificed himself so that she would not be caught, and it's taking more than a year to rescue him. to rescue serena.
but today is the day.
the ceiling is so bare here, the bunker that once housed several starlighters, but it allows the drake to ground herself when she wakes from another restless swathe of what barely constitutes as sleep. slowly sitting up, she runs her hands through her hair, immediately pulling the messy, uncared for curls into a ponytail that is wrapped around a second time to become a bun.
she hasn't bothered with much of anything in the months that have passed with what seems like nothing of merit accomplished. the flight thirty-seven video went out days ago, and tonight? tonight they are executing the ones held dear.
william is back in her life, executing his own form of a plan alongside the woman whose shelter she takes up space in. it's all coordinated. homelander will go after them, and nelrathe will slip the carlisles out of the camp a few hundred miles away while he's busy.
standing, the drake shuffles across the concrete floor, squatting down at the bag at the end of 'her' bed to shuffle through its contents. as much as there's a part of her that wants to be presentable for august when they see each other for the first time in a year, she cannot bring herself to waste the time. instead, leathers are pulled free from the bag, laid out, stared at for a time before she disrobes and begins pulling them on.
just like old times, preparing for war. only here, she isn't the most powerful thing on the playing field.
the practicality in her armor, as little of it as there is in the form of black tactical boots, thick knee-high socks, shorts and a short-sleeved body suit, is that there's easy access to her skin. a weapon she has not utilized in decades, ripe for the plucking. a belt with garter straps to keep a knife at either of her thighs is worn as well, its fasten clipped into place as she stands in front of the only mirror in the building, broken at its face.
nelrathe stares for a minute. it takes that long to make the decision.
one of those knives is removed from its holster, her hair let down with the other hand so that she can choppily rake the blade through the strands, severing nearly two feet of messy curls from herself so that all that is left is a sloppy crop that won't get in the way or be able to be used against her.
he'll hate her for ruining herself, but he'll be safe.
fingers run through the messy strands as she replaces the knife, and though she is only hours away from stepping into a den of monsters alone, her hands do not shake. she does not fear the coming battle. she salivates over it, craves the bloodshed to come in a way that knots in her stomach and makes her certain this is why she was drawn to this planet.
william and annie have given her everything they can in the form of intelligence. she knows where the camp is, how to get to it, and that she will likely have to deal with more than just the supe guards that have been posted up to keep the 'campers' in line. serena and august are housed in the building in the center of the camp. there is a lake not a quarter mile from the edge of the gates. while william and annie hold homelander's attention, she will likely have to deal with the other two of the seven that hold the most responsibility.
even as nelrathe pulls the pack onto her back that houses the little that william had said he could do for her, she is calm. he had been nervous. she could see it under all the bravado and the piss-ass attitude. the things swirling around in his chest. a pang bounces around her own at the thought of him being something he's always hated now... that she could not have prevented it. could not have done anything to prevent any of this.
fingers curl tighter around the pack's straps as the door to the bunker building closes behind her. there isn't time for her to feel sorry for herself, or anyone else. her mind has to stay on the warpath. even william had reminded her so, before she'd left to come here. threats had gone both ways. an embrace had. despite the divorce so they could pursue new loves, he would always be her husband, in some capacity. that, she reminded him of, in the way that assured him she wouldn't allow anything to hurt serena as long as she breathed.
the trek through the woods is easy enough, the camp as broadly painted as a target on the back of michigan's landscape as if it were red paint on white paper. it's the waiting that's hard. nightfall takes far too long to come, but as ready as the drake is to charge the gates, the others need darkness.
@wihlted & @moonpehtals
