He stills, breath shuddering, pulse racing. A single drop of sweat trickles down the side of his head, and he feels more than sees every hair on the nape of his neck standing on end.
Don’t turn around, he wants to scream at himself. Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, don’t turn around.
Because her words, her voice — Brothers, her presence alone — they surround him, suffocating him. Threatening to shred him down to his very core, to wring out every last ounce of resolve left in him. She speaks — taunts — of endurance, of bravery.
Even though he’s never been more afraid of anyone before in his life.
His hand flexes around his gun, though he suspects it will do very little to her. After all, she isn’t really here. She’s an avatar, an apparition, and yet…
And yet he can feel her, looming behind him.
Finally, he opens his eyes and turns. There’s nothing but determination in his eyes, clad in iron. He’s locked his fear away now, refusing to acknowledge it. Staring his nightmare down, no matter that his throat feels so tight, he can barely speak.
❝ We will stop you, ❞ he insists, echoing Ruby’s earlier words without even realizing it. ❝ Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you’re invincible. ❞
SHE LAUGHS ! A sickening, bright sound that crawls across the air like a bow against the strings of an old cello. She draws nearer, close enough that she could extend a clawed hand and pluck his eyes out.
❝ Oh, and you would know something about invincibility, wouldn’t you, tin soldier ? ❞ she croons, like a dove beyond its years. Her voice bubbles, as if she were gurgling the blood of the massacre to come. ❝ You steel yourself because you know that you are just like every other filthy, writhing human that walks across the face of Remnant . . . Sentimental. Emotional. Tell me, does it make you feel powerful, pretending that you don’t have a heart ? Pretending that you are unsusceptible to pain, to suffering ? ❞
The dark, swirling blood-red of her eyes stare deep into the steely-blue of his own. If he were to look close enough, he could see his own stone cold reflection within them. ❝ In fact . . . I empathize. ❞ Her voice dips to a tone that could only be described as warm, comforting, a smooth silk of a whisper. ❝ I understand very well, James Ironwood ----- being torn between life and death, suspended between the two like a pierrot doll being puppeteered by some cruel and unknown force. What will it take for you to cut the strings that bind you, like I did, I wonder ? The difference between you and I, perhaps the only difference, is that I do not hesitate. I do not falter. ❞
