Five.
They had ended up in a world of pain. Usually, that sort of statement was a metaphor, but hey, sometimes a literal interpretation was great. Fantastic. All going swimmingly, right? The godbait had arrived and that was supposed to be the end of it, but now they were here, wherever here was - Nic
absolutely knew where here was, he just didn't want to think it - and every word that was spoken cut through flesh like a knife. Fortunately, that statement
was a metaphor, though he had the very distinct feeling that it didn't have to be.
His part of things was pretty much done; at this point it was just a matter of sticking with the team and trying not to do anything to piss off any deities, then head home and get a shower and watch a movie or something. With ice cream. This was
absolutely an ice cream required sort of day. Unfortunately, it wasn't over yet. They were in the - no, he'd decided he wasn't going to go there -
there, and it felt like they were being watched.
They usually were - they were
Hocus Locusts, after all. Someone was almost always watching them, if only to see what ridiculous thing Cait was going to do next. That was... valid. Maybe whoever was watching them felt the same way. They'd met Cait before, hadn't they?
Nic inventoried, because that was what you did when you ended up in a weird place. Summons felt... functional, but muddy. Like dragging something big through a current, going the wrong way. He could probably do it, but it'd be harder than usual. He didn't know why, but he left that to the tactical-minded people.
Five grenades, a decent bit of C4. He could blow up a whole building, if they ever found one. His eyes took in the area, the world, lit by the dim reddish light.
He should have brought more grenades.
Four.
Mission complete. The world would go back to the way it should be, with no more portals to wherever gods came from, at least for a little while. ACF would handle the cleanup, as they always did. There were teams for that, ones who specialized in rounding people up and making sure that the stories were all straight and no one remembered anything that they shouldn't. Brian had worked with a team like that, for a little while, before the Locusts. Usually he made sure to wipe all the computer records on their way out, to make it a little easier on the cleanup team.
Today, that would not be happening. He doubted he could get a connection in here, and even if he could, it probably wouldn't ping back to their home world. Generally speaking, computer systems did not work across alternate dimensions or realities. There were a couple that did, anomalies themselves, but for the most part that solution was out.
Someone else would handle it. The Locusts might have completed their initial mission, but that didn't mean they were out of things yet. The reddish fleshscape unfolded before them like something out of a video game - it reminded him a bit of that one area of
Grime, he supposed. Feaster's Lair - the one with all the teeth.
He wasn't alone. It wasn't just the team - the strange creature he'd picked up was still with him, perched on his shoulder. Brian wondered what it thought of all this, or if it had even developed the intelligence to think about it at all. Perhaps it was like coming home. It had survived the transition, in any case, which was the favorable outcome. Words were being spoken around them, fierce enough to stymie the flow of blood. In a moment, they were over. He reached up and patted the creature, wondering if it had gone through the same thing and if it needed to be reassured, or if he was just pretending it did in order to focus on something else.
He needed to focus on the area at hand. They were being watched, certainly, because that was how these things went. The watchers would likely be nearby - he could see a few shapes that they could be hiding behind, but there would be others, elsewhere. The sky was red, and empty of life. Likely, they were below. He'd have to be careful, in case they came up like antlions. Brian gave the creature a nudge to a more secure position on his shoulder, determining that putting it down might be akin to offering it up as bait.
The Locusts weren't necessarily above such things, but he wasn't going to engage with that right now. He watched the perimeter for signs of danger, checking that his rifle was loaded, and took a few cautious steps to where he could keep an eye on Cait.
She was probably just at home here as 1003, and that worried him.
Three.
It was another lovely day at the beach.
The sky was red, the waves were crashing against the crushed-sandy shore. The little crab critters were hiding, probably under the sand. Cait didn't blame them. They were in the presence of gods, after all, and they were just little guys. There were other watchers out a bit more, seeing how this was all going to go - Cait wondered who they were, or what they were. She hadn't met nearly as many of the types of things here as she'd have liked to, last time. There were ACF records of all sorts of creatures, and she wanted to see them
all. Something ELSE was watching, too, not up close - far away, distant and dangerous. Probably fun, if Cait ever had a chance to meet IT.
The sky was light, light enough that she didn't need her Secondary Sight, but she knew it was there if she needed it. A gift from a little god, undoubtedly with strings attached. There always were, but Cait had chosen to take this one. Now was the time to wait, though, and so she waited and listened to the conversation between her and Her, the Name that was started and the scream that denied it. Cait would remember it. She wouldn't be the only one.
She wasn't going to say it, though, not right here or now. Her blood was frozen for a moment and then it wasn't, which was a very weird sensation. She was going to have to see if she could come up with a spell for that, too, although it was probably horrible for people. Not that Cait didn't have plenty of other spells that were horrible for people, but they weren't really the ones she got out just for funsies.
Cait knelt down and drew a finger into the sand, investigating. The line became another, a sigil, but there was no real
magic in it, not here. Magic wouldn't work here unless Ira wanted it to, and she was obviously thinking about other things right now. The heaving breaths, the raw emotion
felt as much as it was heard - Cait had left herself open to feel every minute of it, and when the separated gods drew apart, there were tear tracks on her cheeks from where the second pair of Eyes would have been crying.
She rose, slowly, and walked over to the little goddess sitting in the sand, crying herself. Cait sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close.
Try giving her a hug. It was still good advice, she thought, even if the Goddess wasn't willing. Cait was, though, and maybe that was its own sort of magic - the only sort she had access to right now.
"Ira." A name, but not
that Name. The godbait would know she'd heard it, would know she was choosing not to use it. It wouldn't have been nice - something overheard, not something given. Not now, not yet. Certainly not before the magic was here to make it work the way it should have.
"I'm sorry."
Two.
This was going to be a day for difficult decisions. The Goddess and the Godbait were fighting, one was dying. Joshua could have gotten quite a powerful ritual off of the death of a god - it probably would have fixed Gail up in seconds, even fixed them all up. The divine high was hard to ride out, though - they'd done it before, but it wasn't for the faint of heart. It was unlikely that the ritual would work here, though, which was an issue, because this was usually the point in time where he liked to shepherd his team back to ACF's locations and start getting them patched up properly. There were things better accomplished with a full medical suite, after all, and not just with the sort of first aid kit he carried with him. It was a
good first aid kit, to be fair, but usually it was meant to be temporary - enough to get people's bits tied on enough that he could get them back to a proper facility.
Today wasn't going to be like that, though. They were in the Dark Dimension, a place of flesh and blood and gods, and he rather wondered if
it could be injured or stitched up. Did it hurt, when its bones were broken? How did you tell? On a scale of one to ten, how much pain was this world in? What about the Goddess? Did she suffer as mortals did, or was there a separate scale of suffering only known to gods?
These were all fascinating questions, and unfortunately, Joshua had the feeling that he was going to get very few answers. He also had the feeling that they were being watched, but couldn't really pinpoint it. That wasn't really his job anyway - someone else would handle the watchers, and he would patch things up as best he could, with whatever he had available at the time, and hope things didn't get worse before they got Worse.
He had concerns about Agent Weber. She should have probably been in a hospital. That was the lesser concern, though. The greater concern was that she was
here. Joshua had grown up on a farm, after all. A wounded creature was dangerous, and nothing was more dangerous than a mother protecting her young. Gail had
feelings about the little lost Eldritch thing. She'd be looking. Fighting. It was entirely possible she'd die, for rage and hate and little things that had been lost to her.
Just like the Goddess.
Thirteen.
Six and six, bound and bound again, one more. From the depths, in burning fire, burning souls, together, they
were. A cacophony of indications: elation, fear, hope, pride. Most, the same, a combination of these things. From the one, only
waiting. Most of them thought something had happened. This one thought something was about to happen.
One of it reached an appendage down, pulling a weapon,
gun from its side, turning
and turning and turning in the widening gyre towards another one of it, smaller, different, at a desk and not on one of the six and six points of origin. That was the one more, the waiting. It was part of them and
they felt:
Protect those bound from harm.
The contract drew tight, and it fired the weapon from the self that held it, but that self did not know the contract so well as the other, because the Words were there and so it moved itself, the one, to the side. Quickly, before it/they killed it/self. There were words spoken from some of it, shouted, but they were not Words. It understood, though - they must kill the one more. They could not kill the one more, the one more was part of them and the others did not understand. The one more understood - it did no harm. When they raised an athame to stab it, the one more indicated a kick - not at
them, only at the blade. It lent strength, sending the weapon skittering.
Another of them came, determined. There were twelve of them and one more. Certainly it/they could defeat it/self with enough tries. Attrition, sooner or later they would win, sooner or later it/self would tire. Did they not know they broke the contract? The one more knew, but it/self did not act on the shattered contract, only defended it/self. Cautious, waiting. It/self was not certain. They fought, strange weapons, strange appendages, strange noises, words that were not Words. Eventually, from elsewhere, more noises. Had it been an eternity? Time was strange here. Perhaps not.
There were others. Strangers, in strange carapaces. Not a part of it/them. Those, too, carried strange weapons, strange and unfamiliar and familiar. More words, from those, that they understood, but they merely turned their fight to the newcomers. They were not fighters, not truly, and the contract was broken, broken,
protect those bound from harm, broken. All but the one. They were six and six and one more, thirteen,
Twelve. Eleven, ten, nine. It was very fast, before some of it/them realized what was happening. A stranger weapon fired towards the one more, which moved it/self out of the way, still bound,
protect from harm. The others fought, and it/they fought too, venting it/their need for blood upon the newcomers - but it/self must be protected, the bound one, and sometimes when it/they might have killed, it/self was in danger, and the contract had priorities. It/self did not attack the newcomers, only stood back, behind the desk, appendages aloft. Curious.
Eight, seven, six. The six gone and the six broken, five and one now. Their actions were changing, do not fight, cower, fear - but it/self whispered rage:
how dare they - it/they should fight, these were only strangers, fight those others. It/self pushed for more action,
joy - the broken contract, it/they could influence it/them, and it/they craved violence. It/they would fight until it/they stopped, bloodshed, no more. Five, four, three, two-
One.
She opened her eyes to the red haze. Everything hurt. Some parts hurt more than others. They were
here, then, the dark dimension. Sand beneath them, creatures watching from the distance, from the sand below. They knew where the creatures were. From afar, ANOTHER, perhaps something like one of them or perhaps something like the other. IT didn't approach, waiting like they all were. Her people were here, she knew. She had a sense of them more than anything else.
Them, the AFAR, the near, the below, the gods on the shore, and the
other, distant, watchful. That one, she knew. The one she could have named. She smiled, very slightly, an expression that was as much the joy of the hunter having found her quarry as anything else - but that would have to wait, for a time when she wasn't-
-falling apart.
The shouting crescendoed, and there was a moment when she felt like her blood wanted to freeze, but her other self was there, as always, pushing through - no harm. Blood flowed - out as much as
through but it flowed nonetheless. The petulant child went off to cry, and the Goddess lay down to die in the sand beneath the watchful eyes of everyone else.
It was Her that Gail stumbled towards - not many steps, but not easily taken. She lowered herself to the already stained sands, something between a crouch and a collapse. She leaned back, just far enough away to keep their blood from commingling, just in case, and stared up at the crimson sky. A smile appeared, just as real as the last one, just as eager for the next part.
"Good fight. It ends with You." The Goddess would know what Gail meant by that - the binding, on the lost one. It was not a question. It was a statement, one that said
if it is not already so and You do not see to it that it is made so with Your last breath, then I
will see to it that it is made so, and You will like that a lot less.
Maybe she'd have said more - maybe she'd have even said
that, but every breath hurt, and she knew she needed to stop, wait, rest, heal.
It just wasn't going to happen.
