The rain had ended but the streets were still wet as Vera made her way home, her stride hesitant at first but more sure of her footing as she drew closer, her feet regaining the confident pace that was her norm. The steel spire of her home stood up before her, so familiar but still so alien, how long had it been?
Her door opened as it had done so many times before, hinges left unoiled creaking in protest. A pleasant sight greeted her as the wooden panel swung wide, the reassuring sight of her equipment scattered around the room a soothing one to her even in the worst of times.
But something wasn’t right.
It was TOO scattered, TOO messy, TOO unorganized.
Someone had been here.
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Vera tensed, her eyes narrowing and her hand going to her thigh, fingers curling around the hilt of her knife. A thrill of excitement ran through her, the soft scraping of knife against sheath sending a shiver down her spine, her muscles tensing into a crouching walk as she rounded the doorframe.
The bottom part of a black-clad leg came into view as she rounded the doorframe, kicking idly at the air. A soft hiss split the air and Vera dropped to her knees, just in time to see a pinwheel of silver light slice through the space where her throat has just been. A chuckle rang out from the other end of the room and her blood ran cold, the back of her neck prickling. Then, they spoke.
It was a deep voice, a powerful voice.
A voice that she thought she’d never hear again.
“You’ve still got it, I see.”
Fear and fury mixed within her as she stepped to the side, the full body of her assailant coming into view.
He sat on her bed, much, much too comfortable. A second knife, identical to the one that had nearly slit her throat, was held loosely in his left hand, the blade glimmering in the uneven light from the single lamp lit in the room. Black boots, pants, hoodie, just like her, but… his mask was different. Instead of the white wings of a Deathbringer, his were… red?
Vera sucked a breath between her teeth in an uncharacteristic show of dismay, her normally icy golden eyes tinged with an ember of apprehension.
Red was the next level of Deathbringer, the elite of the elite. Vera had been the top candidate for the first of this new echelon, to be christened the number one of the BloodBringers.
But then she had gone missing.
Dark, dark eyes gleamed at her from above those red wings, the same eyes that held her prisoner years ago, taunting her, daring her to make the first move. Vera closed her eyes, ignoring the temptation, pushing all her emotions to the side to focus on the task at hand. She’d need it.
A laugh rang out as she drew her other knife, careful to keep the string attached to the hilt concealed. He spun his blade in his hand, the razor edge grazing along his palm as his eyebrow twitched in a smirk that she couldn’t see.
“What’s that, Vay?”
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The nickname stopped her dead in her tracks, her blood bypassing running cold and turning straight to ice. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts out of her head, trying to push the memories back. The memories of the time before she had gotten her mask, of the times when he’d “helped” her. Helped her train, sure. Also helped her cover up the bruises he gave her. Helped her gain a terror of the sentence “Hey, Vay, come over here ‘a sec.”
She had forgotten but she hadn’t forgotten the times they had trained together, fought together, killed together. She thought he was a friend, once.
Then, one night.
One fateful night.
When he had snuck into her bunks, as he always did, and instead of helping her out the window to go explore the facility, like they always did, he pushed her down on her bed.
“I deserve this, don’t I, Vay?”
Vera’s hands trembled, the knife almost rattling in her grip as she stood before him, her tormentor, her friend, as he stood.
“You’ve not been filling your assignments recently, Vay. Higher-ups are getting a bit antsy, their golden girl not meeting her quotas.”
She just stood there, her gaze fixed on the wall, not betraying the struggle for control in her mind as he drew closer, knife dangling in his grip, the red on his mask looking less like wings and more like fangs.
He can’t hurt you.
But he has.
He leaned forward, his mouth right next to her ear, so close she could feel and be repulsed by his breath on her skin.
“You’re not… deserting, are you?”
Yes.
No.
Vera shook her head, mouth dry.
“No? Then I advise you-“ He was cut off as he stepped back, Vera’s arm slicing the space between them, her knife tearing a strip out of his hoodie. Disbelief rang in his features as he stared her down, her eyes cold, his amused.
“What’s this? You want to fight, Vay?”
Her eyes remained unmoved, the turmoil in her head not quite reaching her eyes, the uncertainty staining her thoughts not reaching her limbs.
Good thing, too.
A twitch of a wrist, a gleam of silver, that was all Vera needed to catch his movement and be gone before it reached her, the knife intended for her thigh knocked aside at the wrist and she spun, her own blade aimed at his throat.
His foot slammed into her side before she could follow through, her ribs buckling and crushing the wind out of her. Vera coughed, blood and phlegm coming out of her mouth in gobs, staining her mask. She looked up just in time to roll out of the way of his second foot, slamming into the floor where she’d been a moment ago. She stood shakily, her right side throbbing from where his kick had landed. A cocksure look came into his eyes, surely mirrored by a twitch of the lips; and Vera raised her knives again, pain and the sheer speed of the fight pushing all other thoughts out of her head.
She could fight now.
She went on the offensive, spinning and feinting a kick high before sweeping low with her blades, digging a shallow furrow into his shins before using her momentum to sweep his feet out from under him. She could feel the tremor of pain lance through him as her knives met his leg, but he jumped as she whipped her foot around, narrowly missing her ankle on the landing. She flung her knife at the side of his head, unrolling the string and snapping it, whipping it around and carving a trench in the front of his throat before he cut the string and it went spinning into a corner.
The pair stepped back a moment before they were at it again, like a pair of dancers to a vicious beat, droplets of blood and sweat gleaming like gemstones as each spun around the other.
Seconds stretched into minutes as the duo whirled ‘round, a cyclone of flashing metal and spinning limbs as they each tried to gain the upper hand, trading blows back and forth.
Vera was tiring, and quickly. Endless scenarios ran through her head, ways that she could end this, ways she knew wouldn’t work. Too focused on her next move, she didn’t notice his knife darting out until it took her in the thigh, cutting deep. Blood spurted out, a fountain, shining in the air.
She could feel her life flowing out of her, knew that this was the end even as she thrust at his throat, as he easily caught her wrist and twisted, slammed his hand into her elbow. Her mouth opened in a silent scream of agony as he slid his knife back into its sheath and grabbed her by the throat, pressing her against the wall as he pulled his mask down.
“I’d’ve liked a bit more… quality time with you, Vay. But we both knew this is how it’d end. You’re nothing. Not even strong enough for any last words.”
Vera grimaced, her hand that wasn’t limp at her side twitching forward, wrapping weakening fingers around his knife, snaking up his back even as her vision tunneled, the grey at the edges moving in as she sank the blade into his back.
His grip slackened slowly, slowly, and Vera dropped to the floor, hacking, trying desperately to get her breath back. Her blood still gushing out of her leg, she tugged his mask off with one trembling hand and tied it, tightening it with her teeth as she stared at the dead body in front of her. There’d be no covering this up.
But where could she go?
She couldn’t go anywhere in the city, she knew no one outside of the Organization.
Except…
Vera stumbled down the street, her vision blurring, her steps unsteady, shaking from blood loss. She fell, her knees scraping against the rough asphalt, but she somehow got her feet back under her and kept going, continuing on until he reached a sign outside a brick building, and collapsed.
Ronic Apartments…
Hours later, a tall, blonde girl nearly tripped over the tiny figure once again huddled, unconscious and injured, on the ground. A smile came over her face, quickly replaced by a look of horror at the state of the girl in black. She picked her up and looked around, as if daring the one who did this to come out, to dare show themselves, then rushed back inside.
Vera woke again, and this time, she couldn’t move.
A/N: Another long chapter for you guys! Poor Vera...I seem to be beating her up a bit, huh? The next chapter might be a bit late, as i'm away from my computer all week, but i'll do my best to get it out shortly! Can't wait! ~V
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