'Azazel's capable enough to ensure the rest of the mission goes underway, even with Kate to worry about. I just have to pave the way, right? No pressure... no pressure, I can do this, can't I?'
Not anyone could match the strength Katie held, she was the daughter of the Crow, potentially harnessed to the peak by the arms of the Requiem Master, powerful she may be, standing at the summit of the superior realm beyond the notice of the naked eye. Yes, she, at the way she was now, with the power she was unfortunately gifted when her finger was scraped at the tip with that demonic Artifact, had overwritten the overwhelming power she was unknowingly born with, putting her near the bottom of the food chain. Even now, as bullets reigned straight at her, she could see it, the flashes of the past preventing her from her truth, as the shells lit the air ablaze with a fiery effect, she could feel the hairs on her chin singe away as if never there.
She lunged ahead, drop-kicking the guard's chest, landing on her back, gasping as the butt of the rifle aimed for her nostrils seated idle. Rolling into an upright kneeling posture, she sat at a range good enough for the man to shoot, but luckily for her, though the originalities of the self were locked away behind a mental vault, she still had some practice training the versatility of this strength.
The way a spider so easily has the intelligence engraved into their minds to spin webs to catch prey, Nat extended, from the tips of her fingers, threads of light, not coded by any specific color, but lingering with a stale ivory shade. But human intellect plus animalistic intuition made for a deadly combination, as the threads expanded to such a rate they could be named equivalent to that of a plasma net thrown ahead with the slightest stroke of a wrist, aimed ahead.
She already started running mere seconds after throwing the attack, for she turned the corner and heard the cries of agony off, leaving but cauterized remnants squelching against the marbled floor, reflecting that shining ceiling, squinting her eyes and enclosing her teeth to touch as she heard that disturbing audio. All she had to say in a hushed tone, continuing to sprint down these metal-riddled halls was, "Sorry."
As she reached the end of the corridor, she was met with bold glowing letters above the metallic-dark doors, Natalia letting out a heavy breath from her lips as she stood, bent in posture.
'Did Azazel take care of the guards or is it just me?'
Thought the young woman, wiping away sweat from her temples, taking but one step forward, as she'd anticipated, the entrance revealed its contents to her... and yet again, it was just as she'd expected. Or, maybe it wasn't, for what laid within was a void, not unlike that of the soul, remaining wholly black, looking from below up at themself, there existed the self, standing on nothing but air. She'd seen this before, for this was the mental representation of the self, made incarnate by doubts and turmoil, however, the assumption that it solely existed to withhold those feelings was wrong, for it also existed as an outer gateway for another to infiltrate the feelings of others.
"The hell is this?"
But before she could look any further, she felt the walls enclose her in but a single space, crushing her every bone as her insides creaked with but the slightest movement, leaving only a pained groan to escape her lips. They didn't even dramatically halt, for she could feel her skeleton turning to mush with the slightest trigger, the dust remaining of crushed bones clumped on the floor, but just as she believed her soul to be gone, her eyes spread wide and she gasped awake as if recovering consciousness from a nightmarish fantasy. Was this what laid beyond such a door? The name, what was the name again? All she could do was ponder, thinking back, attempting to remember just what it was she'd forgotten, panging at the back of her head, pleading for it to resurge. As she looked down at her hands, the palms were like iron bars, surrounding what resembled her soul, but a floating card with a blackened skull attached to the front. The element of Death. The tightening of chains was familiar to her, her body remaining still, the chains manifested so clearly over her throat, gripping so tight that the implant the print engraved into her skin was so notable, even with the metal covering it.
"The sins of the heart, bare witness to them. Whether you die or whether you don't, it doesn't matter to me. Aside from one person, I truly… don't care."
The voice of the Jester resounded like an inescapable virus plaguing her, for as it decreased in volume, the flapping of his coat distanced with every new taken step, and as the chains broke, she was forced to collapse. Knees touching the ground, rubbing at her throat with the tip of fingers, once she opened her eyes, it was like peering in through mirrors at a past you wished was a nightmare. As much as she blinked, it didn't fade, even parting her lips, attempting to scream, there was nothing, she could only hear herself bawl as she curled up with legs close to her chest. Was that the fate she was resigned to? Always crying at just the slightest semblance of her past, reminded of the sins she was unable to accept. What more could she do, though, but continue to weep? Then, it hit her, another memory's events replaying, as she peeked out one eye, a tear forming a liquid streak as it streamed down her left cheek, she could only remember the words she spoke that day, so casually sitting beside such a girl, hopeless about the future, the same way she was. What was it she said again that inspired Kima to do what she needed to?
'In my experience, there's no such thing as 'bad or 'good.' I do things my way and ignore what others think. For me… that's the righteous way. And if you're by my side, that means you're righteous, too.'
It was like she was resurrected, resurfacing from the grave of the old, replacing the new with rejuvenated flesh over her finger's tip, as she whimpered to the little boy without a waist, she could only remember those words. Words she didn't state without meaning, the reality she carved out for herself to believe- no matter what! To stay true to the reality of herself that she perceived, as but one hand extended to one arm, those words lit a flare of determination at the center of the Death overwhelming her hopeful spirit. Or rather, not her voice giving motivation to her new ally, but the following words of praise she was sent afterward, as if a mother loving their child, at that moment, that infectious smile of hers was as acidic as cancer's touch.
'That's right, I… I have people surrounding me. No- not just any people! They're good, they're flawed, but they involved me in this business, they accepted me so quickly, despite my misdoings! So, why am I crying so hard, why am I telling myself I'm the lowest of the low WHEN I KNOW MYSELF BETTER THAN ANYONE!?!'
No matter how hard she tried, as she slept at night, their faces appeared every time, but even so, she couldn't help but smile, for as she revealed her face and the levitating droplets her eyes leaked shining with an ethereal sparkle, she could realize something. The words of encouragement Kim sprinkled her way replayed in the background as that reluctant smile, the widest of all, spread huge, itching at the ends of her lips to form that iconic wide-toothed grin.
'Ah… I wasn't crying at that, no. I don't know if I believe you, yet, Kima, but I'll… do my best to be what you named me…'
What she was named in the eyes of but one person, a beautiful lady who held nothing but a desire to love and be loved for the person she was and the things she enjoyed:
'You're a kind person.'
To Be Continued.