Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 42: Introducing...
As she walked, flames licking the gleaming steel in her hand, her heart began to race. Unbidden, her steps quickened. First to a jog, then into a sprint. Then beyond that, her world flickering as she blinked forward, eating up twenty feet of tunnel at a time. Each blink was followed by a sound of thunder, small and contained. As she charged, she bared her teeth. It wasn't a smile.
No.
Not a smile.
Not for these monsters.
Ahead, closing rapidly, was the hive cavern. Two tree-trunk thick legs braced it, streams of drool falling from above and out of sight. She knew how fast they were and that she was faster. Her Light flared, inside and out, and when she hit the knee of the giant she was as much comet as girl. She buried her knife into its rough, pebbled flesh, sawing it to and fro to get a nice, deep cut. More importantly; a nice, strong handhold. As the giant's claws slashed for her, its deafening bellow in her ears, she planted her foot on the protruding hilt and launched herself up. She passed a neck, thick with sinew and pulsing veins and lashed out with burning blade. It hissed as it cut, ichor and steam following the long blade's passing.
Up she passed, out through the cloud of foul, toxic steam, and into the air above the giant. She saw the rest. Two were between her and the hive itself, standing still. Guard dogs. The third was advancing, tearing long gouges into the stone with its massive, talon-curved feet. Then she arched her back, turned over backwards in the air, and reversed her grip. The sword punched into the thick skull of the giant, gouting blood and flame as the creature roared in pain. She bore down, pushing with all her might and the meager weight of her body. Screamed as fire, the sun brought underground, roared around her. She felt the blade shifting in her hands. Changing. She grinned.
The giant began to tumble. Falling forward as its brain was cooked in its shell. She rode it down, somersaulting clear as the giant's bulk slammed into the ground with earth-rattling force. She rose from her crouch, dying flames in her clenched fists, and strode back to her sword. Wrenched it free.
First of four , she thought. Then the second giant was upon her, swinging both arms down like clubs, powerful hands clenched to dash her against the stone. She dove forward and around, the ground rattling yet again from the force of its blow. They were fast. They were strong. It didn't matter. She was a Hunter.
They were going to die.
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Her knife was freed from the dead giant's flesh with a hissing, crackling squelch that ran unpleasantly against her sensitive hearing. She darted forward over the dissolving corpse, hearing and feeling the impact behind her as the second giant struck the body of its sibling in its latest effort at separating her from her life. She chanced a look over her shoulder to see that it had pulverized the remnants of the first giant's rib cage, then plowed through through the decaying halves after her.
Behind them both, the final two giants prowled around the heart of the hive. Their claws flexed and their jaws worked, but they did not leave their posts. Like the smaller enemy who had chased her into the tunnel, they were utterly silent.
Taylor halted, skidding to a halt and turning on her pursuer. The creature bellowed its battle cry and redoubled its charge. In turn, she charged, blades raised. Fire and lightning in her hands and in her soul and as the distance between them closed to the point she could see its hideous, multifaceted eyes rolling behind that cartilaginous shell she blinked.
Behind the giant.
She spun on her heel and, for the first time in her life, threw her knife. She could feel her Light stretching as the crackling blade spun away from her, bridging the gap between with gossamer strands of arcing fury. When it hit, it struck deep, burrowing into the flesh of the back of the giant's knee and – hopefully – damaging the thick tendon buried within. It bellowed, shaking the stone beneath her dashing feet with sheer noise until she was leaping into the air, both hands on the hilt of her sword. The base of the creature's skull loomed. She could see the divot in its flesh where skull met spine.
And then she couldn't, because it had done the impossible and caught her in its fist. Her entire body, up to her armpits, was encompassed by its crushing grip. She could feel its fingers tightening around her body, steel rails twisting, confining. Caging. Her ribs cracked under the growing pressure, starbursts of pain flashing behind her eyes. Her arms were free, but she had no leverage. She was moving. Being carried to its gaping mouth. She saw teeth, serrated and cruel. She saw blackness. She saw her death.
Not fucking likely.
Blink .
Into its mouth. Then she erupted, sword-first, out through the back of its skull. Blood and bone and fire trailed behind her, a gruesome comet's tail. She spun through the air, wetness flying from her body, and hit the ground. She slid to a stop, gasping for breath. Her wounds were horrendous. But they were healing. More pain. That was fine. She bared her teeth.
Second of four .
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Time passed. She didn't know how long. Minutes, maybe. She could feel her wounds mending, the peculiar sensations that – more often than not – were rather more than just pain. Except for her eye. That wasn't peculiar at all. It just really fucking hurt. But it too was fading. She could feel the steady thunder of the last two giants on their patrol in the stone as she lay flat against it. They, and the labored gasps of her breathing, were the only sounds.
Eventually she managed to get back to her feet. Her armor (not really a costume anymore, was it?) was in tatters. Almost completely shredded. Her cloak was gone . Only the barest scraps of fabric clung gamely to her neck. She limped over to the dead giant – second of four – her mind whispered viciously, her knee popping and cracking and setting itself back where it belonged, and retrieved her knife. Then she paced back to in front of the tunnel entrance, spinning it pensively in her hand. Her sword, held in the other, had extinguished.
The two giants mirrored her. She sheathed her knife, reached up her to neck, and tore the remnants of her cloak free before winding it around her hand. Why? She didn't know. In memoriam, maybe. She'd liked that cloak. Her knife came back out, and with an effort, she re-ignited her blades. Fire and lightning, once again.
"I don't suppose you'll just kill each other?" Her voice was hoarse, tired. Worn raw and neglected by her regeneration. The two giants were still. They did not kill each other. She sighed. "I figured as much."
Then she charged.
Third of four.
Fourth of four.
Then it was over. Then it was done.
=+= Chapter 42: Introducing... =+=
The entire hive pad, roughly the size of a swimming pool, quivered at her approach. It topped out at knee height for her, and beneath its rough, pebbled, hideous surface barely visible forms shifted and spun. She stopped for a moment, considering. Then she sheathed her knife, extinguishing its arcing brightness, and jumped up onto its surface. Ahead, in the direct center of the pad, bulged a twisted, tumorous growth. Covered in slime and dribbling holes, she knew for certain that this...thing...was what had spoken. The sight of it, of what it represented, sent a tremble of fear down her spine. Bad enough that this thing existed. Now it could speak.
Her sword burned bright and reassuring at her side, channeling the soothing fires of the sun. As she approached the...growth, the flames licked up the blade, past the hilt and curled up her arm. Their heat did her no harm, but reached deep into wearied bones and eased their ache. The small column of drooling holes and tumors shivered as she closed in and then the entire pad shook as it spoke. "YOU."
"Me." She snarled back, fear and hate and anger burning lines of fire through her. Or was it her Light, carrying flame to the blade of her sword?
"THE WHISPERS SPOKE OF YOU."
…
What?
Her fire guttered, blown down to nearly extinguished by a cold wind of confusion. The worming pillar shifted, a low, basso hum filling the air. It took her a long second of near-pure bewilderment to place the sound as laughter. After it subsided, the voice returned, "COULD IT BE THAT WE KNOW SOMETHING THE LOST LIGHT DOES NOT?"
That sent crawling webs of electricity up her spine, alarm in its basest form. Her guard dropped. Not for long, but long enough for the question to escape her. "How do you know what I am?"
The humming laughter again, shaking her down to her bones. " WERE YOU NOT LISTENING TO US, LITTLE LIGHT? THE WHISPERS TOLD US. THEY SPOKE TO US, TOLD US MANY THINGS. HELPED US REACH FARTHER THAN WE EVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE. EVERYTHING THAT WE HAVE DONE, THE HEIGHTS OUR KINGDOM HAS REACHED, IS BECAUSE OF THEM. "
Her fire, her Light, returned in a rush of hot air, a flare of solar fire. She pointed the blade at the worming pillar, letting her hate flow from behind snarl-curled lips. "The whispers tell you this was coming?"
Her sword, her fire, her Light rose and fell. With a hissing, screeching thunder at direct odds with the basso laughter, the worming pillar fell, parted neatly down the middle in a spray of foul steam and tumorous flesh. Then she stepped forward, spinning her blade over into an overhand grip, and drove it into the hive pad beneath her feet. Over the hiss of burnt flesh, the screech of a dying thing, and the rumbling crash of falling stone, she had one last message to deliver. "See you soon, Jaime."
=+= Chapter 42: Introducing... =+=
The trek back up to the rooftop was, to her mind, at least as long as the journey down. The whirring whisper of one of Dragon's unmanned helicopter transports heralded her appearance on the casino's roof. She stepped out into the dying desert sun, long fingers of pink and orange and red reaching across the sky. A squad of PRT troopers, heavily armed, turned at the sound of her boots scuffing on sun-heated asphalt, weapons snapping up to aim at her. She waved. "Hi."
"Stand down." The center-most of the six waved his troopers down and moved to meet her, lifting the visor of his helmet as he did. The motion revealed a face; old, scarred, lined. A pale, dead eye gazed from beneath the scar that had killed it. He took her measure, gauging how she swayed on her feet, how her only visible armaments were a knife and a sword, and how she was almost completely covered in rust-colored blood and black, sticky ichor. "Rough time of it?"
Taylor huffed a laugh. Shook her head tiredly. "Nah. Cakewalk." then, after a long, deep breath, luxuriating in the warmth of the sunset and fresh fucking air. "My team?"
"Recovered. They're both fine." Her eyes stung, relief bringing tears where they weren't welcome. She closed them, squinting tight, wrestling for control. She gained it. Barely. "We're here for you, Guardian."
She swallowed thickly. Waved a hand at the empty city around them. "What about...?"
The man grinned. "It's all over but the laughing. Fat lady's sung, Guardian. Mission success." She bit down on her lower lip, eyes burning, throat tight. Words failed her. She could only nod. The man clapped her on the shoulder, full of reassurance and camaraderie. "Come on. Let's get you home." He waited for her to nod before turning back to face his troops. "We're out of here, boys. Load up!"
The man with the dead eye led her to the waiting transport. The troopers waited for her to get in before piling in around her. They chatted with each other, words washing over her, wrapping around her like a blanket. The doors remained open as they stepped into the sky, wind rushing over her. The hotel shrunk beneath them, then vanished from sight as the transport turned and flew out of the city.
It's over, she thought. We did it.
Taylor put her face in her hands and started crying.
=+= Chapter 42: Introducing... =+=