Write 2 Rank 2022: Girl Fights

Round 5, Blue Belt: Action and Fantasy

Dreya Thorn lives her life to the fullest. Heavily armed zealot clerics constantly scour the land for heretics and nonbelievers. The corporation acquires chunks of the neutral zone as fast as they can. Bounty hunters seek out the enemies of both factions with cold enthusiasm. Safe places to rest her head have become scarce. It will be only a matter of time before her luck runs out.

Until then...

"Fuck it."

Dreya leans in and kisses Forest deeply, pressing into her, soft full lips covering thin and inviting ones. Exhilaration ripples through her body, making her tingle all over. Zealots are the enemy, paladins being the most dangerous of them all. Dreya should abandon the paladin and take her chances here in the necropolis, leaving the woman to her fate. She should ignore Forest's hands moving up her back. She should ignore the exotic feeling of the zealot's aura.

But she can't.

Dreya tries to keep from drawing the aura into herself, but can't. Bits of Forest Alba filter into Dreya, pieces of memories that aren't her own.

A child soldier, forced to kill her friends who were not pure enough...

A priestess, teaching zealots the ways of the church...

A commander, ordering the burning of heretics because the church demands obedience or death...

Alone. Devoted. Clean. Empty...

Denying herself to remain pure...

Forest pushes away, eyes wide. Panicking.

"You... you were inside my head," she gasps between labored breath. "You're a witch."

"I'm a Drinker. That's why the church wants me dead. You-"

"You're a heretic." Forest takes a step back, knocking over the ancient shelves. "Stay away from me."

"I've swallowed your thoughts, Forest. I know you don't mean that. You want me as much as I want you."

"No! I can't want you. You represent everything the church deems evil."

"I represent what it means to combine mind and soul, not denying them." Dreya closes the distance and reaches for Forest's hand. "I'm no witch. I'm just a woman who wants to-"

The wall explodes in a shower of rusted metal, dust, and age-battered bricks. Forest yanks Dreya aside as a dark claw plows through the old store front. A fifteen foot predator covered in black chitinous armor able to resist small arms fire and the desert's harsh environment. One pincher cuts through the old metal shelving like it is kindling, the other misses the women by a hair's breadth. Dust and old tiles rain down as the foundation rumbles under the skittering barrage. As the massive arachnid goes into a frenzy, whipping about with stinger and claw, the ladies escape into the night.

Unsure of which way to go, Dreya looks left and right in hopes of getting her bearings.

"High ground," she decides, pointing as she moves.

The building behind them groans as its supports give way and the entire first floor sinks under the sand. They reach the end of a sand-covered street when a deafening silence rolls over them. A corporation drone. Dreya spies the device circling overhead, but can't do anything about it with just her makeshift spear.

"Incoming," Forest calls.

"I know."

A trio of synth soldiers storm around the corner, the same grim face in triplicate. They raise their rifles in unison and are butchered by a dark claw as it erupts out of the earth.

"Run!" Dreya dives towards one of the dropped rifles. Ignoring the gore painting the sand, she touches the grip and trigger guard, initiating the corporation safety protocol. The dark claw swings and she contorts impossibly, dodging the creature's attack. With a cartwheel and leap, she jumps away a second before the synth rifle explodes. The first triggers a second explosion and then a third. The force knocks Dreya senseless as she's tossed through the calcified wall of a leaning building.

She loses track of time, track of self, and the minutes and hours run together.

...

Dreya sits up in a dark room, shivering. The only light comes from a window in the far corner. She rests on something hard and the cold night chill fills the air. Standing, dizziness hits like a nimbus of ringing light, attacking then retreating only to attack again. Her stomach does flips before the contents spill all over the floor. She moans. A concussion.

There's movement in the darkness and a door opens on failing hinges. Dreya senses Forest through her aura. Because Forest willingly let her drink of her aura, only Dreya can willfully break their bond. A snap, and a glow stick flares to life. Framed by the soft purple light, Forest looks like she needs sleep.

"I thought I heard something," Forest whispers. She wrinkles her nose and gestures. "Come, there's some food in the next room and standing in your own sick will do no one any good."

"Where are we?" Dreya asks as she joins her in the hall.

The place leans dangerously and the masonry has split in multiple places. A strong quake will be the coup de grace.

"We're still in the necropolis. I managed to pull you away as more synths arrived."

Fluctuations in her aura say she's lying. Dreya's gifts have many benefits, but only with a partner who's willing. She grabs Forest's hand, their bond flaring to life.

"You aren't telling me something."

Forest eases her hand out of Dreya's grip.

"... The church is here too. There's been fighting in the streets."

"The church? Why didn't you turn me in?" The dizziness strikes again and this time Dreya nearly falls.

Forest catches her, keeping her upright with strong hands.

"I want to... learn more about you and what I'm feeling."

"It's called attraction."

The paladin's cheeks darken. Dreya places her hands on Forest's waist to steady herself. Through the woman's aura, she can feel the internal conflict and it's enticing. She gently pulls them together until they are chest to chest. Staring into Forest's eyes, she lets her own feelings channel through their aura-bond. Dreya leans in for another kiss, the closeness allowing her to feel Forest's heart thunder.

"Wait. Don't... church, forgive me." Forest meets Dreya halfway, bringing their hungry mouths together.

Dreya's body reacts, growing hot all over. She moves to loosen the other woman's top and the door at the end of the hall shatters in a shower of splinters. Three zealot clerics and two paladins pour in.

"In the name of The Megachurch, Salvation of the soul of Mankind, surrender!"

Dreya throws them to the floor as the zealots open fire, shredding through the old wood and plaster like it was tissue. They fall through broken floorboards to the room below. Dreya hops to her feet and cartwheels into the shadows. The paladins appear in the opening above.

"Freeze!"

"I am Paladin Forest Alba, Class Two. Stand down."

"We cannot do that, ma'am. You have been in close contact with Thorn, Drinker Heretic. Mercy has been judged necessary."

"Mercy? There is-"

"Open fire!"

"No!" Dreya and Forest shout in unison.

Bullets rain down as Dreya witnesses The Mercy of The Church.

Forest throws up her hands as bullets tear through her flesh. She shouts a prayer and red flames burn along her skin. Where the flames touch, her wounds close. She heals as fast as the bullets can destroy.

"Now I get to see a paladin in action," Dreya whispers as she looks around for something she can use as a weapon.