Vengeance

13

2018

Seraphim's eyes skim over the message, projected in the air above her forearm. It's curt, a simple request to meet the rest of the team in the Gallows. It's odd, there aren't any fugitive Changed running around that she knows about. For a moment, she toys with the idea of calling Angel. She chases the thought away. Might as well see what's happening. The sooner she does, the sooner she can wrap up patrol and head home. Seraphim types out a response and turns her sights on the sky.

The address they sent is for a lot that, up until a month and a half ago, featured a crumbling stone building. The lot is one of a half-a-dozen slated for destruction. Some real estate firm has bought them up with big plans.

Firebird drops down on the overturned dirt. Most of the debris has been cleared away, but stray foundation blocks remain peeking out of the hills of dirt. She treads over the loose earth, her path illuminated by the full moon overhead. She lifts her gaze from the roving ground to the Guardians assembled where the foundation once stood. They stand at a distance from her and each other. Seraphim's brows draw together with confusion.

Rebecca hasn't bounded up to her, a wide smile on her face, cracking a joke only she finds funny. In fact, she avoids looking at Seraphim, instead training her gaze on the ground. Kennedy similarly avoids looking at her. Simon's stare is hard, but Seraphim spies reluctance behind it. Daiyu is as cold as when they first met. Her hand is wrapped around the hilt of her blade, waiting for a reason to draw.

"What's going on?" Seraphim asks, her eyes flickering over her teammates.

"We know what you did." It's Kennedy that answers. He doesn't lift his gaze from the ground. His voice wavers.

"What are you - ?"

"You're going to have to come to us," Striker interrupts. There's a disconnection in his voice that sends a shiver down her spine.

Striker and Daiyu fan out to surround Firebird. "I don't know what you're talking about and I'm not going anywhere with you!" Firebird exclaims.

Simon moves to take a step forward. Seraphim is spurred by the most primal of beastly instincts, the fight or flight response. She lurches forward, erecting a wall of fire. Somewhere through the fog of panic, she registers him as a friend. Tidal Wave, startled by Firebird's sudden action thrusts out a hand and unleashes a surge of water. The focused water douses the flames and slams into Seraphim. Thrown back, she tumbles over the dirt like a rolled marble.

Firebird scrambles to her feet. She stares at Kennedy, her eyes wide with disbelief. He attacked her. Her own friend attacked her. Their eyes clash for a second and she sees horror reflected in them.

Deathwave rushes at her. Firebird catches a flash out of the corner of her eye. She raises her hands. The sharp edge of the blade digs into the flesh of Seraphim's hand. Firebird cries out as the blood pours out of the wound. She blindly fires an orb of flames. It soars past Deathwave, colliding with the dirt.

Daiyu swings the blade, tearing through her suit and the flesh of her stomach beneath. She staggers back. Deathwave raises her blade over her head, she moves to embed it in Seraphim's head. Through the haze of blood loss and pain, she predicts Daiyu's intentions and attempts to duck out of the way as the blade comes down. The edge misses her eye, skirts off the bridge of her nose and slashes down her cheek. Seraphim doesn't feel the wound, there's too much adrenaline pumping through her veins.

With a burst of renewed strength, Firebird shoves Deathwave back, she gathers a storm of flames and fires it. She is hurled backwards into a hill of compacted dirt. Seraphim whirls around, her fists burning and her eyes wild, feral.

Striker stands about a yard away, the barrel of his gun aimed straight at her heart. Her finger hovers over the trigger. "Please, don't make me do this Seraphim. Just come with us," Simon pleas, his face contorted with pain.

"I'm not going anywhere," Seraphim says. Her body is trembling, whether from fear or pain she can't tell.

Firebird extends a hand, her eyes focused on the barrel of the gun. Striker pulls the trigger. The shout of the gunshot fills her ears. She feels it, the heat of the metal drilling through her flesh and bone. It isn't like in the movies. There's no great spurt of blood, no dramatic blow back. She stumbles back, more from the shock though than the impact.

Seraphim's eyes drift over to Rebecca. She is standing behind Striker, staring straight at Seraphim. She hasn't moved since the fight began. She hasn't raised a hand, but she hasn't stopped it either. She's just stood there and watched.

The blood loss comes crashing down on Seraphim. Her legs buckle from under her. She's going to die here. Alone. Betrayed. Abandoned. No, she can't die, she can't leave Angel. Angel. Seraphim musters what strength she can and hits the emergency beacon wired into her suit. The alert will go directly to Angel. With some help from above she may live. Seraphim's back collides with the ground, the force rattles her bones, but compared to her wounds it's nothing but a flicker.

Black creeps up on her vision. She tries to fight it. Her head lulls to the side, through her blurred vision she sees Solaris turn and fly off into the night. A tear creeps out of her eye and rolls down the side of her face. The black rises up and overtakes her, plunging her into oblivion.

***

That was the day she learned the truth. Anyone can betray anyone. Loyalty is nothing but a smokescreen, a foolish illusion.

Angel is silent as he tries to process what she's shared with him. It's been two years since the Attack and Seraphim has never uttered a word about what transpired. Alan and Angel were left to gleam the details from her injuries.

He pulls her closer. It doesn't seem fair, that something that so thoroughly destroyed her lasted only several minutes. To an outsider, it would be nothing more than a fight, an exchange of blows and bullets, but it was more than that. Every slash of Daiyu's sword, the bullet that pierced her chest were blows of betrayal and they wounded more than flesh.

Angel presses his lips to her temple. "Thank you, for telling me," he mutters against her skin. His brave Seraphim. He knows the deaths she's caused have required less willpower than telling him what happened that fateful night.

Seraphim pulls away from Angel. Remaining in his embrace, she leans forward, clasping her hands together and staring at the imperfect paint. "You know what the worst part is?" She glances back at Angel. "I thought repaying them for what they'd done would fix everything, but it didn't. I'm still...I'm still broken." Her voice cracks.

Angel draws her back into him. There is not much that can be said and none of it will cure her pain. "Revenge never turns out the way its supposed to," he says softly.

"Neither does life," Seraphim counters, her voice low and fragile. A stray tears trickles down her cheek.

Angel reaches up to wipe it away. The pad of his thumb skims over the scar marring her face. "You didn't deserve this."

She shoves his hand away and turns her head, her hands curling into fists. "Doesn't change the fact it happened to me." The rage returns. It never left.

There are still questions that haven't been answered. What did they mean that night? What had she allegedly done? Where were they going to take her? What Striker and Tidal Wave said before they met their ends, had someone manipulated them? If so, who? Why?

As if able to read her mind, Angel says: "We'll keep looking for a reason. We'll search until we find the reason why?"

"What if there is no reason?" Seraphim hadn't considered the possibility. What if all their pleas, their regret was feigned? What if there was no reason? What if it was simple cruelty?

"There's always a reason."

Seraphim isn't sure what terrifies her more, the prospect of cruelty or premeditation.