Chapter 52-
In the moment that the entire world was painted gray, there was no sound.
Sonsee’s hunter’s intuition screamed at her that something was wrong despite her dropped guard. The sound of a foreign footstep on the cold ground behind them hit her ears; her body moved before her mind had a chance to doubt her actions, and she flung her spear outwards, heaving all of her weight into the swing.
Gallow sensed the immediate change in her temperament and felt a shot of adrenaline run through his body, preparing for whatever was about to happen in a split second. His eyes snapped to the direction she was flipping to.
“It isn’t over,” he realized.
And they stood still, facing the street, Sonsee’s weapon pointed to the ground, Gallow’s heart as calm as ever. They both knew that something was wrong, the same thought raced through both of their minds.
“What-?”
Before they could grasp the situation, Sonsee felt a tremendous force smash into her from behind. Her body was flung forwards, crashing to the ground.
Gallow whipped around, but wasn’t fast enough to stop Mello’s fist from impacting his chest. Blood splattered his teeth as he fell backwards, landing on his seat. Gallow clutched his stomach, his gun fell from his hand, his vision was blurry; the force of the blow was like being struck by a train head-on, the horrible aching sensation spread from the point of injury outwards to his whole body.
When Mello stepped forward, he did so with enough force that it made him seem as if he were approaching at full sprint.
“Gallow…” his whisper was enough to cut through the pain. “I’ve heard much about you. I don’t care much for who you are, but I must destroy you for what you are…” It didn’t make sense, that Mello was able to speak all of this in the few seconds that he advanced, but Gallow watched his lips move and heard the words clearly, more clearly than anything else around him, in fact.
Mello ripped off the bandages wrapped around his arms, revealing the fresco of scars that painted them. Gallow knew who he was, then, for certain.
“The Tiger!”
Mello reached Gallow, his arms bent and forwards like the jaws of an antlion; in the pale sunlight, his red eyes burned with a cold fire. He was like a devil on Earth, with acute focus and blazing anger.
“[NAVIGATOR]!” Gallow commanded within himself, unable to speak quickly enough. His soul body burst forth, closing the short distance between he and Mello. Before Navigator was able to land a single blow on him, however, Gallow found himself back to the beginning. It was a shocking sensation, as if time had been rewound by just a second, but enough to seal his fate.
Gallow relaxed. This wasn’t the first time he would face death. On the road out of the Redmaines, he’d made a silent agreement with himself:
“Death is swift in this world. I probably won’t see the hour or nature of my death, nor where or by who, so as I live, I’ll hold on to what I love. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that, could I?”
Gallow braced himself for the long stretch of a painful death, when he heard the brilliant *CRACK* of gunfire.
Mello stopped, his eyes were suddenly devoid of that cold fire from before. A bullet was lodged in his ribcage, fired by none other than Isaiah from a clean thirty feet away. The marksman held his rifle steady, prepared to fire as many rounds as necessary. After all, it was unmistakable, this was the mysterious man from the warehouse, hidden away in his memories.
For a moment, Gallow saw pause in Mello’s face; time seemed to hang, balanced in the air.
“[SPACEBOY]...”
The sound of the gun firing resounded once more, but Mello flipped himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the bullet.
Isaiah and Gideon were taken aback. Isaiah’s memories were slowly coming back, jogged free by Mello’s face, and the familiar sensation of Spaceboy’s effect.
Something was off, though… Something didn’t add up…
Gruse was on the floor, laid unconscious by Gideon’s training in non-lethal takedowns. The swordsman took off in Gallow’s direction, landing with saber drawn and swinging. Mello turned to face him, raising two fingers to meet the blade. The instant they made contact, Gideon was at the beginning of his swing.
“--?!” His eyes lit up, watching Mello weave out of the blade’s arc with ease, rounding up for a direct blow to his side. Gideon lifted his left foot from the ground and put all of his weight into spinning off of his right. His saber twirled like a steel cyclone through the air, wrapping around back to Mello. He kicked his right foot off the ground and let his momentum carry him.
Mello saw his maneuver and tapped the edge once again, just as it reached him, sending Gideon back into the beginning of his spin. Again, he was forced to readjust his approach; Mello had stepped back out of his blade’s reach, so he had a moment to think.
Gideon took a stand in front of Gallow, holding his sword up in a guarding stance. Gallow had gotten to his knee and was lifting himself up.
“Don’t move!” Isaiah shouted in the husky voice he tended towards when he yelled. His gun was pointed at Gruse’s back, ready to execute. “If you move, I’ll shoot her!”
Mello stopped in his tracks, his body stiffened for a moment. From behind Gideon, Gallow made eye contact with the Tiger. Those same, burning irises, so hot he could feel them burning a hole in his chest when he saw them, now had something else in them.
“A hesitation?”
Whatever had taken hold of him in that moment, Mello shook it off. A sense of sentimentality wouldn’t help him at all in this situation; Gruse knew that death was a likely outcome, and came anyway. The same as Myst, the same as Noire.
Mello breathed inward and heard the sound of a gust passing through the wind tunnels of the tall buildings that surrounded them.
His foot left the ground; from the stage, he heard a gunshot. It didn’t matter, though, he was leaving it all behind. There was no need to linger in the tragedy of the moment, he was already rushing headfirst into the future that didn’t yet exist, into his absent tomorrow.
“[SPACEBOY]!”
Gideon’s saber had a mind of its own, twitching to action in a wide forwards cut that he anticipated would cover all the space he needed. It was not so, as Mello rolled to the left, tumbling and resetting his momentum in a crouching position. Gallow had a clear shot to him, and at this range-!
As if he were a ray of light bouncing between mirrors, Mello moved faster than either of them could even see. Gallow’s bullet missed by a longshot, and he watched with barely enough time to register disbelief as Mello reappeared in front of him, he and Gideon’s eardrums almost blown out by the monumental explosion of sound as he did.
The power to spite was flexible enough that Mello was able to momentarily reject the limits of his own body and move faster than the speed of sound. Now, all of the momentum and energy from his wild assault was being carried by his fist, zooming to Gallow’s heart.
When Isaiah pulled the trigger, he’d swallowed a part of himself, as he was oft to do during his service. He’d long ago left behind a life of war, and returning to the reality of taking a human life was almost shocking to his ethics. Certainly, he’d been prepared to kill during the fight at the warehouse and especially here, but now he had time to digest the fact that he was really, truly going to end this woman. This was, unfortunately the most viable option. Taking a hostage was the best chance they had at quelling the situation. After all, Gideon had rendered her unconscious for a reason; he knew well the strategic advantage of leaving a valuable target alive.
“He won’t do it,” Isaiah had thought, keeping one eye on Mello and the other on Gruse. But he knew that these people were unpredictable, and when he saw Mello move, saw the way his muscles tensed characteristic of an aggressive advance, he knew there was no other choice. Gruse wasn’t an asset anymore, but a threat, and needed to be killed. And so, he pulled the trigger.
Just as he had many times, he felt the kick of the gun into the area next to his shoulder, where the shock would be best absorbed, but the moment he shot, he knew something was wrong. There was no sound, no splattering of blood to harmonize with the gunfire and the bullet casing hitting the ground. His killer instinct told him there was something wrong before his eyes could reveal the truth to him.
Gruse’s eye was pointed up at him from her place on the ground, where she had been laid face-down. It was an awkward angle, but he could still see all of the triumph in her look, like the prey that’s finally lured the hunter into a trap. Floating in the air was the bullet, perfectly still, fixed in place.
“W-what-?”
Isaiah, who could not see nor fully comprehend Vocations, was unaware of the red, devilish arm that held the bullet in-between its blackened fingertips.
Gruse was had, like the other members of the Fang Team, intense anti-comatose training, and it was near impossible to render her unconscious for any longer than a few minutes at best. In fact, her Vocation put her at an advantage when she was passed out. Most of the other members needed to move their actual bodies to use their abilities or position themselves for an attack, but Join Hands could be used to its maximum potential without requiring her to move a muscle.
Isaiah was thrown backwards by an unseen force, immediately jumping to his feet.
“Huh?” Gruse pulled herself up, but didn’t understand how he was still standing. Such a direct blow from Join Hands should have splintered his ribcage, puncturing his organs in the process.
“Ah, I see…” Her eyes became intent when she saw that her attack had blown away a piece of his undershirt, revealing the steel harness he wore beneath his clothing.
Years of wearing such heavy armor in everyday life had given Isaiah not only an incredible physique, but also a high tolerance for bodily impact. Gruse could see that beneath his stoic expression, he was struggling to breathe steadily.
Isaiah heard a gunshot followed by what sounded like an explosion, but he refused to take his eyes off of her. There was a voice in his head that feared both Gallow and Gideon would lose in the coming seconds, and he would be forced into an even steeper fight.
Gruse stood hunched, still clutching the bullet wound in her arm. Every motion sent waves of pain through her body, but she had the resolve to push through it.
In a second, Isaiah sized her up, and she him. He was about three feet out of Join Hands’ range, all she had to do was close the distance. Isaiah lifted his rifle once again, trying his hardest to steady his breathing. Thirty feet away, he could hear the sounds of fighting on the ground.
“They haven’t lost yet,” he thought. “As long as we’re still fighting, we haven’t lost.”
Gallow felt the surface of Mello’s fist touch him before he’d moved aside, almost matching the blinding speeds that the Tiger had managed to achieve. With his dodge, he’d successfully positioned himself so that Mello was between the two of them. Gideon swung his blade at Mello as Gallow took aim and fired one more shot at him.
Mello instantly took stock of his next move, and threw himself towards Gallow.
“-?!”
The moment Mello touched the flying bullet, Spaceboy was activated, returning it to the barrel as if it were never fired. Gideon’s slash had missed, but Gallow was ready to follow up. A storm of punches rained down on Mello from Navigator, crashing into his body.
Mello staggered back, his soul nearly dislodging from his physical form. With a spin, he made distance between himself and his two opponents, shifting outwards.
Gallow and Gideon had both figured it out: the plan of attack. Mello was unarmed and relying on Spaceboy to even the playing field, but that meant that he needed to outmaneuver both of them to land a surprise fatal blow. Against a normal opponent, this would have likely been an effective tactic, but against a Vocation user and Saint of the Sword, it showed its weaknesses. Mello would need to get very close, very fast to kill either of them, so they had to play the spacing game. Gallow would keep a barrage of strikes ready, and Gideon would maintain distance with his blade.
All of this planning came naturally enough to both of them, and with a single glance, they reached an understanding with one another, perhaps for the first time ever.
Both of them stayed still, letting their presences assert themselves. Mello would have to make the first move if he wanted to try anything. The three of them locked eyes; Mello knew what was happening. Suddenly, his muscles relaxed, and his arms slumped lazily to his sides. Gallow saw it, the fire in his eyes was snuffed out.
Mello’s abrupt submission was somehow more threatening to them than if he had moved to attack. His posture betrayed no violence, but yet…
“There’s something else in his eyes…” Gallow watched Mello’s two scarlet orbs, waiting to see something flicker behind them and prove his intent, but there was none of that. Instead, there was…
“Calmness?”
“Are you confused?” Mello spoke in a voice that was altogether articulate and beautiful.
Neither of them responded, only held their positions.
“There’s no point in continuing this fight,” he continued. “I’d love to spill blood all day, but only when I know that I win. As I see it, this is over, you’ve figured out the game. My Spaceboy can only react, and it’s limited to spiteing one act at a time. If we were to really go all out, your combined speed would eventually outpace mine and I’d be left unable to return your actions. If both of you were to land blows on me in succession, it would be checkmate.” He tilted his head back a bit, looking at them with eyes half closed. “Besides, you have every piece of information to make my operation meaningless.”
They still refused to say anything.
“Isn’t that something? The power to make something meaningless? Not many people realize how strong that is, how much they could do on such a scale as that…” Mello’s eyes floated upwards to the sky.
“Say, Gallow, aren’t you the man who killed Warren Roseraid?”
Gallow’s blood ran cold, his finger froze around the trigger.
“W-what?” he stammered. “How do you know that?!” his voice barely maintained composure.
“Oh, word gets around,” Mello’s whole face was relaxed while he spoke, and he looked to the sky in such a way that it felt like he was disrespecting you.
“That’s a lie!” Gallow said forcefully. “How do you know Warren Roseraid?!”
Gideon piped up. “Gallow,” his voice was stern. “Keep your head, don’t let him get to you.”
“Shut up!” Gallow recognized that tone of voice, it was the same one he’d heard every day in the military. “This has nothing to do with you!”
“Gallow, I’m serious-”
“Me too!” he insisted, tightening his grip on the pistol. “How do you know Warren Roseraid?!”
Mello finally lowered his vision down to Gallow.
“It’s a mystery…”
Gallow pointed his gun at Mello’s leg and squeezed the trigger
Isaiah fired a round that glanced harmlessly off the air around Gruse. She took a wide step forward, closing the distance between them. Isaiah shrank even further back, watching scrapes be etched into the white stone floor of the stage the further she advanced.
“That’s her range, then,” he realized. All he had to do was keep away from it, so the decision was simple.
Isaiah leapt from the stage and hit the ground running towards Gideon, Gallow, and Mello. Gruse sneered and kicked off from the stage herself, arcing through the air like a dancer.
Mello took a long look at Gallow. His stare was deafening, infuriating. Even though he was unarmed and strategically defeated, there was something in his expression that was so much further above them. His mind was in the clouds, looking down on them like a hawk spotting field mice.
What was he thinking?
And then, ever so slightly, Mello leaned backwards. In a breath, he was gone, flashed from existence.
“What-” Gallow and Gideon saw him reappear several feet away, close to where Sonsee was still struggling to stand.
Mello hovered an inch above the ground for what felt like an eternity, his body tensed from moving so quickly. He watched her with hatred.
“Noire was a good ally, but he failed me in his last moments; his greatest weakness was always his lack of self. It doesn’t matter anymore, I’ll erase all remembrance of the truth from this world, and I’ll begin with you.”
Mello’s knee raced towards her head with enough force to smash it in two. Sonsee wouldn’t even have enough time to comprehend her death.
…
And then, a gust of wind swirled mid-air, and Navigator’s fist collided with Mello’s body like a missile.
Mello’s eyes widened, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His soul was taken from his body, everything was light and soft, but horribly suffocating and painful. It awakened in him some deep memory he couldn’t place, more of a primal feeling than a recorded instance. It was like… like…
He watched a bullet open a hole in his skin, but didn’t feel it, like a dream. For that moment, he couldn’t understand what was real.
“Is this a dream?” he wondered. “Am I about to die, or be born? Is this what it’s like, in that place before we’re alive?”
When the moment passed, he was brought back to reality by the sharp pain in his chest. Blood poured from the wound like a brook, and another bullet flew into his stomach. He fell to his knees as Gideon and Gallow run at breakneck speeds towards him, Gallow’s gun still smoking.
“I am going to die,” he thought. “My dream is going to die.”
The world was hazy, unreal, he was losing consciousness.
“Gideon will slit my throat and I’ll be buried in a grave near the city… The city… The city…”
The landscape was covered in ice, blood, and ash. Fires had still not gone out in some parts of the street. It was a dismal wasteland that his dream would die in.
Mello watched his dream burn in front of him. It was almost evening, the sun was going down, ready to cover the world in tangerine honey before the black night.
“No…” he thought, his breath slipping. “No… My dream will not die… As long as I refuse to end… As long as the night doesn’t fall… I will not die…” Something deep and dismal swirled inside of him, some resolve so great and Genesiatic it was like he was siphoning it from the beginning of creation.
Gallow and Gideon pulled to a stop in front of Mello in time for him to sputter out two words.
“[TONIGHT, TONIGHT]...”
And time shattered.