I stay out of the bedroom while Adagio, Sour, and Starlight clean it up. It was awkward, having them come in and see me sobbing in Aria’s arms while covered in blood, but I guess they’ve seen me worse off. Either way, I don’t really have the wherewithal to go back in there for now so, instead, I sit at the small kitchen table and nurse a cup of coffee with Aria sitting beside me, silent and comforting.

While we wait, I tell them what I remember of the Ogre. How it looked like a demon, or like an Oni out of old Neighponese mythology, only a little different. The colors were slightly wrong and the armor was a different style. I was too out of it to get a good look though. I’d already lost most of my blood by that point.

Problems on problems on problems. It all compounds but in the end, there’s nothing we can do about it. The Ogre. The Deathslinger, the Legion who's running around shanking people. If the Narc is a Fogborn Killer too then we’re really fucked.

And all the while, Redheart takes my vitals.

Every time Redheart goes to touch me there's a faint hesitation now, though. There’s a fear of me in her that wasn’t there a few hours ago. Then again, she’d never truly witnessed a Killer at full chat.

Not really.

She saw me a year ago in a near-coma. She’s seen Adagio and I both in our half-states, controlled and sane.

But a real Killer? One who remembers what the purpose of its existence is, and who remembers the being that it calls god and father?

Oh no.

Until tonight, Redheart never knew the sheer, unbridled terror of tangling with a true, Fogborn Killer.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and Redheart flinches.

She’s staring down at her watch while she waits out the manual blood pressure cuff’s deflation time. Her thumb and forefinger are resting on my wrist, timing my pulse, and to her credit, there’s no movement in either of them. She’s too good of a doctor for that.

“It wasn’t you,” Redheart says after a moment.

I chuckle bitterly at that. “It was a lot of me, you can’t just say the bad parts aren’t me, that’s not really fair.”

“Who you are as a Killer—”

“It was still me, so I’m apologising,” I say firmly. “If you’re not going to accept that then…”

I take a long, slow breath, turn to Aria, and try to find some strength in her. She smirks at me, although it’s a tired thing, and takes my hand to give it a solid squeeze.

“The things I said—” I begin as I turn back to Redheart— “Dreams are my weapon… I slip into your mind, scrape through memories of fear, shame, and guilt, the things that make up your nightmares… so I’m sorry I said what I said.”

Redheart draws her hand back and turns to jot down the numbers, looks over them, then grimaces. They probably don’t look like anything a human body would produce, but she has my baseline numbers to compare them to.

“You were right, though,” Redheart says after a moment. “About me, I mean, and how I’m not a good person, and—” she looks pointedly over at Aria— “I consider myself deeply fortunate to have found someone who can stomach me.”

“Shut up ‘Hearts you know I love you.” Aria says.

“The only thing I doubt is whether or not you should,” Redheart replies tersely. “Sunset wasn’t wrong, I—”

“I was wrong,” I say firmly. “You have to understand that about me when I’m like that… I’m not telling you the truth, I’m just trying to hurt you.”

“The truth hurts,” Redheart says.

I sigh and lean back in my chair, take another drink of coffee, and let out another slow breath.

“Yes, I know,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean that everything that hurts is the truth.”

Redheart shakes her head as she pulls the cuff off of my arm and tucks it away before pulling out her stethoscope and settling it over my heart.

“And I also happen to know that you always regretted that relationship,” I continue.

Redheart closes her eyes for a long moment, then sighs and opens them again. “Deep breaths, please.”

I oblige her, taking several deep breaths as she moves the stethoscope around my chest before having me hike my shirt and turn slightly so she can do the same along my back.

“No obstructions,” she declares as she draws back. “Your lungs are as good as new, maybe better.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“And you’re right,” Redheart continues, perking me up. “I did always regret my relationship with Stargazer… I got caught up and I think I hurt her. She wanted more from me than a woman my age had to give.”

“She wanted different things, ‘Hearts.” Aria says, finally moving her hand from mine and sliding closer to the Director. “She wanted something you didn’t have. But me? I like what you got, ‘Hearts… you’re what I want, okay?”

Redheart sniffles softly, then leans on Aria, burying her face against the middle Siren sister’s shoulder.

Aria has always been against telling Redheart the truth about her past. As far as Redheart knows, Aria and her sisters are just more victims of the Entity, no different from Sour Sweet or Starlight. Even now, after being together for almost a year, Redheart has no idea that the woman she’s been sleeping with is ancient beyond compare.

And Aria made me swear to keep it that way.

‘I’m human now, Red, so why does it even matter?’

I didn’t have a good rebuttal for that, and I still don't. If Aria doesn’t want to bring up the person she used to be, the being she used to be, then I would accept that. My own opinion is still that Redheart would accept her, but I’m not even sure that’s the reason Aria keeps her nature a secret.

“My relationship with Stargazer was a lapse and a mistake, and it never should have happened,” Redheart says quietly after a moment. “I was older, more experienced, and I should have been more responsible, but I wasn’t.”

“We all have things we’re ashamed of, my dear doctor.” Adagio’s cultured tones cut through the grim atmosphere as she steps out of the bedroom.

Her delicate hands are gripping a towel stained black with my blood.

If you didn’t know her, you’d expect her to balk at the concept of cleaning up that kind of mess. Adagio Dazzle doesn’t look like the sort of girl who would be able to stomach getting her hands dirty, and that probably works to her favor more often than not.

I happen to know from experience that Adagio is more than willing to dirty her hands as much as necessary to get the job done. There’s a reason I trust her above anyone else, even Aria, when it comes down to the wire.

Aria is my best friend, but Adagio?

Adagio is my strong right arm.

“Trust me when I say that if the worst you have to regret is a dalliance with someone a decade your junior, then count yourself lucky,” Adagio says with a wry grin. “Some of us have regrets that run far, far deeper.”

Redheart eyes Adagio for a long moment, and I can’t tell if the good doctor is insulted or not. Adagio, by appearances, can’t be much more than a year or so older than Aria. That would still leave Adagio as being several years younger than Redheart.

“Friends among sinners,” I say quietly. “You won’t find us judging you, Director… no one here has clean hands.”

“I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not,” Redheart replies.

“On another topic,” I start, leaning back in my chair to look towards the room. “Hey! Sour? How’s Zephyr?”

“The whiner?” Sour asks, poking her head out from behind Adagio. “Oh he was nice enough, once he stopped bitching which was never.”

“He was bleeding pretty badly, but Adagio patched up the worst of it,” Starlight says as she follows her girlfriend out. “We passed him off to his parents. They were freaking out, which is understandable, and I’m positive he went to the hospital, but I think he should be okay… the wound was bad, though.”

That was likely an understatement. Redheart’s discovery regarding the Fog and our bodies means that Survivors are very nearly a different subspecies thanks to the Entity’s interference. Zephyr doesn’t have our healing factor, so his wound was orders of magnitude more dangerous to him than a hook wound would be to one of us.

“He’s lucky,” I say, then I grimace. “But we’re not.”

That gets a round of looks.

“Think about it,” I continue. “Zephyr was hooked, not dead right?” I can see the realisation dawning on Aria and Adagio, and Starlight and Sour are quick on the uptake.

“The others were murdered!” Sour says grimly. “But the kid was downed and hooked like a normal Survivor of a Trial, which means the Thief has gotten control of their Killers.”

“And if we’re not careful, the Thief will be able to start acquiring more power through the Trial ritual,” Adagio finishes the thought with a dour expression. “I see what you mean.”

“Shit.” Aria crosses her arms and scowls.

“How are we supposed to stop them?” Starlight asks as she steps into the living room with Sour Sweet on her heels. “Canterlot is huge! They could just pluck someone off the streets and we’d never know unless we were watching twenty-four-seven!”

“So all we have to do is watch a city full of millions of people at all times?” Sour asks brightly, then scowls. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s doable.”

“Agreed,” Adagio says. “We need to find the source, then. We can’t let this continue.”

“But we have no leads!” Aria snaps.

“Not quite true,” Adagio says, drawing a look from all of us.

“Talk to me, ‘Dagi,” I say, turning back to her. “What’ve you got?”

“Not much,” she admits with a shrug. “Only that when I chased them off, I smelled the scent of snow and woodsmoke beneath the ash and blood that hangs around any other Killer.”

“Is there any chance you could identify their human forms for certain?” I ask, feeling a rush of hope. I don't tell them my suspicions. I can't do that to them. Not til it's more than just a guess.

The hope that someone else might say what I don't want to is quashed as Adagio shakes her head.

“No,” Adagio says grimly. “I don’t think Killers carry the same scent once they change, even you don’t smell like yourself when you’ve shifted.” That was news to me, but I trusted Adagio’s assessment. “I suspect it’s the smell of their home, whatever location would count as their ‘Trial Grounds’ if they were fully realised Killers.”

“So Killers carry their scent, and the smell of their home turf,” Aria says pensively. “Snow…”

“It’s winter in Canterlot,” Starlight says. “That could be anywhere.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Redheart breaks in, leaning forward for a moment before standing and starting to pace. “From what you’ve all told me, each Killer has their home field, and it never changes in the fundamentals, right?”

I nod at that. The distorted marbles of reality that make up a Killer’s Trials occasionally had things in different places now and again, but the main set up of them was always the same. Adagio’s Trial, ‘Mother’s Cabin’ as we called it, always had Adagio’s cabin in the dead center of the map and there was always a circle of menhir somewhere near it, but sometimes the standing stones would be on different sides of the cabin than they were last time.

My running theory is that each time a new Trial is begun, and the Entity goes about plopping down generators and hooks, he has to tear up the marble a little bit before putting it back together, and when he puts it back together he draws it out of the Killer’s memories. That was why the main structures are almost always in the same places, but the other objects, things like trees and ruined walls, always seem a little more randomly spaced and are never the same trial to trial.

The fact is, the Killer just doesn’t remember exactly where the trees were. They only remember the general layout, and the Entity takes that and rolls with it.

“What about it?” I ask as Redheart paces a few more times, tapping her lips with one finger before looking up at me.

“What if the smell is a permanent state?” Redheart asks. “Canterlot smells like snow now, sure, but if you were to ask someone to describe Canterlot by smell they would probably pick something different.”

Aria sits up sharply at that. “Shit, so the smell of snow and woodsmoke… that’s the core of the place? So what smells like those things all the time?”

“No clue, but it’s a lead,” I say, firmly, but my expression sours to a grimace. “I might have another one, too… but I’m not sure. I want to look into it a little before we commit.”

“Wanna share with the rest of the class, Red?” Aria says flatly.

“No,” I reply, drawing looks from the rest of my friends. “Look just… I need to look into this one alone first okay?”

“This isn’t a game, Red,” Aria says, her eyes narrowing on me. “You went out alone before and—”

“I went off before because it was a one-in-a-million chance I even saw them!” I snarl.

Silence crashes down onto the room. Everyone is staring at me, and Redheart lets out a quiet, strangled squeak as she retreats into Aria’s arms.

The room is tinged red.

“Mi Sol.”

I go rigid, and the tension in the room turns frosty as we all look up. Tempest is standing in the doorway to our bedroom. She looks worn-out, a little pale, and she’s breathing like she just ran a marathon to get here.

“That’s enough of that,” she continues, nodding down at me.

I follow her gaze down my hands, wince, and force my fists to unclench, before standing slowly, drawing my hands back as I step away from the table. I don’t want them to see how my fingers have started to turn silver.

I’m sure my eyes have already given me away though.

“Where were you?” I ask quietly.

“Lo siento mucho, Mi Sol,” Tempest says softly. “I don’t have a good excuse, I was out and I didn’t get the message until it was too late.”

“C’mon ladies, let’s give them some room,” Aria says, standing up and shepherding the rest of our little family past Tempest and out into the den.

I listen to them slowly dispersing into the night, and sit quietly at the desk of Tempest and my shared room as the small apartment empties out until it’s just the two of us, alone.

Even though I know it’s not fair, and that it was just bad timing, I still feel betrayed. Tempest should have been there for me, is what my brain is telling me. If she loved me she would have been there. That’s no never mind to the fact that I’d run off on my own, given no one any warning, and then called Tempest from an unknown number. Even if I’d been able to get a hold of her there wouldn’t have been any guarantee that she would have been nearby.

We were supposed to keep the group apprised of when we went out ‘hunting’ so there could be people on standby in case things got hairy, and I hadn’t done that. It was my fault and yet…

I was still upset.

“Talk to me?” Tempest asks as she moves beside me and kneels, taking my hand in hers and clasping it warmly, even though I know my fingers are still cold, unnatural metal.

“I’m doing this alone,” I say quietly. “And I’m not asking for permission.”

“Mi Sol…”

“I won’t pick any fights alone,” I say, pulling my hand back. “I promise.”

Tempest bows her head but I can feel as much as see the scowl forming on her face. Her temper is flaring as she shakes her head and stands up, crossing her arms over her broad chest.

“That’s not fair, Mi Sol,” Tempest says tightly. “We’re supposed to be in this together!”

“THEN WHERE WERE YOU?!”

My accusation rattles the windows and Tempest pales. I probably would have hurt her less if I’d just flipped out my claws and gutted her.

“Mi Sol…”

I pull my hand back, and away from Tempest. I’m so angry that my throat is closing up. Tears are biting at the edges of my vision, and all I want to do is scream and rage at her, and that stupid because it’s completely unfair.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble the words out as I step back.

“Don’t be,” she replies. “You’re right… you needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I still wasn’t there.”

I lower my head and wrap my arms around myself. I hate this. I hate feeling all of this. Everything was so much easier when I was just one of the Old Stain's Killers. A part of me wants to go back to that even though I know it would mean washing away everything that makes me ‘me’ in a tide of blood. That same part asks the most damning question of all too, which is: would that really be such a bad thing?

At least I wouldn’t care anymore.

“I’m… I’m going back out,” I say quietly.

“That’s not happening,” Tempest says, making a slicing motion with her hand. “Not after tonight.””

“It’s not up for debate, Temp,” I say as I shove past her.

I move past Tempest and into the hall toward the living room to grab my jacket. Tempest closes our door and follows me out, and I can feel her scowl weighing down on the back of my neck.

“No!” Tempest snaps. “I said you’re staying in tonight and I’m finished with your evasive shit, Mi Sol!”

“Then why even stay with me at all?!” I snarl, whirling on her even as I continue backing away. “If you’re done with my shit then stop talking and FUCK OFF!”

Tempest lets out an inchoate bellow of rage, snatches up an empty glass from the table, and pitches it across the room where it explodes against the wall in a shower of shards as she spits a stream of Marexican invectives.

“That’s right! Yell and break things! Like always!” I snarl. “That’s incredibly helpful! Thank you!”

“Fuck you!” Tempest jabs a finger at me. “You always do this! You never let anyone in! No matter how hard I try! No matter what we do, you keep us out!”

“I have my reasons!” I slap her hand away.

Tempest’s face contorts with rage.

“What reasons?!” Tempest spits. “You mean wandering through Canterlot as the Nightmare instead of sleeping! Or did you think I didn’t know?!”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” I figured she knew, I never lied about it but I never talked about it either. I also wasn’t very subtle. “And I patrol! I have to! That’s the only reason we saved that doofus in the alley tonight!”

Tempest screams again, then lashes out with a heavy, booted foot at the couch. The whole couch heaves back with a deafening WHAM before she turns back to me.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, puta!” Tempest snarls, jabbing her finger at my face again. “You weren’t patrolling! You just walk the fucking line because you’re Sunset fucking Shimmer, and you can do whatever you fucking wa—”

“SHUT UP!”

The world rattles around me on the edge of my roar. The lights in the living room flicker, whine, and dim as I advance on Tempest, who’s gone pale. She backs away from me slowly until her back is against the wall.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” I hiss. “I’m doing just fine, understand?”

She doesn’t reply, and she’s trying to glare down at me but her blue eyes are too wide with fear to pull it off. I reach up, seize her by the chin, and drag her down until we’re eye to eye.

“I said do you—?!”

My words die at the reflection of myself that I see in Tempest’s eyes. I don’t see a young woman, I see a monster. I see eyes that glow with a poisonous blackness, and amber skin that’s starting to burn red and is already shot through with icy blue veins.

I let out a slow breath, and let go, and I wince at the faint cuts I leave behind on Tempest’s face.

“I… I—” I swallow hard as I back away from Tempest, and an icy fist forms in my gut as she massages her face. “I should go…”

I put my back to Tempest and make for the door.

“Mi Sol, wait!” Tempest pleads, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder.

I freeze at the feeling of her fingers digging in. Not painfully, just firmly, and refusing to let me go.

“Get off me,” I snap and I jerk my shoulder, throwing her hand off.

“Damn it, Mi Sol!”

Her fist closes around my bicep and in that instant the world claps around me like a steel band around my windpipe. For a moment, all I can hear is the thudding of a heartbeat. My heartbeat. A Killer’s heartbeat. My vision is a grayscale tunnel, and I can’t tell if I’m the one breathing, or if the breathing is coming from over my shoulder and being squeezed through lungs plagued with fibrous knots of coal.

“GET OFF ME!” I jerk my arm free and slam it into Tempest’s chest.

She cries out as the force of my blow rips her off of her feet and sends her crashing through the coffee table and into the couch, knocking it over and throwing her tumbling past it to the wall beyond.

A cold weight settles around my heart as the panic fades and I realise what I’ve just done.

More than that, though…

There are five, shallow cuts along her abdomen along with a heavy bruise.

“Sunset?”

The apartment door creaks open and Starlight and Sour are both standing, pale-faced and exhausted, in the hallway, staring between me and Tempest. They must have been right outside… which means they heard everything.

I swallow hard as I look down at my hand. My fingers are silver and have sharpened into dull claws. I’m losing it. I’m losing my mind and my body alike.

I can’t stay here.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a choked voice. I want to cry and scream and rage all at the same time. I can’t let that out on them. Not on my friends. “Please, take care of her…” I nod at Tempest who’s sitting up in a daze. “Tell her I’m so sorry.”

Then I do what I’ve always done best.

I run away from the people who love me.

Author's Note

Another soul, battered and broken.

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