The Laughing Shadow

Jack left out the front door and into the crowded yard. Isabelle was waiting for her, pacing nearby the fountain.

Wasn't too long ago that she was nappin' there, Jack mused, the thought sending a small, nostalgic tingle through her body. She quickly brushed it aside. There was work to do.

Dash perked up, glancing her way.

“Ready, hayseed?” she questioned. A commotion towards the front of the yard briefly caught Jack's eye.

A group of plainclothes police were talking to one of the students. Jack quickly glanced away.

“Let's go. Quick,” the farmer said. She had a feeling the cop wasn't here for a routine inspection. Jack then paused. “Uh, how we gonna fly?”

Isabelle conjured her ethereal wings and gave a flap of them, taking off surprisingly easy despite the armor. She flew a few inches above Jack. “Take my hands. We'll get a bit better adjusted position away from everyone.”

Jack reached up, grasping Dash's hands and they took off, Isabelle swearing loudly as she hoisted the farmer up and off the ground.

They took off, starting strong, only for Dash to touch down not even a mile away, landing them both in the middle of the woods. She looked away from Jack, seeming almost abashed.

“You're really heavy for my arms, bro,” she said flatly. Jack scowled.

“Then why didn't we take a coupla damn horses from the stables? We ain't got time fer games,” Jack snapped, throwing her hands up. “God's sake, Dash, I—“

“—I said 'for my arms,'” Dash repeated. She rolled her eyes. “Look, you don't know a lot about sky-folk, yeah?”

“Dash...”

“I'm going somewhere with this.”

Jack scoffed. “No. I reckon not. They're a mite more common than soul-folk in my neck of the woods, but they had their own jobs, I had mine.”

Dash threw the shield off her back.

“Well, it's subtle, but our structure's a bit different than an earth-folk—hold this.”

Jack grabbed the shield, briefly noting its mirror-polish, and its lightness despite the obvious hefty appearance.

“Anyway,” Dash continued, “our center of weight is a bit different, and our, uh, wings send magic down our spines and back muscles. It let us haul crap like chariots back in the day.”

“Meanin'...?” Jack questioned, nervously sparing a glance behind them, towards the school. She was afraid she'd see a cop in the distance any second. When she turned her head back, Isabelle was on her hands and knees, her face crimson.

“Not a word. Shut up and hop on,” she growled out. Despite the gravity of the whole day, Jack let a small, brief smirk out.

“So I'm gonna ride ya like a sky-pony or somethin'?”

“Don't make me kick your ass, hayseed,” Dash warned.

The farmer moved over to Isabelle.

“Fair 'nough. I was raised not ta look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.”

Jack sat down gently on Isabelle's lower back, behind the sky-folk's majestic, ethereal wings. Reaching forward, she found a decent enough gripping spot at the nape of Isabelle's neck and clenched it tightly in one hand, the thought of plummeting to her death letting her squeeze just a little bit harder than she normally could.

Without a word, Isabelle gave a hard flap of her wings, lifting the pair up a few feet. She wrapped her arms around the back of Jack's thighs to secure the woman to her and then they were off, tearing through the sky like scissors through cloth.

000

Luna crouched low, the black creature's strike sailing over her head as she used her momentum to swing her spear, severing the creature's leg. It collapsed on the ground, splashing and losing its form for a brief moment. Twila could already see it starting to form in on itself, taking shape. Luna ran to the soul-folk, wordlessly lifting Twila up bridal style. Without hesitation, Luna sprinted to the balcony and lept off.

The rain soaked them to the bone as they plunged, the wind whipping at their faces, the stone coming closer and closer.

Luna erupted forward, leveling out a few feet from the ground and speeding them along through the town, her ebony wings strong, powerful, beautiful even as they fled, even amid this nightmare.

The all-folk spared one glance at her burden, before turning her attention to their flight.

Luna swore, involuntary tightening her hands around Twila's form. Twila glanced forward and screamed.

The figure. The damned figure.

He stood above the heavens themselves, his body as wide as the town's main strip. His height massive, taller than the grand castle of Camelot's highest spire. He snapped a hand down, his motion an impossible blur of speed compared to his earlier movement. Luna pulled to the side, the rush of air from his massive palm sending them to an out of control spiral. She righted herself and they ducked into an alley.

Twila stared behind them, peering over Luna's shoulder. A black, oily cloud formed, taking shape into a maddening spider-like creature, its thousand of eyes blinking independently of one-another and its massive mandibles easily the width of Luna's wingspan. It scuttled forward, its legs using either side of the buildings as support, every step taken upon its needle-sharp legs smashing the side of the buildings it traveled on, punching holes in glass and concrete alike.

It reached one of its legs out to Luna. She dove down and to an angle of the strike, a line of laundry whizzing dangerously close overhead. A high-rise apartment came into sight, ending the alleyway; Luna shot straight up, clearing the building in front of them with inches to spare.

The beast was not as fortunate. It rammed full force into the structure. Twila heard a heavy groan as the building's frame snapped, collapsing and burying the creature in debris. Still Luna did not stop her frantic pace; she carried Twila, scanning the horizon amid the rain and finally settling on a direction. She pushed her body forward and set Twila down on one of the tall rolling hills overlooking the town. Twila had a brief thought, a random reminder of how she had created a minstrel show on this very hill when she first had conjured and expanded the world beyond her mansion.

Luna moved quickly, slamming her spear into the ground, planting it vertically. They each heard a metallic, foreign roar, and Twila saw in the distance the black figure erupting from the town, its size and shape again changed, now into a gargoyle, no larger than herself with bat-wings. As it came closer, closing the distance Luna had created with her own flight, Twila could hear a sort of feral, rapid breathing that made itself known even over the rain.

Luna concentrated, putting her hands together in a praying gesture, then lifting them to her sides, stretching her body into a “T” shape.

She stared, unflinchingly at the creature's approach.

“Thine time grows short, monster,” she growled, her words as final as a judge's sentence.

000

The room was chill, the concrete floor and flaking brick walls all but radiating cold. Rarity shivered and tensed up, briefly fighting the rope that bound her wrists tightly behind her back and around the hard wooden chair she sat on. The man watching her, Mr. Flam, gave a small shake of his head.

“You won't get out of there like that,” he remarked. “Fighting it'll just make it tighter.”

Rarity glared at him before offering a sardonic smile.

“Is that so?” she questioned. “Because I'm sure my sister could make a better knot.”

“Now, now, no need for the attitude lady. I'm just doing what the boss man's saying needs done.”

“And if he told you to kill me, would you follow him then?”

He nodded easily. “A half-done job is just as bad as not doing the job at all. Besides, you might not know, but he has a bit of a temper.”

“Lapdog,” Rarity spat. Flam shrugged.

“Rich lapdog,” he replied. “Look sister—“

“Don't call me that, brute.”

He brushed his red and white-streaked hair back. “Anyway. I'm just placing my money on the winning horse. Get me a slice of the pie when he's got everything in pocket. A nice mansion, all the food I can eat.” He grinned, showing his pearl teeth. “Any woman I want. I'm ready for the good times.”

“You really think he'll do that for you?” She let out a single mocking guffaw. “Considering he's been nothing but a manipulative swine who only gets his hands dirty when it absolutely can't be traced back to him, I would say your days are numbered.”

“I'm not as expendable like the others,” he replied.

“No,” Rarity answered, another mocking smile on her lips. “You're more expendable.”

He curled his lip in a scowl and snapped his hand forward, striking Rarity on the cheek so hard her head twisted. She stared at him without an ounce of fear, blood trailing over her lip and down her chin. Flam wiped at his nose.

“It's still a bit before we're contacting your father. I don't think Dmitri would mind if we made you presentable for the call.” He walked to the door. “I'll be back in a moment to get you ready.”

The door slammed shut, leaving Rarity alone. A single light burned overhead, illuminating the dank room. She tried to move her arms again. Like the last time she tried, there wasn't much she could do; certainly there wasn't a way she could move them to her front. Her magic was out of the question thanks to that damnable poison....

She took in a breath, willing, forcing herself to calm down. There had to be a way out of this.

Think 'bout what ya got on-hand. Usually the best answer, sug, she heard Jack say. Jus' keep calm. Ya can do this. Ya can.

She relaxed, slightly, and once more felt along the back of the chair, nearly letting out an expletive when she felt something sharp rip at the back of her hand. She was about to stop, when it clicked on her. That rough spot on the chair's finish might, just might...

Rarity ran the rope up and down it and was rewarded with a quiet, small tearing noise as it worked through the fibers.

She worked frantically, a race to free herself before he came back and get into a position where she could act when needed.

And just what are you planning to do to get out of this room? she thought. The answer came to her in an instant. Without hesitation or restraint, she muttered:

“What I have to.”

000

They flew, faster than anything Jack had ever been on, yet she remained calm, even though in normal circumstances, she'd be screaming in a sort of elated terror at how high they were, and how recklessly fast Dash propelled them forward. Now though? Her thoughts revolved around what she was going to need to do when she got to where they were headed.

Dash turned her head.

“Gonna land for a sec!” she called out to Jack over the rush of wind. Before the farmer could object, Dash dove, landing them in an open field. In the distance, Jack saw a grain silo and the faintest peak of a windmill beyond a hill.

Dash rested, laying flat on the ground and spread-eagle, sweat obvious on her body from the exertion. Jack reached into her pack and pulled out her water canteen and wordlessly handed it to Isabelle.

“T-thanks,” she panted out, rising her shoulders a bit to take a drink before falling back again.

“If I wasn't in armor and having to haul your ass around, I'd be making records on how fast I've been going,” she weakly joked. Jack said nothing, running a finger in the dirt as she waited for Dash to recover.

“Hey...” Dash quietly asked, gentler than her normal brash tone. “How you holding up?”

Jack gave an unsure shake of her head and exhaled. “I'm angry as hell. I ain't never been this mad before. Like it's eatin' me up inside.”

“You just keep that inside until we get to the guy that's got your girl,” Dash said, taking another drink of water and finally sitting up fully.

They sat for a moment longer, Jack with her arms crossed and glaring down at the ground, Isabelle resting her arms on her knees.

“What are you gonna do to him?” Dash asked suddenly. Jack met her gaze.

“I make sure he ain't never gonna do this ta someone else,” she replied.

“Will you be—“

Jack cut her off. “This ain’t like last time, sug. This guy has been runnin' after Rarity fer months now. He's like a dog goin' after a chicken, an' when a dog gets the taste of blood, ya put that son of a bitch inta the ground.”

Dash gave a slow, considering nod. “Whatever you decide on, I've got your back.” She rose, doing a few stretches to the side. “Well, let's go. Odds are we can make that place by twilight if we push it.”

Jack mounted up and they were gone without even a moment's thought.

000

Dash was right on the bits; they first caught sight of the massive house when the sun was gone and only a few weak rays of light greeted the horizon. Dash slowed down, setting them down at the end of a crater. Ahead, a path along a shallow decline wandered downward to the crater proper. Farther ahead still, inside the crater was a sight that made Jack freeze.

Hundreds of... white things stood, wandering slowly about. Humanoid in shape and about the size of Isabelle. Jack squinted, trying to make out their features.

Thin muscles on their white bodies, no genitals, but a sort of androgynous build and, more shockingly, no faces either. From what Jack could make out, not even the bumps or ridges a normal face would have, just a smooth oval canvas for a head. Isabelle swore, pointing to a tree standing before what seemed to be the mansion's front door.

“That what I think it is?” she asked herself, wiping at her brow.

“What do ya think it is?” Jack asked. “An' better question.” She gestured to the creatures. “The hell are those?”

“Seedlings from a Ygg.”

Jack shrugged. “Ygg?” she repeated. Isabelle nodded.

“Yeah man. Don't you rem—“ she paused. “Wait. That was last year.”

“Ya wanna answer the damn question already?”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Ok, ok.” She gestured at the tree. “That's a Ygg. Or, Yggdrasil, as they're actually called. Iron Will had a session about them in his classes last year. They're a...” Dash squinted her eyes in thought, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. “High-level conjuration spell. Uh... they grow these white sacks at the branches, when they get big and touch the floor, a little dude like what you're seeing comes out.”

Jack swore. “How we gonna get past 'em?”

“Why not fly to a window, bro? I'll scope 'em out.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “Try not ta alert anyone, tho'.”

She conjured her wings and took a few steps forward, giving a dry look to Jack. “If they've been keeping an eye on the sky, they would have seen us already.”

Before Jack could reply, Isabelle took off high above the creatures below them. Jack watched Isabelle go to the mansion and try first one window on the second story, then another, then another, slamming her fist hard on the last one. She rose, going to the top of the mansion's large central spire and the massive bay windows that overlooked the scene before her. Isabelle seemed to freeze, then quickly returned, landing skillfully next to Jack.

“Well?” Jack asked. Dash shook her head, scowling.

“Thing's locked tighter than a nun's virginity. Windows have a barrier spell, and what's worse—“

“There's a worse?” Jack said, putting a hand to her forehead as a headache bubbled to life.

“Up at the top floor, someone was watching me. Scared me shitless. He was staring out the window. If it wasn't for the spell, I could of touched him.”

“So he knows we're here.” Crossing her arms, squeezing them so tight she could hear the leather guards she wore groan under her pressure, she frowned. “What are our options?”

“Options?” Isabelle repeated. “You don't know what a Ygg can do. Watch.” She looked down below her for a moment before palming a small stone, then chucked it with all her might. It landed just a ways in from the mob's edge and immediately dozens snapped towards where the stone landed, their faces breaking apart horizontally and revealing sharp, deadly teeth. They howled and grunted, feeling for the rock for several moments before giving up, their jaws retracting into the smooth, nondescript faces of the crowd, and they returned to their more normal meandering pathways.

“What...?” Jack questioned. Isabelle shrugged.

“The tree acts like a sort of hive-mind I guess you could call it. Something to do with the roots they have in the dirt. Otherwise they're like deaf and dumb zombies.”

“What's stopping' ya from flyin' over ta cut the tree down?”

“Easier said than done,” Isabelle replied. “Those roots I just talked about, yeah? They can move above ground. It uses them to whip, slash, and cut anyone actually close to the tree itself.”

Jack went through a familiar motion for her; she threw the travel satchel and sheath out in front of her and then with a shaking hand, she withdrew the oversized blade out from its scabbard, before throwing the sheath and satchel to her back once more, pausing for only a brief moment to attach a dagger to her belt.

“The hell you doing?” Isabelle remarked.

“I'm gonna go through.”

“What?”

Jack narrowed her gaze. “Rarity's in there, Dash. An' I can't think of any other way ta get to her.”

“You're crazy!” Dash exclaimed. She put a restraining hand on Jack's shoulder. The farmer quickly brushed it off.

“I'm desperate.” She grit her teeth. “Ya got any better ideas?”

Dash crossed her arms. “No. But I got an idea that might give you a chance.” She pointed at the tree. “I'm gonna distract that thing. It's only a chance, but maybe with the roots out and after me, it might leave those seedlings deaf and dumb.” She once more conjured her wings and took to flying a few feet off the ground, hesitantly looking over to Jack. “Don't know how you're so damn frosty about this.”

Jack didn't meet Isabelle's gaze, rather, she focused on the gauntlet before them. “Frosty?” she repeated, swallowing and licking her dry lips. “I'm shakin' in my boots so hard I'm surprised my teeth ain't chatterin'.”

“If it looks like you can't make it, get the hell out of there,” Dash said, slowly flapping her wings to put distance between her and Jack. “We can regroup and think of another way to do this.”

They both knew Dash was lying. This was their only chance, the very definition of do or die. Jack simply nodded at the sky-folk's words and watched as she reluctantly made her way over the horde below.

Isabelle came to the tree's side. As she had said, the roots, barbed, nasty writhing snake-like appendages, erupted out of the ground, snapping like a whip towards the flying woman. She dodged to the side, her shield and sword poised and ready to defend her body. Another one of the roots latched onto her ankle. She easily snapped forward and cut through it with her sword.

Jack took one deep breath, her conviction briefly waning. On catching sight of the mansion, she narrowed her brow, swallowed her unrelenting dread, and marched on.

She noticed as she approached the crowd a peculiar smell. It wasn't an organic scent the things had. It reminded her in a way of burning plastic. An unnatural scent that, for some reason, confounded her senses even more than their aimless, shambling movements, or the muffled breaths and grunts that permeated through their featureless maws, a cross between a dog's snarl and a listless sigh.

She came closer to the first, raising her sword to a striking pose. The creature turned to her as if he could hear without ears and opened its nightmarish mouth, highlighting its vicious teeth. Jack hesitated for only a moment at the horrific abomination in front of her before bringing the greatsword down, easily splitting the thing's head and most of its neck in one light swing. A sort of brown sap filled the air in a spurt, speckling Jack's face. Without breaking pace, she pulled the blade free and marched on, turning her head left and right, scanning frantically for any others that might have caught on her position. A group of three did; Jack hefted Durandel to her shoulder and swung horizontally. It cleaved through all three as easily as a knife through butter. Jack marched on.

Another turned, sensing her—Jack twisted her body, avoiding its snapping teeth and kicked at its chest. That gave her some breathing room to bring her blade down with an angry grunt. She marched on.

A strange sense of calm fell upon her as she scanned the path she was making and mechanically walked forward—walked, Jack knew deep down she'd be blind with panic if she ran—the sense was hard to place. Through the swirling chaos she found herself in, the thought was alien to her. But it dawned on her shortly after she let one lumber too close and nearly take a bite out of her—the dagger at her side found its temple in an instant, the action she took automatic, ingrained into her body's reflexes without even a conscious thought. She pulled it out and stepped past before he even finished collapsing.

As she leveled the sword and cut another from shoulder to hip, she realized where the calm came from. The sort of tranquility that came over her mind as her hands worked deadly magic, swinging her large blade with surgical, deadly precision, each blow sending a spurt of brown sap into the air.

It was the same sort of peace that came to her when she worked the farm, be it tilling the land, planting seeds, or harvesting. It was listening to Rarity sing, listening to her talk with an obvious eagerness over her daily affairs, laying close enough to feel her warmth during cold nights. It was a sort of calm acceptance at her place in a matter. The sort of contentment at knowing where you need to be in the world. The thought should of frightened her, a hell like this being a place for her.

One of the creatures managed to sneak past her from behind; a sharp pain flared at her collarbone. She spared the featureless head and the large teeth embedded into her body only the most fleeting of glances before her free hand reached down once more to the dagger at her wrist and snapped it up, planting it in its eye—where its eye should be. She slammed her back into the creature and twisted her body, freeing herself as its teeth raked lightly along her shoulder, then brought the dagger forward again, slashing its throat, then finally connecting true, her overwhelming strength flaring to life as she cut through its skull and managed to bury the weapon at a rough angle of where the bridge of a nose should be, before taking her foot and planting it on its chest and yanking her weapon free. The thought of how if she didn't have the armor Rarity had crafted for her, that bite would have probably killed her only phasing her mentally for the faintest of moments, despite the physical hurt that came with it. She turned back to her task and marched on.

Through all the jumbled, unsure thoughts, Jack marched on, dodging a bite by pushing the creature away with a kick, then severing its body into two equal vertical halves, her sword swing landing hard like thunder.

Though all the pain of her aching muscles and still-bleeding collarbone, Jack marched on, pulling the sword back to her shoulder and delivering a hard killing blow to another one of the creatures, the force behind it making it feel like the earth itself trembled under her strength.

Through the somber feelings she carried about her granny, Jack marched on.

Through the fear she carried with her about Rarity, about Isabelle, about herself, Jack marched on.

Through the anger she felt, clawing at her innards, trying to get a foothold over her once again as she let out a shout, bringing her blade down once more, slaying another seedling, then immediately bringing it up and at an angle, taking out another's arm and neck, then reversing the swing yet again, hopping forward and bringing the blade crashing down on another. Jack marched on.

Even now, when everything was against her and she stood, the flames of hell at all sides, a word came to her lips, one she mouthed to herself as the tree loomed closer and closer to her.

Ronnel.

Jack marched on.

The tree was right there and Isabelle still flew, darting away from the vines that erupted to grab her, and slicing at the plant roots every second she could get. Just before the farmer could take a swing, one of the vines shot up and swiped upward with a speed that felt impossible. Isabelle took the brunt of the attack, it sending her tumbling head over heels and crashing hard into the ground. Instantly, a swarm of the creatures converged on her, their jaws unhinging and revealing those damn teeth.

Jack knew she had to act and had to act now if they were getting through. With a loud, angry shout more at place with a feral beast than a simple farm-girl, she charged forward, her thumb pulling at the small gear at the sword's handle. The weapon groaned, and the seal adorned into the side of the blade came to life, creating a river-like blue trail from the weapon's guard to the middle of the blade. Jack instantly felt the weight come to the weapon and steeled herself, the slump of her powerful, muscular shoulders and the hard grimace of her jaw the only indication as to the obscene weight the weapon now held. Jack pulled her burden back over her shoulder and let out another loud shout as she twisted and brought her swing through horizontally, a set of the barbed roots shot past her torso, barely missing her body.

Her aim was true; the blade connected, working like an axe thanks to its unnatural heft. The tree ruptured, its entire side blowing out from the sudden and violent impact of Jack's sword. The farmer's head was filled with an unnatural scream, the shrieks of a woman in agony, and the Ygg toppled, already shriveling into a sort of off-gray ash. Around her, the seedlings withered, becoming shrunken, dried, reminding Jack of jerky. They soon suffered the same fate as the Yggdrasil, nothing more than shaped piles of ash. Isabelle lay flat on the ground, her shield still held protectively over her face and chest. On realizing she wasn't being attacked still, she slowly rose.

Jack stood, overlooking the scene before her, panting, unable to catch her breath.

“W-we did it,” Isabelle stammered out. “Holy shit, hayseed, you—“

She paused, Jack leaned on her sword, still drawing in deep breaths, sweat caking her forehead. Blood dripped from her shoulder, the wound aching. Jack gave an experimental flex and roll of her shoulder. She hissed as pain flared from the bite, but noted she could at least still move her arm.

“That looks deep, man,” Isabelle commented, moving to the farmer and inspecting her injury.

“I'll live,” Jack replied. She glanced at the double door leading inside and narrowed her brow.

The handle was bloody, and dripped down to an obvious splotch at the base of the door. Jack moved past Dash and grabbed the handle. Isabelle put her palm on the farmer's shoulder.

“We need to patch you up.”

Jack tensed her hand on the handle and turned it.

“Rarity needs you at your peak. If you don't stop that bleeding...”

Jack scowled. Dash was right. She had to hurry, but she couldn't lose her chance because she was being stupid and reckless.

“We clear out this room, then ya can play doc on me. I got some stuff in my bag,” Jack replied, her voice quiet as she let her eyes adjust to the dim room.

She stood in a hallway. About ten feet ahead of them it widened into a large foyer, with dozens of decorative pillars giving the room a sort of pathway feeling to it, and doors lined with golden swirling designs. Ahead, a single set of stairs leading to a second floor. From what she could see up higher on the landing, a few more doors and a small set of stairs tucked in the corner leading even higher. She glanced down. The blood left a noticeable spotty trail, turning to the left once it entered the foyer proper.

She put a finger to her lips and cocked her head towards the bloodstain. Dash paused for a moment to take in the scene, then nodded, resting a hand at her blade and remaining unmoving. Jack herself drew the dagger she wore at her side and took a few slow, cautious steps forward, swearing inwardly at how much she stuck out. Being as big as she was had its problems sometimes. She rounded the corner, peeking her head around the corner, then freezing.

Gilda sat motionless on the floor, her back propped up against the wall and her head limply resting at her chest. Her hands limply clutched at her stomach, Jack could see red staining through her shirt.

The farmer shook her head and gestured for Isabelle. She joined Jack and stared.

“She...?” Dash quietly muttered out, looking mutely at Gilda.

“I dunno.” Jack walked to Gilda's side and pulled one of her gloves off, then placed her finger at the side of Gilda's neck. It was faint, barely a ghost, but she felt a pulse.

“Alive,” Jack confirmed. “But she's jus' barely hangin' on. We gotta do somethin'.”

Isabelle stiffened. “And why do we have to?” she countered, crossing her arms. “Or do you not remember the part where she shot you?”

“I remember alright,” Jack replied, reaching up and touching at the wound. “But I've been thinkin'... how often does she miss in training?”

“That doesn't—“

“She shot me point blank. If she had wanted me dead, then I woulda been dead.”

“Bullshit,” Dash snapped. “You've seen how she acts! It had to of been an accident that she missed.”

Jack rolled her eyes, picking up Gilda, then turning to Dash.

“Take her ta town. It's jus' a lil' ways east.”

“Hell no, I'm not ditching you.”

“Yer gettin' her a doc. High tail it back ta me after if ya gotta, but—“

“'But' nothing, asshole!” Dash snapped, throwing her hand to the side. “I'm not letting you do this by yourself.”

Jack took a breath and stared evenly at Isabelle. “Remember back at the warehouse?” she quietly asked. Isabelle calmed down slightly and gave a curious tilt of her head.

“I do.”

“Ya remember shuttin' that freezer door in my face?”

Dash said nothing, waiting for Jack to continue.

“Well, it's my turn ta fly solo. Take her ta a doc, man.”

“Jack...”

She held out Gilda's form. Dash took it begrudgingly, tilting her head up to meet Jack's eyes.

“Go. I'll be fine.”

Dash turned, shaking her head and stepping towards the door. “You'd better be,” she muttered.

Jack heard the sound of Dash taking off, then exhaled, biting at her lip with worry as she took in the mansion and tried to ignore the ache in her body. Walking forward, she hid as best she could behind the stairs leading up and stripped off her chest piece, reaching for the belts that secured it against her form, then throwing it to the ground and quickly reaching for her supply satchel. She took to rolling gauze around the bite, over the shoulder and under the arm. As she did this for several long, painful minutes, she leaned against the stairway and stared straight up, wondering what lay before her.

Jus' hang on, Rare. I'm comin' fer ya.