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Full Version: A Measure of Salvation
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[color=#CCCCFF]Blossom stared with disbelief, unable to utter a sound. She tried to speak, but no words passed her lips, no coherent thoughts ran through her head. Then it clicked. Her world was torn asunder, the weak threads that held the fading pieces of her mind together burned to ashes. All thought escaped her, there was only loneliness, sadness. She was trapped within her mind oblivious to the world around her.

No tears rolled down her cheeks, no sobs were heard. She realized now that there was no hope, no salvation, no happiness, however fleeting. She was truly alone in the universe. She had held the hope that Emilio might return to himself and they could run and hide... Somewhere, anywhere. No more murder, no more torture to endure. That flame was quietly put out in the cold darkness of space, not even an echoing scream to remain. Murdered by another she loved... Murdered or put to rest?

She knew Gloom would think Emilio a corpse. She thought she could save him... But Gloom. How could he betray her? He… abandoned her, left her completely alone. She loved him, too. And now he was leaving. Walking toward his fighter and leaving her there to die alone.

Only one word made it to the real world, [color=#FF99FF]"V-Viktor...?"
Her eyes turned toward him, empty, and yet full of sadness.
He paused in his movement. He didn't want to tell her... but was left without a choice as he turned around to look into those deep brown eyes of hers.
"So sad." He thought before he put on a mask that only existed in his head. So sad.

[color=#FFFFFF]"I knew who Defiler was. I knew he was your brother once.
But the carcass whom I've met out there and put to rest, that wasn't him.
I did not kill your brother. He died long ago at the hands of those who sent whatever was left of him after me."


He saw the last bit of light in her eyes fade away, just as the scene was interrupted...

"Hey I just came from the comms tower and... oh ****, is that the one?"

...by the Chief who was gasping for breath as he arrived with a small group of armed men behind him.

"****, they said one of your friends was coming, but I didn't think she'd be... wait a second, that a 'Cast?"

After looking towards the Chief he realized that he didn't know how to answer.
He focused his attention on Margarita again.
Margarita's eyes dropped. Gloom knew, and he killed Emilio anyway. She knew this day would come, but she still was not prepared. Nothing left. Nowhere to go. No reason to care. No reason to live. She sat on the floor motionless, knees tucked against her chest.. No tears, no expression. Blank. Hollow.

She made no effort, no movement, as the Xenos tried to stand her on her feet. She just collapsed, so they started dragging her away. It didn't matter what happened anymore, nothing could be worse.
He turned his back as the Xenos dragged her away.
She didn't scream. She didn't cry. And he... didn't care.
That was what he told himself atleast, but there was some splinter stuck in the back of his head, something that wanted to force him to think as he clutched the grip of that old sword with all his might.
Something wanted him to reconsider.
To... save her? Was that it?

What was it about this woman that kept him from walking away, what was the one damn thing that kept his mind racing from one corner of his personal universe to another?
Was it that she had been neither dead nor alive for so long?

He didn't know... for once he didn't know.
Maybe it was that. Not knowing.

If there was one thing he hated, it was having people condemned to a specific fate without having known, without having seen the entirety of the big picture.
It was something a murderer would do.
Something an already dead man would do.

"Impossibly spoken, the words are cried out,
The blackness is coming, yet we cannot shout.
The soldiers below repeat what they're for,
They promise to make it out of the war."


The last verse of that old song. He couldn't see it, but she looked up. She remembered him singing it, long ago.
And she knew, somehow she knew what was going to come as she closed her eyes and pushed the reality of the things about to happen aside in her head.
His choice had been made.

[color=#CCCCCC]"What was that?"
The Chief asked as he motioned the guards dragging Margarita away to stop.

"Chief..." He turned his head around.
"Tell me, what is the color that shows you're alive? Red..." He raised the armored mask to his face.
"...or Blue?"

"What kind of a question's that? What do I know. Red?" - The chief asked with a perplexed look.

"Why?" Slowly, carefully he started to slide the mask's holding straps into place.

"Why? Hell, for all I know that's the color of blood, isn't it? And this ***** here's going to have no blood left in her once we're done with her Cardamine-addicted ass."

If the Chief could've seen past the mask he would have noticed that certain cold, wry smile.

With a quiet "click" the same mask signaled that it was entirely in place now, forming one solid entity with the suit of powered armor.
The old man slowly turned around, speaking only three words in his now unearthly calm voice.

"Wrong answer...

The world faded into a blur as the last one left his lips.

...Corpse."

Just in this moment the dim, orange light coming out of the viewslits of the mask flickered on, and a cold shiver ran down the Chief's spine.
That light rapidly coming closer was to be his last memory before a sharp edge seperated his head from his neck.
Blossom closed her eyes tight, shivering slightly when the blood hit her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at Gloom. "Vikt-tor?"

[color=#FFFFFF]"Run."


She was still frozen in place, and shivers kept running down her entire body until...

"RUN, YOU FOOL!"

...she felt the back of his armored glove hitting her cheek, the pain pulling her back into the world.

"Get to your ship and head for Rochester as fast as you can. GO!"

She had never heard him scream, never seen him angry, and for some reason, even though her mind was a mess at this point in time she... felt comforted by that thought.

After stumbling over the the body of the Chief in front of her she sprinted for her ship, jumping on the wing as the cockpit opened. She glanced back to Gloom, his shining armor, yet unstained by the blood of these Xenos. Likely not for long. Firing up the engines she shouted... "What about you?"

"I'll keep the corpses at bay to buy you some time, now shut up and get out of this godforsaken graveyard!"

The ship's engines came to life with a deafening roar as she closed the cockpit. She shot open the hangar bay's large metal doors and launched out into space, silently praying that he would make it out alive.
He didn't look after her.
She would make it, he knew that. For her, that was the only way.
But he'd have to buy her time before those... corpses could get after her.
It didn't take long until the men and women who were scattered around in this hangar bay realized what had just happened.
He surveyed the large hall with his eyes... they wouldn't put up a fight, running for a safe place to hide as they were.
But whoever was going to come...

"Down here! This way! He's armed boys, so make your shots count!"

...was going to have a meeting with fate.

[color=#CCCCFF]"There he is! Drop your ****ing weapon you son of a ***** and get down on your knees!
GET. THE. ****. DOWN!"


A dozen. Twelve men, clad in body armor and armed with laser rifles. Station security.
Even without his armor, they were no match for him.

"I don't take orders from corpses."

"What?!... Oh... **** YOU! FIRE AT WILL!"

He jumped out of the way, dodging the initial salvo of laser bolts headed towards him by diving behind a rusty metal crate.

"FLUSH HIM OUT, GET HIM!"

Just a second later he watched as some frag grenades landed close to him...

...to detonate yet another second later while he was already on the run for a large waste container a few feet away, laser bolts only missing him by inches.

Not the poorest shots, but not good enough either.

"Quit dicking around and get..."

Whoever the man was, he didn't see him coming as he ran up to him from behind his cover and thrusted that old Power Sword through his chest, following up with a swift motion that literally cut the man in half.

"Talking corpses..."

After swinging it in a wide arc, the sword cut through flesh and bone.
A sound, one that he couldn't describe still after so many years, was the reward, along with two more bodies laying on the floor.

"...worst of the bunch..."

The looks of surprise on the other men's faces vanished, now replaced by sheer terror as they frantically tried to aim at him.

"...didn't even learn that the dead don't speak."

But that didn't save them. The shimmering blade moved in a circular motion as he ran up to the next two, his speed matching the graceful movement of it as it made contact with its victims.

"Oh god, oh god, please, don..."

No mercy. Not here. Not now.
One more swing equalled one more body on that cold floor which was painted in shades of crimson and red already.

Looking around, he noticed the others running away.
If not for the mask he would have known that the air, which was stale and tasteless a few minutes ago, now had a note of rusty iron in it.

"Just enough." He thought. Enough time.
He kneeled down and plucked a pair of grenades off the belt of the man... the corpse he had just put to rest.
A few moments later, he ran over to an old Starblazer nearby, opened the small hatch of the fuel tank and tossed the two grenades in.
The fire would keep them busy for a few minutes.

Three seconds later as he was running towards his ship, the loud sound of the explosion made his ears ring, and the flash of light almost blinded him.

He didn't turn around to look back before he jumped into his fighter's cockpit, fired up the engines, and disappeared into that familiar cold darkness of space.
Another two days later...

They hadn't exchanged words since that day.
After they met up here, on Rochester, neither of them felt like talking.
Margarita spent most time sleeping in their quarters when she wasn't staring at a blank wall or staying down in the hangar bay, checking on the ships to make sure nobody tinkered with them.

He however hadn't slept much. When she was awake and just sitting there, he went to work in the hangar bay.
When she was asleep, he quietly watched over her.
Sometimes he was just sitting there, staring out into space.
Like right now.

"V...Viktor?"

The first word. His name. It was about time, and he had to ask her a question before this could go anywhere.

[color=#FFFFFF]"You're not one of them anymore, aren't you?"


"Huh?"

"I checked your ship's logs. Transmissions from both graveyards, and the Eidolon himself.
Orders, mostly. Never requests. As per usual.
You didn't reply to or confirm any of them.
Nothing."


She looked down at the floor for a moment before she answered.
Margarita shrugged slightly, [color=#FF99FF]"I guess so. It's weird, ya know? I mean, I'm me again... Sort of. I'll never be the old me again, though."

She let off a quiet sigh, [color=#FF99FF]"Look, I just... Don't want to hurt people."
She looked back up at him, smiling slightly, "And now, for some reason, I... I don't have that urge anymore. So... Yeah, I guess I'm not one of them. I don't answer to them. I get to make my own decisions again."

Her smile faded, "Why do you ask?"
He couldn't help but smile.
Not the cold, wry smile of his, but a broad and warm one.
For someone who had walked the thin line between life and death for so long, those words were remarkable.
She had done it. She had come back to life.

It was time to end this final chapter of a book that should have never been written in the first place.

"Earlier the day, while you were here, I took the liberty to exchange one of your namesake guns for one of those things I built back on Ouray."

She looked a bit confused after hearing that one.
Before she could even ask why, he reached for her hand.

[color=#FFFFFF]"Come."


They walked out of their little room and made for the hangar bay.
As they reached Margarita's Orchid, he motioned her to climb into the cockpit.

"You won't need that anymore."

"Won't need wh..."

Jumping on the ship's wing, he reached into the cockpit and tore out a small black box with his hand.

"The ID and IFF transmitter?" She raised an eyebrow as she asked that.

"You're no longer one of them."

He jumped off the wing and let that small piece of hardware fall to the ground.

"Whatever linked you to them..." Crushing it under the weight of his heel, he continued.
"...is dead and gone."

He leaned against the ship's main hull and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
After lighting one, he slowly continued to speak, noticing her eyes resting on him.

"When I was fighting Defiler, in the last moments I managed to surprise him with a risky move.
But I pulled it too early. A man with that training, corpse or not, should've seen it coming.
Now I'm no mystic, I can't read people's minds, but something tells me that out there, a bit of your brother was still alive."


Another pull of the cigaratte later, he went on. She looked a bit shocked.

"I don't know, but I think that the last bit of Emilio knew that if he got out of there alive, the cycle of death and chaos would repeat itself again."

He looked up at her and focused on her eyes.

"Your brother was faced with a choice.
Either you both would walk on, living dead forced to execute their souls a little bit more with every step taken, or one of you would live."


"H-he..." She was shaking a tiny bit.

"He chose to do what every big brother would do for his little sister."

He flicked the cigarette away.

"Forgive me Margie. Those were his last words.
Make sure you never forget them."


"I won't." She quietly promised that to herself as she noticed the new entry on her computer display.
Blinking silently as if to acknowledge her promise, it read "DEFILER".
Margarita smiled slightly, entertaining the thought in her mind. She understood his choice, and she now had something to remember him by. He wasn't a mindless murderer anymore. Whatever is left of him, wherever that is, is better off than as a Phantom. No more murder. No more torture.

She hopped out of her bomber and down the wing. She stood next Viktor, with her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth on her tippy-toes.

[color=#FFFFFF]"What?"


She jumped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. [color=#FF99FF]"Thanks."
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