Insurgency
“Hey, Ezell…”
Leggera strolls next to him as she flips through some pages.
“Mm?” he replies, sipping on some coffee.
On a most average day of Lateran business, the offices are busy, bustling and talkative with chatter. Executors, some Cohors, and maybe the occasional Cardinal Aid rolling by.
Yes, Lemuen is here, peeking over the computers and rummaging through some files of her own. Though today, Ezell’s taken refuge in a more private office.
Leggera sighs as she slides the heavy glass door shut before tossing herself into a waiting chair.
“Did you get the… uh… message?”
“Why… are you saying it like that?” he mutters, scrolling through his screen, “Huh, just a standard alertness message.”
“Yeah. That one.”
“It was sent to… all of us, no? All Executors and certain Cohors members.”
“This probably has to do with why you and Lemuen were pulled aside…” Leggera says, biting on her lip.
“I was… vaguely warned to stop looking into the missing children’s case,” he recalls, “But I wasn’t given any other details than ‘I would stop if I were you.’”
“How… how peculiar… Attention all Executors and members of the Pontifica Cohors Lateran, please be on alert standby for today.”
“That’s all they sent.”
“Yep.”
“I’m sure it’s probably nothing,” he shrugs, “Someone’s paranoid. And besides… this is Laterano.”
“… Considering what happened during the Summit, you should probably be aware that schemes, traitors, and betrayal is… certainly possible,” Leggera sighs.
“Huh, you know?”
“I had to catch up,” she shrugs, “Got most my info out of Fiammetta on our off time.”
“Fair enough. But the thing is… nothing’s happening. There’s no grand event, no Summit, no… anything of any actual importance. Just… a few people trying to find out the truth of a world to put the worries of parents to rest.”
“Not even that,” she breathes, “… To give them an answer. Closure.”
“… Right. But then that begs the question… why would anyone want to stop us specifically? We’re… not that notable in Laterano.”
“I mean we did fuck up Eclissi,” she coughs.
“I… Okay, fair. But still. Why stop us? We’re just… trying to find answers and closure.”
“Dunno. Some people hate it when truth comes to light.”
“Or… this is something so terrible that… it threatens to ruin some people’s lives.”
“Sucks on them,” Leggera bites, “Shouldn’t have kidnapped eight hundred children.”
“So why is it still dead after twenty years…” Ezell groans, slumping in his chair, “If anyone gave any more of a slight care, this would’ve been solved!”
“Maybe there’s a reason that… no one’s touched this. Or they got the warnings from other people and obeyed it?”
“… Then this runs far deeper than any of us realize…” he breathes, “What, are you going to stop now? Scared that… something could happen?”
“What? Hell no,” Leggera scoffs, “We came this far. This is hundreds of kids we’re talking about. Gotta find if any are still around- No, they have to be alive, but by now then… they’re all adults.”
“That’s right,” he nods, “Especially… especially after seeing Cecelia… in… that prison… and…”
His words fall apart recalling that hellish bind and torturing scars, seared like black iron into red meat.
“… I’ll promise you something, Ezell. Because one, I care about you as a friend. And two, you’re my sister’s boyfriend. I’ll protect that child with my life, and I’ll burn anyone who dares harm her.”
“Hah… thanks,” he weakly blinks, “It’s fine. This day… it’ll be okay, and the alert will just be a precaution…”
“Yeah,” Leggera smiles, “It’ll… be fine.”
ʚїɞ
“Lightfall~”
Nerina’s voice is like that of a crystalline bell. Ever clear and a song with every note she says.
“Yes?” I reply, turning to face her, and away from Aha… No, from PT.
The workshop’s empty this morning, yet it still mutters with life. Pieces strewn, gears and parts all across tables, open monitors with graphs, equipment silent but vents churning away.
“How’ve you been!”
“I don’t know,” I state.
“… Fair. I’ve… read the file. Safe to say…” she says.
But its as if her words had sprouted arms and crawled away from her mouth. Digging, writhing, inch by inch away and clawing off her tongue into the musky air.
“… That I… feel a large deal of sympathy for you…”
“… Thanks,” I shrug.
“I don’t know what else I can say…”
“There’s nothing left to be said.”
“… I suppose.”
“We’ll be heading to Laterano in a few hours, as per instructed by the Doctor and invited by The Pope. … Are you nervous?” I note, glancing towards her slightly shivering eye and noticing an abnormal amount of disturbance empathetically entering my mind,
“E-Eh? You… you can tell?”
“I am a Sankta. I can feel your emotions. But also your eye is scanning rapidly. Your breath is elevated and your voice is slightly frag-“
“I-I get it!” she cries, then laughs, “Hah. . I mean, of course I am…” she shivers, “Infected… Fallen… in the holy city…”
“If we follow the Pope’s orders, it should be fine.”
“Yeah, you’re right… Just to the Basilica, and that’s it.”
“… I am curious what happens if you spot Ezell in a difficult situation.”
“You know what happens,” she coughs, “I purge everything and save him. As simple as that,” she states, crossing her arms.
“Mm… Yes, I have seen your… prowess during such events.”
“Yes yes,” she hums, “Anything for him~”
“Understandable and praised. I too will defend Rhodes Island’s Operators as far as I can and defend its will alongside fighting for it.”
“Your devotion is always great to hear,” she nods.
“It is the only correct choice.”
“Hm… I suppose. No, you’re right. For the Infected… and a chance at a dream.”
“I have a suspicion that, if we were flying in an airship, and you were to spot Ezell in a precarious situation on the ground-“
“I’d jump out of the ship, yes, in a heartbeat without a care in the world~” she hums, “There’s nothing more important than him.”
“… Hah, I see. Devoted, as are you.”
ʚїɞ
“Woah!”
“Don’t go too far!” Lemuen calls.
Cecelia giggles as she sprints around and around, running circles about a fountain as Fiammetta pushes Lemuen’s chair along.
“Leggera and Ezell got work today,” Fiammetta yawns, “So he just dumped Cecelia on us…”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like this?” Lemuen teasingly sighs.
“Well- Damn you, it’s fine,” she stabs back.
A host of Sankta and Liberi have coalesced about the fountain too. Some toss coins with a short prayer, others simply there to admire its construction and beauty. Even others observe the carefree child spinning blisteringly fast laps all around the fountain.
A quartz structure as wide as a truck is long stands in the center of the square. An intricate symmetrical and floral-like pattern decorates the whole park. Red granite tiles, some highlights of obsidians, and a primary of marble splay out all directions. Concentric circles and radial lines radiate away like the sun itself pasted onto the ground.
The fountain itself is as close as holy can describe an object. Made of pure quartz, it sparkles with the sun itself, almost as glossy as the water it holds and tosses. Bright light blues in colour yet still transparent, the water cycles from the base all the way up to its top, several meters high, before laminarly spilling on all sides and striking a small ring. There, it splashes further downwards in an even wider cascading wall of sparkling water, all the way down back into the massive circular basin only to repeat that cycle once again.
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!” she shouts, spinning for perhaps the tenth time before zipping back towards the two, “U-Uwa…” she whimpers, holding her head in both her hands.
“Dizzy?” Lemuen gently asks.
“Y-Yeah…”
“Alright, up!”
“Woah!”
With a single heft of her arms, she gracefully lifts Cecelia up right into her lap. The girl, puzzled and amazed at her strength, has her eyes widen in great awe as her arms clutch gently on Lemuen’s shoulders, now resting within her lap.
“Oh great, another weight,” Fiammetta grumbles.
“Don’t act all impatient now,” Lemuen laughs, “C’mon, let’s get on with today~”
“Fine fine… Cecelia, hang on tight.”
“E-eh?”
“We’re going fast.”
Her face condenses with determination, devotion, and dedication, fixated to one singular goal for today; make Cecelia laugh.
In that instant, Fiammetta launches with the speed of a missile, catapulting Lemuen who has donned a most smug smile and Cecelia screaming with terror and delight, all in one.
Like a rollercoaster, she swerves and breaks, accelerating and jolting, jostling, left, right, up a hill, down a hill.
The glances from others now are more akin to slights rather than questioning, yet nonetheless they press onwards. Further down a street, rolling over the flat roads and paved sidewalks like a bullet cutting through the air. Unparalleled speed, leaving a track of dust in her wake, flying past others, buildings, and street signs yet dodging everything and anything until at long final last, Fiammetta tires out and drags the chair to an eventual yet staggering stop.
“Ohh… Now that was quite fun~” Lemuen giggles, “Cecelia?”
“W-Wh-Wha…” she stammers, shivering, “T-That was s-so cool b-but so s-scary!”
“Told you this was a bad idea…” Fiammetta pants, “Ezell’s gonna kill me…”
“N-No!” she protests, “I-It was s-super f-fun b-but maybe- Ah, m-maybe a l-little warning…” she gasps.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay…”
“Mm… alright then. What’s the plan now, miss insane?” Fiammetta directs to Lemuen.
“I’ll have you know that my sanity is perfectly intact!”
“Says the one who climbed a damn building in a wheelchair,” she recalls, rolling her eyes.
“… Alright, fair point. You’ve had your fair share then~”
“What images did Mostima shove into your brain…”
“Anything with this Giocatore fellow!”
“… He’s far more insane than any of us. And Aefanyl! I swear those two…”
“I have seen the antics those two pull! Mm… I think my favourite has to be him swallowing boiling oil.”
“… I’m…”
“Giocatore is so funny,” Cecelia starts, “He’s big, he says big funny words, and he’s like a machine. Very… flat!” she recalls, “He’s very kind too… Very… very strong!”
“I see the child’s taken some liking to him then~” Lemuen hums, “I would like to meet him!”
“Maybe soon,” Fiammetta shrugs, “Ice cream…”
“Ice cream?!” the child sparks, “P-P-please…” she pleads, staring up to the two caretakers with wide eyes and a softening face.
“… You’re getting good at this whole thing…” the Liberi grimaces, “Makes me wonder how Ezell manages to control you…”
“Awh, don’t be such a stick in the mud Fia,” Lemuen giggles, “Alright, down we go~”
“… Fine…”
But within her soul, the phoenix does indeed crave a little sugary treat to at least quell the perpetual anger she casts herself in.
With a fierce yet controlled burst of speed, the three zip their way around a corner, down a street, back around some buildings and down even more blessed streets of Lateran peace.
Left and right, all around as Cecelia’s head spins like a top, capturing all the views she possibly can. People, structure, the sky, and everything in between, all hers to finally and peacefully admire.
Soon enough, they come around to a small yet somewhat empty square, poking their heads around for the fabled ice cream store. And taking their environments in, a line of shops with many sweet varities, open.
“Ah! There!” Cecelia points.
“Alright~ Fiammetta, let’s go!”
“… Hold on,” she suddenly squints, turning her view to the side, “… Ezell and Leggera? I thought they were on hours…” she mutters, “… They’re going up to a house? Lemuen, take the girl and-“
An ear-shattering gunshot abruptly tears her words asunder.
ʚїɞ
“Alert.”
My eye skyrockets open as I flick my sights to Ezell.
“Hostage situation. Pagus Stevonus. Pontifica Cohors Lateran Captain Leggera Fiorella. Notarial Hall Junior Executor Ezell Pastore. Please make your way to the appropriate location. Intel has been sent to your respective terminals.”
My eye widens as does his. His mouth hangs open a centimeter while our minds exchange blasting thoughts of confusion and bewilderment. Adrenaline burns into my veins as my muscles fuse into tension.
“C’mon, let’s move then,” I finally state.
“Right,” he gasps, as if entranced, “Sorry. Let’s go.”
In an instant, we yank our guns down to a ready as we toss our jackets on and blast out of the office. Pairs of eyes all drift towards us in shock as we bash our way through.
“Sorry-!” Ezell coughs, almost colliding with someone carrying a stack of sheets.
“Here, I’ll start reading the intel off then,” I start, finally onto the streets, “… Residential building. A man, about thirty-five in age, possibly Infected, holding a young boy hostage with a knife. It’s… unknown if he has his patron gun on him-”
“He wouldn’t risk falling,” he hisses, “A damn child? For what reason…”
“Ain’t have the slightest clue. Room… first floor, cave,” I continue, panting just the slightest.
The city’s a blur now, nothing compared to the beauty and carefree peace that it was with Lemuel the other day. How quickly things change… even if it’s my birthday, the world doesn’t stop for me.
It doesn’t stop for Nerina’s infection, it didn’t stop when Ezell was tortured or when Eclissi mutilated herself.
… The world doesn’t stop. It doesn’t care if you watched someone kill themselves, even if that someone was your most trusted friend. It doesn’t matter if your sister has been thrown from heaven and cursed with Oripathy. It doesn’t care if… I die.
The world… won’t stop for Nerina, or Fiammetta, or Mostima, or Ezell, or Giocatore. They’ll all have to keep moving against it, against everything that tries to force them down…
… and this child has to as well.
My heart is thundering against my body. My lungs, cycling, as fiercely as my biology allows. Boots, crashing against the stone, sprinting, ahead, forwards, panting, yet continuing.
“Right!”
We swerve around the corner, down a thin ally, vaulting over barricades and the such.
“Ahead… Right… Left!”
“How much further?” he gasps.
“Just a few meters…! Here!” I finally shout, stabbing to a halt at the front of the door.
The house is… awfully modest. In modern Lateran style with flat roofing and large windows, it appears to have taken a shrunken stature compared to its neighbours. Cramped, packed, and perhaps a little compressed.
“Curtains are up,” he notes, walking up to the door.
“Wait, put your gun down. Just put it on your back. I’ll… have my blade at the ready instead.”
“… Good thinking. We… don’t wanna spook this person into…”
“… Shooting, yes. The patron gun he wields is a shotgun. 12-gauge.”
“One hit from that and…”
“… So don’t get hit, that simple,” I sigh, coming up next to him, “Ready?”
“… Ready.”
His voice has turned… fierce. Stiff, and steady. Determined… just like whenever we’re in combat, and especially with Nerina’s injuries.
I carefully lift my arm to the door, hand feeling a tad bit heavier than normal, and rest it upon the doorknob.
… Twist.
… The door lets out the smallest of clicks as I give it the gentlest of pushes-
-And in return, it responds with a mind-shattering gunshot.
“EZELL!?” I scream, flicking behind me as I leap to the side.
His body, thrown with ‘holy’ force and light at the speed of the blast itself, sails meters behind, spewing a trail of vibrant red in his path before crashing into the back of the alley and slumping against the wall.
“I… It’s…” he gasps, sputtering, eyes barely able to keep open, “It’ll… be okay…” he whispers, “Just… take care of… Nerina… and Cecelia...”
With a shaking, trembling arm and twitching fingers, he weakly pushes the communicator lodged onto his ear.
“… Reque… sting… backup…” he let’s out. Moments later, his arm drops like a rock while his head lulls off to the side, eyes still open and with a sliver of light.
“Fucking… God damn… piece of shit,” I seethe. There’s… fire in my veins. Why? Why?
… Why?!
… I might’ve had my fair share of insane people doing insane things but in Laterano of all damn places?!
I tear down my rifle and rapidly advance back to the door, grating my teeth as a jet of air enters my mouth before unleashing a blazing snap kick and disintegrating the door into ashes, splinters, and charred embers.
The house is… dark. Not a single light is on, and the only illumination comes from the door I just obliterated. The ground’s tiled, and the furniture extravagant wood carvings. Yet it looks as if this house hasn’t been touched in years.
“Where the fuck are you?!” I scream, rifle ready, fueling with flames.
“Right in front of you,” a gravel, sinister voice snickers.
Behind a corner, the man shambles around it, wielding a curved blade and a young boy whose neck is mere millimetres from severance.
His arms fervently yet painfully claw at the arm trapping him. All that manages to escape his mouth are gasps and groans, pained and strained. His eyes, as yellow as dandelions, begging to me with terror and expectation.
Atop his head, towering horns. His halo, obliterated into a multitude of fragments. And his wings, nothing but shards upon shards. Darkened, blackened, and devoid of light. His clothes… familiar… Similar, and resembling that of the Pontifica. Dark coats, boots, and cloaks draped all over his body. Around his neck, a ring of Originium carves its way in, yet diligently protected by all those clothes he wears.
… Guess I can’t shoot him then.
Lowering my gun, I raise my blade in its place, sending a coursing jet of lava around its edge.
“You take one more step, and this young lad expires. You know that,” he nods.
“Why did you shoot him?” I hiss.
“Protecting my interests, no?” he chuckles, “And my life. An Executor and a Cohors Lateran showed up to my front door.”
“You’re holding a child hostage,” I state, “My partner’s bleeding out on the ground. Why? What do you want?”
“Your weapon,” he nudges, “Throw it. Away.”
“… Alright,” I give in, throwing my gladius behind me. It clatters to the ground, loudly, against the tiled floors of this house, echoing deeply all around us. The air turns solid as a biting atmosphere takes its place.
“I’ll ask some questions then,” he starts, “Depending on your answer, this boy gets to live or die.”
I only offer him a dim nod. What else can I even do?
“Hm, what do you know?”
“… You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“Fine, fine,” he spits, “About… twenty years ago.”
“… Children went missing around Laterano. I’ve been searching into it.”
“You? No, you and some of your compatriots," he bites, stabbing the knife just a bit deeper. The boy lets out a pained cry, eyes filling with tears.
“Alright, yes! It was me and some of my colleges. What of it?”
“… Hah. Stop digging. You’ll only find regret, and regret, and regret.”
“Then what of the parents who lost their kids? Those… that still live. Because many… have lost their way in life. Many have ended it because of their grief!”
“And that issue is not mine to judge,” he bluntly sighs, “See… we’re only trying to… prevent a great harm from befalling Laterano.”
“Taking a child hostage is not making me believe your words.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t. You see, you’re of the Pontifica. You’ve fallen to Laterano’s so-called haven and heaven. Its bliss, its peace, its… unrivalled position upon Terra. And you’re a Sankta, so you reap all of the rewards being Sankta grants you,” he preaches.
“Oh, you’re god damn insane,” I whisper beneath my breath, “Alright, what will it take for you to release that child?”
“Kill your ‘partners’ then,” he laughs, “You, and all your compatriots involved with this search into truth. The curse of information cannot be overstated. And if it does come to light then… all of Laterano’s paradise… will come crashing down. And you wouldn’t want to harm your oh so beloved nation, would you?”
My mind freezes at his first suggestion.
“… You’re making too high of a demand.”
“Oh, that’s terribly unfortunate!”
“And your whole… speech on the fall of Laterano… No, it’ll brave this truth. It must.”
“You’re too naïve, young soldier,” he grunts, “I was once with the Pontifica. And I was tasked to… prevent such an upheaval for the preservation of Laterano. You serve it, and yet you threaten it. Where truly does your allegiance lie?”
“You’re speaking… nonsense,” I exhale.
“Hostile forces are around your location. Proceed with caution. Reinforcements deployed. ETA two minutes,” someone chirps into my communicator.
Every second I waste here is another second of blood pouring out of Ezell. I… have to find a way to-
-A glacial blast sails right before my eyes, fluttering as light as snow, before bursting right on the mans face. For once, it doesn’t instantly detonate and reduce him to nothing but paste, yet rather freezes his entire body in layers upon layers of sinister ice. The man once taunting me isn't given a second to realize the onslaught coming upon him before he's encased as a memory of movement. His fierce, blood-filled face. His horrible gnashed teeth and blood-shot eyes. Ferocity, betrayal, despair... all encapsulated like a breath of time.
The boy manages to finally wrangle himself free from the hellish grasp, panting and coughing with shock.
In an instant, I dash towards the flailing kid who thankfully sprints towards me as well. He crashes into my legs, hugging them tightly, as if never wanting to let go again.
“Good God, are you alright?” I hastily attempt to stabilize.
“I-I…” he vomits, unable to form words, trembling and shaking like a leaf within a windstorm.
“You… don’t have to answer me now…” I breathe.
“Sis…” a voice suddenly cuts, “What the hell happened?”
Her voice… is as frigid as the icefields of Sami. Uncompromising, unyielding, and unmoving. Her mere presence, rather than thawing my worries, instead fill my veins with ice.
ʚїɞ
“… Huh…” I mumble, staring out of the dropship.
I’m wearing a cloak now, similar to that one Outcast had, with all that Rhodes Island flair along it. My Elite Operator badge has been pinned onto it too so it doesn’t weigh my jacket down. Alongside those changes, I’ve also decided to take a small carrier with me so I don’t have to constantly rely on Ezell for my ammunition or medical supplies.
And of course, that cloak covers my broken wings and halo.
“Nerina, do you remember what Laterano was like?” Giocatore asks.
“I mean… yeah. I was born there, raised there with my sister… Not many good memories, and they’re all kinda fragmented, but the good ones… those I hold tight.”
“Good memories…” he mutters, turning out the window, “I’ll say Rhodes Island has provided me with many. Dossoles was a great time.”
“I’m glad you think so~”
“The ship is lowering,” he notices, rising as a door slides open, “We’re quite close to the ground.”
“Hm… Yeah, you’re right,” I note, peering down into the city below.
Many… familiar sights. Not familiar in terms of recognition, but familiar in terms of feeling. All those quartz buildings and marble statutes… I remember it well.
The ship begins to slow as a mountainous church comes into my view, so much so that I can make out people meandering upon the streets.
“Would you look at that…” I breathe, happily examining the city, “And maybe I’ll get to see Ezell again and my sister!”
“Maybe indeed,” he nods, but then suddenly flicks his head down to the ground, “Is… is that… Ezell?”
“Huh?”
I stick my head out the drop ship, now floating almost to a crawl, and on a street practically directly below us…
… A thick trail of blood, his unmistakeable mess of white fluff hair, and his shotgun laying by his side.
Terror captures my mind. It blazes, scaring and screeching all through my brain, screaming at me, tearing away my sanity piece by piece. Then it burns into fury, unrelenting and unforgiving. My blood boils into insanity while ice screams out of my bandaged wounds. It pierces through my skin, tearing those flimsy straps of cloth asunder.
“I’ll see you later,” I seethe, instantly throwing myself out of the ship, “Just don’t kill anyone.”
“Nerina-!” he calls.
But his voice is long lost to the rushing winds around my ears.
The ground comes closer and closer with every passing second. The wind flapping my clothes about, forcing me up as I fall. Down, and down. Spiraling, falling, cascading.
And just before I slam into the ground, I tear my sword out and fire a charge of ice downwards, making it explode up and slowing my descent just enough.
My shoes slam into the ground as I immediately take off to Ezell, torso soaking in red fluid. His… vermillion lifeblood.
“What the fuck,” I spit, both holding the urge to scream and cry, “Wh… why?!” I cry, freezing his wound best I can as I try wrapping it with bandages.
“N…eri…na…?” he whispers, yet so quietly the passing wind chokes him out.
“Stop talking just-“
His hand… twitches. Raising centimeter by centimeter… before sticking out a single quivering finger ahead… to the house.
“What…?”
… The door’s been eviscerated with scorch marks along its frame. And further in the house is… a man with a blade at a child’s throat, and… someone in a Pontifica outfit with… glacial blue hair down to her shoulders…
… My sister is…
I thrust my sword up, instantly empowering it with ice, squinting, aiming… focusing, and firing a charge of ice barreling towards the enemy.
And so it lands, as clean as can be, trapping the aggressor solid in a prison of ice. With nothing but fury, scrambled thoughts, and ice racing through my blood, I finally rise, making my way up to the house, into the charred doorway, across the tiled floors. Step by step my shoes echo gently across the house as the child dashes to my sister, clutching her legs for dear life.
“Sis…” my voice comes out, as sharp as a whetted harpoon, “What the hell happened?”
“N-Nerina?!” she gasps, spinning around, “Why the hell are you here?! You can’t be here, you’re Infected! They’ll-“
“What happened!? Why did I find Ezell on the ground, almost fucking DEAD?!” I screech, “I-I came to Laterano on a planned route by the Doctor and the Pope, and-and that’s what I get to see?! What the hell?!”
A distant explosion rips my words apart as she suddenly flicks her hand to her ear.
“Bad news, hostiles,” she hastily states, “Don’t kill them, but-”
“My rifle is an anti-materiel rifle. Whatever it hits, it will die.”
“… Then use your blade,” she orders, “Follow me, don’t show your wings or halo to anyone. Or your Oripathy.”
“Right.”
“Young boy just… hide here for now. It isn’t safe and I’ll be back when it is. Promise you that.”
The child clutching her legs simply nods several times before scrambling into a closet and slamming it shut.
“Let’s go!”
“Right.”
We end up back onto the street and… an entire battlefield’s unfolded.
“What the hell?”
“Forget that, protect Ezell!” she orders, “I’m going to clear the other end of the alley!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!”
I slide right next to him, blade at the ready as my eye flicks around, scanning for enemies around the alley, but as I gaze further into the distance...
... I see Fiammetta clashing with… other members of… the Cohors?! I don’t know who’s friend or foe… all I can do is… wait for the battle to be over.
Gunshots, blade clashes, explosions. All scatter my mind, all rattle it, yet nothing can shake my defence of… him.
“It’ll be fine,” I randomly blurt, crouching down next to him, “Ezell, please just… just stay with me!”
“Trying…” he sighs, “It’s… hard…”
“Just keep trying, okay? Just… keep trying-“
“Turn around, no sudden movements,” a man orders. His voice is… silk, betraying no sense of emotion, yet it feels… twisting.
Sighing, I obey. My arms part from my sides as my blade clanks and clinks to the ground, metal rattling on stone. In a most sluggish, humiliating struggle, I rise from my hunched posture, turning to face a man pointing a pistol right into my forehead.
His halo’s thick. His wings, planar. All of it… bright and everlasting. Both of his dark eyes, glaringly aware and open, squinting just a bit as he focuses down the pistol’s sights into me.
His clothes are a stern blue, like that of a swirling ocean, with gloves of silver and some accents of white. His hair, long and straight, draping in a spiked fashion towards the right, a deep purple.
“Alright miss, no need for the glare,” he chuckles, “Just some questions, and we can both be on our ways. Firstly, remove that cloak of yours.”
With a heavy breath, I raise my hand to my hood, sweeping it off in one fell movement, and letting the heavy chunk of cloth fall away.
My broken wings and split halo… fully visible to all. My sin.
“… So that’s the girl Ezell’s…” he grumbles, “Fallen angel… Report, I have eyes on the fallen-“
“The fuck are you doing Richele?!” Leggera screeches, shoving herself in front of me from behind, “The perpetrator’s in the house, frozen. Missions done, go home.”
“Oh, really…” he juggles, “There’s an unauthorized Fallen in front of us. Surely you know-“
“The ‘price’ that befalls them? Yeah, take another look at her uniform.”
“Rhodes… Island Elite Operator,” he hums, “Unfortunately, this is Laterano. As an Executor, I must protect it’s will. Your rank means little in evidence of a cri-“
“LET HER GO!” a voice screams.
… A… voice, that once lost innocence. Young, light, and…
“C… Cecelia…” I gasp as my eyes widen.
“Don’t shoot her!” she pleads, crying, sobbing.
Her face… covered in tears, streaming, her voice, falling apart, like a glass mirror slammed against a wall.
“Please… I-I don’t want to see it again!”
She shoves Richele’s leg away as she charges forwards, planting herself between my sister and I and the man pointing a gun to my face.
“I… I won’t… I won’t let you hurt her…” she mumbles, sticking her arms out, “Not… not again… No one I love… I… I can’t see it again… No…”
Did… she remember…? N… No…
“I know… what Ezell… what happened to Ezell in that prison. I know what happened to me!” she cries, “E-Ezell’s bleeding! Please… you have to… let her go… She’s not a bad person…”
The Executor’s eyes release just the slightest amount of tension as his gun lowers an inch.
“Listen to me… Please…” she whispers, almost losing her voice, “I-I won’t… I won’t run. Not… not anymore… I have to protect them, like they protect me… I will protect you Nerina!” she shouts at the top of her little lungs.
The little pendant she wears around her neck... starts glowing. That one that Aefanyl gave her on her birthday...
Rings of thin yet prominent silver Banshee scripture begin circling her neck, round and round, until a thin barrier of shimmering blues and blacks rises like a curtain between us and that Executor.
With a stern, tear-filled, tear-streaming face, she gasps, sputters, letting her little voice and clenched fists fill with all her emotion. Inch by inch, she cranes her neck up, as if an arduous task, as if a massive weight had been chained around her neck.
When her grey eyes finally rise, they stare all the way up to that man, glaring, pleading, and demanding all with a single gaze.
"... Please," she lets out, almost impossible to hear, "Please... don't shoot her..."
“Pontifica Cohors Lateran, stand down,” an icy, flat voice rings out. Familiar…
“Executors, stand down,” it announces again.
The stern marching of armoured boots comes ever closer and closer, step by step. A towering man with shard-like wings, and antenna upon his halo.
“Sir, this Fallen-“
“Is with me,” he states, pushing in front of him, “Nerina Fiorella, Elite Operator of Rhodes Island, I have been informed of your arrival. I apologize for this mess you had to be involved as does His Holiness. Executor Richele Colombo, this mission is concluded. Return to the Hall.”
“… Yes sir.”
With that, he keeps a devilsh eye on me, letting out a sharp exhale and holstering his gun before wandering off.
Cecelia's barrier comes down a second later before she collapses to her knees, crying and still.
“Where is Elite Operator Giocatore Peccato?”
“I’m not sure,” I finally gasp, as if I was holding my breath the entire time, “He-“
“Hello,” he announces, dragging chains filling my ears all of a sudden, “These people attempted to jump me. As instructed by you Nerina, I’ve not harmed them and only restrained them.”
“Oh, thank you,” the Saint nods, “Leave them here. The rest of the loyal Pontifica will take them away.”
“C-Can we take Ezell to a hospital first?!” Cecelia screams.
“Yes, that…” Leggera mutters.
“… Of course. Our meeting can wait, and if anyone asks what either two of you are doing here, don’t worry. I’ll be escorting you. Pontifica Cohors Lateran Captain Leggera Fiorella, you may exit the scene or come with.”
"I'm coming," she insists.
"Right then."
Fiammetta and a woman in a wheelchair finally arrive too, both with horrified expressions on their faces, panting the slightest too.
“The hell? You’re here too?” Fiammetta directs at me.
“Yep…”
“God… this is such a mess,” the pink-haired woman sighs, “Cecelia…”
“I…” she gasps, crawling on her knees and lying on Ezell, “I… Ezell!”
He gingerly, slowly, sluggishly turns his head to me, to Cecelia too.
“It’s… okay…” he moans, “Let’s… go…”
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My fists remain clenched as I stand next to Nerina, head down on the hospital bed carrying Ezell.
“I’m sorry,” I finally let out, “We were responding to a mission about a hostage, I turned the door, and a shotgun shell struck him.”
“It’s not your fault…” she grumbles, “It’s… it isn’t…”
“N… Nerina…” Cecelia mumbles, “Is…”
“He’ll be okay, Cecelia,” she whispers, kneeling to her height, “Did… you…”
“I… I remembered… the prison… the torture… Ezell… e-everything…” she repeats, stuttering, weak and fragile.
“You shouldn’t have stood in front of me. That was really dangerous…”
“B-But you… You protect me all the time!” she wails, “W-Why can’t I protect you?!”
“Because you’ll get hurt,” Nerina says softly, placing her hand on Cecelia’s shoulder, “And… that’s something I can’t see.”
“But you can?! Wh-Why can you and Ezell get hurt protecting me, and I can’t protect you?! T-That isn’t fair!”
Nerina lets out a sorrowful sigh before flicking her eye to Ezell, then back to Cecelia.
“I… can’t explain it to you just yet. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
“N-No!” she stomps, “I-I want to understand! It’s just not fair!”
“… Then it’s because… You’re a child. And you don’t… deserve this pain. It’s the failure of both Ezell and I that… you lost your innocence so early.”
“… Huh…” the child gasps, taking a sudden step back from Nerina as her little hands pull themselves to her chest, “N… No… I-It isn’t… No it’s not…” she mumbles, “NO!” she suddenly screams from the depths of her lungs.
My eye pops open as does Nerina’s.
“NO! NO! That… NO!” she rants, falling to her knees, sobbing, “NO! I… I can’t accept that! That… You did nothing wrong!” she wails, “Nothing! You… You don’t deserve pain! You didn’t fail! I-It’s those… bad people who did… all this…”
“… She’s right,” I whisper.
“Leggera… Hah… Cecelia.”
“E… Eh?”
“You’re a smart kid,” she grins, patting her head, “The world’s complicated though… and you’ll learn it when you’re older. But… but for now… Ezell and I will try to protect you as much as we can… even if we fail.”
“It’s… it’s okay… You never… you never fail in my heart,” she whispers, rising to her feet again and lifting her head, “Nerina, you always try! And… and I think that’s… that’s enough!”
Her mouth pops open an inch, then she painfully laughs.
“Then I’ll keep trying. For Ezell, for you. We’ll all keep trying… trying to make Terra a better place so that… children, just like you and you, can live their life without worry. How’s that?”
“Y-Yes! A-And one day… I can see Papà again… with Sankta… and peace… And then Ezell… will never be hurt again!”
“That’s the future I’ll see to at Rhodes Island then,” she nods, hugging her deeply, “I’m sorry you had to see all that…”
“It’s…”
“It’s not okay, but it will be okay one day. Step by step, I’ll let you overcome it. Isn’t that right, Leggera?” she giggles softly, gazing to me.
“Oh… Yeah, of course. All of us too, Cecelia.”
“Yay…”
“And Ezell.”
“… What…” he mutters.
“Y-You’re awake?!” Nerina jolts.
“I… have been for a while…” he groans shifting a little, “This… hurts a lot…”
“Stop moving,” I sigh.
“Fine… Ah, Cecelia…”
“Y-Yes?”
“Brave girl…”
“T… Thank you…”
“I’ll… get you lots of ice cream later…” he whispers off. And all of a sudden, he’s still, chest rising and falling.
“He needs that rest…” Nerina yawns, “Damn, so do I…”
“It’s… like the middle of the day.”
“Sorry not sorry, I almost got shot in the face.”
“Oh, now it’s a competition,” I groan.
“S-Stop fighting!” Cecelia cries.
“We’re just joking,” I quickly correct.
“O-oh…”
“But we’ll do it less~” I whistle.
“Oh! N-no you can… keep doing it. It’s pretty funny…” she giggles.
And even… after all that… she can laugh.
… What a strong girl.