Not the I stayed up too long last night tired, but weary to my bones tired. It had been nearly two whole years since he realized his brother had, yet again, gone missing. Two whole years that he had once again made the decision to leave behind everything he'd ever known and take off on a wild hunt. Only this time he wasn't hunting for himself, he was hunting for the only person he'd never been able to make things right with. Instead of abandoning Khetal as he had done the first time, probably the reason they were all in this mess, he had instead taken off after him and followed every tiny lead until it was exhausted.
After two years of tireless searching, of following dead ends to run-down neighborhoods and the middle of nowhere over and over again, he had finally gotten a letter that seemed almost too good to be true. He had it clutched in one hand as he stepped into the empty street just outside the theater's grand circle drive. There was no one there yet, but he seemed unsurprised as he stood adjacent from the center statue looming from the small island of grass in the center of the drive.
He took a few steps closer, the rustling of the letter in his hand the only noise to break up the surrounding silence. The statue was done in Greek fashion, a beautiful imitation of four muses, befitting the old theater towering just beyond. The closer he got, however, the more it appeared that something about the statue was just off. The balance or the symmetry.. somewhere, it was lost. Then there was suddenly a movement near the back as one of the muses separated herself from the rest, stepping out of the shadows and revealing herself.
“Nice eye,” the cold words had little real compliment to them, drawn out and accentuated by an eerily melodic voice that robbed them of any softness. A long, translucent cape made a soft brushing noise over the base of the statue as she stepped off and onto the grass directly in front, further separating herself from her hiding spot. Long, pale dreadlocks swung in a mockery of Kamboja's own darker ones, making the woman (was she still a woman?) in front of him one of the most peculiar he'd ever seen.
She was definitely a Senshi. His time in Destiny City had taught him enough to look for the normal signs, but at the same time there was something.. wrong with her. No soldier of the White Moon would ever sport dark wings – even Nemesis had the happy, feathered tufts that made him think of tiny angel's wings. And then, more unsettling than anything about her, were the myriads of cracks breaking up her fine, smooth skin.
“Stunned into silence, I see.” The cold voice brought Kamboja back to himself, but he remained still where he was even as she took another few steps to bring herself to the edge of the island where it met the road. He knew he was at a clear disadvantage. Whatever she was, she was powerful, probably more so than Gehenna and he couldn't even risk powering up now lest his civilian identity be jeopardized.
Worse was the sinking feeling that this was all just a trap.
“Where is Khaldun?” He knew that was the name Khetal gave, despite Kamboja's best efforts. He shoved the letter into his pocket casually, trying not to make any sudden movements while still freeing up his hands for a fight. “What have you done with him?” There was accusation in his voice but also a wariness. If he'd learned anything from his experience as a Knight, it was not to antagonize your enemies until you were sure you were stronger.
He couldn't be any more sure that this woman would devour him alive as simple Kamboja.
For one quick moment there was an empty, echo of a smile stretched across those pale lips. It pulled at the cracks in her face and made his eyes wander over them, distracted by the unsettling image. The only hint he had that she was about to strike came in a split second as the cracks across her flesh lit with a haunting orange light. She disappeared from the safe distance she had kept and reappeared immediately behind him. He had no time to turn and confront her before one hand locked his left arm in place and the second one grabbed his jaw from behind, digging the unnaturally hard nails of her lower fingers into the soft flesh just beneath his jugular.
“You need to stop looking for him, Kamboja. He doesn't want to be found.” The sound of his own name coming from those cracked, ghostly lips made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Chills threatened to set his entire body to shaking but he ignored it, along with the uneasiness swelling in his stomach. She knew him, which meant she knew Khetal, which meant this was all some kind of horrible nightmare.
He opened his mouth to speak but instead shoved a hard elbow into her stomach, whirling away from her hands in a way that left jagged scratches along his throat and arm – but he was still free. They stung instantly and he was sure he felt a thin line of blood trickling down the side of his throat. Yet he wasted no time in backing up away from her, fists in front of him and ready to defend himself the best he could.
A chilling laugh fell from the lips of the nightmare Senshi as she glanced down at her side, drawing Kamboja's attention down as well. He bit back a grimace as he saw the damage he'd dealt – part of her side was unnaturally collapsed, like the pieces of her flesh were stone that fell apart at the cracks. The ghostly laughter made this realization ten times worse, especially once he understood why she was so damnably amused. A glow formed around the damaged area and with a sickening pop, each piece snapped back into place until she was just as.. well, at least no more damaged than she'd been when they started.
She brushed a hand over her side, feeling the cracks and tracing them from memory. Her eyes shifted back to Kam and ever so slowly that hand came out to balance before her, level with her shoulders and palm up. Uneasiness swept through him and he took a half-step back, feet poised to run for the nearest cover he could find.
“Ascendant's Barrage,” she barely breathed it out before a large, brilliant white orb appeared above her hand, balancing without touching her scarred flesh.
He didn't need to know what it was to know that he should run from it. He took off without a second's thought, no shame in being a coward. Behind him he heard crashing as large comets of light smashed into the ground, nipping at his heels. He was almost behind the statue when one finally caught him by the leg and sent him down with a cry of agony. Two more followed, driving into his torso and sending him sliding across the grassy island with their force. Pain swelled immediately from his ribs and somewhere beneath the haze of agony, he was aware that some had been broken. His leg was numb, for which he was grateful, but even through his grayed vision he was aware that it was laying at a horribly unnatural angle.
He reached out with one hand to try and drag himself more directly behind the statue, but he did little more than slide a couple of inches with such a sudden lack of strength. The click of heels behind him made him tense in a way that had every injured bone in his body screaming, but he rolled half onto his side regardless so he could stare up into the amber eyes that came more and more into focus with every step that she took. She was so calm that it was almost worse than staring into the eyes of someone that was passionate about destroying others. There was a focus there, guiding her to whatever goal she was trying to reach, but it was not hate or joy. It was just a sense of purpose. She had to do this, for whatever reason, and Kam was almost certain it was going to end up with him dead.
What had Khaldun done?
As she reached his side he swung out in a failed attempt to knock her off her feet, but he was injured and slow. She stepped swiftly on the outstretched hand and pinned it to the ground beneath him, grinding her heel in until she heard the pop of straining metacarpals. He had the sense about him to groan but forced his eyes to stay open, to stare up into hers. It seemed to soften her for just a moment.
“You have his eyes,” she said softly, a suddenly human adoration making her face look almost normal. Her eyes warmed and she stepped off of his hand. In a rustle of her cloak and a soft tinkling of the beads strung about her figure, she managed to kneel with one stockinged leg on the ground. Kamboja was fading in and out, half delirious from pain and barely conscious enough to understand what was even happening. He felt a hand on his face, drawing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. It started at the cheek and slowly, ever so slowly, he felt one finger trace down along his cheekbone. Her eyes were close as she dipped her head low to study him, like two tiny suns, noticeably glowing at such a close proximity.
“What are you?” The sound of his voice surprised himself, defiant even as his energy seemed to be fading by the moment. His voice seemed to remind her that he was, in fact, not Khaldun – though her affection for his younger brother was not missed. Whatever ties she saw to him weren't enough to protect Kamboja though and her hand curled into the fabric of his shirt. She stood, pulling him up by the strained fabric of his t-shirt, holding him up just enough that his weight was still partially supported on his knees.
In her left hand something small and pearl-like glimmered, but by the second he was losing more and more focus, the world around him was going dark. He was losing hope, feeling even his last desperate urge to fight slipping through his fingers as his vision finally went black. He couldn't feel Gehenna anymore, he couldn't feel.. anything.
“Back the <********> off, Alkaid.”
Somewhere a new voice, a familiar one, had interrupted. He couldn't see her, but relief swept through him even as the darkness continued to pull him down. He only had one last memory of shrill laughter to accompany him down into unconsciousness before he turned the world off, leaving his newest partner to fight a battle he'd foolishly started.
Later, he'd have to remember to ask about the Senshi of his nightmares.
((1870 words))
