Calypso was buried within molten blood. She was burning, in immense pain, and yet the phrase “We have arrived to bring forth miracles”, stabbed her brain much deeper than any Subsumed—including Cassie, did.
Due to the sudden rush of wind, it caused the reaction of the blood to harden, turn into massive platelets. Once again, buried under something tough with a simmering center. Boiled alive within a pot with a metal cover.
Turning her head, as her neck felt on the verge of being burnt open, she saw them. A squad of men, within a formation. Clear ranks, as only four of their numbers were in the front, with very, very, very archaic hunter rifles raised high. Still steaming after firing, despite the air being nothing but deep fog.
It matched—with their attire overall. It was all in tatters, yet still uniform—black cowlings that covered the entire upper body. Long white gloves and boots up to the elbows and knees, with a thick band at each end that was darker. Silver vests glittered under all of this bochur, and yet… All of it, every article, it was dirtied, seemingly borrowed.
Calypso quickly turned her head, towards the creature. She didn’t know what she expected, and yet she was still taken off guard.
Cassie wasn’t exactly covered, but she was bound by… Something. It was like white liquid mercury, invoking special effects from some sci-fi movies. Surging as if it were a raging river, with a hold of the tightest chains.
It was so uncanny. It didn’t cling, it didn’t wet the body as if any liquids. It pooled over the surface, as the monster chittered in rage. Mad… No, annoyed. There was no surprise that ignited into rage, it was irritation because it happened again.
But Cassie managed to break free—causing the weird material to fly in all directions around her. She started to flap her wings, desperately trying to become air bound again.
“On your mark, men! All you need to do is get me near!”
Calypso managed to hear the bleeding monster’s reply, due to her heightened senses as her body panicked for survival.
“Like I’d let you… Fucking nerd… Damn it, fucking took too long…”
Driven by sound, Calypso heard trudging of the earth, to see two of the pilgrim men use what could be a three-way hybrid of a lance, spear and shove. Craving up the ground before them, so that the molten blood didn’t get them either. It was too precise—not the tools, but the men. Almost robotic and perfect in their movement, easily getting out of the way of the rifle men, marching in pitch-perfect formation as they took aim.
Cassie took flight—and Calypso was briefly surprised by such a one-track beast didn’t just barrel towards the men. It took a bit to rack her brain around the play as it happened, as she was probably losing oxygen by the second…
But it had been too late for her to figure it out on her own, as she watched Cassie violently went heavenward above the crowd. Knowing how hard she would have to tug herself, thus ripping open her neck wound—raining her ichor down on the rifle men.
What those men proceeded to do was somehow the craziest shit Calypso saw this entire day.
The four men threw their rifles behind to their teammates, stepped forward with their arms outward, and took the entire brunt of the attack. Which, to Calypso who was a hell fiend that even with regeneration is suffering and in the process of dying—and they appeared to be just normal humans. They died and took the hit with zero hesitation.
And said teammates didn’t react to this, no mourning or declarations of revenge—they caught the rifles and took aim. Using the slowly melting mounts that were once their buddies as slight cover.
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Maybe there was brain damage, on the part of Calypso. She was at the point of second guessing, after all, she’s getting to the point that she couldn’t feel pain anymore, numbness taking her. It all could very well be her dying dream, because the entire scene had changed into the outright bizarre.
As if to confirm her insanity, as the new rifle men readied their weapons to fire—they flicked a mechanism at the back. The design of these things had deep creases embedded across, and that weird white yet metallic structure flowed to life. Giving what was an old timey weapon much needed flare.
And Calypso didn’t know the half of it.
The substance pooled out, forming itself around the long barrel, adding to it. It was runes—scripture, that added as physical armor for the barrel—just like the runes that floated in the air before all this mess started.
And with a pull of the trigger, the runes flew—soaring across the skies, turning into a web of words that ensnared Cassie again as she screeched. As if she couldn’t catch more of a break in this moment, the other three hit her soon after as she crashed into the ground.
“At ease, men. She only has but the two options, now.”
The rifle men followed that command, righting their weapons to the sides and standing in file. Moving out of the way, as the spear men stepped forward. With a wave of their weapons, same thing but lacking the activation of the rifles—runes coated the tips until they formed into a bigger and multi-purpose shape.
The augmented spears turned into a necessary shape for patting down whatever remained of those men, flattening the magma. Then, raising them, and proceeded to stab into the ground. It took a moment, but the substance emerged—creating a platform that broke through the molten blood and crossing the divide.
Which made the way for a very interesting individual.
He wore the tattered cloak they all shared, but a sliver suit was underneath. The neck of the cloak being pried open, to show his pink dress shirt and white string tie. Black, leather gloves and the kind of dress shoes that had a massive buckle strap and the tips pointed upwards by a couple of inches.
All of this gesture to appear somewhat approachable, and yet he wore a scarecrow mask. A lunch bag brown, rubbery mess that sagged. Hay-like hair that give the idea that it was “spilling” from the ruined burgundy hat that rested on top of such, but it was just as latex and was pressed against the forehead too artificially to sell it. The mouth opened and stylized either by him or the people who made it, to appear that it was pulled free from being stitched up.
The eyes were somehow worse, as they were blue, lacking eye lids from the top or bottom—completely round and were too far apart.
So it hurt Calypso to hear such a rational, calming voice being muffled—undercut by this terrible attire.
“What will it be, then…?” the scarecrow raised the left, gloved hand, presenting his hand’s back to the writhing creature.
There was a high-pitched scream—coming from the hand? No, rather—the symbol of flickering, unstable runes that radiated through, again, dark leather. It caused the scarecrow’s hand to shake.
“Will you get back to your senses, call off this pointless crusade of yours and honor our deal…? Or fester within the various debts you’re continuing to rack up, hm…?”
Cassie panted, coughed out, cursed various things under her breath that was stoked in anger.
“It isn’t like you fucks are gonna let me live either way! I’m just doing what you never had the guts to do—sitting on your asses trying to act like you’re normal! I’m still doing you a favor—if anything, your shit deal is being honored still!”
The scarecrow only offered a curt laugh. As if to tell her, “yeah, we’ll see about that”.
Growling at the gesture, Cassie screamed—causing the neck wound to aggravate—spilling her blood on the bonds and melting them—well. Causing it to spill and mingle with the blood, before not just separating, but rising on top of such.
“It’s not like you can stop me anyways!” Cassie laughed. “I got more than I ever could’ve wanted—I just wanna finish because mama didn’t raise no quitter!”
The creature began to take off, and Calypso caught from the corner of her eye that one of the rifle men beginning to take aim. The scarecrow used his raised hand to signal the agent, to ease off. Calypso thought back, her leaving was the other option he took comfort in.
Cassie chittered, laughed? There was no difference anymore. Soaring into the night, the beat of the wings growing softer and softer.
Well, at least Calypso could die in semi-peace, now.
But she heard someone approaching her, and her gaze was met with an inhumane stare.
The scarecrow tsked. The mask sagging forward, causing the horrific eyes to mug the monster girl, forming an uncomfortable staring contest she didn’t know nor want to be a part of.
“You Consumed are such pitiable creatures… I’m so torn, at the moment, if you can excuse myself. Do I want to offer charity… Or mercy?”