Chapter Text
Tacky. Everything here was so very tacky and ugly.
Rafayel had never been a fan of the grunge look, and it seemed to him that Onychinus was in desperate need of an interior designer. Everything screamed "post apocalypse", and not in any subtle way.
Weren't they supposed to be the kings of this black underworld? For kings, they sure looked like they enjoyed living in poverty. Or an abandoned warehouse out of a low budget horror flick.
Around him, the wallpaper was worn and faded. Furniture was old and mismatched. The waste baskets looked like they might cry; at least, he hoped the greasy spots might be tears and not some other filth. He didn't think farther than that. Couldn't. God, he'd never wash the "drug lord hideout" out of his brand new Verdani suit.
He was an artist, not a Hunter. Yet even he could see that the weapons the soldiers he passed held were old and outdated. How was it possible? The bounty they'd offered for his Princess was substantial, even by the standards of the No Hunt zone. Too substantial to be a reward for bringing in a Hunter who couldn't mind their own business.
The deeper into their abode he went, the more this thought bothered him. This was supposed to be a simple endeavor. In and out. Minimal damage. A swift exchange: his Princess for an object Onychinus really had no use for. Yet, all of this was taking complex turns that Rafayel already wasn't fond of.
Where was Ellara?
He hated losing sight of her. Hated not knowing where she was.
He followed his host through winding hallways, doing his best to keep his posture relaxed and his hands in his pockets. His teeth ground together until he tasted blood. It was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping his Evol in check.
Stars, how badly he wanted to just burn the walls along with their hideous wallpaper. That, and the peeling squares of canvas, oil, and linseed they tried to pass for paintings around here.
He almost bit his tongue when the floor suddenly lurched beneath his feet, bucking like a shark on a fisher's line.
His host paused as the walls and floor shook and shuddered. This wasnt the first time, but the man stumbled, resting his hand on a nearby table. Rafayel did the same, looking around.
Another shock wave.
They'd been coming at regular intervals.
His Princess was still fighting.
Good girl. Don't give up now. Hang on just a little longer.
He bit the inside of his cheek.
"Are you alright, Sir?" his host asked.
"Quite a commotion," Rafayel said in a deadpan tone.
"Please, this way," the man gestured to a nearby door, opening it and allowing Rafayel to enter first. The man tapped a few switches on the wall, and the pitch black room flooded with light. It looked like a holding room, something used for interrogations. He remained standing when offered to sit.
He looked towards the sole window in the room. A one-way observation glass. Beyond was a room with sterile white tiled walls. Panel lights lined the ceiling. As he approached to get a better look, the walls and floor shuddered again as though an earthquake was raging below. The lights in the white room and those above him flickered and buzzed, whining as they cycled back up when the vibrations stopped.
What were these tremors? He breathed in, smelling the spice of Metaflux.
Rafayel regained his balance just as the door to the room beyond the glass burst open. Four large men shuffled inside dragging the limp body of a girl between them. He almost bit his tongue to stop himself from calling out her name as they placed her on a table and wheeled her to the center of the room. They strapped down her arms and legs, jabbing her forearm with a needle and setting up an IV.
They were talking, but he couldn't make out what they were mumbling behind the glass. Their eyes were shifting, their expressions tense and saturated with fear. Their clothes were in disarray. One man was bleeding from a gunshot wound. Another had one eye swollen shut. Then, just as quickly as they came, the men shuffled back out and shut the door behind them.
Rafayel approached the glass.
Ellara lay still as death on the metal surgical table. The light above her shone down like a pillar of sunlight, washing out her skin. Her clothes were ripped to shreds as if she'd been assaulted by a pack of wild animals, and Rafayel supposed that wasn't far from the truth.
The agents of Onychinus had swarmed her, and she'd fought them tooth and nail. He'd watched it all from his seat in the VIP suite, proud of her, terrified for her. Especially when they'd brought out the neurotoxin. He'd almost burned them all alive when they finally subdued her with it.
Almost.
In the end, he'd restrained himself, for all was going as planned. He'd led her here to be bait, and that's the role she had to play. He'd mentally prepared for how difficult this would be, but it did not help at all. His heart raced. His clothes felt hot and stifling. His throat constricted with the stress of keeping his expression closed off and aloof. Beneath his black leather gloves, his palms were a sweaty mess.
Hang on. Just a little longer.
He would help her, of course. Later. When he got what he needed from this exchange. She would be fine; she was stronger than anyone he knew. A fighter. A survivor. They couldn't beat her, couldn't hold her. They'd had to resort to drugs just to keep her in place. His Princess. His stubborn little bodyguard.
She would be fine.
But, Rafayel had never seen her eyes closed like this before. Had never had to wonder if they would open again.
At least, not in this century. Not in this lifetime.
During her fight, it took all of his strength and reason not to release his flames and rush to her side. As he stood still, maintaining the look of a neutral observer, it took all of his will not to dig his fingers into his forearms -- to maintain a neutral expression.
Too late for regret. He was in now. Committed. With her very life at stake, he could not afford to make a single mistake at this critical moment.
Rafayel's eyes followed the trails of wires and tubes coming from her thin white arm. They'd hooked her up to several monitors. Medical tools had been set out, likely to treat her injuries. They wanted this girl alive. Whomever had set the bounty would not pay so dearly just to have her die while waiting for their arrival.
His mind rebelled. Asked the same question again and again.
What if he was wrong? Had he underestimated his foes? Had he misjudged the stakes?
The monitor reading her heartrate screamed in warning, red text flashing. Despite the loud noise, Ellara did not stir. She looked frozen, agonized. Pale and shivering, she whimpered in pain. Each of her labored breaths seemed to echo between the metal walls. She was helpless as a fish out of water, her clothes soaked in sweat, her bangs plastered to her forehead; her lungs contracting, spasming.
What the hell was going on? This didn't look like a normal reaction to C-003 overdose. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt. Something was wrong. Why wasn't the guy next to him doing anything? He just kept typing and typing into his computer like a robot. What, was he composing a dissertation? Damn him, his filthy lab coat, and his shabby glasses. Couldn't Onychinus afford proper dry cleaning and proper wages for their henchmen?
The thought amused him momentarily, sufficiently distracting him.
"What do you aim to do with her?" he heard himself ask. His voice sounded foreign. Cold.
Good. Keep calm. Composed. Think of the studio, the mansion by the sea. Ebb and flow as the gentle evening tide.
Inhale. Release.
"That's above my paygrade," came the reply. The man beside him kept typing, entering information into a database.
Reinforcements requested.
Prime target acquired.
Time sensitive.
Subject unstable.
The man was doing exactly what Rafayel wanted him to: calling for support. Calling for the leader, the illusive man he had spent decades tracking, and the only one who could give Rafayel what he sought.
"Surely you must have a guess," Rafayel said. "You paid quite a sum for me to bring her here."
The man shrugged. "Not really my business. I'm just a grunt." He kept typing, the mechanical clicking scraping at Rafayel's ears like sandpaper on satin. "Not having second thoughts, are you?"
Rafayel forced a smile. "For the kind of bounty on her? Not in a million."
The man beside him chuckled. "Right? I'd sell my mom's kidneys for even a fraction of what this girl's worth."
Patience wasn't Rafayel's virtue. The silence was bearing down on him. The click-clack of the keyboard was giving him reflux. Rafayel's eyes followed the words on the screen. Or tried to. The man was typing too fast and switching between screens even faster. The text spoke of her heart. Something about her heart.
Seeing that intensified his panic. Why was it so? Why was it always her heart that was at risk? And why in this lifetime? Had she not been reborn into a healthy body? A body free of the curse of her past life?
Damn it. If only his eyes were sharper and not crippled from his latest episode of blindness.
In the medical room, the heart monitor blared another warning. A medi-bot hovered out of one of the lacquered black holsters on the wall. Letting out a series of beeps and flashes, it zoomed over to Ellara. The walls shuddered and shook. The floor groaned as the quaking displaced tile and stone. The lights flickered again, monitors affected this time.
"What's going on?" Rafayel asked, steadying himself by leaning on a nearby chair.
The man let out a curse, smacking his computer until the monitor came back on. "The core's trying to protect her, probably. That's why we picked C-003. Otherwise, we won't be able to extract it."
Core?
Extract?
Rafayel's body tensed. He swallowed past a lump of hot coals.
"Smart move," Rafayel said, choosing to play along. "I never would have thought of that."
The monitor's alarms went off again. Suddenly, the patient on the table was no longer so still. Ellara writhed against her restraints, her back arching and her mouth opening in a silent scream. The shaking was far worse this time. The lights did not come back on in the white room.
"Not good..." the man mumbled before picking up a two way communicator. "Hey, Alphonze, get someone in there to hold her down!"
A voice crackled on the device, "No way, man. I'm not going in there with the Aether Core in that state. It's going to vaporize anyone that touches her right now."
"You're not getting paid to ask questions," the man hissed. "Give her more C-003, now!"
Rafayel's breath froze in his lungs. The medi-bot hovered over Ellara's chest. The man's monitor lit up with blinding light as a scan popped up on the screen, showing her beating heart. Within, lodged like pieces of diamonds, was something shimmering and pulsating. Rafayel's mind put two and two together, and he did not like the result.
"Get your team in there now, Alphonze, or I'll vaporize you myself. If something compromises this opportunity, I'll kill you with my own two hands." The man shut off the communicator with an angry push. Only seconds later, the door to the medical room opened and a group of masked people in HAZMAT suits shuffled inside.
Just a grunt, huh? Clearly an understatement. Whoever this guy was, he had some clout here. Rafayel tensed, his fingers reaching for the hidden daggers in his clothes. Could he use the chaos to his advantage here somehow? Judging by the desperation in the man's tone, he wasn't going to brook any kind of negotiation.
As the suited team positioned themselves around Ellara's gurney, the man continued typing furiously. Rafayel stayed stock still, following as much text as he could.
Pieces of protocore in her heart? And not just any protocore, but one of Aether. How had this happened? When? Had she been sick like this the entire time he'd known her? Had she become a Hunter despite this illness? It wasn't anything he'd ever heard of as a result of the Catastrophe. So, did that mean that her illness was manmade?
He looked at the scene before him again, and this time all the details hit him in the gut like a grenade. The medical gurney. The fancy equipment that looked better than anything he'd seen on the inside of a hospital. The scanners. Even the guy beside him wearing a lab coat and the team donning face shields and preparing surgical tools.
Onychinus wasn't trying to capture her. These people were going to operate on her, and by the looks of things, they did not care for her safety in the least. Was their aim the protocore in her heart? Is that what the man had meant by "extract?"
Silently, Rafayel cursed his own ignorance. He'd assumed they were after her for some other reason. Revenge or perhaps the need to silence her. She was so curious, his Princess, and was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that she'd stumbled upon much more information than she could possibly handle.
But, this was different. Completely different. Had he known the severity of the situation, he never would have put her in such danger. And now? Now all bets were off. The object could wait, as could his revenge. He had to get her out of here immediately.
He moved sideways to stand directly behind the man at the computer. The grunt was distracted, busy typing and barking orders to the terrified medical team. This could work to Rafayel's advantage. All he had to do was use his Evol to --
The monitors blared.
The medi-bot screeched.
Ellara screamed.
A flash.
The one-way window balked against invisible pressure. The people inside the room with her shrieked as they were thrown in all directions like grains of sand scattered in a raging wind.
The man in front of him stood up abruptly, his expression full of shock and fear.
Rafayel didn't hesitate. He didn't know what was happening. He did not care. Before the man in front of him could move or say anything else, Rafayel unsheathed his dagger and drove the hilt into the back of his neck. The man's eyes rolled upwards. He collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Rafayel bolted for the door, adrenaline rushing up like the flames of his Evol into his veins. He heard his heart thundering in his ears, and he practically ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get inside.
Ellara was still strapped to the gurney. He gritted his teeth as he stepped over unconscious bodies to get to her. Cutting through her restraints, he swore when his fingers found her clammy skin. She felt so cold to the touch. Her body shook with helpless shivers.
He patted the side of her face.
"Ellara...answer me. Wake up."
No response. Just another whimper of pain.
He fell to one knee beside her. "Ellara..." His voice cracked, dropping to a husky rumble. "Ellie, please wake up..." he practically begged. He lifted her off the gurney, smoothing her sweaty bangs back from her face.
A pained groan caught his attention. One of the suited men had regained mobility and was crawling towards a panel on the wall. Rafayel recognized the emergency alarm he was reaching for.
"No you don't," he ground out. Holding up a hand, he blasted it with his Evol, melting the controls. The man turned, his face warped with terror. Rafayel's mind blanked. He wanted the man to burn, to feel even half the pain he had inflicted on the girl in his arms. His skin would make a fine canvas for the flames of Rafayel's fury. But, just as the edges of the man's suit began to sizzle, something cold pressed against the artist's cheek.
"Rafayel," Ellara whispered. He looked down at her, relief stealing all the air in his lungs when he saw her eyes blinking open. "It hurts..."
His hands shook as he bent down and kissed her forehead. "It's alright. I'll get us out of here."
"You came for me..." she smiled. "Please, don't go..."
"Never," he promised. "Not in a hundred million years."
Rafayel lifted her limp form into his arms. He let himself feel everything he had been holding back in the months since he'd found her again. His longing, desperation, fear, and frustration. The fire started small, but soon his Evol flames were ripping and tearing through the walls and doors around him. Alarms wailed and sliced through the air, their cries so loud he thought his ear drums would burst.
He moved as swiftly as he could, knowing he could not hesitate even for a moment.