Steam, smoke, bullets. Good name for an autobiography, if he ever got the chance, but they were Ben’s world. Should have known an S Rank would go south. More Grimm than they’d ever expected. JCL was getting the civvies out, already had a path cleared, while Bastille handled the Grimm. That was the plan. Until the plan got fucked up, and they were engulfed in a sea of monsters.
Made it simple. If it had red eyes, it died. If it was human, he’d die before they did. No thought. No strategy. Just the constant string of gunshots, dodged claws, and blades. The Grimm were dropping like flies, but goddamn they had numbers. Every time one fell, another stepped up. But hey, all that extra brainpower was good for something.
“Think we get a medal for this? Good and shiny?” Artorius bit into a Beowulf’s midsection, ending it instantly. “Love to have something to rub in Dad’s face. Prove a point.”
"Y'know, if I brought babes like Desire and Sangue home to my dad, he'd probably pay for my tuition out of pocket," Lauren supplied helpfully, though her cheerful voice was muffled by the tightness of her jaw around an Ursa's paw, Aura visibly straining to chomp it off. "But my dad rules, so. Take me with a grain of salt."
“Not the point I’m proving. More about me, y’know? Not being a smith. That’d be a good point too, though.” Ben grinned, but didn’t look over. No time. Enemies kept coming, and coming, and coming. He got a status update over the radio once in a while, but even Goodwitch couldn’t tell how many there were. His BaSTEELs told him they were all starting to run low on Aura, too. No point in pulling a last stand when they could all get out alive. “Back to the ship! Weed ‘em out on the way. Jack, you fuckers better have those civilians out.”
.:”Evac is almost complete.”:.
“Good! You owe us a party.”
Sangue dropped back first, just like they’d practiced. Her captain took a single sidestep right, filling in for her share of the enemies while Amy followed suit. For a few moments it was just him and Lauren holding the line, until they too broke off to engage from range. Some space-creating maneuvers from their comrades helped make that possible. Running and gunning, a few kills and fall back. Lather, rinse, repeat. Slow going, but they were getting away. And no one was getting hurt just yet.
The Ursa Major broke the pattern, just a bit. No way to take that one out guerilla-style. Ben ducked under its first swing, stepped in, and pumped his Aura straight into his arm for an uppercut that would’ve made Lauren proud. Blade through the neck, up, and straight into the skull. Not that it stopped his buddies from gut-punching Ben back into his group and straight into a bulkhead. That one hurt, he had to admit. A lot. And was kinda stupid. Alright, make that a lot stupid.
Because now there was a gap, for just a second, in the front lines. Enough time for the bastards to sneak in a few hits and make Lauren stumble, forcing Amy to open fire and keep the mob back. That’s how it looked, at least. The whole world was still reeling from when he hit the bulkhead, too much adrenaline to pay more attention than that. A few shotgun blasts pushed the Grimm back further, while he lunged back into the fray. No time for anything else.
But he couldn’t seem to get that momentum back. That one fucking opening, and the Grimm took it. A Beowulf lunged, he struck it down, and then another one came before he had even finished. Claws on his side, teeth seeking purchase in his neck. Lauren was pinned under an Ursa’s claws, literally tearing at the limb with her teeth and ax. Amy was back with them, spearing and shooting Grimm without a second thought while Sangue literally tore the Beowolf off of Ben’s side. But with all four holding the line, they weren’t making much progress back towards the ship. They were back to just surviving.
He wasn’t joking, now. He ordered a retreat almost wordlessly, and they obeyed, but they were all tired. Heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline pumping, every nerve in his body firing on all cylinders to keep him alive. But they couldn’t change the low Aura warning from his BaSTEELs, or the fact that the others weren’t in much better shape. Or every bruise he was starting to feel. Or how much further to the ship.
Everything was a blur. No conscious thought, nothing but an incredible, overriding fury. Almost primal. A fury against the whole world, resolved that it would not have his life. It wouldn’t have theirs, either. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the fight. The feeling of Grimm breaking beneath his weapons, of Artorius and Lawnslot merging, of the enemies of mankind giving way every time he swing Caltfwlch. Deinamig pumped raw power into his veins, and he used every iota to the fullest. Every scream of his muscles, every roar, his or the Grimm’s he couldn’t tell, was proof that he was alive.
Jack’s words, and a shrill beeping, were the first things to cut through the haze. The low Aura warning. And…
.:”We’re out.”:.
Mission was almost done. Get out, they could blow the refinery sky high, and he went home a hero. Everyone did. The freshman that pulled off an S-Rank.
Then he saw it.
The Beowolf.
And he saw her, turned away. Too far past the front line.
Aura gauge too low.
He was already moving, but it was slow. A little voice in the back of his head screamed for him to do something else. Anything else. She got hurt, it was her fault. Not his. He wasn’t the one who fucked up. But he was already moving.
Claws met blade, sliding along its length while the Grimm’s body got closer. Caletfwlch biting into it while it bit into him. Strong arms catching him when he stumbled, pulling him back from the Grimm.
"Yooou jackoff. It's not nice to keep a lady on the edge of her seat. You had me wor-” She didn’t say anything more, not once she got another look. Noticed the Grimm weren’t the only ones tinted with red. She didn’t say anything, actually. Not that he could tell, but the world was kinda… Flickery. Like one second snapshots of a movie. Being pulled back. Sunlight coming through the exit.
And the world went back to real time, when he felt cold metal under his back, saw the airship come into clear, detailed view around him and heard his teammates talking. Goodwitch was there, now, pressing on his side. It hurt. He kinda wished she’d stop. Why was…
…
Oh.
“L-Lyin’ down on the job… Once a slacker…” A wet, ragged cough cut him off, and Goodwitch looked up, lips pursed to scold him, but the words died unspoken. She just looked back to her work. “You guys l-look like shit. Can’t get a medal like this.”
“Cap, you’re-” Ben shook his head to silence her, trying to laugh. Hurt too much. Ended up more like a wet, haggard cough. He picked up an arm and grabbed Lauen’s shoulder, drawing her in a little closer.
“S-Shut up. Listen.” His grip tightened when another cough wracked his body, loosening a little when he drew in a shallow breath. This was what losing a fight felt like. Not enough. He didn’t have enough in him to win. “... Don’t let ‘em t-tell my Dad what happened. Make shit up, just…. Didn’t want me to be a Hunter. C-Can’t let him know that I… I… Not like this…”
Another fit shook his frame, and Goodwitch didn’t say anything. Her hair hid her expression while she kept applying pressure. The rest of Bastille… Amy looked ready to tear something apart or break down herself. Sangue was visibly upset, holding the hem of her outfit with a balled fist while Lauren tried to keep an optimistic look on her face. The forced composure on their leader’s face shattered as soon as he stopped coughing, and he shakily tried to knock Artorius away from himself in disgust. The weapon only slid a little ways, just out of reach.
“Fucking stupid...” The words were quieter. He felt something wet on his face, tried to pretend that it was blood. Would have been better than the truth. The fury was back, fervent and hot. It burned within him, made him want to lash out. Break something, scream at someone, anything to prove he was still alive. That he’d stay that way. “T-Turns out… Not gonna get that medal. No point to prove. Dad… Hunters don’t get to go out w-well. No medals. No happy endings. Don’t get the girl, and heroes…”
He tried to laugh, Pass it off as a joke. He joked about shit all the time. Nothing new there. Every one of BASL’s members could watch, in the corner of their eye, his vitals slumping. Blood pressure dropping, heart rate speeding up and just making it worse. But even that was slowing. Ben laughed weakly, an abrupt sound that was even worse than the coughing. His team had gathered close without really realizing it, tuning out the arguing from the cockpit. Someone from JMCL trying to make the pilot go faster. Probably Luke.
Bless Luke. Always hoping for the impossible.
“Fuck, c-can’t even die cool... “ Bastille’s leader shook his head, slow and weak. He took his hand off Lauren’s shoulder and held both up to the group, almost like he was trying to give them a shaky hug. “Just… Make me proud. Be the best. Don’t… D-Don’t change, okay?”
“Please…”
“Just... Don’t let me go...”
Ghosthands
Plank Sinatra
UltimoScorp
The World