the ground is shaking, fists are flying and the faint smell of smoke and gunpowder and the metallic tinge of blood hangs heavy in the air. it all seems par for the course these days, though, now that all of boston has turned into an apocalyptic battlefield. this is what they've been waiting for, isn't it? this is what they asked for. this is war.
from her scope, she can make out bright splashes of red on the ground from bodies that are no longer there-- and she hopes and prays that they made it to safety-- she can see the blur of the speedsters rushing past, the glimmer of a force field around city hall, she can make out piles of rubble and the faces of her comrades. she can count the arrows she's fired off, one, two, three, four, see the empty shafts and streaks of ice and the scorch marks on the pavement. the sounds of fighting hit her ears, loud bangs and cracks and screams, but she's in her own world up there in the clouds and all the racket seems vague and far away. she pans the rifle around again until it falls on an all too familiar form and her lips pull into a tight line.
her finger twitches against the trigger. she could do it, all it would take was one breath, one quick motion, one slip and it could be over for him. and for a moment, her head goes round, thinking about what what she'd been told the night before-- that maybe she can't save everyone, that maybe there's no coming back from this and that maybe, despite herself, she might have to put someone down. her finger twitches again and she shuts her eyes as hard as she can and clenches her teeth. she takes a deep breath and shakes her head. even if what she'd been told was right, that didn't mean it wasn't worth at least trying. so instead, she adjusts her aim and gingerly presses on the trigger, firing off a single warning shot.
if she had wanted to hit him, she would have.
it only takes a moment to break down the rifle and tuck it securely into the case at her feet. it takes even less time for her to wrap her fingers around the bow on her back and secure her quiver to her hip. she takes another breath and steps onto the ledge of the building and looks down, making a split second decision, then stepping off the roof without a second thought.
and then she's falling, nothing more than a heap of flesh aimed for the ground, until she reaches for the grappling arrow and looses it in one well trained motion.
it aims true, embeds itself into the concrete of the building and she twists her hand around the wire, swinging with all her might. it happens fast, it has to, because if it doesn't there's a good chance that she will be roadkill, so she mumbles a silent prayer to some unknown deity that she only half believes in and heaves the weight of her body around a lamp post and swings wide before dropping onto the roof of a nearby van. her grip loosens, letting go of the cord and she lands with a thud that sucks the air from her lungs as she rolls onto the hood and falls to the ground.
a moment passes, then another, and for all she knows, her window has gone. she squeezes her eyes shut and sucks in a breath of bitter air, shakes off the pain in her side and forces herself back to her feet.
nimble fingers curl around one of the new icer arrows she's been outfitted with, dancing around the polished carbon fiber shaft and brush over the fletching, but retreat just as quickly. instead, she slips the bow onto her back. there's a half dozen weapons she can reach if she needs them. she takes another deep breath, squares her shoulders and steps out.
the sight of him is enough to send a shock of pain through her body. it's almost like being punched in the gut, sucking the air from her lungs again. every fiber of her being is screaming at her to run to him and god, she wants to and that sick feeling finds it's way back to the pit of her stomach and she can hear her heartbeating against her eardrums. so instead, she smirks and cracks a joke, tells him that he looks like shit and recommends tanning because evil doesn't go well with his complexion. instead, she keeps her distance and clenches her fists and dodges an arrow. instead, she pulls back and throws a punch and takes a knee to her already bruised ribs and rolls away.
and then it happens, it happens fast and all at once, but it feels like the world is moving in slow motion. she can see it in his face, like a veil has lifted and the color comes back into his cheeks and the anger falls away from his eyes and she just knows. the bow falls from her hand and she springs forward towards him, as fast as her feet will take her until she can wrap her arms around his crumbling body. until she can press her face against his hair to smother the burning of tears that threaten to pour from her eyes.
she wants to tell him that it's okay, she wants to tell him that she's there and that he's safe, but when she opens her eyes again, he's gone. he's gone and it's quiet and she's alone on the ground in the middle of nowhere.
her eyes shoot open and she sits up in bed with a start, gasping for air and clutching the covers.