Arc 2 - Chapter 13: Benn and Hope vs Gemma I

(Quintiles 29, 59 / 7:35PM)

Blood stained the soles of their boots.

The open door being the only source of light, it was unable to reflect against the crimson blood. All mixed in one cup of tea, was the smell of manure, rotten egg, and molded cheese.

“sniff sniff … hmmm … I just love the smell of death, don’t you agree?”

Benn and Hope tried to look away from the corpses, and focused their eyes on Gemma’s face. His reflux assaulting him again, he crouched down and opened his mouth, and placed his hand on his stomach. But for some reason … nothing came out.

‘I can’t take this smell … and if I don’t get out of here, I might faint, and if I faint, Hope will deal with her … and she’s not suited for combat.’

As he thought, he hunked out nothing but thin air from his mouth. Closing it, he stood up and moved both his hands toward the inside of his jacket, amidst his gurgling stomach.

Pulling out a heavy machine gun, he had his right hand on the grip, while his left steadied dead center. Pointing the gun at Gemma, he narrowed his watering eyes as his nose flared up.

“Oh, you're using that gun huh? I don’t understand the reason for guns, you know? They’re loud, they cause nothing but harm, and yet…”

Gemma took two steps back, her calves quaking in strength. Her body feeding on adrenaline, Benn put a whole round of ammo into the chamber, leaving him to lock and load his weapon.

“Society continues to use them.”

Pushing her left leg, the pool of blood splattered in all directions as she ripple the air. Becoming one with the wind, she made her way towards Benn.

‘Damnit…’

Making a fist, Gemma pulled back her arm, and thrust it forward. Mere inches from his face … she heard a gunshot … but she continued to push.

The ripples of air lodging onto her knuckles, her fist slammed into Benn’s cheekbone. Sending him flying, he rolled and landed a few feet away from his original position.

His right cheek swollen purple, he laid on the floor where blood wasn’t stained. His hand on his right cheek, whilst the machine gun lay beside him, he felt like someone had thrusted his face with a hammer.

‘That punch…’

Another gunshot pierced the air.

“I wonder who … hmmm…”

Gemma turned her head, and saw Hope wielding her combat pistol. Smoke piling from the barrel, the gun in her hands shook violently, followed by an unneeded amount of sweat plowing from her temples. Her eyes widened, her chest heaving irregularly, a dreaded odor reeked from her armpits.

“Never thought you would be shooting at me with that gun. I thought you hated the idea of conflict.”

Gemma began walking toward Hope, as her bare feet creaked the wooden floor. Scratching her breast, she noticed two holes by using her fingers, which were coated with tar.

Hope’s legs shook, once she smelled the pungent tar with her button nose. Her finger on the trigger, the tip of it caressed the metal lining, as her grip tightened.

“Are you going to shoot again? If you were aiming for my heart, then your aim sucked. You did always have mediocre—”

Hope pulled the trigger three times, sending three bullets to scorch the barrel of her gun. Speeding toward her left chest, Gemma moved at the last second, and just as they were about to strike … it did, but at the center instead of the left.

‘W-’

The bullets lodged onto her chest, quickly fell out, and landed on the little pool of blood beneath her bare feet. Tar oozing from her wounds, it poured forth onto the floor, making the two colors mixed with one another.

Despite her frail hands shaking, and her eyes widened, Gemma pushed up a smug grin.

“Didn’t expect you to have the intent to kill. So tell me Hope, how is that cute brown-haired nerd doing? Is he still hanging out with that swordswoman?”

“W-W-What are you trying to say?!”

Gemma took a few steps forward, making her body cast a shadow over her. Licking her lips, she moistened them with her pungent saliva, pushing Hope to take a couple of steps back. Still having her gun pointing toward her, the barrel pressed itself onto Gemma’s stomach, all the while lowering her voice.

“Because once I’m done here, I’ll pay him a little visit. You know Hope; you, me, and Luna all have that thing in common.”

She thrusted her right hand straight toward her throat. Lifting her upward, Hope’s feet dangled in the air, as her cheeks already flushed a swollen purple.

Pulling her closer, Hope’s face was inches from hers, leaving her gun to be trapped between both their stomachs. Unable to shoot, nor raise it upward, it left her to indulge in Gemma’s abhorrent breath.

“We love our men shy and weak.”

She opened her mouth, allowing her black rotting gums to unleash its scent. Clattering her teeth, Hope averted her head back with clenched eyes … as they both heard the thundering of bullets.

‘Huh?’

Gemma let go of Hope, allowing her small body to hit the pool of floor. Her nose hit like a freight train, she quickly stood up, and noticed the left side of her body drenched in blood. The smell resembled fresh manure mixed with rotten eggs and spoiled vinegar, leaving her to slightly gag.

‘Ah! Blood is on my—Ah!’

Luckily for her, she was away from Gemma, who was bombarded by the shilling sounds of a machine gun. No smirk nor frown present on his face, Benn, who lit up the room with his bullets, let his body be shaken by the recoil of his gun.

Ceasing his rain, Benn lowered the burning barrel downward, as smoke piled from intelsely. Drenching down the floor, was her own tar, as tiny holes littered her chest.

‘I don’t think I shot her heart, but if tar is blood to them, then that means they aren’t immortal. If the same logic applies; then their hearts pump tar, meaning…

And the same as before, all the bullets she accumulated sprung out of her body like a spring. The dead metal clackering the pool of blood below, it sprinkled onto their boots and feet, while steam built up around her wounds. Burning and vaporizing around the holes, the wounds patched up like stitched bandages.

‘Their heart’s their weak spot.’

Both took a step back, as the steam circulated around the area like an oven’s heat.

‘But why couldn’t I hit her heart? Can they move their own hearts? Unless if it's part of their blessing…’

Feeling his body moisten from her steam, white pigments of her skin patched up. Spreading her arms outward, and her palms facing forward, she licked her lips with a look of ecstasy.

As Gemma’s hands started to form … mist…?

Mist started to cover her hands up to her shoulders, and then expanded to cover her body. Surrounding her chest, her throat, down to her ankles, it enveloped the entirety of her body.

“Time to get frisky~”

He felt a vulgar sweat drench his temples, and his stomach clenched from the dampening smell. Feeling the contents shot up to his throat, he crouched down, and tried to gag out anything that stalled from—

He couldn’t. It was already empty.

‘Why was I cursed with such a strong nose?’

Breathing harshly, she saw the unruly sight in front of her widened eyes. Feeling her hands go static, like pins and needles pinch the inside of her skin repeatedly, her cheeks flourished with paleness.

As Gemma instantly started to spin, all her body weight succumbed to the tips of her toes. Steaming the wood, friction began to burn the dark liquid into a solid state. And then the mist started to slimmer, revealing Gemma’s body outline in the squeezing coffin. Yet despite feeling trapped, she extended her arms outward, which were covered in her armor mist.

‘Benn is still gagging…’

Her legs still shaking with fear, she ran toward Benn with swaying hands and arms. Running across the pool of tar, her boots splattered against it, making it stain against her clothing. Once she reached him, she placed herself behind his back, had her arms steady on his right arm.

“Benn … are you ok?”

“I’m fine …”

Unable to turn around, he continued to fasten his eyes at Gemma’s spinning sight. Hope peaked her head out to take in Gemma’s abnormal spinning, using Benn’s body as cover.

Until she stopped. Similar to the braking of a car running turbo, the speed and acceleration … slowed to a stop in less than a second. Her mist armor, loosening from the sudden stop, caused all of it to—

Explode.

Plowing across every corner of the building, it made anyone who dares enter it; practically see with zero visibility.

________________________________________________________________________

“Hold on.”

“How are we going to find her?! She has a complete advantage over us!”

“I’ll think of something.”

Hope held onto Benn’s hand, as they both couldn’t see amidst the blinding mist. No way of knowing what’s in front of them, his breathing started to roar the more he ran. Closing his eyes, and using his other four senses, Benn relaxed his body while his chest pumped air back and forth.

[Lend me a mosquito’s vision.]

His vision already darkened, it was then transported to a sudden change of eyes. Putting himself in the vision of a mosquito, he looked around the bar top to bottom. Because for one, a mosquito's vision relies on infrared light. And because of this…

The insect saw two bodies of heat close together, meaning it was none other than himself and Hope. As it buzzed around the ceiling, Hope felt the mist shiver her body, leaving her to mingle her body heat with his. And since Benn couldn’t push his legs, since it was part of his weakness when using his blessing, it left them to stand like a sitting duck.

“Do you see her?”

“Not much.”

‘Do liches not have infrared heat? Wait, then what about steam? Steam is how those liches regenerate so if steam is heat, then…’

Still maintaining his vision inside the mosquito, he couldn’t direct his head or body to face Hope. The only thing he could motion was his lips and words, leaving him to talk while clenching his eyes shut. All the while the mosquito buzzed below the ceiling.

“Hope. If you see Gemma, shoot her on sight.”

“But what if I miss her heart?”

“Even if you shoot at her body, it’ll work—”

“Sorry, but I don’t want any funny business.”

Benn scoured everywhere, once he heard the sound of Gemma’s voice. Catching a slight body heat from afar, like a trail of methane from a person farting in infrared light, it was directed toward…

He couldn’t pull the trigger even if he wanted to. His voice gentle, he commandeered Hope’s will to shoot, as she was their only way for the plan to work.

“Gemma coming at 2 o'clock!”

Benn crouched down, his gag reflex coming toward him yet again. Opening his mouth, nothing came out from his throat, leaving him to stall out empty air and imaginary crickets.

‘Why of all times?’

Pointing the barrel of her gun at the direction Benn gave her, she heard footsteps thud the floor from afar. Her hands trembling the gun, and her grip loosening with the metal, the midst surrounding them both clouded her eyes like a blindfold.

Even in the white filled dark, she remembered a vow, a promise she made to a certain young man.

[Can you at least try to bring her in? At least an effort.]

‘Fred … I’m so sorry…’

Her cheeks sinking downward, her arm steadied, her breathing slowing to a crawl. Becoming one with the gun, and the gun becoming one with her, no thoughts or hesitations dawned on her mind.

As she pulled the trigger, lighting the barrel six times. Plowing through the zero visibility mist, they went into the unknown, hitting—

“Curse you Hope!”

‘Good thing I gagged…’

Wielding his heavy machine gun, both Benn and Hope could barely trace the outline of a person running at them. By just the small infrared heat of her breath, it was a checkmate of epic proportions, along with the rivet of bullet wounds radiating heat.

‘You shouldn’t have talked.’

[Take me out of the mosquito’s vision.]

Opening his eyes, Benn’s vision returned to his normal self, as he took no time to look around the room. His right hand on the grip, and his left on the center, Benn turned toward the direction of the raging Gemma.

And as he felt the roughness of the trigger, Benn fired. Plowing through the mist with hot lead, both of them were inches away from death, as what they shot in front of them was…

Gemma, who was millimeters away from attacking them.

Riddling her chest with bullets, her head arched upward, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Rapidly pouring tar out of her body, Gemma collapse under the dawning weight.

‘Fred…’

Slamming chest first, Benn stopped firing, and lowered his gun as both of them focused into the mist.

Walking a couple of feet forward, his boots were already drenched with tar and blood, as he made his way toward her. Almost tripping, his right foot bumped into something, making him pull back. Lying down on the floor was Gemma, surrounded by her own tar and many teenage boys’ heads.

“What have we done?”

“It’s for the best.”

“But … how would we tell Fred—”

“Save us!”

Benn pulled back Hope merely instantly, and jumped at the hearing of a familiar line. Keeping her close, he scoured his eyes around the blinding mist, but he couldn’t trace the bodies outlines. But he heard footsteps, not boots or shoes, but bare feet kissing the huge puddle of liquid from where they were originally at.

‘Gemma infected them with her fangs … ’

Those repeated lines edged closer and closer, and they still couldn’t decipher the distance between them, so Benn—

“Retreat!”

Having Hope in hand, Benn sprinted his body in the opposite direction. Thundering the wooden floor with his boots, Hope did too, as both ran into the misty unknown.