Decision - I

"Wait here."

The boy replies, curious, with a hand on his chin. "Can I ask who it is?"

"Yeah, it's just an acquaintance."

He does not deign to follow up. I take the opportunity to walk to my apartment's door, steady and firm. I don't want the boy to think there's something wrong, something off-putting, something that might hint at a sign of trouble ahead.

I'm not a charitable person. Just acting with my ego, that's all.

I lower my head and peer through my door's eyehole.

A spike of adrenaline courses through my vein and muscle.

Aedi. All my doubt is gone.

It really is her. The same one who I fought prior. That damned woman who beat me.

Inhaling a breath, I proceed to open the door.

"Hey."

She sounds pleased. Same as ever.

"Hey."

"Mind if I let myself in?"

"I'd rather not decorate my furniture with your blood."

Closing the door, I take out my keys and insert them in the keyhole, shaking a tad, but locking it with the same efficiency as ever.

"So, where would you like to do this, dear Camille?"

Her voice is joyful. Soft, yet stricken with an almost compassionate edge to it.

"Not gonna ask me if I want to give up my ability?"

She coughs into her right hand. "Camille," Aedi asks, her voice down a few octaves. "Would you like to give up your ability?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

I stand facing her, a tightened grip in my right hand. The first thing that comes to mind is if I should attack her now. Whether it's best to take the first strike and end it here.

No fear. No anger. No anguish.

The time for that has passed.

Now, I can only consider one thing.

The best and most efficient way to dissemble the human being in front of me.

"I take it you want to dance here and now?"

I feel a chill creep down my spine.

"Call it what you like."

"How about a duel?"

"How about we all settle down and talk this out?"

Huh.

Odd. There's another voice breaking into our moment.

As I contemplate this, the corners of my mouth slump. I take a moment to face the source of the voice, seeing the boy from earlier standing outside. It’s only been thirty seconds and he’s already here.

Damn. Did he know I was bullshitting? I must've been so preoccupied with that woman that I didn't hear the door opening.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a kid," Aedi says.

"Do I look remotely old enough to have a brat that age?"

"Beats me, as the Americans say."

A short halt. No one, save for the howling wind, makes a sound.

That’s a third wheel, for you.

"Um, sorry for the interruption!" the boy apologises, reaching into his robe in confusion. "I just got caught up in how pretty you are that I was at a loss for words."

...

Excuse me?

I feel second-hand embarrassment on my face as if a pain worse than death has overridden my instinct.

Dear god. Please do not inject teenage hormones into the middle of my life-and-death situation. Even if I might die regardless, knowing that my killer got complimented on her looks is killing me inside.

"What a nice boy you are." Her smile livens, and her demeanour shifts. "Shame your friend." An uncertain, almost questioning aura pervades her voice. "Guardian or aunt couldn't share your enthusiasm."

He lets out a small 'pr' before scratching the back of his head.

"Protectee." It's a strange thing to say. Meaning the person under protection.

"Excuse me, boy?"

"Not to be rude, but the word you're looking for is protectee. My relationship with her as of the moment is strictly that of a guardian and protectee."

Gosh.

Sprouting absurd dialogue like that.

I'd forgotten how troublesome teenagers were. If I want to make him go, I think I'll need to play to harsher sensibilities.

"You're not protecting no one, kid; stop being a little shit and l —

A high-pitched noise echoes.

Too loud. A sound unmistakable in origin. The displaced aftermath of a bullet that I only now understand.

Urgh.

My heartbeat reaches my ears, yet loud as they are, they entertain the noise of a dropped bullet casing all the same. It’s almost anti-climatic. Without warning, the woman had cut off my insult, interrupting with a gun of all things.

"Argue yourself into a grave, Camille, be my guest," Aedi says, pointing the gun to the ground. "Bu—"

She stops mid-way. In quick, subsequent order, we both find ourselves stopped short.

Tip. Tap. Tip. TAP.

Footsteps rush in her direction.

Then, blood.

It takes a second, but I soon understand what I'm seeing.

There’s something penetrating her chest. Goring her. The horns of a bull, translucent, blue and ethereal, as if more ghost than physical.

It's the boy. Due to some magic or whatnot, there's a floating bull head wrapped around his mask, currently lifting the woman into the air.

"Not bad, kid!"

Aedi's words are strained by hoarseness.

Facing a wall, he bashes the woman's back into it.

Sputter.

A spoonful of blood. Falling from her lips is a deep scarlet.

The boy continues to pin her. His horns, no doubt, continuing to burrow through her suit. More blood. I find myself watching this, tensed.

It's... Strange. To see someone on the brink of death.

To hear the woman persist in laughing, even as a wet gurgle comes out with each subsequent breath.

Perhaps strangest of all is that she's still got so much life in her.

Even on the brink of death, the woman still smiles.

And even on that precise brink, the woman is lifting her right arm, gun still in hand.

The sight of it stirs me to action.

Damned boy!

My instinct takes over my shock.

"Argh!"

So as I run, I

Tackle the boy.

Reach for her gun.