Magical Girl Exorcist Squad: Finals Week, Act II (Season 2, Issue #2)

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And now, back to our regularly scheduled manic magical girl shenanigans!

***

Pink and red comets shot over Boston, southbound as a wind-tunnel formed around their flight-path. Nicole drank in the sensation of the wind bending around her, of serving as a midway point between land and sky, as she focused her will into flight. She flew, and flew, and flew, and the hideous cacophony of death and destruction rang out in front of her. Wet crimson stains painted the asphalt over Washington Avenue, a messy conglomeration of industrial centers- namely McKinnon’s Garage and Gas, a wide, angular building that looked like it had once housed airplanes. Stray severed limbs were strewn about haphazardly around the gas-pumps, while all the cars in sight were either turned over or entirely totalled.

The remnants of the Box inside Nicole’s soul, the open container out of which everything had spilled at once, burned red with righteous fury. Nicole’s eyes peeled wide and her hands trembled and her teeth grinded together as she approached and saw a massive, black-furred wolfdog with fangs that sang with fire cornering an old man in a wheelchair in front of the garage. Matt was nowhere in sight, so Nicole dive-bombed the Hellhound and rammed the butt of her broomstick into the soft of the beast’s neck. Nicole heard a crack, and the hound’s brainstem cracked open as its neck shattered and collapsed onto the ground. Nicole pivoted and skidded to a halt, then ran over to the old man and offered a hand swathed in Pink Healing Light.

The old man nodded graciously and took Nicole’s hand, his scrapes and lacerations fading as Nicole wheeled him away from the battle.

She escorted the old man a block away and then zoomed back into the fight. Cass was holding a Hellhound raised in the air and slowly compressed her hands together, the beast snarling and howling as Cass crushed its skull.

There was a part of Nicole that felt bad. Felt horrible. She loved animals, especially dogs, but… But this was no different than the rabid coyote that had nearly killed her and Iris when they were kids. Sometimes a sick dog had to be put down. And there was a tragedy in that, but it had to be done.

The rage pulsed red behind Nicole’s eyes when she saw another Hellhound attacking someone, this time a little girl trapped underneath a car. Nicole screamed as she flew into the beast and landed her fist upon its eye. Cass used her telekinesis to pull the car off of the little girl, then flew over to her and took her somewhere safe while Nicole grabbed a tire-iron off the ground and slammed it into the Hellhound’s face. Attacking a child- releasing these beasts onto the public. Inexcusable, horrible, evil. This couldn’t stand. Her heart thundered inside her chest as she scanned the area for more Hellhounds. Cass flew back over to her, searching as well.

Where was Matt?

That was when the window to the loft above the garage exploded outwards with glass shrapnel, and three Hellhounds came with them. Alongside Matt, in his full armor, wielding his glowing white chainsaw and slashing it through the air into the midsection of a Hellhound. He screamed as the demon-dog was messily and loudly bisected and black blood splattered over the ground. The other two Hellhounds’ legs cracked apart when they hit the ground, and as Matt neared the pavement, Cass extended a hand and slowed and caught him with her telekinesis.

The skinny young man with the shaggy auburn hair, clad in the navy-blue chainmail armor, clutched his chainsaw tightly by the handle, but his wroth facial contortions smoothed into a pleased, relieved smile as he looked up and saw Nicole and Cass. Especially Cass- Nicole could practically see the hearts in his eyes when he looked at the other girl. It was almost enough to make her forget how furious she was about all this.

Almost.

Cass set Matt down on the ground. “Hi,” he said, breathing haggardly.

“Hey,” Cass said. “Any injuries?”

“I’m fine for now,” Matt said. “We’ve got a lady bleeding bad inside the garage though.”

“I’m on it,” Nicole said. “Cover me?”

“Of course,” Cass said.

“Yes, Ms. Nicole,” Matt chirped. He really needed to stop calling her that.

Nicole flew inside the darkened garage and nearly threw up. Bodies were strewn about, all dead and mangled and mutilated. Nicole expected a tide of fear to wash over her, but her anger instead tripled from a contained hearth into a wildfire. A middle-aged black woman in a fancy white skirt-suit and white designer kitten-heels had her back against the wall and clutched her bleeding stomach. Nicole touched ground in front of her, and whispered, “May I touch you?”

The woman nodded, and Nicole healed her, the sweet sensation of the Pink Healing Light putting borders on the fire of her anger once again. She needed to focus- there was every chance this was some kind of trap, and civilians were in danger. That was the priority, not satisfying the surge of righteous anger pouring out of the Box.

She finished healing the woman, then ushered her out of the garage and put her inside a car and watched her drive away.

That was when she heard something behind her, and Matt cried, “GET DOWN!”

Nicole turned around and saw someone inside the garage lifting a station wagon up over his head. He wore a gray mechanic’s uniform, and had a nametag that said ‘Daryl.’ He had a bald head and a worn, weathered face and a portly frame, and his eyes were the solid black of demonic possession.

And he chucked the station wagon at them.

Cass held up her hands and caught the car with telekinesis, sliding backwards as she slowed the automobile. Nicole funneled Pink Light into her, and Cass effortlessly ripped the car in half as Matt ran charging at the demon.

“Get out of my boss!” Matt yelled as he turned off the motor of his chainsaw and swung the flat of the blade at the demon’s ribs.

Before Matt could reach the man, the demon twisted Daryl’s neck around, and then rushed out in a hurricane of black smoke.

Matt’s shoulders slumped as he stared at the broken heap of his boss’ body. He dropped to his knees. Cass went over to him, a hand on his shoulder as he started crying.

Nicole trembled, inhaled and exhaled rapidly as she stood inside a cement field of blood and death. No, no, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening, this-

The snarling chorus of a pack of Hellhounds came into earshot. Nicole pivoted around and saw the pack rushing in, at least twenty strong, howling and snarling and erupting with fire.

Gasoline and oil drenched the floor of the garage.

This was bad.

Cass flew towards Nicole and said, “Gimme a boost, blondie!”

Nicole nodded in agreement as she channeled Pink Light and shot it like a beam at Cass. The freshman raised her arms, and the Hellhounds were all pushed out of the garage at once as the inner wall exploded outwards.

Matt charged at the few Hellhounds near them and hacked through them with his glowing chainsaw, and Nicole fought the beasts with only her fists as they all pooled out into the parking lot. Cass tossed the beasts into the sky and let them hit the ground with a splat when gravity caught up to them.

One of the hounds closed in on a gas-pump, foaming at the mouth with smoke and fire.

“Shit!” Matt cried as he charged.

Nicole grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck, then gave Cass another boost of Pink Light. The Hellhound’s burning maw tore through the gas pump, and the fuel ignited in a massive sphere of fire.

Cass stood her ground and kept the explosion contained inside a bubble of telekinesis with the rest of the pack. Eventually, the lack of oxygen strangled the fire, and all that remained were dog bones.

Cass breathed heavily, then collapsed to her knees. Matt caught her before her face hit the ground, himself looking like he wanted to fall over. Nicole simply stood there, drinking in the field of death around her.

The enemy had struck hard.

Nicole bunched her fists. Not again. She stopped them before this happened again. Maybe then the poor souls who’d perished before they could arrive would be able to rest. Maybe then her anger would subside, or at least retreat back inside the lidless Box.

She wasn’t sure about that second part.

***

Amy’s hands trembled as she held the Hellfire Spear. She hated this thing, hated what it represented, hated what it meant about her, hated the person who’d given it to her. But she had to use it, both because it was the only way she could deal with all the Hellfire smoke without Nicole present, and because by God she had to make this thing into something she could deal with, something she could interact with on a daily basis, or she would go crazy.

They closed in on the Eastern Bank branch that stood amidst a business sector of the North End, a two-story stone building a few blocks off of the Freedom Trail. A crowd of journalists and camera-operators and civilians with smartphones pulsed around the margins of the crime scene, and one of them, a teenage girl with her phone on a selfie-stick, pointed and jumped for joy as she saw the three superheroes flying overhead.

The crowd went wild as they settled above the bank.

“Yellow, do your thing,” Debbi said, gesturing at the smoky building below.

“Right,” Amy nodded, trying to ignore her headache, trying to ignore the anxiety lancing her insides, trying to ignore the sense of dread that permeated every particle of her composition. She held the spear by the shaft, closed her eyes, breathed in and out, and concentrated.

A putrid flame ignited inside her core, foul and filthy, stoked by the burning blade of the spear and channeled into it. It resonated with the smoke inside the building, called out to it, drew it in and absorbed it like a hungry amoeba. All the Hellfire smoke inside the bank condensed into a single thin stream and absorbed into the spear. She breathed it in, hating how the smoke didn’t affect her. She wanted to choke on it, but it was as natural to her as breathing clean air.

She exhaled a puff of smoke, then snapped her fingers and snuffed out the flame.

She opened her eyes. The building was clear of smoke, and hostages began running out in a panicked stampede. Debbi and Heather went down to try to placate them, guide them out calmly and quickly, but the crowd kept surging until everyone was out.

That just left the bank robber.

Amy flew into the bank, spear in hand, and found Lyle waiting for her. He was clad in the crisp white tuxedo Nicole had described, a top-hat and monocle adorning his head, a long knife in one hand and a burlap sack with a dollar sign in the other. “Ah, hello there dahlin’,” Lyle drawled. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance- name’s Belial, but you can call me Lyle if you’d like. Yours is the yaller dress, so I’m guessing that makes you-”

“Don’t,” Amy said, floating towards him, brandishing the spear.

“I was just gonna say Astaroth’s daughtuh.”

“She wishes,” Amy rolled her eyes. “Why are you robbing banks?”

“Greed,” Lyle said simply.

“Really? That’s it? That’s your motivation? Just greed?”

“Ahm a simple demon with simple pleasures. Greed happens to be muh favorite sin,” Lyle said, twirling the knife about in his hands. “What’s yours?”

Amy snorted. “I don’t have one.”

“Ah c’mon now, don’t be like that- everybody’s got one.”

“I don’t.”

“But you’re a-”

“Do NOT finish that sentence,” Amy said, the Hellfire igniting on the spear’s blade.

Lyle’s knife burned with obsidian flame, and instantly both pyres were extinguished. “We both know that ain’t gonna work against me.”

“Then drop the money and turn yourself over to the police,” Amy said.

“Mm, no, ah don’t think so, dahlin’,” Lyle said. And with a flick of his wrist, the knife flew through the air.

Amy jumped off her broom and went to the right, but the knife pivoted midair and shot after her. She dodged again, but it kept giving chase. She brandished the spear, jabbing and blocking with it, but the knife fought back as if it were being wielded by an expert combatant, hacking and slashing and parrying and deflecting and stabbing as Amy desperately tried to keep pace.

That was when Lyle jumped at her and swung the burlap sack filled with cash at her. A heavy thud of pain rang her like a bell, and she saw stars as she landed on the ground.

Debbi and Heather burst in through the front door and jumped Lyle. Debbi shot out a column of light, and Lyle shouted with discomfort as he covered his eyes. Amy painted a thin mask of shadows over her face to preserve her eyes, and she looked through the light and saw Heather burying her fist in Lyle’s gut. He flew back through the bank lobby and crashed into the glass wall on the far end, shattering it and bringing a hail of shrapnel down on top of him.

He bounced back to his feet and dusted himself off like it was nothing.

The knife danced before Amy again, and she found herself locked in combat with it. Heather and Debbi danced around Lyle as they tried to land another blow, but he dodged and pivoted and jumped out of the way of each one until he’d gotten around them and ran through the front door with the bag of money still in hand and the knife flying close behind him.

Amy screamed with frustration as she summoned her broom and gave chase, her teammates following close behind.

Lyle jumped into the air, careening effortlessly over a hundred feet and landing atop a nearby building. Amy and the others flew after him as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop with ease. Amy began to narrow the gap, only for the knife to fly through the air back towards her and force her into another duel.

Ahead of her, Heather shot like a green missile, Debbi close behind her. They began to close in on the jumping lunatic, only for him to snap his fingers and summon a massive hail of Hellfire.

“NO!” Amy screamed. She ignited the Hellfire spear and snuffed out the thief’s flames, only for the long knife to bury itself in her gut as she lost focus on the fight at hand.

Sharp, bright pain lanced her as blood poured out of the wound and stained her yellow dress. Her broom vanished, and her uniform faded, and she fell from the sky towards the ground. The knife wormed itself free of her stomach, and the blood gushed out rapidly as she fell and fell and fell.

The ground grew closer.

Closer.

Closer-

Something stopped her just in time. Debbi had caught her. Heather was in the distance attempting to keep up the chase with Lyle, but he upped his speed and bounded further and further away with each jump.

And he kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing as he did so, the hideously smug sound of it echoing in Amy’s ears even as he faded from view.

Amy looked up at her sister as she held a hand over her bloody stomach. “You always were a better flier than me.”

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that,” Debbi said. “You’re faster than I am-”

“I meant in the cheerleading sense,” Amy gave a weak laugh as the pain overshadowed all else. The only consolation was that she’d held onto the spear. Even now, as consciousness slipped away, she held tight to the spear.

The darkness drowned out the light, and sleep came for her.

When she woke up, Nicole was standing over her, hands on her wounds, pouring Pink Healing Light into them. She felt herself stitch back up, the pain fading as her girlfriend fixed her. Feels like a pattern is emerging, a nasty, angry, depressive voice far back in her head sneered.

Amy banished the thought. Nicole wasn’t trying to fix her, just support her. She looked up at her girlfriend with a warm, affectionate smile. She’d always help her, no matter what. And that was a good thing.

Amy sat up slowly, and Nicole wrapped her up in a hug. Amy took a look around and saw they were in their apartment, and the rest of the team was there as well. Cass was pacing back and forth across the living room, Matt was sitting on the floor and wringing his hands together, and Debbi and Heather were in the kitchen making pasta with what smelled like a lemon-marinara sauce.

Amy and Nicole sat together on the couch, on their couch, Amy on Nicole’s lap with her head resting against her girlfriend’s chest. She could hear her heartbeat, feel her warmth, her breath, each movement and twitch of her body.

Amy sighed deeply. “He got away, didn’t he?”

Nicole nodded.

“Fuck,” Amy said.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Nicole said.

“Why not? I could’ve stopped him.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Debbi said from over in the kitchen, pouring the pasta into a colander in the sink. “He caught us all by surprise.”

“And he was a nimble little fucker,” Heather groaned as she stirred the contents of a saucepan. “That knife was… Jesus fuck, I hate that thing.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Amy said, touching the spot on her stomach where the wound had been mere moments prior.

“He had to have been behind those Hellhounds, right?” Cass said, still pacing, arms folded behind her back, a determined grimace carved into her face.

“Certainly makes the most sense,” Nicole said, her own face not much happier.

Amy rubbed Nicole’s upper back soothingly, and her shoulders untensed a small measure. “Hey, it’s alright-”

“It’s not alright,” Nicole said. “People are dead. Matt’s poor boss is among them. You were almost among them.”

“But I’m not-”

“But you almost were,” Nicole said.

Matt, for his part, was staring intently directly ahead of him. “Why does every positive male role model in my life fucking die?” Matt whispered.

All five of the girls stared at him. That was… That was a good point. His friends had been killed by Archie and Veronica and the demon possessing Cass’ birth mother a few weeks ago, the men who’d taken him in when he had nowhere else to go and helped him to survive. And now the person who’d gotten him off the streets and gave him a job was dead as well. And his place of residence was destroyed. And he was probably out of a job. Things hadn’t exactly been easy on the lad.

“I don’t know,” Nicole said, looking at him intently. “But it ends now. Nobody else.”

Matt looked at her graciously and nodded. Cass finally stopped pacing and sat down next to him, doing the same soothing back-rubbing for him that Amy was doing for Nicole. Smart girl. “At least Daryl has a body to bury,” Matt said. “The others didn’t even have that much.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cass said.

Debbi took the colander of pasta and dumped it into the saucepan, stirred the sauce into it while Heather gathered up six plates from the cabinet. “This guy needs to go down,” Debbi said. “On that we’re all in agreement. Only trouble is, we don’t have any leads.”

A cloud of purple smoke drifted in from the window, and coalesced into a humanoid shape that rang the alarms of terror and hatred inside Amy’s mind.

“Perhaps I could be of some assistance,” Astra said, smiling obliquely, hands on her hips.