Chapter 19: Undone

Guardian

a Worm/Destiny Crossover

Chapter 19: Undone

Taylor's bow materialized in the same instance the soldiers reacted. As a group, they flowed back from Swamp Thing; odd, twin-barreled weapons snapping up. They fired around her, physical blasts of heat rippling from the barrels and impacting the muddy being. Where the shots hit, they dried into cracked clay. She lifted her bow and put her other hand to the string. Her Light gave her an arrow, drawing from the same internal reservoir her bow came from. She drew the string back, aiming for the gaping, silent maw, and released. She'd never used the bow on a living thing before. Which was why it was so puzzling to see arrow splash against Swamp Thing's chest and collapse into itself, just as it had on John's wall. Instinct told her that something different should have happened when she shot an arrow at something living, and yet here it was not doing that.

Unless...

Lisa beat her to it, shoving soldier shoulders and shouting over the whir-hum-thump of their discharging weapons. "It's a fake! It's a fake!" The clay figure took another step forward, that leg becoming the target of a focused barrage. Taylor dismissed her bow, drawing her knife and arcing lightning down its length in the same motion.

"Find the real one, then!" The commander shouted between blasts from his weapon. Lisa spun in a circle, eyes hooded and sharp, flickering her gaze all over trying to find where Swamp Thing was hiding. Taylor darted forward, weaving around a clumsily swung arm to reach the now-clay right leg of the dummy. Her knife, which had split drywall and concrete with ease, dragged through the clay as if something was trying to impede its progress. She called on her Light, coursing more of it down into her blade. The lightning's color changed to white, and brightened. The air around it hissed, and it cut with its previous ease.

The leg was too thick to cut through with her knife, but she had done a good amount of damage. Maybe enough. She ducked under another slow, clumsy punch. The movement cracked the pillar the dummy's leg had become. Taylor reared back and kicked out, screaming. Her foot finished the job her knife started, separating the leg from the rest of the body and shattering it in a spray of clay shards, one of which bounced off her shoulder with bruising force. She hissed in pain and danced back, weaving around the soldiers and their heat blasts as they transformed the slowly collapsing mud effigy into a pile of solid clay. "Concussives!" The order came snarled from the commander's mouth, and the soldiers flipped the barrels of their weapons, changing the red glowing barrel for a blue one. "Fire!"

Like the sound of a cracking whip, but louder, the soldiers opened fire. Their shots, waving air tinged blue, dug gouges from the mound. Gradually, perhaps unconsciously, they formed a semicircle around it, barraging the clay into a veneer of fine particulate on the ground. The order came to cease fire, and silence fell.

Briefly.

For it was then that Lisa's eyes widened and Taylor's ears picked up the sounds of a semi-solid mass moving at high speed. Underground. "It's in the sewer!" She knew she would be too late. The manhole cover beneath the former effigy, as well as the surrounding eight feet of earth, concrete and asphalt, exploded upwards with incredible force.

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One man died immediately. Due to her enhanced senses and the compressed time her adrenaline fueled nerves had put her under, she saw his head flatten in intimate detail. The manhole cover, directly over which the Swamp Thing dummy had died, was too solid to destroy outright yet too light to remain unaffected. When the real Swamp Thing erupted from below, it sent the hundred pound, cast-iron disk flipping into the air with enough force for its spin to create an audible hum. It smashed into the poor trooper's head, turning his skull into a spray of bone dust, brain matter, and blood. It kept going, carving a V into his torso before stopping. Slowly, he fell backwards, a limp, dead heap.

In the next five seconds Swamp Thing demonstrated the difference between itself and something made to look like it. The real Thing was a construct of constant change – flowing from a muddy serpent to a quadrupedal beast to that hunched, devouring monster the National Guard unit had photographed. Her limbs were whips, semisolid until impact, then the point of contact would harden. The soldiers' body armor was Tinkered, and rated to withstand a mid-level Blaster's attacks. Thing's attacks punched through two of them before they could react and pull away.

During all of this, Taylor herself had not been idle. She alone, it seemed, had the reflexes to avoid those whipping arms. She ducked under one, leaped over another, and had to contort herself into a cartwheel to avoid the third. The honor of taking the fall landed on her shoulders, and she turned her fall into a roll that brought her into a crouch beneath the circular sweep of Swamp Thing's first arm. A scream clawed its way from her throat as she arced her burning blade through the air, shearing through the mud limb and leaving an earthy, burnt stump behind. The rest of it vanished into ash, with only the smell of smoke as a reminder.

Thing bellowed, and it was with two distinct tones. One, the high, pained scream of a woman. The second, a bestial roar full of rage. It abandoned its assault on the soldiers then, suddenly reorienting itself to bring that eyeless, gaping face directly at her. In doing so, it exposed the expanse of its back to the heat/concussion guns of her backup. The sounds of fifteen of those rifles discharging followed, and they hit, but were ignored. Which meant either that she had angered Swamp Thing enough to enrage it beyond all sense of pain, or they didn't work anymore. She didn't want to choose a reason, but if she had to, it would be the former.

That meant they could win, and that those poor, nameless troopers hadn't died for nothing. A voice shouted, hers, she realized, "You ugly, stupid bitch! Hold still so I can cut your other fucking arm off!"

In her ear came Lisa's voice, oddly clear. "Keep her busy, Guardian. I need more time to figure out how to beat her."

Swamp Thing's arm came hammering down, a straight-over blow that, at the last second, split into five separate, seeking limbs. Taylor skipped back, slamming into the concrete wall of a house and smacking the back of her head into it. Stars spun, and she flailed away two of the five limbs with her knife. The others punched into her chest. There was pain, but not as much as she thought. Dying was supposed to hurt more than this. It certainly had the first time. That was when she noticed something odd about her costume. Specifically, that every single thread was filled with Light.

Even while her mind was puzzling over this development her body was still in the fight. Her free hand crushed one of the would-be spears while she used her knife to separate the other two from their originator. Thing reeled back, arm flowing into the mass of its torso, and she took the opportunity to jump to the top of the wall. The uneven, concrete lip was only about half a foot wide. More than enough to leverage a jump. In theory. What happened instead was a twelve foot, top-heavy mud monster plowed through the wall with ease. Her standing ground snatched from beneath her, Taylor tumbled to the ground in the wake of Swamp Thing's destruction.

Good news. She most definitely had Swamp Thing's attention.

Bad news. It was probably going to get her killed.

Obviously, that was unacceptable. Time to change the game.

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Her knife went back into its sheath, currently located on her upper arm. Less than ten feet away Swamp Thing realized that she hadn't been crushed, and was reorienting itself again, features – such as they were – flowing across its mass to face Taylor once more. She didn't have time to stand, or move back. Light coursed through her arms as they moved, one drawing a bow and the other an arrow, creating a string and drawing it back. Thing began to charge, dropping to a serpentine form and slithering across the ground. Behind it, a wave of mud drew up and followed. Its eyeless face began to fill her vision, jagged maw opening to engulf her. It was down that maw that Taylor sent her first arrow.

The void-Light arrow, closer to a spear in size, sped across and through the entirety of the muddy serpent's body. It carved a howling path through, punching a hole in the mud wave behind Swamp Thing, and passed out of her sight. She heard it impact something, and then another ray of light speared back through the hole the arrow created and lassoed around the head of the mud snake. Its forward charge slowed, giving Taylor enough time to gather her legs beneath her and leap up and over a different house's wall. Stutter-step a few paces forward, turning with bow in hand to wait to be followed. Either through the wall or over it, Swamp Thing was coming after her.

Except that didn't happen. The sound of the soldiers' rifles firing doubled in speed and volume, and was followed by screams. Her stomach dropped and she cursed herself for a fool, driving the balls of her feet into the soft earth to gain as much speed as possible. As she ran she berated herself. Of course Thing would choose the closer, easier targets over her.

Fuck!

She cleared the wall with a three foot gap, arrow set to and creating string in the same moment. What she saw was a blood-soaked battlefield. Churned and bloodied mud wrapping itself around bodies and bearing them to the ground, burying them alive. There were maybe a dozen soldiers still standing, and they were paying for that, for it was among them that Swamp Thing wrought Hell. The shape it had taken now resembled an octopus; a central orb with limbs spiraling out. They were flat and thin and sharp enough – fast enough – to cut through armor and flesh like butter. Despite this, or maybe because of it, the soldiers fought on. They moved to cover in areas clear of dirt or mud, slowly building a firing line among the houses to entomb Swamp Thing in its own creation.

There just wasn't enough men, or enough time. She could give them some of the latter. Sighting down the flickering, violet-flame arrow, she aimed for the center of Swamp Thing's body and loosed. She saw the full extent of her shot's effect now. It became tethered to the spot and wreathed in looping chains of purple firelight. For a time, it seemed as if the blasts from the heat-concussion rifles were more effective. It wouldn't last forever, it couldn't, she could feel that tether drawing from her reserves of Light to maintain itself. If it didn't end by itself, she would have to do it.

She landed, splashing red mud up her shins, and saw that next to her feet was a discarded rifle, and next to it was a too-still mass of black fabric. Sorry, soldier. I'll make it hurt, for you and everyone else. Scooped it up, shook the mud off, and found herself flipping the barrels to concussion and shouldering it, moving from instinct. She pulled the trigger, aiming at the asphalt near Swamp Thing's body. Shards of asphalt, some as large as her fist, sprayed through and into the center mass. Though it had no eyes for her to be sure, she thought it was staring at her. It had no mouth, but she was certain it was screaming. Pain, rage, or both. It didn't matter.

She grinned at it, a wolf-smile. Full of teeth, and a promise. "You didn't forget about me, did you?" As Swamp Thing reformed yet again to throw itself at her, she mumbled under her breath. "Tails, tell me how to kill this bitch before more people die."

Lisa sounded hoarse, oddly breathy, but Taylor couldn't focus on that. Too busy dodging globes of hardened, spiked mud and leading Swamp Thing away from the soldiers to focus overmuch on anything else. "Your wish, and all that. Listen..."

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It wasn't a complicated solution. It was just impossible.

All that had to be done was remove mass from the mud construct while at the same time preventing it from accessing any more. Since Swamp Thing could only transform from human to mud when it had accumulated a certain amount of mass, depriving it of a source and ashing the mud it was controlling would, in theory, turn it back. The impossibility was thus: most of Prestonville was covered in either mud or dirt, meaning that Taylor could not act fast or hit hard enough to overwhelm the acquisition of that supply. She had already removed an arm and at least six fingers, and it had done nothing more than cause pain. The mud she'd turned to ash had been replaced almost the instant it was lost. If only we hadn't tipped it off. If only we'd insisted on coming alone. If only I'd had more gear. If only, if only, if only.

She flipped backwards to dodge one strike, then threw herself at a wall to avoid another. A third came at her while her feet were pressed against the stucco surface, so she jumped again. Up and away, over Swamp Thing's head, pulling her feet up out of range of its snapping jaw. She spun, drawing and igniting her knife to embed it in the broad, glutinous back as she fell. It was probably the most damage she'd done so far. Thing reacted appropriately, rearing back and howling at the sky in its odd, two-tone voice. One of its arms punched out, a seemingly involuntary motion, and punctured the wall of one of the more intact houses.

Mud spilled out of the hole. Pounds of it, tons of it, flowing and bulking and undoing all of the damage Taylor had done. Before, when it moved on its feet, the impact had shaken the ground. Now, the footsteps shook the air. It was fifteen feet tall, eighteen feet and growing out. Her eyes were dry and her throat clear as she realized that she was probably going to die. It was oddly freeing, and probably explained what she did next. Taylor charged Swamp Thing's massive new form, a wordless battle cry spilling from her lips.

Because she was a Guardian, and she was made for this.

"Guardian!" The shout, a man's hoarse throat straining to be heard, came from behind the hulking, muddy being. "Use this!" There followed a grunt of effort, and the whistling sound of something being thrown very hard. A sleek, black pistol arced up over Swamp Thing's head, even as it almost idly turned to punch a hole the size of a hubcap through the soldier's chest. It had been a good throw. Too good. It was going to pass a good six feet right over her head unless she did something. She jumped vertical from a standstill, catching the gun and seeing the life-light leave the soldier's eyes. Maybe she imagined it, maybe she didn't, but she would later swear on her life that in his last seconds, that soldier had smiled. Just a little.

Rage filled her, then. Burning, fiery hate. Like a sun of pure loathing. People had died, people who had come with her of their own free will, and she didn't even know their names. The stippled, plastic grip fit solidly in the palm of her hand. She still didn't know guns, but she knew this one. Knew it had eleven bullets left, that it was semi-automatic, and that she could shoot the wings off a fly with it if she wanted to. It had been given to her as the last action of a good man.

Light, touched by the incandescent brightness of her emotion, began to leave her, pulsing down her arm in visible whorls and loops of golden fire and pouring into the gun – much as the void-light had done with her bow. This was different, in a way she couldn't articulate. It was like the bow had been...capable? Worthy?...of handling her Light, and this little pistol wasn't. Her Light would consume the weapon, use it up at the same time she did. Insulting, really, given how it came to her. Perhaps reacting to this, her Light shifted. A change in tone. The gun would still vanish, but it would fire before it was consumed. Eleven bullets became three, her feet hit the ground, and the pistol was filled with glorious, golden light.

The first bullet would go in the head. She aimed thus and pulled the trigger. Incredible heat, straight from the sun's heart, lanced from the gun and took Swamp Thing's muddy head clean off. Her hand tracked down and she fired again. The second shot punched a hole the width of a station wagon through the broad chest. Thing began to shrink. Taylor fired a third and final time. It hit where the pelvic bone would have been and neatly, brutally separated its torso from its legs. Her heart thundered in her ears as the pistol crumbled to ash and the rush of Light faded, withdrawing dormant to the depths of her soul.

There was no time to wait. Her knife crackled into burning, white-blue light as she stalked forward. She felt emptier now, that burning rage still present, but lessened. Swamp Thing continued to shrink, and it was a distant realization that the mud around them had either baked to a ceramic-solid material or burned away. Still, its range was much larger than this slowly collapsing shell of a house. So why? A question for later. A dark-skinned, filthy arm appeared first, flopping limply as the mud began to retreat into the gradually appearing form of Swamp Thing's human body.

It's dead human body. The head was gone, all that remained was a cauterized length of neck. The ribcage was gone, as if scooped out. The spine was gone, too. Blackened, burnt flesh gaping in hideous parody of Swamp Thing's mouth. The legs appeared separately, first one falling to the side, then the other dropping beneath the body. The scattered remnants appeared over the course of a few seconds, but to Taylor those seconds passed in minutes, as if her brain could do nothing but drag them out. Then came the wet, slapping sound of a corpse falling to the ground. It was still, as was everything else. For just one moment, nothing moved. Then her knife flickered out, and slid back into its sheath.

It was over.

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