gatherings01: lost love is lonely

“...?” Winter did not look up. He merely questioned, wordlessly, what he felt approaching him. It was demonic and evil, but kind and gentle. A soul, he knew at once. 

“Oi, missy,” one of the homeless said. He gave a toothless grin, and his rapist friend nodded in affirmation. 

“You came here for directions, eh? There’s a price, lil’ girl.” The rapist moved silently, like a cat. He was stalked in a wide circle around the girl, until he was behind her. The other homeless moved in as well. 

Winter still did not look up. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute, and every step it took lead towards one conclusion: this girl had spiritual powers. It was an impossible idea, one he had not even entertained for a long while, but when the terrorists attacked that all changed. There were other people out there with powers. People who knew what he was and what had happened to him. 

The third homeless melted away into the shadows, not wanting to be affiliated with what was about to happen. But it was not the threat of witnessing rape that moved him, it was the killing intent festering in Winter’s eyes. 

Both homeless moved in on the girl fast. Winter’s hands balled into fist, and he turned to face the crime scene unfolding before him. 

As expected, normal humans were of no match for this thing. A wolf in sheep’s clothing was a wolf nonetheless, and Winter knew now to be cautious of it, no matter the skin it wore. 

When her question came, he did not react. Ghost-grey eyes moved from the bodies to her, then turned to the flames. They trashcan would be an adequate weapon if this came to blows, as would the broken bottles that littered the yard. This was assuming she was alone, however. Whether that was the scenario or not, Winter could not know. 

“What are you?” Her question was unimportant to him. She was a demon like all the others, so he had no care for what she said, unless it was an answer. 

When Winter looked back to her, he realized that his hands were still fists. 

“You are not a human.” It was not a question. It was a fact. Winter nodded to the bodies. “A human girl with your body type couldn’t fight off two men like that. A human girl wouldn’t have the presence that you do.” 

Winter was growing antsy, but he did everything he could to hide that. His hands opened and closed once, and a bead of sweat formed on his brow. This thing was a threat. He knew this, but his gut was telling him that was not the case. His mind and body were conflicting, and Winter knew that if anything happened, that’d be the death of him. 

Or the sudden roar he heard in the background. 

click

Turning with inhuman speed, Winter looked towards the New York skyline. The roar came again, loud and vicious and beastial. It was a roar of pain, and a roar of hunger. In the blink of an eye, Winter’s right hand had curled around the lip of the trashcan, the gloves shielding it from the heat of the flames within. 

“Demons,” he whispered to himself. Against his better judgement, or perhaps because of it, Winter looked over his shoulder and to the girl. “Is this your doing?” 

Winter had learned many things during his military career. Relevant at the moment was to never disobey your commanders. Another was to respect the strength of air power. Both he had never faltered on, and at the moment, he wasn’t sure if they applied to now or not. 

The dragon, if you could call that jet plane a living creature, was beautiful. Well, beautiful to Winter in the sense that when it took off, it moved at mach speeds. The crystal was gaudy and overly flamboyant to him, meaning that people were sure to see it, but at the speeds it flew, he doubted most could properly recognize what it was. 

The commander, if you could call that creature pretending to be a girl, was impressive. Well, impressive to Winter in the sense that when she spoke, she had a commanding presence. She was short and young, meaning that people would not respect her at a glance, but with an aura like that, he doubted most would disobey her. 

Unfortunately, Winter knew what that dragon was. Winter knew what this girl was. Neither were of this world. 

“Who do you think you are, witch?” Winter asked, a hint of anger bleeding into his voice. “You come to me with these spiritual powers, the same powers that wrecked this city and killed hundreds, and start barking out commands? Do you--” 

Winter stopped speaking when something heavy hit his body. The next thing he knew, he was flying, and the New York sky was passing overhead like a movie reel. Then he was crashing into an empty garbage dump, and a sickening pop from his left shoulder blinded him with pain. Winter had no doubts this his arm was dislocated. 

When he slid to the ground and looked up with one eye open, he saw that a massive arm had extended from the shadows of the nearby alleyway. It gripped the side of the building and pulled out a masked demon, one similar to the creature that has massacred his men in that village so long ago. Winter tried to stand up so that he could help the girl run from the second monster, but the pain in his body was too tremendous. No normal person could stand after being knocked almost thirty meters away, and he knew that. But he had too. If for no other reason than to make sure those bastards couldn’t kill another living creature. 

The original roar sounded again. “You fool,” Winter said to her, his voice harsh but weak. “You forgot the other demon…!” 

And then it crashed behind them. 

The garbage can folded underneath the beasts weight like a foam cup did under a child’s shoe. The air pressure picked Winter up, smashed him into the girl, and sent the two flying. When they landed, the soldier rolled off of her, though it was the pain that kept his senses alive to do that. No stranger to dislocations, Winter found it odd that he briefly found himself wishing for the whole arm to be ripped off instead of being forced to suffer what it was giving him, but he quickly cleared his mind of external thoughts. 

Unknown power flooded his limbs. Suddenly his world changed directions. When Winter stood, no pain shot through him. When he went to move his left arm, he could feel life flowing through it. He didn’t know when his arm had relocated itself, and truth be told, he didn’t give a damn right now. There was an instinct in him overwhelming, one born from the katana that had somehow placed itself into his right palm. 

The ghastly demon stuck its head out of the alleyway and roared. Winter was half tempted to roar back. A smile appeared on his lips. He forgot the girl. He forgot the homeless. He forgot the deaths, the desertion, the desolation. The silver light that bathed him seemed like it had always been there. Everything felt right. 

The entirety of the Earth was condensed into a small sphere that included two buildings, a hungry demon, and the sword in his hand. After the next thirty seconds, that sphere would play host only to two buildings and the sword.