Definitely a Warehouse, Proooobably in Baltimore?, Still Unsure of the Date

[arboreal_priestess]

Pain was a powerful motivator. So was panic, and when the panic was extreme enough, even pain can find itself set by the wayside. Verity forgot about the ache in her feet, the distance between her and the ground, and everything else in her hurry to reach the only chance she had of getting to the second floor. Below her, Robert was barking orders to Margaret, who was no doubt figuring out her own route to the rafters. But since neither of them could fly, she still had a few minutes, and she was going to use them for all that she was worth.

The beam didn't run directly under the hatch - that would have made it difficult to use - but it came close enough. She grabbed one of the vertical supports, leaning out as far as she could without losing her footing, and thrust her other hand into the cobwebs until it banged against the ceiling. The wood shifted slightly. She hit it again, harder, and felt it lift up.

That was all she needed. When she hit it the third time, she twisted and rammed her fingers into the opening she'd created before the hatch could fall back down. Then she let myself swing out, praying frantically to every god that she could think of while she scrabbled to get a grip with her other hand. Robert was still shouting, and she could hear a rattling, scraping sound that meant Margaret was probably halfway to the top of the chains by now. This was her only shot. She swung, grabbed for the narrow lip created by her fingers —

— and caught it.

There was no time to dangle, no matter how stunned she was. She immediately began pulling herself upward, digging her nails into the wood and shoving as hard as she could to bump the hatch out of her way. It left splinters in her wrists and arms. She kept shoving. At this point, after everything, a few splinters were among the least of her worries.

Choking and gaping, she clawed cobwebs out of her eyes, trying to clear them and coughed dust out of her lungs. She was filthy. She was almost free.

She was wiping the last of the cobwebs away when she heard the characteristic sound of a gun being cocked from directly behind her. "Now isn't this a lovely little turn of events?" asked Peter Brandt.

Shit.

Peter	Peter's eyes traveled the length of Verity's naked, filthy body, a smirk twisting up his lips. He lingered on her breasts for a moment before flicking to her right bicep. "Nice knife," he said.
Verity	"Yeah, I got it from a real asshole," Verity snapped. She didn't move. The gun - her gun - in his hand told her that moving would be a bad idea. "I have an idea. How about you look the other way while I jump out the nearest window?"
Peter	"I have an idea. How about I hold you here while my colleagues come up the stairs, and this time, we make sure you don't get away?" His smirk turned dark around the edges, transitioning from an implied threat to a very real one. "We want to take you home alive. But 'alive' doesn't mean the same thing as 'intact,' and you'll do a lot less running away without feet."
Verity	"Mutilation? Really? That's where you're going with this? I guess you people have stopped thinking of yourselves as the good guys." Verity glanced around while she spoke, looking for something she could use as an escape route. There were windows on the wall, no more than twenty feet away. All she had to do was reach the windows, and she'd be scot-free. She made her decision in that moment. Maybe it wasn't the bravest decision she could have made, but it was the only one that made sense. If the Covenant took her back to Europe, she'd tell them everything, and she'd be lucky if they killed her when they were done. No matter what else happened, she couldn't leave this warehouse in their custody. She gathered what little strength she had left, saying one more silent prayer to whoever might be listening, and launched herself at Peter.
Peter	Peter shouted, squeezing the trigger as the tiny, naked, blond ball flung herself at him. The bullet punched through her stomach and her whole body seemed to fling for a second, but then she was steamrolling forward again. She yanked at her arm and a second later, his knife was back in her hand. A second after that, the knife was in his shoulder, her momentum carrying her right to him. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it distracted him for a few precious seconds as he shouted again and grabbed at the blade.
Verity	Verity grabbed the sides of his head, breathing in to steady herself. Peter had time to give her one last, utterly stunned look before she was twisting hard to the left, turning his face away. There was a sharp snapping sound, and then he was collapsing, the dead weight of his body pulling him out of her hands. He took the knife down with him. Verity didn't try to retrieve it. She did scramble to grab her gun from his suddenly limp fingers, clamping one hand over the hole in her stomach to keep anything she needed from sliding out. It was a relatively small hole, thank God; if she'd been packing something with a larger caliber, she'd probably already be dead. As it was, the gut wound would definitely kill her if she didn't get it taken care of fast. But hey, it was definitely a distraction from the pain in her feet! Maybe she'd get really lucky, and shock would set in. Maybe not. Robert and Margaret must have heard the gunshot. She didn't know where the door was, or whether it even had a lock, so she didn't bother looking; she just turned and started half-running, half-limping toward the nearest window. She'd shoot it out if she had to. She'd do whatever it took to get out of this damn building. She'd die in the open air. If that was the closest she could get to a happy ending, then so be it. It was better than the alternative. The door banged open when Verity was still only halfway there, accompanied by the sound of running footsteps. "Freeze!" snarled Robert. Verity didn't freeze. What was the worst thing he could do, shoot her? She was losing blood fast, and the room was starting to go dark around the edges. One more gunshot wouldn't do anything but finish the job. As long as he couldn't take her alive, she won.
... Margaret?	"No," said Margaret. Her tone was different, much more anxious...and her accent was gone. She sounded American. "You freeze."
Robert	"Margaret?" Robert, on the other hand, sounded utterly puzzled. The footsteps stopped. Thank God. "What are you doing?"
Not-Margaret	"I'm holding a gun to your head," said Margaret reasonably. No. Not Margaret. It was Margaret's voice, but it wasn't Margaret speaking. The tones and accent were all wrong. "Verity? Stop running. I don't know how long I can hold her."
Verity	Verity stopped running. She was so tired she could barely breathe. She still managed to turn and smile wanly at the scene behind her: Margaret Healy, the woman who'd lost her anti-telepathy charm, holding a gun against the temple of Robert Bullard. "Hello, Sarah," she said.
Sarah-as-Margaret	Sarah contorted Margaret Healy's lips into a small smile. "You know, if you were bored, we could have gone to the ballet or something." Servitors appeared from behind her, making their serpentine way into the room. Robert's eyes tracked them, his expression never changing.
Verity	"I'll keep that in mind for next time." She raised the gun she'd reclaimed from Peter Brandt, aiming it squarely at Robert's chest. Her hand was shaking so badly that she was afraid she'd miss her target, something she hadn't needed to worry about since elementary school. She removed her other hand from her stomach, using it to steady her elbow. Margaret - Sarah - gasped. "Verity, you're hurt." "Yeah, single gunshot wound to the abdomen. It hurts like a bitch and I'm losing a lot of blood here, so if you're not the only member of the cavalry, this would be a great time to bring in reinforcements." The servitors were good for looking intimidating, but without a dragon to give them orders, they weren't going to be good for much beyond that. Verity didn't know why Sarah didn't have a dragon with her, and she didn't have time to worry about it. Spots were starting to appear around the edges of her vision.
Robert	"You're going to die here," said Robert. He sounded surprisingly calm, considering the situation he was in. "All of you. And you, witch, wherever you are, we'll find you. You'll pay for what you've done."
Verity	It took Verity a moment to realize that he was talking to Sarah. She actually laughed a little through the pain, snorting indelicately through her nose. "Oh, dude. She's not a witch. Witches are way less dangerous."
Sarah-as-Margaret	"Cuckoo to you, too," said Margaret/Sarah, digging the barrel of her gun a little deeper into Robert's temple. "Verity, can you walk?"
Verity	"I don't really know." Honesty was sometimes the best policy. "I do know I wouldn't get very far if I tried. So I'm sort of opposed to trying."
Sarah-as-Margaret	"Verity!" She sounded genuinely upset. No real surprise there. "I can't hold her for much longer. She's fighting me!" "I didn't know you could hold someone like this at all. It's a new trick for you." "It was Kitty's idea." Margaret/Sarah's face contorted like she'd been punched. "She's fighting me hard, Very. Come on. We have to get you out of here before I lose her. Please."
Robert	"Yes, do run," said Robert. "You've killed one of us already. You've shown us where our weaknesses are. We'll find you. And when we do, you'll wish to God that you'd let us take you here and now. Or you could surrender. Let us treat your wounds, tell us where to find your witch, and submit to the mercy of the Covenant."
Margaret	"I wasn't aware that we were in the business of mercy," said Margaret, all cold fury and hate. Her voice was her own again, all traces of Sarah gone as she pulled her gun away from Robert's temple and swung it toward Verity, who widened her stance, trying to cover both of them at once. It wasn't going to work, and Margaret knew it. "You've befouled my mind, you little bitch. Do you know what that means?"
Liam	"It means you lose," Liam said as he stepped through the doorway, beam pistol aimed at the back of her head. Uncle Mike and Istas were only half a step behind him, he armed with a crossbow, and she deceptively sweet-looking in a little pink pinafore. Her hair was pulled into girlish pigtails and tied off with white bows. She was smiling. That was never a good sign with Istas.
Verity	"You're outnumbered," Verity said, with as much bravado as she could muster. Funny what reinforcements could do to put a little starch in your spine. "Drop your weapons. I promise we'll be more fair to you than you were going to be to me."
Margaret	"No," said Margaret, and cocked back the hammer on her gun--
Liam	Liam could have just shot Margaret, was incredibly tempted to, all things considered; but the reality was, for their plan to work, the fewer dead bodies they had to deal with, the better, and so he lunged for her instead, intent on knocking the weapon from her hand.
Margaret	Yeah, Margaret had no intention of giving her gun up to anybody, never mind some traitor cryptid-lover she remembered from the hotel. "Get your hands off me you son of a bitch!" she snapped, dropping her gun in favor of judo to try and toss the guy away from her.
Liam	And that would've been the perfect time for a vision, for the Sight to warn him of just how she was going to move, in order that he might avoid it. Unfortunately, that was not to be, and Margaret's hit connected, sending him careening in to Robert as own weapon fell to the ground. Liam didn't know how to describe what happened next, exactly, only that his anger and frustration with these people who'd kidnapped and tortured the woman he loved, who threatened a community of people he'd come to call his friends, was reaching a boiling point. He twisted, using the force of Margaret's throw to knock Robert to the ground even as he himself fell, one hand reaching out to cover the other man's face as they hit the ground. A strange blue glow emanated from Liam, starting at his hand and moving up through his arm and then the rest of his body. Robert Bullard lay on the ground, unconscious. Robert Bullard also scrambled to his feet, picking up the beam pistol from the floor and handling it with the practiced ease of someone familiar with that particular weapon.
Margaret	Margaret snatched her gun back up and spun around to point it at...Robert? Other Robert? "More sorcery?" she snapped, voice twisted by the strength of her loathing.
Istas	Istas calmly reached forward and fastened one rapidly expanding hand (already better classed as 'a paw') over the gun, completely engulfing both it and Margaret's hand. "You may fire," said Istas, as if she were conferring some great favor. "I will remove your entire arm a moment later, but you may fire."
Verity	"I'd really rather she didn't," Verity said. The black spots in her vision were spreading. She teetered, catching herself at the last minute, and kept aiming her gun at Robert. The prone Robert, not the one who was holding an alien weapon with ease. "Liam, babe, a quick summary to catch the rest of us up on what the fuck is going on?"
Liam	"I-" Liam started to say, and then stopped, startled by the sound of a voice that was not his own. "We're here to get you back." Obviously. "... This wasn't part of the plan."
Verity	"Kay," Verity said, too exhausted to keep asking questions. Her arms felt like lead, but she kept them up, gun pointed. "What's the plan, exactly? Cause we have to...we gotta...this has to end. They can't walk away from this."
Dominic	"But we can't kill them, either," said Dominic. He appeared in the doorway along with Uncle Mike. His face was set in a blank, expressionless mask. It didn't waver as he looked past the heads of the Covenant agents to Verity, filthy, naked, and bleeding all over the warehouse floor. "If we kill them, the Covenant sends more."
Istas	"We win," said Margaret, snide. Istas squeezed Margaret's hand. Margaret yelped, unable to help herself. "I am not so sure of that," said Istas. "There is a difference between 'living' and 'retaining all your limbs.'"
Uncle Mike	"They can't leave," said Uncle Mike, gun trained on the Robert who was standing. "They know who Verity is. It's not safe to let them go." Pause. "Why are there two Roberts?"
Verity	"That one is Liam," Verity panted. "It's a cunning disguise." It was taking everything she had just to keep herself upright. "Okay, so they can't live and they can't die. Oh, and here's one more for you: Dominic can't stay here if we send them home. They’d never forgive another defection." There was no way to win. There was no way to get out of this with everyone still standing.
Liam	God, how much did he love that even through injury and blood loss, Verity knew him, knew his body language, well enough to pick him out even when the body he was wearing wasn't his? "No," Liam said, glancing back at Dominic, some unspoken communication passing between the two of them. "But they might be willing to bury a traitor." He stepped around Robert's prone form and made his way to Verity's side. Keeping his own weapon trained on Margaret, he took the gun from Verity's hand and tucked it in to the holster at his waist, before wrapping one arm around her side and letting her lean against him.
Verity	Verity let herself sag into him. Huh. That was a lot of blood on the floor. Was that a pool? Yeah, that might actually qualify for a 'pool.' Then her brain caught up and she realized what he'd just said. "What? No! No. We're not going to kill him!" She wanted to pull away and glare. She didn't have the strength.
Liam	"Nobody's asking you to," Liam assured her. "Sarah?"
Sarah	"I'm here." Sarah stepped up behind Uncle Mike, moving into the room on silent feet. She didn't even notice Liam's new form; the man standing next to Verity felt like Liam and the man prone on the ground felt like an asshole, she couldn't imagine anyone getting them confused. "Istas, let go of Margaret's hands. Robert's anti-telepathy charm is attached to his medal of St. George. Take it off him."
Istas	"Yes," said Istas. She released Margaret, but didn't release Margaret's gun - and from the way Margaret groaned as Istas yanked it away, she broke at least one of Margaret's fingers in the process - and turned toward Robert. To his credit, he didn't flinch when Istas reached for his throat with her vast, taloned paw. The chain on his medal snapped easily when she pulled on it. Istas looked at the medal curiously for a moment, then shrugged and tucked it into the neckline of her dress.
Verity	"Sarah..." Verity said. "It's all right, Verity." She smiled, albeit uncertainly. "I can do this." "I don't know..."
Dominic	"We have no choice," said Dominic softly, looking at Verity with bleak eyes. "They have to live. I have to die. I can't let them endanger you, or your family. This is the only way." "But Sarah..." "Trust her," said Dominic. "I do."
Liam	"As do I," Liam added. "Come on," he said gently. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get you to a hospital." He'd never healed anything as serious as a gunshot wound before, wasn't sure if he could, even, while wearing a body that wasn't his own.
Margaret	Verity closed her eyes, each lid weighing close to a hundred pounds apiece. "Okay." A moment later, she dragged them open again to see Sarah standing in front of Margaret and Robert, her eyes glowing such a brilliant white that it actually chased the black spots away from the edges of her vision. Robert was still unconscious, while Margaret looked resigned, like this was the fate she had been preparing herself for since the day she'd reached American soil. "You'll pay," she said, in a calm, quiet tone. "We found you once, and we can find you again. Eventually, your whole stinking family will have to pay for your crimes against the Covenant, and against humanity."
Verity	"Maybe that's true," Verity said, letting herself slump against Liam. "But you know what? You won't be the ones to come looking for us."
Sarah	"Hold them up," said Sarah, a slight tremor in her voice. Istas grabbed Robert while Dominic lowered his crossbow and grabbed Margaret. Sarah reached out and touched their foreheads, making skin contact. Skin contact always made it easier for her. Margaret's eyes went limp and Robert groaned, like a sleeper in the midst of a nightmare.
Verity	That seemed like a good idea. Verity couldn't feel her feet anymore, and she was so tired. So cold. So done. She stopped fighting to keep herself upright at all. Staying awake and on her feet didn't matter. They'd done it. The Covenant didn't know - wouldn't know - that the family survived. There would be no purge of Baltimore. They'd won, and that meant that she could rest. "Hey," she said, turning to give Liam an absolutely beautiful smile, "I love you, you know that? Shoulda asked you to move in with me awhile ago. Shoulda asked you a lot of things." And then her eyes closed again and she went limp.
Liam	And Liam, who up until that point had been only supporting most of her weight, suddenly found himself with all of it. "Verity!" he called out, panic lacing his voice even as he slid to the ground, cradling her unconscious form as he went. The hand closest to her bullet wound started to glow, and acting more on instinct than conscious thought, he placed it over the injury. All concerns about who might see, or whether this would even work fled his mind. All that mattered was making sure Verity pulled through.
Verity	Verity heard Liam shouting her name but the darkness chased that all away. Then there was nothing but the white glare from Sarah's eyes, chasing away the shadows, and she fell into the light...

[In the endgame now! Adapted from Midnight Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire and preplayed with (and coded by!) firstofitskind. Warning for NPC death! NFI, NFB.]