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She wasn’t wearing her mask anymore. And – oh, she brought the bonesaw with her. The bonesaw – how cute, Valentine thought. How delightful.
The Skull Heart clicked its mandibles in something like amusement. Perhaps it was because it could understand her thoughts, or perhaps it was because of the way Painwheel was already crouched and at the ready, her face contorted in such a glare that her scars looked like they were about to bleed again. “I get it now,” the girl said, her voice raw, raspy. “You just wanted the Skull Heart for yourself.”
“I suppose.” Valentine watched the blades lock into place, revving up, spinning faster, even faster. “You’re the first one to have found me so far.”
“Good.” Spines prickled at of her skin as she dug her feet into the forest turf. “We’ll settle this now.”
“If you say so.”
Even as all the old skulls manifested around her, even as the fire tore into the air, Painwheel didn’t back down. She was standing there, she wasn’t taking advantage of any openings – but she was still fighting.
Yes - she was still willing to fight.
But she was still stupid.
So it was over in a moment.
Painwheel probably didn’t even know what had happened – in a moment, she was sprawled on the ground. She hadn’t changed much. She was still sloppy, still pathetic. Valentine decided that she would give her time – coming to terms with a new form was the first step. Learning the best way to utilize it was the second.
That was something Valentine was still learning.
Her fire still burned away as Painwheel staggered back up to her feet, limping back. “Don’t think this is over,” the girl said, clutching her head, her voice a low grumble that turned into a roar that tore out of her throat, “I – I will – I’ll be back, Valentine!”
“I know,” she said.
“I’ll kill you,” she swore, looking up. Valentine could get a better look at her eyes – they were neither like the ones she had with the mask, or the ones she had as an ordinary girl. Sharp black against stark red. “Just you wait. You’ll see.”
All right, then.
She would wait.
There wasn’t much she could do while she waited. She planned. She made little chessboards in her head, set up the pieces, went in for the kill every time. She thought about the other candidates – the circus girl, the amnesiac, the thief – the ones that the monster had sought. She sorted her knives and syringes, time and time again.
But, for the most part, she wandered. Never through New Meridian. She wouldn’t have been able to take a step without all the bullets in the three kingdoms raining down on her.
She couldn’t say she missed it, but she had to confess: she liked the nightlife of the city. But no bars were willing to take a Skullgirl. She doubted they would take a murderous synthetic experiment, either.
No bourbon for either of them, then.
What a shame.
They both could have used one.
She found herself coming back to the desert several times. Since she couldn’t feel hot or cold anymore, crossing the sands was easy. She studied the skeletal remains of villages, monsters, people (the latter two always came clambering after her when she was done). Where had Marie lived, she wondered – where had all of this begun?
Perhaps it was here, where it was about to continue. That feeling had come again – it must have been the Skull Heart resonating with Painwheel’s blood. The girl must have felt something like that, too, and – sure enough – Painwheel came crashing through one of the last standing huts.
“Ah.” Valentine had to smile. “I didn’t expect you to cross the desert. I’m surprised.”
She wasn’t, really.
When the dust settled, her smile turned into a grin as she got a better look at the girl, breathing heavily with a furious glare. “Really, Painwheel! You came back so soon – have you gotten any better?” She leaned forward, still grinning – the girl must have been able to see that, even through the mask. “You haven’t, have you?”
Maybe she didn’t get any better, but Painwheel seemed to have learned something – she wasn’t charging headfirst into the fray. She was waiting. Valentine would have to bide her time too, then.
“Have you ever seen the desert before? I doubt they were taking schoolgirls on field trips out here. Before the war, it was a surprisingly lively place. Many trade routes, lively villages.”
Looking at her again, the girl seemed exhausted – had she slept? Or even eaten? Valentine had no need for either of those things, but Painwheel was still human. Somewhat.
“You weren’t the only experiment running around, Painwheel. There was another girl, too. She came from a village like this,” the nurse said, motioning to the side. “When the doctors found her, she was half-slaughtered – they managed to put her back together with some experimental technology.” She scuffed the sand with her toes. “So they saved her life. I guess they considered it charity.”
“Did she ask to be saved?”
Valentine snorted. “Does it matter? She didn’t seem to mind it a bit. In fact, she carried out their orders. She was a lot like you – in fact, they even had her outfitted to fight the Skullgirl. It didn’t quite work out, however.”
“Tell me, Valentine – why was it me?”
The nurse clicked her tongue and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just operate and run the experiments.”
“Did you just…pull me off the street?”
“In short, yes.”
“It could have been anyone, and it was me? I don’t – I didn’t even know how to fight. I was…” Her expression had softened a bit too much, and she switched back to a feral snarl. “I hate you.”
“Ah, that’s better,” Valentine chuckled. “Still, your voice doesn’t sound so good. A bit of water would do wonders. But don’t take it from the well. It’s contaminated.”
And then – this was her mistake – she turned around. Even as the Skullgirl, getting bludgeoned with what must have been three hundred pounds of metal hurt. And then when the blades snapped down to claw away her skeletal defenses for just a moment, and when the girl came flying forward, spears at the ready – well, Painwheel had learned something after all.
But it just wasn’t good enough. She was still too slow, too unwieldy, too weak.
The girl didn’t snap back any threats this time as she retreated. Her message had already been sent – and not just in words this time.
Valentine brushed her hands against her wounds – though they were already closing up, it had been the first time in ages that she had seen her own blood.
She had to smile. This was going to be a good show, after all.
Their paths wove into each other, time and time again – glimpses, sporadic encounters, a faceoff at an abandoned outpost or in the aftermath of a skirmish of mobsters or soldiers.
Some moments, she would find Painwheel first, and she would study her for that moment, when the girl’s back was turned and she had no idea who was with her. She relished those moments.
(It would be so easy to kill her like that, she used to think. But she taught herself not to think that way.)
Still, she wasn’t sure how many of those encounters had actually happened – how many of them had been tricks, illusions, hallucinations. Whether that silhouette she saw in burst of lightning had been Painwheel or not. It was like those moments when she looked out of the corner of her eye, and saw a smile. Clasped hands. Closed eyes. Or maybe eyes that burned red, like her own, like Painwheel’s – but not.
“Why play this game?”
But those images were never entirely there. She hated those moments. She preferred the ones that were real, tangible, like the sound of a roaring buzzsaw, or the feeling of one lucky shot ripping apart her back. The moments that made her heart pound, her thoughts rush; the moments that made her smile. The ones that made her remember that there was still something worth living for.
Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear them, the people she had killed, the voices of the lost. When she closed her eyes, she could see their blackened skeletons, clad in military dress or mafia suits or just ordinary clothes. Or maybe nurse outfits. It made no difference – they all sounded the same.
On one idle moment, she wondered if it was a little like what ran through Painwheel’s head.
The thought made Valentine grimace a little. Just a little.
For some time after that, it was Valentine who was hunting for Painwheel. When she found the girl in some anonymous forest, rather than goading her for a challenge, she called out to her: “It was never supposed to be you.”
Painwheel whipped around, spines bursting through her fingers, her grip tightening on the handle of the saw. Even when she figured that Valentine wasn’t going to fight, she didn’t let her guard down. “Then why?” she snapped back.
“It was supposed to be your friend. Medici’s daughter. Her blood type was compatible with the Skullgirl blood, so he decided to hand her off to our lab to smooth over some rough patches that had cropped up.” She leveled her stare against the girl’s. “As you can guess, she was terrified. When she realized what was happening, she bribed a few technicians and directed us to you – you had the same blood type, so there wouldn’t be any differences.”
“I don’t…”
“She told us the route you took for school. I thought it was funny – you were just standing there. Had you been waiting for her?”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re deluding yourself, Painwheel.”
“No – no. She was my best friend.” She wasn’t looking at Valentine anymore.
“It doesn’t make a difference. To think, if it weren’t for her, you—”
“No. Shut up.” She wasn’t yelling, but she was still firm. “You did this. You chose to make me this. Don’t dare blame Filia.”
“…You asked me before. I thought you’d want to know.”
“It doesn’t make a difference,” the girl said, a little too quiet. Her hands trembled on her grip, and then Valentine could see everything – a broken body, a broken mind, a broken girl. And as she turned away, the nurse saw that stoic, calm expression break too.
She couldn’t watch.
She left.
She would wait until the girl was ready.
It was some time before they met again. It was night, and it was raining. She didn’t know how long Painwheel had been standing in it, but it must have been for a long time. She didn’t even move when she noticed Valentine coming. She didn’t even glare.
“I tried going home,” was all she said.
Valentine wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I’m sorry.”
They didn’t fight that time.
Then, Painwheel was sick. Horribly so – the Gae Bolga compromised the immune systems of their hosts, and it didn’t help that she had stood out all night in the rain like a damned fool.
“What do you think you’re doing? Look at you – you’re in no shape to fight.”
That was an understatement – the pale girl’s limbs were trembling and she nearly toppled over when she tried lifting up her blades. And even so, the girl shambled forward, still managing a glare through her exhaustion. “You – are not – my damn doctor.”
“You – you honestly think you’re going to—?” Valentine bit her tongue; she didn’t mean to sound so angry. After all, that was what Experiment 0-84’s prime directive had been – kill the Skullgirl at all costs. “This is a waste of time.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Go – get out of my sight, Painwheel.”
“Why?”
That little sound made Valentine turn around. “Excuse me?”
“I said – I’ll kill you. I have to. What – what else am I supposed to do?” Her voice sounded more strained, and not because of the sickness. “What do I have left?”
“I’m simply saying you’re in no condition to challenge me. If you’re going to kill me, it won’t be like this.”
The girl took in a sharp, shaky breath, still trembling. She jerked her hands up to her face, clutched her hair and her forehead with a hiss. “I don’t care! I – Valentine, why…why don’t you kill me?”
Before Valentine could understand what she had said, the girl blustered ahead, hands ripping at her face, her eyes, her movements a burst of blood and thunder. “Because – look at me! I’m not even alive! My parents – you know what they – they screamed. They said I was monster. They think so. Everyone thinks so. Because of you and your – your stupid experiments, and it was all just so you could grab the heart for yourself, and – and you said it wasn’t even supposed to be me, and now I have to – you – rrgh—”
Her chest convulsed once, and then she finally collapsed, smacking into the ground facefirst. “You’re pathetic. You’re pathetic, Painwheel. Is this how you’re going to let yourself die? Do you even care?”
The girl couldn’t muster a response, though she tried. She dug her hands into the ground, her skin writhing as she strained to move – but every time she tried, it was to no avail. She was still breathing in those hoarse, ragged bursts, but eventually, she wasn’t moving at all.
Valentine should have left her like that.
Still – it was fascinating, how easy it was to carry her.
Painwheel wouldn’t die. The parasites wouldn’t let her. As long as she kept warm, as long as she slept, she would be fine. The Skull Heart seemed so baffled and amused by all of it, though – and, admittedly, Valentine didn’t completely understand, either. She didn’t quite…know what drove her to do this. Or what made her put her trust in a volatile experiment to finish her job.
But here she was. And here was Painwheel, curled up next to her in this awkward mess. She figured that as long as she was near the Skull Heart, she would stay warm. And still.
Still, she had to wonder.
“Dammit,” she had to mutter. “What am I doing?”
Since she couldn’t leave, her mind had to wander instead. It was ridiculous. Questions kept popping up, like – who had she been, before she changed? What had she been like? What had she loved? What couldn’t she return to? There wasn’t even any point in thinking about that. It wasn’t like she could change things for either of them. There wasn’t any wish that could fix this.
So they both had to stay alive.
It was the only thing she could do.
Even though it felt so strange to be actually doing it.
“Well?”
She glanced down – Painwheel was awake. Barely. She couldn’t muster the energy to try to be angry. She couldn’t even open her eyes all the way. “Why haven’t you killed me?”
Ah.
That was the question she had been trying to avoid.
She gave a light shrug. “Because I haven’t felt like it.”
“Mm.” The girl’s eyes slipped shut.
Then, after a moment, Valentine murmured, “Because I don’t want to.”
“Oh.”
It was the smallest sound Valentine had ever heard.
On days, Valentine stayed close. Just out of reach, but close.
Then, at night, when Painwheel’s eyes were closed, she would sit near her. At first, it was at a distance – just in case – but she found herself coming closer. Even closer. The girl was so still when she slept. She must have been so tired.
So tired – she didn’t even seem to notice those nights when Valentine got close enough to brush her fingers along Painwheel’s hands. She had expected something in the girl – the parasites, the blood – to make her snap awake and fight back, but nothing ever happened. Not even on those nights when she clutched the girl’s hands and watched her breathe.
(It would be so easy for Painwheel to kill her in those moments, she used to think. But she taught herself not to think that way.)
Was it guilt, that made her keep going back night after night?
It was a stupid reason. But it was the only one she could think of.
Well – no. There was another reason that came to mind.
It was too strange to take seriously, though.
Once, Painwheel had been awake. Valentine didn’t expect it, so she had been stupid and approached her without caution or thought, until the girl snapped straight up. But perhaps it was only out of reflex, because she wasn’t running away. Nor was she charging towards her. She was just watching her – still tense, but not moving.
So Valentine stood there, studied her, then finally caught her gaze. “You know, sometime, I’d like to treat you to a whiskey. A good one. You’ll appreciate the taste.”
“I’ve…” The girl had to blink for a bit, getting her thoughts in order. “I’ve never had alcohol before. Isn’t it supposed to be strong?”
“Exactly. I’ll get you the strongest there is. It’ll suit you.” She brushed her hands along her sides. “Right. We’ll walk into some crummy tavern, you and I. We’ll sit right at the bar. And we’ll get our drinks. No one will notice.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Painwheel smile.
They didn’t fight that time, either.
It took a while for either of them to leave.
At some point or another, it had to come to an end. She knew that. It had been decided before Valentine had even made her wish.
But she hadn’t been expecting it. She hadn’t been focused when she heard the sweeping of the wind. So in the end, with a shockwave of energy that jolted Valentine, it was the Skull Heart that had to keep Painwheel from crashing down on her head.
For a moment, she didn’t even know how to react. There was a tiny part of her that even felt confused when Painwheel came scrabbling back to her feet – glare, bonesaw, and all.
Something in the girl’s face seemed so pained.
“Why aren’t you fighting back?”
And then she realized—
This was an actual fight.
It was exhilarating. Not even Marie had put up a fight like this.
Her skin was flaying apart, like it was only some rag wrapped around bone. And Painwheel – Painwheel had changed. When she had been a monster, she had forgotten forethought, strategy, elegance – she was just some raw killing machine. And as some broken girl, she had forgotten power, brutality, and the meaning of at all costs.
Now?
She was beautiful.
There. That was what you were like. She smirked, even when the injuries were coming too quickly for her to heal. That was what I was looking for.
And then – that was all. There were shattered fragments of bone and stone, and nighttime was sweeping back in after the pale blue light had died away. The world was back to normal again. It was so quiet.
“You’ve gotten very strong. In such a short time, too.” She couldn’t see too clearly – she tried to find Painwheel’s eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last longer.”
“I…” She could barely hear her voice, as though she were so far away. Was she really that quiet, or…? “I don’t…”
“Like I said – I would let you challenge me until you won.” She couldn’t move her body, and her mind was numb, but she couldn’t stop the bitter chuckle. “Do you understand? You won, Painwheel. You won. So don’t look at me like that.”
But the girl kept staring. Her blades dropped to the ground, useless.
I don’t think I did, she could have said. Instead, she didn’t say anything at all.
“Go on. Finish it.”
I suppose you’re going to have to make your own life now, Painwheel.
“Valentine…”
She could hear soft footfalls. And then the churning of blades. Coming closer.
I’m sorry.
Valentine closed her eyes, and waited.
And then she woke up.
But why? She had lost. Painwheel had caught her off guard. It couldn’t have been a dream, for a Skullgirl didn’t need to sleep. But…
Her body seemed intact. Her hands clutched the earth – the same place where she had fallen – and she could feel the Skull Heart’s power. The only difference was – her face.
She brushed her fingers over her scar. Across her lips.
The mask wasn’t there.
And then she saw it. The bonesaw, dug right next to her.
Valentine shook her head, and managed a smile. And tugged it out of the ground.
Well, then.
The hunt would continue after all.