Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bleeding Heart

Author's Notes: We're winding down the recent story arc through a change in perspective. It's a relatively straightforward chapter, with the usual "run and gun" daily worklife and a moment to relax before the last-minute twist. Enjoy~

At the crack of dawn, Cecilia wakes up and—with the door locked and blinds down—strips her nightgown and replaces it with a fortified corset, then covered by a light, red-and-white sweater. After slipping into her pants, socks, and knickers, she runs downstairs to the cafeteria, where she gobbles down plateful after plateful of food, to the point where the food staff have to cut her off. Disappointed, she moves onto more important matters: work. According to her roommate, they are high-class bodyguards hired to protect their company's secrets from the competition, namely BLU. Leading their team into battle is—to her amazement—the fat man in white, Dante Something-such. As confusing as the mystery behind her occupation has been, the question of his abrupt arrival rattles her brain even more, and she's not alone.

The large man next to her is muttering German curses under his breath the moment he catches whiff of Dante's presence. “Guten Morgen, Herr Hartmann,” the shorter of the two greets, his tone unusually chipper. “It has been too long since I have last seen your handsome face.” His gaze shifts to her. “Cecilia, is it? Your, ah, presence is hard to miss.” He stares longingly at her chest until a stern 'Ahem' calls his attention to Hartmann again. “Apologies if my sudden return has caught some of you off-guard. I have come to check up on things personally, and to give a proper introduction to zhe new recruits. I am Doktor Dante Alterheim. My purpose is to assist my teammates in and out of battle. Und as unofficial leader of zhe Teufort branch of RED, I juggle all sorts of responsibilities, including those in other sectors. I tend to be a busy man, but I promise to alvays make time for all of you.” Dante flashes a friendly grin, which causes Hartmann to cringe. “So let's get zhis show on zhe road, no?”

After the sixty-second grace period, the gates open, and mercenaries from both sides of the river rush out, ready to fight. Bullets and projectiles fly across the stage, as the actors march on, fulfilling their respective roles of running, shooting, healing, and so on. Overwhelmed by the rapidfire chaos happening around her, she fires the trigger, her gun spouting grenades this way and that without thought. Due to the arc and the tendency for the explosives to bounce, a great many of her attempts miss their target, or create minimal damage. Fearing her life, she runs into safety, not realizing the trouble she has gotten into until it's too late to go back.

Ceci's red eyes shift back and forth, examining the gray walls, which were painted baby blue at one point, but worn away with the sands of time. Moving further, she feels an uncomfortable, tense feeling in her shoulders and gut, made worse when she catches sight of an opened safe door. The intelligence! She barges into the room and screeches to a halt. In one corner, a desk with a blue suitcase. In the other, a three-legged machine with gatling guns for arms and a head with four portholes. The machine whirs and blasts bullets and small rockets in her direction, activating her fight-or-flight instincts. After escaping the mechanical onslaught, the Demowoman prepares her grenade launcher and rushes back in. But in the end, her counterattack plan proves to be a spectacular failure.

Seconds after blacking out, she opens her eyes and blinks. The first thing she sees upon regaining consciousness is the exit leading to the battlefield. Still a bit woozy from whatever happened a moment ago, she trudges over to the resupply locker, only to find that her weapons have been reloaded and her wounds healed. “Not used to the ReSyst, are you?” She turns around and finds herself cornered by a blond man with tanned skin. “You'll get used to it after a while.”

On impulse, she aims her gun at the man. “Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot!”

Scared, he backs away. “Hold on, mate, I'm on your side! Pass me some of those arrows, won't you?” Ceci glares at him, but gives him what he wants, anyway. “Ta. You're the new Demo, right? I have to admit, you got guts, runnin' into the BLU base like that.”

“Wait, how did you—?”

“From the roost, I see everything. But arrows don't deal much damage from afar, so I had to move on down. I'm Joey.” He holds out his hand. “What's yours?”

She looks at Joey warily, but softens up enough to accept. “Cecilia. Call me Ceci.” Feeling the rough callouses and firm grip of his hands, she warms up to his presence. “Say, you got strong arms there.”

He chuckles nervously. “Yeah. But I think Hartmann's got me beat. An' Mort's definitely got me beat on leg strength.”

“Who's Mort?”

“He's just a friend of mine. Not much to say 'bout him.” He shuffles about in his place when the five-minute warning blares out from the speakers. “I'll tell you more later. Let's go!”

Joey and Ceci run out the door and give it their all. The blond Sniper tosses a jar of yellow liquid at a nearby Scout and hacks him to pieces with his knife while he's still drenched. Meanwhile, Cecilia aims and fires a series of sticky bombs at the bridge, detonating them the moment the Heavy and Medic duo tread over it. Once a path has been cleared, Hartmann and Dante move onward, mowing down all who stand in their way. RED's Scout runs ahead of them, getting ahold of the enemy intelligence and escaping with it while the rest of his team back at the base protects their own. A dastardly BLU Spy, red suitcase in hand, is well on his way to leaving the base, when Ceci traps him in a corner and blows him to bits. Tensions rise as the clock ticks down, but in the last few seconds, the Scout returns, and the announcer declares RED the victor.

After handing the intelligence over to one of the company's men for further inspection, Dante marches off, disappearing like dust in the wind. Ceci is curious about where the man goes to when he's not on duty, yet relieved by his absence. If only I was able to disappear like that. Wouldn't have to deal with idiots then.

Indeed, there is hardly a moment when Cecilia hasn't been hit on by a man. Every time she manages to find civilization, she is forced to deal with catcalls and whistles and everything in between. She's been groped a few times, but she makes quick work of them, ensuring they've learned a useful life lesson. Unfortunately, for every set of nuts she's kicked, there's another ten sets ready to degrade her. And the women—catty and judgmental—are hardly better. From the time she hit puberty onward, she learned there is only one place where she will feel right at home: alone on the open road.

“Oi. Can you hear me up there?” Ceci snaps out of her trance and looks down at Joey, standing beside her. “We got an hour to ourselves. How 'bout we have lunch out? It's on me.”

Wary, Ceci replies, “Ah, alright. But only 'cause you saved my arse out there. And no funny business!”

“On a date with la chica nueva already?” Nudging Joey's arm is the Scout, a slim, dark youth in a red and gold outfit too gaudy for the battlefield. “I have to say, I'm jealous.”

Joey hits him back hard with his elbow. “It's simple courtesy, José. Nothing more.”

“I was just about to give up on you. She deserves much better. Either way, looks like I won five bucks!” José laughs and grins like an idiot. As soon as he blinks, he finds himself on the floor, laughing even as he's spitting out loose, cracked teeth.

Leaving the Scout to wallow in his well-deserved pain, Joey escorts Ceci to his car, arriving at Kanpai's moments later. He orders lo mein with mixed vegetables and sweet, sauce-covered chicken, while she chows down on a juicy steak. “What's up with that guy? I'll admit, he's cute, but gods, what a creep!”

“Ignore 'im. He's just a rookie from Dustbowl. What he's got in speed he lacks in brains.”

She chuckles at his remark, then glimpses down at him, paying more attention to the book in his hand than her. “Whatcha reading?”

“'S a book on the occult. Full 'a monsters and whatnot. For research.”

Her ears perk up, intrigued. “Research? For what?”

A pause. “A book. I'm a writer by trade. Whenever an idea comes up, I read up on various subjects that relate to it. It's one thing to write an entertaining story, but another to write an engaging one. Creating a sense of realism is key to grabbing the reader's focus.”

“So it's like 'know the rules before you break 'em'?”

He nods. “I'm not familiar with the fantastic or strange, so I'm looking up folk legends for inspiration.”

“Oh! I'm all about the fantastic and strange! Feel free to ask me anything.”

“Alright, then.” He slams the book shut and sets it aside. “Perhaps you can help me with something.”

After finishing their meals, they drive over to a cemetery, located close to the residential outskirts. A chill goes down Ceci's spine as she and Joey pass through the gates, walking past the assortment of tombstones lined evenly in rows. Eventually, they stop before a small, stone cross, engraved with a stranger's name, followed by “R.I.P”. “This man used to work at our company. He taught me everything there is to know. Far as anyone could tell, he never had any enemies. Then one day, he vanished. No one knew where he went, and no one at Teufort seemed to care. Several weeks later, he did return... in pieces.”

“I-I dunno where you're going with this. Unless this is building up to some exciting ghost story, I don't really see any—”

“Little by little, parts of him returned. But one thing is still missing: his heart.”

Ceci's eyes widen, slowly realizing the implications. “But without his heart, he—”

“This grave was created for him, by the members of Teufort RED. If he were complete, he would have been lying here peacefully.” He stands up and faces her. “A lot of old legends would go into detail about how important the body is, both physically and spiritually. Even in modern science, the heart holds special meaning.”

“But that hardly narrows it down, does it?” She brushes her hands over the grave, sensing its emptiness, its lack of ghostly aura. “Why exactly would they need the heart? If they were a mad scientist of some sort, they would have gotten one from a lab or some place. But his killer, whoever he is, wanted his heart for some reason.”

“That would give him a motive.”

“Yes. And as the source of all life, the heart—and the blood that flows through it—is also considered the birthplace of the soul. Thus why vampires and other monsters can be killed with a stake there.” She reads the name on the tombstone again. Igor Volkov. “Do you know where the rest of the body is?”

He hesitates before replying, “With Dante.”

Meanwhile, in the medical office, Dante sits gleefully in his chair, twirling his fork in the gore-filled spaghetti with one hand as his other balances the phone. “Everything is going ever so lovely! My experiments have proven to be quite successful, in many vays. Ve simply cannot lose! Say, how's your precious Anonyme faring? Oh. I see. Hmm. He's clever, zhat Alan. More so zhan I thought. Vincent, though, not so much. Ellen's practically got him under her thumb, so zhere's no hope for him. Hohojiro? Vhat about him? Vell, yes, he's a bit of a loose cannon, but he can be convinced. Huh? Vhat about Mortimer? Uh-huh. Yes.”

All of a sudden, his face turns completely serious, his red eyes scheming as he swallows a mouthful of noodles, blood staining his beard. “He is a persistent one, isn't he? Vell, even if he catches on to my plan,  he's got another thing coming. Like father, like son, as zhey alvays say.”