Chapter Twelve
**Todd's POV**
Todd could not focus very well.
He was leaning against what was left of the fence area, bleeding, so much blood and ash everywhere.
The heat still permeated the surrounding area, scorch marks blackening almost everything in an eighty-foot radius. The metal stakes of the kill box had melted into twisted, grotesque shapes. The wooden posts were nothing but charred stumps, still smoking.
Todd was lucky, or unlucky, to be stuck under a few bodies that had fallen on him in the battle.
At the time, he'd just been too tired to move. He'd laid there, hoping the flames would take him.
Praying for it, even.
But the bodies had shielded him. Trapped him in a pocket of relative safety while the world above burned.
He'd felt parts of him cook anyway. The edges. His exposed arm. The side of his face. Even with the shield of corpses, the heat had been unbearable.
He'd screamed at the inferno. Couldn't help it. The pain had ripped the sound from his throat before he could stop it.
But soon enough, the heat stopped increasing. Slowly, agonizingly, it lowered.
Crawling out of a charred graveyard was a very new experience that Todd really hoped would be the only time.
The smell invaded his nose first, meat and hair, cooked and burnt, mixing with the acrid stench of melted metal and scorched earth. It almost made him sick, but his body was too much in shock. It just carried on, crawling out of that hell one agonizing inch at a time.
His hands sank into ash. Into what used to be people.
He didn't look, Couldn't look.
Just crawled, the broken arrows still inside a constant reminder, the one in his neck still intact somehow.
"Tehehehe."
A soft giggle, as if a girl had just run past.
Todd tried to focus, but his eyes were so very heavy, the world swam, colors bled together.
A memory appeared at the forefront of his mind, unbidden but welcome.
His daughter. Becca. Watching falling stars in the sky when she was younger, her small hand clutched in his.
"Look, Pappa!" Little Becca stood up, jumping up and down, so full of joy it hurt to remember. "Uncle Tristan says when you see shooting stars, that means the Valkyries are coming to take someone to Valhalla!"
Her face was so bright. So alive.
Todd's vision blurred. From blood loss or tears, he couldn't tell.
"Pappa, wake up."
Her voice, clear as day, right beside him.
"You still have something to do."
Todd opened his eyes.
Through the haze of pain and smoke, he saw them. Mountain Men in their yellow hazmat suits, moving through the carnage like scavengers. Dragging the kids away, unconscious Sky People. A few of his people
One of them, small dark haired, not even given much a chance to fight having used some kind of knock out gas was Triss.
Anya's second, just a child, looking so small being carried by men twice her size. He wanted to help but he could feel what was left of his strength fading fast.
Todd coughed up blood, the taste of copper flooding his mouth. He groaned, pain lancing through every nerve.
"We got one alive here!"
One of the Mountain Men shouted, his voice muffled through the suit's filters.
Todd's hand moved, slowly, painfully. Toward the knife still strapped to the back of his belt.
The knife that had killed his daughter.
The knife he'd carried for four years, waiting for this moment.
---
**Carl Emerson's POV**
Carl was happy.
Genuinely, deeply happy in a way he hadn't been in years.
They'd killed off that annoying Tristan. What was left of his armor had been found so very close to the pod red hot, extremely well forged unlike most of them, but easily recognizable, an EGA with a Damascus pattern. He'd probably disintegrated or something.
Carl didn't know how any of that crap worked. All he knew was that he'd gotten the Commander's second-in-command. Snatched the key to the Mountain's freedom. And done it using their own people against them.
The Reapers, their corrupted, mindless weapons.
Oh, how he loved the idea, those disgusting barbarians who got to live in paradise while the civilized ones who could bring mankind back into glory, were stuck underground, forced to drain the savages just to survive.
Watching them kill each other off was poetic justice.
He'd even started a trend with the guards a few years back. A game, really.
To see who could collect the most armor plates, and the rarest ones, They even had a scoring system.
And Carl had just hit the motherlode.
Since this was all his plan, he got to collect the very first ever Sage plate.
He'd almost squealed when he found it. Tristan armor, the only thing that survived was the marked plate. The mark of someone trained directly by the Sage himself.
Most people, when they took on a second, only trained them in their fighting style. A few years, maybe. Then the second moved on.
But the Sage was different.
You practically had to be raised by the man. And you didn't just learn to fight. You learned everything, the man had to teach you and you most often those people were in charge.
Carl's spies had been gathering information on the Sage for years, slowly, carefully, most never made it back.
And now, not only had they killed Tristan, but they'd even captured the next in line for the head of the Wood Clan.
The girl, Triss, had fought like a wildcat, even after everyone else pasted out from the gas she was alert. Took three men to restrain her, she eventually was knocked out when Carl slammed his rifle but into her skull, alive but out cold.
Carl had plans for her.
Cage would never say no to him having a little fun first. She might even last a few rounds before they drained her dry and fed her to those disgusting pet Reapers.
Then, once they got the go-ahead and convinced the Sky kids to help them, with testing there radiation immune blood, what a gift maybe, just maybe, they could retake the outside.
Because Carl had big plans.
Big plans for that bitch Commander who'd killed his brother.
He stared down at the dying man who had caused him so many problems over the past few years.
Todd, also known as the quiet one, Tristan's second. The berserker who'd had finally been knocked down in the dirt where he belongs, having taking seventeen Reapers with him before finally falling.
The man didn't have long, that much was for sure.
Carl had thought of this moment so many times, dreamed of it but he was no fool, he could never face the quiet one alone. This time he was the winner and he would have his moment.
He loved breaking these people. Loved breaking their spirits just before he ended them. Watching the light fade from their eyes as hope died.
It was an art form, really.
"Load them quickly," Carl ordered his men. "We want to be out of here before—"
The loudest bang Carl had ever heard erupted just above everyone's heads.
A sound like the sky itself splitting open.
He looked up, shielding his eyes against the sudden brightness.
His eyes widened.
"The whole fucking station... how... what..."
The Ark, the entire space station, breaking apart as it fell.
Pieces the size of buildings were streaking across the sky, trailing fire and smoke. Parts of the main body breaking off coming down with measured control and were still intact, if barely but coming down fast.
It was going to hit hard but it looked like it might survive.
Somewhere not far from here.
Carl's mind raced. The shockwave alone—
He was interrupted by coughing, hacking laughter.
The quiet one, Todd, looking at the sky and laughing.
Blood bubbled at his lips, the arrow through his neck shifted with each laugh, tearing the wound wider.
He was trying to speak.
*Oh, last words.*
Carl loved last words. Loved taking those final desperate hopes and crushing them.
Such grotesque people, he thought, bending down to break the one who had caused him to almost be demoted for his failures.
All because of this bastard and his suicide charges. His impossible survival, time and time again his refusal to just die.
But he was fading fast now, no threat, practically a corpse already.
Carl could almost make out the words, but with the arrow in his neck, speaking was proving difficult.
Carl chuckled to himself.
He bent down close to hear, his helmet nearly touching Todd's bloodied face.
"V... val... Valhalla."
It took three tries, but Todd finally got the word out.
He smiled, actually smiled while looking over Carl's shoulder at something Carl couldn't see.
Carl merely smirked.
He leaned in close, his voice dripping with malice.
"It doesn't exist," he said softly, almost gently. "Whoever you think is waiting for you there won't be there. Only nothing, only the black, that's all that waits for scum like you."
He saw it. Right there.
The doubt in Todd's eyes, the flicker of fear. The *what if my whole life was a waste* thought running through his mind.
Yes! Yes! Give me that despair, Show me that grief, you filth Carl thought in his mind.
Carl savored it, the moment of breaking.
Then he saw Todd's smile return.
Wider this time. Almost peaceful.
A crow flew past, off to Carl's left. Black wings against the smoke-filled sky.
Carl turned his head slightly, tracking the bird.
Then he felt a weird sensation under his chin.
Like a punch, but sharper, deeper.
Everything started to fade.
His hands went to his throat, finding wetness, heat.
He tried to speak, but the only thing that came to mind was *I just went out like a bitch*
Todd's hand was still there, gripping the knife. Twisting it.
Carl's vision dimmed. His legs buckled.
The last thing he saw was Todd's face. Still smiling, blood on his lips, eyes fixed on something beyond.
Then nothing.
---
**Todd's POV**
Todd found himself laughing once again as the first rays of sunlight peaked over the horizon and hit him in the face.
Warm. Golden. Beautiful.
The knife in his hand, the knife that had killed his daughter, was buried to the hilt in the Mountain Man's up thru the chin into the mountain mans brain.
Justice, finally,
four years, four years of waiting for an end that would not seem to come near.
And in the end, he'd used her knife to kill the man who'd sent the Reapers that took her.
The man who'd probably laughed about it afterward, who'd worn it like a trophy.
Carl Emerson, DEAD, "I guess today was a good day after all", Barely a whisper as
Todd's strength left him all at once. He couldn't hold himself up anymore. Couldn't keep his eyes open.
But he wasn't afraid.
The last thing Todd's brain registered was a voice.
A voice that sounded exactly like Becca, his little girl.
"Welcome home, Pappa."
Soft, sweet, filled with love.
Todd's world faded to black.
But he was smiling.
And somewhere, in a hall of warriors and heroes, a father and daughter were reunited at last.