Predator (DWT x OC)

54

There was so much blood. 

Watery cherry red, thick molasses burgundy, splattered on green grass and against peach skin and dribbling down a deformed chin. Accompanied with ear shattering shrieks, and sickening thuds of fist on bone, and the twisted crack when it snaps, and the awful radio silence of dead eyes and clenched fingers and murderous determination. 

The Rose in front of her was not the girl she knew, blank face, empty eyes, absolutely no mercy. The pink scars twisted in the light as she raised her arm to slam it down on Fundy's face again. Eret held Niki back, long fingers digging into the meat on her arms as she screamed, and no one was listening, just Fundy's horrible gargled shouts of agony and her terrified ones, rising in the air, like the smell of copper and smoke. 

Heat radiated onto the back of her neck, a reminder of the fire raging behind her, crackling pops as the flag that represented so much, charred to nothing, thin wisps of blackened fabric floating in the air, fanned by flames that licked the wooden flag pole, creeping over onto the thankfully damp grass. 

When the shouts turned to half-human strangled sounds, forced out from the deepest pits of pain and desperation, Niki knew. She knew that there was no stopping what had already been set in motion. 

Fundy was going to die. Rose was going to kill him. 

The guards reached them, too late, no matter that there were two bodies on the ground now, one with a face deformed beyond our comprehension, warped and almost unrecognisable, and the other, slumped and bloodstained, unconscious next to him. 

She watched them carry her away, faceless, nameless, to the unknown. 

She cried, held in Eret's arms, on the floor of an empty bakery, once filled with people, and smiles, and warm yellow light. The night before the election, so long ago, worlds away from where they are now. 

There was nobody left. 

She missed Wilbur, goofy lopsided smiles and unkempt brown hair. She doesn't know where he is, if he's safe, if he's okay. 

He's just gone. 

And Tommy. Gone too. Jack was dead, a stone in a field, not the person that used to help her cook, brought her fresh fish from the pond, the person that always seemed to be Fungi's favourite, even if he pretended he didn't really like cats. Tubbo in Schlatt's clutches, twisted into being someone he isn't, believing something he wouldn't. And now Rose, dragged off to Schlatt.

It's not just that though. The person Niki saw today was a stranger. She'd lost who Rose had been too. 

It's empty, and lonely and so utterly hopeless that she just wants to curl into a ball and never come out. Eret coaxes her back to the world though, soft heavy blankets and mugs of steaming tea and sometimes annoying optimism that feels fake, even for them. 

But it works, enough, enough for her to want to fight again, fight for her home, and her family, and everything she has. 

Enough to make her go and see Dream. 

He's happy. 

That's the first thing she picks up on, on his doorstep, retelling the whole horrific mess of yesterday's events. He knows, of course, because he always does, but there's this little bit of relish in his voice as he pokes her for the gorier details. 

It strikes her how much Rose reminded her of him, and how much she'd rather he not be anywhere near her. But she sucks it up. 

He tells her he'll get her out, with a tinge of anger in his tone, and she withholds a snarky remark about him wanting to be the only one holding her hostage, because he sure as hell didn't have an issue when it was him doing it.