Story 02: On Demon Wings

"I've finally caught up to you," Murderface growled like a slow car over a gravel road. Pinky stood a few feet away from the prepped plane, Murderface several more feet away from her, which was a passenger 747 with the brand name 'Demon Wings Airlines' plastered on the hull. Whoever would name an airlane company that lived in a very fantastical world. The embodiment of sadism turned around partially and stared at Murderface, a blank expression converting into a very happy one.

"Homura-chan." Pinky said, her voice like honey mixed with cinnamon in the cooling air. That name again, Murderface grimaced, headache forming. Night was falling, with storm clouds rolling in, giving the entire scene an elemental nature. The white dress, fit for a Goddess, the rubies dull and the fabric ancient looking but immaculate, clashed violently with her black eyes, and blacker nature, coiling in the air as the wind picked up.

"I have to go, Homura-chan. Important appointment with someone. I'm sorry, but I can't possibly reschedule it to fit you in, so maybe we can do this at a later date." With a flash of white and a happy wave, God faced the plane and started to it.

Murderface couldn't allow her to get away. Not now. Not after all that she has gone through. With a push, she raced toward Pinky. Pinky stepped up the stairs to the plane, as if she had no cares in the world. Murderface managed to catch up with her right before she closed the airlock door, jumping into her and locking her arms around her chest.

"No, you have the time now," Murderface spoke soft but firm, her hand grabbing the soulgem attached to Pinky's neck and tightening her grip. She intended to break it, crack it like Humpty Dumpty so that all the Witch's familiars couldn't put it together again.

"NO YOU WON'T!" Pinky's voice, angry, came at her from all directions. It had such a tangible effect on her that she flew across the aisle to the other end of the cabin. Flying through the air, she was still in motion, determined to not lose here and now. Her S&W revolver slid out of the shield and right into her hand, the crosshair already facing Pinky's neck.

Pinky turned to face her opponent, taking one in the shoulder with not a sign of the pain on her face.  Murderface rolled back into a crouching position, adjusting her aim, eye glinting behind cold crosshair and cracked glasses.

"You're so persistent, Homura-chan. That's what I love about her. She was so determined to save me, so persistent to stop my fate, all just for my soul." She giggled, the decay of a thousand innocents wailing in the wind. She shook her head. "You won't succeed, ever." Just then the airplane lurched forward, then continue as the engines fired on, and the cockpit came alive. Murderface fell forward, enough to miss the soulgem. Pinky just stood there, rooted to the spot.

"Fakes never outclass the original." She boomed at Murderface, that telepathic will of Pinky's wrapping itself around Murderface and sending her on a joy ride into the walls, ceiling, and floor of the plane. Massive bruising formed across her body, angry purple and black mounds readily growing.

Finally the telekinetic force stopped, leaving Murderface cringing at her pain, which was numerous. She stood shakily, her eyes on Pinky, who smiled sweet peaches seemingly down at her. "Oh, Homura-chan. You know I'm toying with you, right? I could kill you instantly."

"Then why don't you?" grunted Murderface, gritting her teeth. Pinky didn't respond, only stared. Her headache increased. Turning into a severe headache, then a migraine, then into something fantastic.

A sidewalk heaving up during an earthquake. A building imploding from demo charges. The London Bridge. Her skull ruptured, static blossoming in rose petal patterns and heat searing all other senses away. A vague notion of falling to the floor, shaking with no control or pattern struck through the pain.

The heat stopped. She figured, for the briefest of moments, the end was nearing, her pain threshold reached, surpassed and burnt out.

Then, like a train out of the tunnel, the static cleared.

She was on the floor, in a heap, sweat drenched and exhausted. She focused her wonky vision, whipping it into shape. Getting up, she stared at where Pinky should have been, but emptiness stood. Where was she? Snapping her far too light head to and fro, not a sign of that dress or grin was in sight. Did she get her? She checked the chambered rounds, and found every single one shot. Examining the walls and floor, she saw no bullet holes nor six flattened bullets, only the two. She must've gotten her.

Pulling a colt .25 out, she edged closer to the spot where Pinky should be laid out like a fish. Not there. Did she really get her?

Ignoring the pain and disorientation, Murderface checked the clip's capacity, found it suitable, and readied her gun again. Where would Pinky be if she wasn't dead? Over her twitching body, taunting and teasing, but she wasn't doing that, so... the cockpit. Someone had to fly this. Turning on a dime, she started her way there...

Only to hear a cry of delight and see Pinky forming out of thin air with her hands outstretched, coming straight for her. She attempted to aim at her.

***

The two erupted through the airlock of the plane, ripped it off the hull. Murderface's body took a severe beating just from that alone - many bones broken, so much bruising it'd make a doctor's head spin and possibly a punctured lung.

Pink on top, purple on bottom, two ethereal beings shrouded in cigarette smoke and mythic vapor. They clashed, plummeting to the earth below at terminal velocity, with Murderface constantly grabbing for her soulgem only for Pinky to block her efforts and counterattack with a scratch.

"Enough, Homura-chan!" Pinky yelled, then drew her mouth to Murderface's ear, and whispered unholy sweet nothings that made Murderface's heart irregular. Pinky pulled back her head.

It all happened in a series of moments: Pinky, grinning white ivory in mirroring frames, pulled her fist back and punched a hole in

Murderface's chest. Murderface knew what would happen next, and, as Pinky tore her still beating heart out, sounds of snapping heard and felt by both, like a kid with a sweet tooth and a pez dispenser, began to unload her Colt .25's clip's worth of bullets into Pinky's face.

Murderface wasn't Sayaka, she wasn't as apt at blocking out the pain and going berserker as she was, she had been through a long day and the night that hasn't even started yet has already taken its toll on her mind and body. As this was happening, a part of Murderface's mind watched the plane, flying further away, as if this wasn't it's business, when a lightning bolt struck the hull, scorching gunmetal grey black, frying then exploding the engines. A literal flying Titanic. So, the storm has come, she thought.

Pinky, now with seven eyes, still ivory shining, ripped Murderface's heart asunder. Her mind went blank from pain. The metaphysical pain of heartbreak became reality.

Two bodies fell from the stars, and crashed into a parking lot of some business. There was no shockwave, no impact crater, only the sound of the skeleton turning to splinters and dust, the internal organs turning into minced jelly, and the soulgem cracking.

Pinky knelt beside Murderface's corpse, checked for her hand, and found her gem. The crack coursing through the middle looked as deep as the Grand Canyon. Cracked in two. Just like her heart, which would be raining down somewhere, Pinky reflected.

Murderface wasn't dead. The gem darkened more and more. Corruption. Denigration. Taint. Her soul was failing, breaking down. Maybe Pinky played around too much.

"I won't say good night to you just yet, Homura-chan." The girl giggled, repairing the crack with ease. "I want you to continue protecting, and living in, my world. I enjoy you best here." She then purified the soul. With direct connection to it, Pinky felt a massive desire to suck it out of the gem; it was Homura-chan's soul, after all. But she denied herself the treat, and healed the body its wounds.

"No," she gave a look at the face. "I won't eat your soul yet, too. Next time we meet, let's just... chat, and have cake! I'd like that." Like a hallucination, she disappeared; leaving behind a giggle that disturbed Murderface's darkened consciousness.