Chapter Text
The blood was warm. If Ava hadn’t been in process of drowning, the warmth might have felt comforting. But in its current state, the warmth was not comfort. The warmth was violence.
She kicked and clawed upwards, desperately trying to reach the surface. The ocean worked in opposition, doing everything in its power to drag her even deeper.
Her movements became more frantic as her lungs started to burn. A sharp, involuntary inhale only made things worse. The taste of metal was overwhelming, and her throat felt like it was being torn apart by razor blades.
Ava didn’t fear death. She knew it was a very real possibility every single day. She had always been mentally prepared to die. She was a leader. She had people to protect and a cause to fight for. Yet here she was, her struggles slowly getting weaker as she fought against the blood.
It was almost insulting to think about. Dying alone in the blood ocean when she should have died after a heroic act of self-sacrifice for the benefit of her crew. She should have been better. She should have fought harder.
Her head began to throb, and the pain and heaviness in her body soon turned to a soothing numbness. The blood was no longer warm. The blood was…freezing?
Why was it so fucking cold?
Despite the threat of unconsciousness looming ever closer, Ava fought to stay awake. Something wasn’t right. Was death meant to be this cold? Or was this some sort of divine punishment for her many moral failings?
The cold burned her skin as she finally drifted off, her last moments of consciousness filled with a heavy sense of anger and regret.
Stratt walked along the beach, silently watching the waves come in. These walks had become a normal part of her routine since the launch. It was one of the many ways she held onto a small piece of Grace. He had always been so fond of the beach. Personally, she wasn’t a fan. The beach had people. She much preferred the open ocean, which had a distinct lack of people.
She took a moment to examine her surroundings, surprised by the lack of people on the beach. Then again, it was the middle of winter, and the sun wasn’t even up yet. Stratt appreciated the solitude regardless. It gave her time to think.
Despite her best efforts, her mind kept wandering back to Grace. She wanted to remember him, of course. But she didn’t want to think too hard about him, because thinking too hard meant reliving that moment. The pain in his eyes still haunted her dreams. She was certain it always would, no matter how much time had passed.
She needed a distraction, so she kept walking. Sometimes she found stuff washed up along the shore. Usually small things, like lost trinkets or fishing gear. Never anything as bizarre as what she had just spotted which left her frozen in her tracks. After a few moments, she found the courage to wander a bit closer to the unusual sight.
Stratt blinked, trying to determine if what she was seeing was real. No matter how many times she looked away, the scene never changed. A body was lying on the shore. A woman, barely breathing and covered in blood.
She hung back for a few seconds, debating if she should call someone to come help. Something just seemed a bit odd about the whole situation. If this strange mystery woman had just been in the ocean, why was she so bloody? Surely the water would have washed away at least most of the blood.
She took another step closer. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
No response.
She tried again, raising her voice slightly. “Can you hear me?”
Once again, no response.
Stratt lightly nudged the woman’s arm with her boot. There were still no movements or any signs of life aside from shallow breathing, so she decided to get an even closer look. The blood seemed exceedingly unusual upon further examination. It was much thicker than normal blood, and seemed to cling to the woman like it was part of her.
Stratt leaned back, glancing around the beach once more to make sure no one was around. When she was certain the coast was clear, she tossed her jacket over the woman before picking her up.
She hurried back to her apartment, keeping watch for anyone who might be out at the moment. Fortunately, the streets were empty, and she was able to make it back to her place without any hassle.
She stepped inside, kicking the door closed behind her before setting the woman down on the couch. She locked the front door before picking up her jacket to finally get a good look at the woman. A nasty scar cut through the left side of her face, leaving Stratt curious about what sort of things she had endured before washing up on the beach. The scar was much too old to be the source of the blood, but it was a clear sign of past trauma.
Stratt did a quick examination of the woman’s exposed skin. As she expected, she didn’t find any obvious wounds. Any further inspection would need to be done later on, as she figured it would be best not to poke around while she was still unconscious.
She tossed her jacket into the washing machine before taking a moment to examine herself in the bathroom mirror. A bit of the strange blood substance had gotten on her skin and clothes during her impromptu rescue mission. She quickly stripped the rest of her clothes off, tossing them in with the jacket before stepping into the shower.
She stared at her arm as the warm water ran over it. The blood didn’t simply wash away like it should have. Instead, it clung to her skin until she actively scrubbed it away. It took a fair amount of time to clean all of the red away from her body, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the strange woman the entire time she was in the shower. Who was she? Where did she come from? Would she wake up soon?
Stratt stepped out of the shower, throwing a towel around herself so she could check on the woman before getting dressed. Her adrenaline spiked when she stepped into the front room only to be greeted by the sight of an empty couch. Leftover blood stained the beige fabric, but the woman was nowhere to be found.
She glanced at the front door. It was still locked, which meant she had to be inside the apartment. “Hello?” she called out. “Are you alright? I am just trying to help.”
She heard a quiet noise and followed it into the kitchen. The strange woman was standing there, now awake, still bloody, and looking rather pissed. Stratt was about to take a step forward and introduce herself when she noticed a soft gleam by the woman’s side. She had managed to get her hands on of one of Stratt’s kitchen knives.